Nothing left to lose

by Stuart Allison

  ‘Hey, I’m really sorry Sir, that’s harsh.’

  ‘I’ll get over it...eventually. And it’s Ian, you left school a long time ago.’

  ‘Okay Ian, I can do it easily. I doubt there’s much risk; I can’t see a nursing home having too much in the way of internet security. I’ll be in and out without leaving a trace. Who and where are they and what’s the name of the old lady?’

  Lisa handed over the details she had written out on a sheet of paper.

  ‘I’ve got meetings all day tomorrow, I’ve just opened an office here in London and things are a bit crazy, but I’ll try to have a look at it the day after, that okay?’

  ‘If you’re sure, anytime over the next few days would be fine. Thanks a lot Matt, it’s very good of you.’ Lisa told him.

  ‘No worries, just don’t be a stranger, keep in touch. And I meant what I said, I’d like you to come to the wedding, I’ll email you invitations.’

  We finished our coffee, Matt was right, it really was very good. Matt however had to get back to work, so we parted with his promise to be in touch soon. Once back in Hackney, we checked again to see if there was any response from Franz. There was. The email read:

  Hi Lisa,

  Initial findings. I have located a file that I believe is your man. You were right. He went by the name of Muller. I’m fairly certain that he is your man, not many Germans have the middle name of Howard! I have copies of the whole file and I will translate it tonight and send you the English version tomorrow morning. What I have so far is his rank, Hauptsturmfuhrer, dating from 1933. There does not seem to be anything then until 1940. After that it goes on to list his postings during the war and his promotion to Sturmbannfuhrer, what you would call Major in 1942 and Obersturmbannfuhrer or Lieutenant Colonel in 1944.

  I will be in contact tomorrow.

  Franz.

  Lisa looked excited.

  ‘Now we are getting somewhere. I can’t wait for the full brief tomorrow. What a bastard Miller must have been, an Englishman in the SS.’

  ‘He was half German remember, divided loyalties and all that. He wasn’t the only one anyway. Ever hear of the British Freecorps, or the Legion of St George?’

  Lisa nodded.

  ‘They were a Waffen SS unit recruited from British and Commonwealth prisoners of war.’

  ‘That’s right, I don’t think there were many, fifty or so, but that shows that friend Miller was not on his own.’

  There was nothing to do until Franz delivered, so Lisa settled down in front of the TV and I began to read the free newspaper I had been handed on the tube. The front page was full of Sinclair making the most of the situation. The main story covered a speech he had given in Blackburn, attacking the insular communities who were causing such disorder on the streets. He went on to question the insularity of those groups, suggesting that if they did not want to assimilate and be part of British society, then perhaps they should find another place where they could accept the culture. He had gone on to praise the French for their insistence that all of their citizens conformed to French values and used the French language for all official purposes. He reiterated the attack of the French President on the wearing of the Burka as a symbol of unacceptable subjugation of Moslem women.

  ‘That’s bloody rich!’ I exploded. ‘As if he gives a rat’s arse about the equality of Moslem women!’

  Lisa looked up enquiringly.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said ‘it’s that smarmy bastard Sinclair going off on one again. There’s something about that man that brings out the worst in me.’ I showed her the article.

  ‘See what you mean,’ she said ‘I wouldn’t bet on British women having equality if he has his way, never mind Moslem women. You’re right he is such a slimy bastard. I just can’t see why people don’t see through him.’

  ‘You can thank the right-wing press, they’re always willing to publicise his views and polish his image. It’s not that surprising; the Daily Mail supported Moseley’s Blackshirts for a time in the Thirties. This is the same. It’s a pity that no-one can pull back the curtain of his image and let people see what lies beneath.’

  The next morning, we both woke early, excited by the prospect of Franz’ juicy email. Due to the time difference, it was already waiting in Lisa’s inbox.

  Hi Lisa,

  I spent all last night translating Herr Miller’s record. You owe me, and more than just the fee we agreed!

