Prisoner 441

by Geoff Leather

  ‘My poor boy, this has been too much.’

  Bron stood rigid looking aghast at his grandson, quite unable to take in what he’d seen. Campbell took his arm and guided him out of the study into the hall, gently closing the door on Schatzi and Naomi and began to explain to Bron that this was what his life had been like in the beginning, but gradually Naomi had taught him to cope and brought stability to what otherwise would have been a chaotic institutionalised existence with no purpose. Campbell knew that Naomi would be in the study for some time and took Bron into Schatzi’s domain. The first thing Bron noticed was that it was sparse. No paintings, posters or artwork of any kind, no mementos, no reminders that people keep in case they forget.

  ‘He keeps it all in his head. Has a most remarkable ability to recall places, scenes, facts and figures that you and I would struggle with. As you said earlier, he is intelligent, in fact he has been described by his scientific peers as a genius.’

  At that point, Bron noticed three framed pieces hidden behind the door. He took put on his glasses and took a closer look.

  ‘That is an amazing achievement, a Doctorate from London University at his age.’ He then worked out that Schatzi was 19 years old at the time. By the time he received his Nobel prize he was 28 years old as Bron looked proudly at the framed letter of recommendation.

  ‘What’s this third one all about?’ he said holding the frame in all directions trying to make some sense of what he was looking at.

  ‘That, my dear Bron, is the photograph of the first double helix that Schatzi helped to discover for his research team. His theories on DNA structure. It took him from obscurity to worldwide scientific celebrity. That was something he definitely didn’t relish at all. That is where Naomi took control of his exposure to the outside world. She spent hours with him, guiding him, travelling to lectures, keeping him from metaphorically exploding.’

  Bron was silent for a minute contemplating what was now and what may have been.

  ‘You Brits and Yanks were way ahead of us in Germany in child psychology and treatment of paediatric trauma. May I call you, Stuart? Your wife obviously undertook a great and difficult task in bringing up Schatzi. I admire what she has done and you for that matter, Stuart.’

  ‘Johann, thank you. Shall we go back and fetch the others and have some tea. Now that the rain has stopped, maybe a stroll around the garden beforehand. I find the peace and quiet is a good time to reflect and talk.’

  ‘That would be nice. Thank you. In fact, why don’t we go now, there’s something I want to tell you.’

  ‘Naomi, Schatzi. All OK now? Johann and I are going for a stroll around the garden. We need to talk. Can you ask Annie for a little tea, perhaps?’

  Stuart took Johann by the arm and guided him towards the small patio with a table and chairs. They stood silently admiring the gently curves of the manicured lawn to the stream beyond, swollen by the rain of the past few days as it babbled and splashed over the rocks beneath.

  He continued, ‘My friend, please sit. Let me begin when I was in Germany in 1945. As you will now know, the Holocaust had taken a lot of us by surprise. Not the fact that it was happening, we knew that a few years earlier, but the scale of the slaughter. I was seconded into the Intelligence units and had the task of tracing those involved. My first experience was with those who had survived Birkenau-Auschwitz. One of those survivors, was a remarkable man named Solomon Isaacs.

  Stuart continued, ‘He had survived two years in the camp along with his mother and father. He was a brilliant scientist, with an incredible mind that was capable of storing the minutest detail and with absolute clarity. He had worked in the hospital with Mengele. They had similar scientific goals in mind, but Solomon’s future had been stifled by the regime as he was a Jew. Genetics was his field and he’d worked alongside Mengele at university in Munich albeit when Solomon was a first-year research graduate and Mengele was studying for a Doctorate. By working in the hospital block in Auschwitz, Solomon managed to save his family.

  Johann had listened with interest but wondered what this had to do with him, apart from the nagging in his mind about the name Solomon Isaac.

  ‘Where are we going with this story, Stuart?’

  ‘Wait, be patient, Johann. I am telling you the whole story for a very good reason. He worked in what was known as Block 10. One night about ten months before the Nazi’s retreated from the horror they’d created whilst the Russians fought their way into Eastern Europe and opened the gates of Auschwitz, a young girl had entered Block 10 and been hidden there by Solomon. He found her one night and gave her a nurse’s uniform. He knew from past experience that she was going to be a victim of experimentation and eventual extermination if he did nothing to help her so he devised a plan which was accepted by Mengele after speaking to Dr Clauberg who was gathering information on sterilisation and when told of a healthy young woman that could raise Aryan children, Lebensborn. Solomon had a theory about artificial insemination and put it to Clauberg. He approved the experiment subject to all Solomon’s notes being duplicated to him for onward despatch to Berlin under his name. To cut a long story short, a child was born to this young woman not long before the liberation of the camp.’

