‘What’s up? Problems?’
‘You could say that. I was summoned by my boss. The programme has been shelved. Three of us had been working on it all for nothing. I tried to tell Peter, my boss, about our unique angle, but he cut me dead. Orders from the top. The top men don’t think it’s a suitable subject with an imminent election. They say no responsible broadcaster would touch it. What a load of bollocks! This is a major scoop. I could see Peter wasn’t too happy about it, but that’s that. I can’t understand why it’s all been closed down so quickly. I’ve been reassigned to a new project that’ll take me to Madrid, if I take it. It feels like it’s a sweetener to make me give up like a good little girl. All that work for nothing! I’m really pissed off! I can’t understand why.’ Her expressive blue eyes flashed with anger. ‘It’s all so bloody unfair! Sorry Ian it’s not fair to rant on at you’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ I said. ‘You said that you thought your friend’s story about the BNRA was killed off by some sort of behind the scenes pressure. Do you think this is the same? I can’t imagine why, but something doesn’t feel right. But look on the bright side, the Madrid job is a pretty choice one. I wish someone would send me out to Madrid, it beats Suffolk.’
‘Yeah, I know, but I don’t like being pushed around, especially when I don’t know why.’ She pulled out her mobile phone from her pocket and slid it open. She scrolled through the numbers, selected one and dialled.
‘Excuse me a minute Ian.’ She said as she stood up and walked away a few yards. She spoke animatedly into the phone for a few minutes then listened. She returned to the table.
‘I’ve just spoken to my friend Hannah, she’s PA to the Managing Director. I thought she might know something. She was a bit cagy, but she did say that she was called into the office yesterday, which is quite unusual on a Sunday. The MD had several calls from Gerald Aylmer, head of Aylmer Enterprises, he’s a major league shareholder; then the great man himself appears with a face like thunder and a solicitor in tow and stomped into the MD’s office. They were together about fifteen minutes and there were some raised voices, it sounded a pretty fiery meeting. She couldn’t hear much, or if she did she’s not letting on, but she heard the MD shouting about editorial integrity and my name was mentioned. If the fix has gone in, that’s where it came from. The bastard!’
I wasn’t sure whether she meant the Managing Director or Aylmer.
‘Why should Aylmer want to kill your programme?’ I mused. ‘Aylmer …..Aylmer, where have I heard that name recently?’
‘He’s a pretty big noise in industry; he’s often on the news. He’s sort of like a right-wing Sir Alan Sugar, only with rabies.’
‘No, it was some thing closer to home than that.’ I racked my brain, but frustratingly I could not make the connection, the harder I tried, the further away the idea went. I gave up, it usually works, stop trying to remember and things come back to you. ‘What are you going to do then? Take the Madrid job?’
‘I don’t know. Part of me is buggered, if I want to be pushed around by Gerald bloody Aylmer.’
‘You always were stubborn, but I don’t see what else you can do….’ I tailed off ‘Gerald Aylmer! Got it!’ I recalled the last Easter holiday, sitting at the dinner table discussing her dissertation with my daughter Lucy. She was looking at the influence of industry and industrialists on the political process and public policy. She had mentioned Aylmer then, but what had she said? ‘I need to phone Lucy.’ I told Lisa, ‘I think she might know something, though I’m not sure what.’ I dialled Lucy’s mobile, it went straight to voicemail. ‘Shit!’ I hung up and tried again, still voicemail. I left a message ‘Lucy this is Dad, can you ring me asap.’
I had barely put the phone away when it rang. ‘Dad? Is everything okay? Your message sounded so urgent.’
‘Sorry love, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been doing some historical research for Lisa Mann,’ Lucy knew Lisa, she had been two years below at school. ‘We’ve hit a roadblock in the person of Gerald Aylmer. I remembered you saying he had come up in your research, but I couldn’t remember the context.’
‘What have you been doing to upset Gerald Aylmer, Dad? I didn’t think you moved in those circles.’
‘We were looking into something to do with the British Union of Fascists in the 1930’s, notably one particular member and his links to events in Nazi Germany.’