  Miller became a member of the Allgemeine SS in February 1933. I cannot account for why, but he joined with the immediate rank of Hauptsturmfuhrer, which is very unusual. So was his membership form, which was signed by Reinhard Heydrich, the Deputy Head of the SS. Despite his auspicious start, he seems to disappear until September 1940, when he is recorded as a member of the Liebstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, where he is recorded as an aide to Obergruppenfuhrer Sepp Dietrich. He served in the Greek campaign, before being transferred to Berlin in June 1941 to become adjutant to Reinhard Heydrich at the RHSA. When Heydrich was appointed Reichsprotektor of Bohemia and Moravia in September 1941, Miller, or Muller as he is recorded, went with him to Prague. As Heydrich’s adjutant, he helped plan and direct much of the purge that followed the Night and Fog Decree. Over six thousand political opponents and resistance helpers simply disappeared in the occupied territories. Many were executed or died in concentration camps. Muller next appears in January 1942, when Heydrich chaired the Wannsee Conference, at the same time he was promoted to Sturmbannfuhrer. In April 1942, he was sent by Heydrich to oversee work at the concentration camp at Birkenau. He was still there, when Heydrich was wounded by assassins in May 1942. He seems to have returned to Prague and was with Heydrich when he died of his wounds in June. Muller was one of the officers in command of the reprisals at Lidice later that month. He then returned to Birkenau, where he spent the next two years as an ‘advisor’ to Rudolf Höss, the Commandant. In August 1944 in the wake of the July Bomb Plot, he was recalled by Kaltenbrunner to the RHSA office in Berlin. It was at this time that he was promoted to Obersturmbannfuhrer. He remained in Berlin until February 1945; he travelled to Munich in March where he is listed as missing. The Allies searched for Muller in the aftermath of the war, he was actively pursued by the Nuremberg investigators, but no trace of him was ever found. I hope this helps your research, I will email you my invoice later.

  Franz

  ‘There’s a lot here that goes right past me.’ Lisa declared. ‘What’s the RHSA for a start? Muller-Miller seems to have been assigned there several times.’

  ‘Reich Central Security Office, a combined organisation of the police, SD and Gestapo created by Heydrich on Himmler’s orders.’

  ‘Okay, that’s number one, the next thing then…’ She scanned the email. ’What was the Wannsee Conference?’

  ‘The conference Heydrich chaired where they decided on the Final Solution to the Jewish question. It’s the place where the Nazis decided to murder all the Jews in Europe. If I remember rightly they produced a list of each country in Europe and how many Jews lived there, a sort of wish list, or maybe death list would be closer.’

  ‘Nice. So Miller was one of the creators of the Holocaust. The next bit I don’t know about is Lidice. And don’t look at me like that, the course you taught me ended in 1939!’

  ‘Okay, okay, fair comment. Lidice was a village in Czechoslovakia. When Heydrich died after an attack by the Czech resistance, one of the assassins was traced to the village. All of the men were shot, the women and children sent to concentration camps and the village was destroyed. Only a few of the women and children survived to return after the war. It’s one of the most famous war crimes.’

  ‘Shit, was there a war crime this guy was not involved in?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s even worse. You do realise what was meant by him spending time at Birkenau?’ Lisa shook her head. ‘It’s what most people refer to as Auschwitz, the big extermination camp with the gas chambers and crematoria. Up to 1,500,000 people were murdered there.’
>
  ‘What do you think happened to him, when he disappeared?’

  ‘My guess either he was killed in the fighting or he could have just lost himself amongst the British prisoners who were being released from P.O.W. camps. The Allied war crimes investigators were looking for a German called Muller, not an Englishman called Miller, even if he didn’t change his name.’

  ‘You mean he could have got away with it and returned to Britain?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s quite possible.’

  ‘How can we find out?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any way. Better investigators than you and me couldn’t find him at the time, with all the resources at their disposal. It’s even possible that Odessa could have helped him disappear.’

  ‘Odessa?’

  ‘A supposed organisation of former SS officers, formed just before the end of the war to help SS officers escape prosecution for war crimes. They’re the ones that supposedly helped Mengele, the Auschwitz doctor of death, to escape.’