  Do we know what happened to them all?’ asked Johann, his interest peeked.

  ‘Yes, Johann. I know all about them.

  ‘Go on, tell me more, this is fascinating.’

  ‘Well, I had heard of this family of four and that Solomon had been working in Block 10 by a fellow survivor. He dictated the story to one of my colleagues and this is why I asked you to sit down here away from the house.’

  ‘You’ve told me about Solomon, but what has this got to do with me?’

  ‘Johann,’ he paused looking into Johann’s eyes, ‘the girl who gave birth to the little boy they called Stewart was named Nadine Rekova.’

  ‘Nadine. Oh my God. She survived.’ He put his head in his hands and wept uncontrollably until Stuart got up and put his hands on the old man’s shoulders.

  ‘Sorry, it must be a great shock to you, Johann. She said that if it wasn’t for you and your resolve, she would never have survived Stalingrad and the Stalinist post war regime of terror and fear. You also saved her life.’

  ‘Not entirely, Stuart. I left her alone and told her to keep going east. I had given up hope. What happened to her afterwards?’

  ‘Yes, I know. Solomon Isaacs gave me all this evidence in 1945.She was taken in by the German’s and after various interrogations was sent from camp to camp and eventually to join other Russian prisoners of war in Auschwitz. She had outlived her usefulness but then what else were they to do with a lone Russian in their midst in a rapidly deteriorating situation.’

  ‘After interviewing Solomon at length, and may I say we were, on his testimony, able to capture some serious criminals, I arranged for the family to receive visas to go to the UK.’

  ‘So, they are all here now!’

  ‘Well, yes and no. I resumed my work at London University and Solomon joined the University to resume his doctorate that was interrupted by the persecution of his family and his incarceration at Auschwitz. He then undertook some serious genetic research. Some of his incites were to say the least far more advanced than we had assumed at first. He had a detailed knowledge of infertility and cloning. It seemed that all his ideas worked in practise. Quite remarkable really. The time we saved in advancing research was staggering. It was if he had already undertaken tasks in a former life. No such information from the Auschwitz papers had revealed anything other than what came into the public domain very soon after the invasion of Germany.’

  Stuart stopped when he realised that Johann had stopped listening. He could see that the old man was assimilating all that he had heard.

  ‘Anyway. Nadine. I only met her a few times. She was enthralled at bringing up young Stewart, Solomon’s son as it transpired. Another very able, some say brilliant, scientist. He’s the head of some department at Cambridge University,
now. Lives in Cambridge. I have to say I am not sure where Nadine lives but I may be able to find out for you.’

  There was a wave from the front of the house. Tea was ready. They slowly made their way to the house. The sun was now encasing the old Barn in warm yellow light reflecting off the window glass at different angles. Stuart had his arms around Johann’s shoulders as he eased him into the hallway.

  ‘Schatzi. You all right?’

  ‘Yes, I am now. Mum’s been great as usual, I now know I cannot be responsible for all those bad things that happened to my family.’ He turned, that part was over dead and buried in his mind. ‘How are you dear Grandpapa?’

  Not expecting such an effusive response, Johann was momentarily lost for words.

  ‘Fine. Just Fine.’

  ‘Johann’s feeling a little confused, Schatzi. I told him the story about Nadine Rekova who married Solomon Isaac. Well, Johann thought she had died up until now.

  ‘Grandpapa, you saved her life all those years ago. You should be proud.’

  Schatzi approached his grandfather and hugged him, whispering in his ear, ‘I love you.’

  Johann hugged him back but there was a lingering question that remained hidden in the past about Solomon Isaac that wouldn’t stay away. What was it that nagged him so much now?

  Chapter 49

  Hampshire

  ‘Why? What happened?’ asked Jonny.

  ‘Jonny, I won’t bore you with the details suffice it to say that Captain Johann Bron knocked on our door not long after Naomi and Schatzi returned from Munich. Apparently, he had arranged for them to be followed after Schatzi started asking questions at the Town Hall on the first day. He then told us about getting our address from the Hotel through a police connection and just arrived here.’

  ‘What? That must have been a shock. A hell of a shock, I’d say.’