‘That would do it Dad. Aylmer would not want anyone stirring the shit and drawing attention to British fascist parties, even in the past. According to my Prof, there is a strong suspicion that he is heavily involved in bankrolling the BNRA along with Sinclair, but he keeps it very quiet. Dad, be careful, if you’re treading on the toes of the likes of Aylmer and by proxy Sinclair, they’re not good people to cross.’
‘Don’t worry love, I’m a historian, not a political journalist, my interest is purely in the politics of the past.’
‘Don’t forget what you told me Dad, “Historians are dangerous people, they are capable of upsetting everything.” Khrushchev wasn’t it?’
I smiled, it was the quotation I had on my office wall at school, along with the one from Santayana, which in the current political climate was perhaps even more apt “The one who does not remember history is bound to live through it again” a warning I had seen on a plaque at Auschwitz concentration camp. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be good. Speak to you soon, bye Love.’ I hung up. ‘That’s it, Aylmer is closely involved with Sinclair and the BNRA, he could be one of the major backers. Though quite why that would make him want to kill your story, I don’t know. What do you want to do?’
‘I don’t know. I’d like to get to the bottom of it but….What do you think?’
‘My gut reaction is to carry on, I don’t like being pushed around and told what I can and can’t be allowed to find out, it’s called academic freedom, but it’s easy for me, my job isn’t at risk.’
‘If I carried on, would you?’
‘Gladly, I told you that this project has been a lifesaver for me, and I mean that literally. But what about your job? What about the project in Madrid?’
‘I’m due three weeks holiday; I could take it on the grounds that I could not go to Madrid until James is back from the Czech Republic. The job in Madrid would hold for that long.’
‘Sure?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Okay, let’s give it another shot.’
‘One thing though, now the project is officially on ice, the expenses will dry up. I can’t cover your hotel bill after today, but……..’
‘Go on.’
‘Well there’s the spare room at the flat, if you’re prepared to rough it.’
This was tricky, staying over at Lisa’s flat for one night because we had been working late, was one thing; but doing it for a protracted period was a very different thing. Lisa was a very attractive young woman and I didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. That applied particularly to James, I had screwed up my own relationship with Jane, I did not want to be responsible for screwing up Lisa’s. I thought for a minute.
‘Okay, on one condition, if you phone James and explain the circumstances to him and he has no problem, then I’m up for it.’
‘Done!’ She said. ‘I’ll ring him now. It should be his lunchtime on Czech time.’
‘I’ll pop to the loo.’ I said nodding to the public toilets in the base of the high rise opposite, to give her the privacy to make the call. I lingered in the toilet as long as I could, without being thought a pervert, then I returned to the café.
‘It’s fine, he’s cool with you staying. He said he appreciated your consideration in asking. I told you he’s a real sweetie.’ She smiled the smile of a young woman in love. I felt jealous, not of James, but of both of them and what they had and I didn’t, not any more.
Lisa winced as she noticed my blackened and swollen hand.
‘You ought to get that x-rayed. It looks like you’ve broken something.’
‘Na
ah, I’ll be okay, it’s stopped throbbing, it’s just a bit stiff and sore.’ I stated bravely.
‘At least we should get some strapping for it.’
I gave in gracefully. She obviously was not going to let it drop. We stopped at a chemist and bought some self-fixing strapping that she wrapped round my injured hand. It did actually feel better, or maybe it was the psychological effect of seeing that someone cared.
We went to collect my clothes and the Saab from the hotel. Lisa settled the bill and we loaded my case into the car and set off for the flat. As we drove, she looked at her mobile.
‘I’ve got a voicemail, it must have come in whilst we were on the tube. I don’t recognise the number.’ She listened to her phone. ‘I’m having a really great day. That was Mrs. Coleridge from the Grange in Forest Row, it’s no deal. “Sorry, it’s not our policy to disclose the financial affairs of our patients, even after they have died. We have to be very scrupulous about the Data Protection Act” She sounds a snotty cow. ‘Shit, I really hoped we might get a lead there. How do we get round this?’