  ‘So it’s a dead end?’

  Looks like it. We could find out more about his time at Birkenau, there’s a big archive at Krakow in Poland, the nearest city to Auschwitz. But as to his fate, yes, it’s a dead end.’

  Chapter 14

  We spent two hour fruitlessly debating whether it was feasible to continue with our investigation, when we were interrupted by the ringing of my mobile. I looked at it; Jane’s picture appeared on the screen. I was tempted not to answer, but I slid open the phone.

  ‘Hello Jane.’

  ‘Ian, thank God I’ve got you at last. I tried yesterday, but all I got was voicemail. Didn’t you check your messages?’

  ‘No, sorry. I’m in London, I was probably on the underground when you called yesterday.’

  ‘It’s not important. The house has been broken into, they’ve left the place in a terrible mess. The police have been in, but they’re not a lot of help.’

  ‘Do you need me to come home?’

  ‘It would be helpful. Where are you anyway?’

  ‘I didn’t think that mattered to you any more.’ I was not going to admit I was staying with Lisa, Jane would get the wrong impression, she had always been suspicious of my relationship with Lisa and I was not going to give her any more ammunition than I had to.

  ‘There’s no need to be like that Ian!’

  ‘Sorry love, things are still a bit raw. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll be with you.’ I hung up.

  ‘Problems?’ Lisa asked.

  ‘You could say that. My house has been broke into in my absence. That was Jane on the phone. I think I’ll have to go home for a day or so to sort things out.’

  ‘Of course you must, I’ll see if there’s any more to be done about Miller. I’ll get you a key, so you can get in if I’m out. The code to disarm the alarm is 1212.’ She went into her room and returned with a key. ‘Go on, you get off, I’ll see you when things are sorted out.’

  Two hours later I pulled on to the drive of my four bed roomed detached home. It was a typical 1970s house with a clapboard fascia and integral garage. It was home, the place where my children had grown up. They place I would soon lose. Getting out of the Saab, I unlocked the front door and went in. It was a mess. Drawers had been pulled open and emptied all over the floor in the hall.

  ‘Ian, is that you?’ Jane’s voice came from the living room.

  ‘Yeah, it’s me.’

  I went into the room. Jane was kneeling on the floor, I looked down at the woman I still loved. Jane was three years younger than me, but she did not look a day over forty, she was still a very attractive woman. Her hair was still black, though I knew that dye played its part in that. She had olive skin and was slightly overweight, not unlike me. She looked up at me with her dark brown eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘Oh Ian, they’ve made such a mess. I can’t see that there’s much missing, but everything’s been ransacked. Every drawer and cupboard has been emptied out; it’s almost as if someone was searching for something.’

  I lifted her up from the floor and hugged her. At first she accepted the comfort then pulled away holding her hands up.

  ‘No. We’re not together any more, you mustn’t.’

  I felt choked. It was my natural reaction to seeing her distressed; I had not meant anything by the gesture. ‘I’m sorry, getting used to new ground rules after all these years is difficult. I reacted without thinking.’

  ‘It’s alright. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Start clearing up. Make a list of anything missing or damaged for the insurance.’

  We worked all afternoon and into the evening, putting things back into drawers and refilling cupboards. There seemed to be nothing missing, which was strange. Although there was a mess, it could have been far worse.

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ I said ‘we had to clear things out if we were to sell up and move out. It could have been far worse, you read of cases like this where they crapped all over the floor, at least we haven’t got to clear that up.’

  ‘It’s not like you to be optimistic.’

  I realised I was happy just to be with her again. I could not do this. I would be back to square one again if I allowed myself to be drawn in.

  ‘Look’ I said ‘it’s getting dark, you get off to your place.’ She had rented a place of her own when she had left me. ‘I’ll finish up here tonight and tomorrow morning, before I go back to London.’

  ‘What’s the fascination with London all of a sudden?’