I had no answer. ‘Let’s just take a moment and think it through There’s bound to be another avenue that will present itself. Remember the old management bullshit – every problem is an opportunity.’
‘Thanks for that. Very reassuring.’ She said dryly.
I grinned, ‘I haven’t been in teaching for thirty odd years without learning some of the wisdom of management. I’ve been on all the courses. I even managed to stay awake through some of them.’ I said with mock pride
We arrived in Hackney and I found a parking spot round the corner from Lisa’s flat, a difficult feat to achieve. Now I would not dare use the car again, because I’d never find another one. We unloaded my stuff and carried it up to her flat.
‘The bed’s still made up from Thursday. Make yourself at home.’ She called from the kitchen. ‘Want a coffee?’
‘Yes, thanks.’ I replied. We sat in the sitting room and discussed the problems of our research and potential ways we could proceed, but the lack of co-operation from the Gables was a major stumbling block. An idea occurred to me, its morality was dubious and it was certainly illegal, but it might work, if we weren’t caught, but there would be hell to pay if we were. ‘Are you still in touch with Matt Nice?’ I asked innocently.
‘He’s a friend on Facebook, so I could get hold of him. Why?’
‘Don’t you remember when he was nearly thrown out of school, for using the school system to hack into some official database or other? It was only my intervention with the Head that saved him. What’s more he knows it, he owes me, big time.’ She caught my drift. Every school had its’ would-be hacker, but ours had been exceptionally talented. He had not done it for any malicious reason, but for the challenge, he wanted to see if he could. He saw it as a competition between himself and the guy who had designed the protective firewalls of the system, and more often than not Matt was the victor.
‘I suppose if anyone we know could do it, then it’s Matt. We were in the same crowd at school and I knew he always fancied me, but I was too involved with Lee at the time. He got a first from Warwick in I.T. and I heard he has started his own company here in London and is doing quite well for himself. I haven’t seen him for eighteen months or so. You’re thinking he could hack into the Gables’ system to get what we need, if we can persuade him. I’ll look him up.’ She fetched her laptop and opened her Facebook page. She found him amongst her friends and went to his page, which had his email address on it. She noted it down then called up her own email. She typed:
Hi Matt,
I’ve been working on a project with Mr West from school and we think you might be able to help us with something. Could you email me or give me a ring on 0775 236784.
See you soon
Lisa x
She sent the email off into the electronic ether. Now all we could do was wait and see if Matt got back to us.
Chapter 8
There was no reply by the following morning. Lisa checked her email as we sat eating cereals at the table.
‘No response from Matt yet, where do you think we should go from here?’
‘I suggest we start to flesh out William Howard Miller more. At the moment, we have him being born, then appearing as a twenty-four year old in 1933 setting fire to the Reichstag, then getting into trouble with the law and disappearing totally in 1939, never to be seen again, or at least not by his mother. Aylmer does not seem to want us delving too deeply into the Miller family and I should think that it relates more to son than mother. So I say we need to try to find out more on Miller.’
‘I agree, he does seem to be the key to all this. But before we start, I have to go into the office and arrange my leave. It should only take an hour or so. What are you going to do?’
I looked up from her laptop. ‘It says here that all the court records for Middlesex from 1834 to 1939 are kept in Kew. I’ll head there and see what I can find out. You join me when you can.
‘Sounds like a plan.’ She said. ‘I’ll catch up with you later.’
‘Okay, text me when you get to Kew.’
Forty minutes later I was settled before the Old Bailey court records for August 1939. This time I had enough detail to refine my search, so it was not difficult to find what I wanted. William Howard Miller of 34 Park Gardens, Fulham had been charged with possession of two Mauser C96 machine pistols in contravention of the 1937 Firearms Act. Evidence had been given by the police that Miller had been found in possession of the pistols after a tip off had led to the search of his home. Inspector Evans of the Metropolitan Police had added that Miller had a criminal record, having been found guilty of affray three years earlier. Miller gave evidence to explain that he had only recently returned to Britain after several years in Spain. The pistols had been keepsakes of his time there and as he had not been in the country since 1936, he had no idea that the ownership of such weapons was prohibited, as they had been perfectly legal when he had left the country. He had explained that having only just returned to Britain, he had not had the opportunity to apply for a firearms certificate. He added that he believed the whole trial was politically motivated and he was being persecuted for his political beliefs. In his summing up, the Judge had warned Miller that he faced a maximum prison sentence of two years, if found guilty. Before the jury could begin its’ deliberations, Miller had jumped bail and fled the country, he was believed to be currently in France. If he was located the prosecution stated its’ intention to have him extradited.
I thought about what I had discovered. With the outbreak of war with Germany just ten days later, I supposed the authorities were too busy to worry about pursuing Miller. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket; it was a text from Lisa, who was waiting outside. I gathered my notes, returned the records and joined her outside.
‘I think they must have felt guilty about axing my research, they’ve given me a month off with pay, rather than the three weeks I asked for. If I can go to Madrid before then, I get to keep any outstanding leave. Any joy this morning?’
‘Oh yes!’ I declared and went on to give her the gist of my discovery as we walked the tube. When I was finished, she looked at me.
‘What do you think he was doing in Spain?’
‘Well the time is right for the Spanish Civil War. If he’d been a socialist or communist I’d suspect he was fighting with the International Brigade, but that’s not likely with his political allegiance. Could you really see him fighting alongside communists and anarchists against the Nationalists/fascists?’
‘Could he have been on the other side?’
‘I don’t honestly know. You usually only hear of those who fought for the International Brigades, people like Eric Blair…’ She looked blank. ‘You’d know him as George Orwell, you know, the guy who wrote Animal Farm and 1984.’ I explained and saw comprehension dawn on her. ‘I think the poet Stephen Spender fought with them too. I suppose there must be some Britons who fought on the Nationa
list side, but the only foreigners you hear of there are the German Condor Legion and the Italian volunteers sent by Mussolini’
‘Could we find out?’
‘Find me internet access and I’m sure we could.’ I said nodding to the laptop bag hanging on her shoulder.
We abandoned our walk to the tube and located a coffee shop that offered free internet access. We purchased coffee and Panini and logged on to the net. It did not take long to discover that there were indeed people who went to Spain to fight for the Franco’s Nationalists. According to Wikipedia, there was an entire Irish unit and one of the founders of the National Front, Commander Fountaine had fought for Franco. All interesting information, but not proof of what Miller had been up to.
‘Do you think that old lady you spoke to in Forest Row might know any more?’ I asked grasping at straws.
‘I’m sure she did, but I didn’t even get her name.’
‘Great!’
‘We could try to find her. Let’s go down this afternoon, it’s not like we’ve got loads of other things to do.’
By three that afternoon we were back in Forest Row, having collected the Saab and had a relatively smooth run down. I had an idea that might just work. I led Lisa back to the grave yard and we located Lisl Miller’s grave once more. I turned and looked around. When Lisa had met the old lady, she had been laying flowers on her husband’s grave. There was only one grave nearby with fresh flowers on it. I walked across to it, beckoning Lisa to follow. The head stone read
Arthur Philip George
1937 – 2005
Beloved husband of Rosa
Much loved father of Ann and David
Forever in our hearts
We had a name, Rosa George. All we had to do was find her.
‘Let’s split up again. You go to the post office and see if they can tell you her address. Spin them some sort of yarn about her having dropped something last week that you wanted to return. I’ll have a drive around and see if I can find a hotspot, then I could use the internet to try to track her down.’ Lisa set off for the Post Office; I opened her laptop and began to search for a wireless signal that was not security enabled. There wasn’t one. I drove the car a few hundred yards and tried again. Still nothing. I moved again towards some newer houses away from the main A22. This time there were three signals and one was not secure. I connected the laptop and used the internet to search the electoral roll, again it was a pay site, but it gave me the information I was seeking. Rosa Alice George, 23 Wheelers Lane. I drove back and picked up Lisa.
Nothing left to lose Page 6