  ‘I’ve just been involved in doing some historical research for a friend. It stops me from dwelling on other things.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll be off then. I’ll see you.’ She gave me a peck on the cheek and left. My heart sank as I heard her close the front door. It was still difficult to contemplate life without her and I was deluding myself, if I thought I was getting over the break up. I busied myself, clearing up and tidying away. I phoned Lisa to tell her what had happened and warn her I would be back the following afternoon. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning before I finished. I fell into what had once been our bed, but was just mine now. I was asleep almost before the light was off.

  The following morning I slept late and was woken by the phone ringing. It was Jane.

  ‘Hi Ian, I just phoned to thank you for coming back so quickly. I know we have our differences, but I know that I can always rely on you if I’m in trouble too. How is the place?’

  ‘It’s tidy enough, as far as I can see there’s nothing missing or even damaged. It’s a real conundrum.’

  She rang off and I went to the kitchen to make some coffee. As I was drinking the coffee, I heard the letterbox rattle and the post fell onto the hall carpet. I picked up the trio of envelopes. Two were brown enveloped bills; the third was an expensive cream vellum envelope. On the reverse was printed in an ornate but tasteful font: Ainsworth and Cummings, Solicitors, 117A Leadenhall Street, London EC3A 7AQ.

  A solicitor’s letter? It could only be Jane serving me with divorce papers, how could she do that to me? She could have said something to me when she saw me yesterday, or even when she called just now, perhaps Lisa was right, she was a cold-hearted bitch. The woman I had known and loved for over thirty years would never have done that to me. My eyes started to fill with tears as all the dread of the future without Jane swamped my mind once more. I thrust the letter into the inside pocket of my jacket, if that was her attitude, she could bloody wait until I felt like reading it.

  I packed a few clean clothes in a holdall and telephoned Lisa to warn her I was on my way back. Locking the house, I climbed into the Saab and headed back to London. Once back in Hackney, I told Lisa about the break-in and the solicitor’s letter.

  ‘That letter’s a bit harsh Ian; she might have given you some warning, that’s a bit dirty, if you ask me.’

  ‘Yeah, well it can wait until I’m ready to deal with it.’ I said pulling the letter out of my pocket and throwing it on the table.

>   ‘This break-in sounds strange Ian, why should anyone search your house like that, because that’s what it sounds like if nothing was taken.’ Lisa said changing the subject to a less emotive one.

  ‘Beats me.’

  ‘You don’t think it could be to do with our investigation?’

  ‘Why should it be?’

  ‘I don’t know, but look at the way the story was killed by Gerald Aylmer, there seem to be some powerful people who are unusually sensitive about this story and remember what Lucy told you about the Aylmer-Sinclair connection.’

  ‘It’s all a bit conspiracy theory isn’t it?’

  ‘Suit yourself, but there’s definitely something fishy about all this.’

  ‘Even if someone is trying to put me off, I’ve already told you, it’s a matter of academic freedom, I won’t be dictated to. Besides, if it was due to our research, it would make far more sense to break in here than my place. I know you’ve got an alarm and all, but all the same…’

  Lisa fell silent for a few seconds, as if struggling to remember something. She looked up at me with her big dark blue eyes wide.

  ‘I know why.’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why no-one has broken in here, even though we’ve been away. No-one knows I live here. I only moved in here with James three months ago. I’ve just realised that I never got round to telling them at work that I had a new address. They always use my mobile or email to contact me, so they would not have known and therefore Aylmer would not be able to find out from Seneschal.’

  ‘It’s possible, but not likely. I doubt Aylmer has nothing better to do than to burgle us.’

  ‘Okay, have it your own way; so what do we do now then?’

  ‘We could go to Krakow and see if we can find more about Miller’s time at Auschwitz.’

  ‘Won’t that be a bit expensive?’

  ‘No, when I used to take sixth form visits to Auschwitz, the flights from Luton, with a low cost airline were quite cheap. Fifty or sixty quid each way, and the hotel we stayed in was clean, comfortable and inexpensive. Give me your laptop.’