  Jonny was silent for a moment lost in thought. Jonny knew that Bron had lied about going to Caen, he’d been to see the Campbell’s here at their house. Why hadn’t he said anything to Jonny. Wait till you get home, Jonny said to himself. Jonny looked at Captain Campbell.

  ‘You’re certainly right about that. Schatzi had one of his bad turns to begin with thinking he’d been responsible for everything bad that had happened to the Bron family after his birth. Naomi managed to calm him down then he took to his Grandfather in a big way. Naomi was quite overwhelmed by his reaction. Well, we all were. ‘

  ‘How did he know for certain that he had the right person, Schatzi, I mean?’

  ‘Several details. Schatzi’s request for the Bron family at the Town Hall, the addresses they visited, the photographs and the Hotel registration.’

  ‘Pretty convincing evidence for him then.’

  ‘Oh yes. He’d been through hell and back, poor fellow and survived. I told him about Nadine Rekova and how she survived.’

  ‘What was his reaction?’

  ‘Stunned at first, then joy in his eyes. I didn’t know where she was now, but said I’d try to find here for him. Not so sure now whether that was such a good idea, in the circumstances.’

  Jonny didn’t know what to say, again Johann Bron hadn’t said anything.

  ‘What happened after he left?’

  ‘Schatzi was fine. I think he felt he gained a relative, a Grandpapa, as he called him. It was Naomi that took things badly. She didn’t show it outwardly so that Schatzi didn’t suffer, but I could see she wasn’t well after that. She became depressed. Locked herself away for hours on end. I heard her crying at night in her room. Our local doctor came a few times. He gave her some pills to cope. Said they’d take some time to take effect, but we needed to be patient. I suggested she saw someone to talk it through.’ He paused to take another sip of whiskey.

  ‘Did she take your advice about seeing someone, Stuart?’

  ‘No. Said she’d be OK with the pills. After a few weeks, she brightened up, but she wasn’t the same Naomi. I tried to get her to talk but she didn’t want to. ‘I will in time, Stuart.’ She’d say, so I decide to take matters into my own hands.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I rang a colleague of mine at the University. He recommended a therapist who specialised in cognitive behaviour. I spoke to the chap on the telephone and he agreed to see her.’

  ‘Stuart, sorry to be ignorant, but what do these people do that could help Naomi?’

  ‘I had to check it out myself. In short, Jonny, what my colleague in London said is that Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is now recognised as an effective treatment for depression. At the heart of CBT is an assumption that Naomi’s mood is directly related to her patterns of thought. The negative, dysfunctional thinking, after Bron’s appearance in our life affected her mood, her sense of self, her behaviour, and even physical state.’

  ‘So how is it supposed to work?’

  ‘Naomi had to learn to recognize her negative patterns of thought, she was taught to evaluate their validity, and then replace them with healthier ways of thinking.’

  ‘Did it work?’

  ‘Their aim was to help Naomi change her patterns of behaviour that come from dysfunctional thinking. All the jumble of thoughts inspired by Bron’s visit and Schatzi’s reaction to him. She could only think of the bad aspects, negative thoughts that created her depression. If I hadn’t got involved when I did, I was told that she may have made it nearly impossible to escape a downward spiral. It was noticeable when her patterns of thought started to change so did her mood.’

  ‘So, Stuart, what happened? She started to improve, getting back to her normal self and then?’

  ‘That, I will never know, Jonny. Nothing untoward happened. I have tried to think about it many, many times but I cannot tell you. She just seemed to slip backwards at an alarming rate. Stopped eating, became irritable, refused to continue the sessions with the therapist.

  ‘In the last few days before she died, she took on a grey gaunt look. Whenever Schatzi appeared she rallied and was her usual self, but I could see beneath the fabric. She was just fading away, as if she didn’t want anything to do with life anymore. It was heartbreaking.

  ‘Annie and I found her sitting over there outside by the stream leaning against the old willow tree. Thought she’d fallen asleep, her eyes were shut and there was a kind of serenity of peace that comes over some when they die. Her face was cold to the touch. There was no pulse and her body was cold. The post-mortem revealed no unusual findings. Her heart had just stopped.

  Chapter 50

  Munich Germany

  Johann settled into his chair back home. It was early evening and he had telephone Stuart Campbell to tell him he was safely back. He took out a tumbler and poured himself a whiskey topped up gingerale and ice. He sipped it slowly reflecting on the past few days at the Campbell’s house that were bound to change what was left of Campbell’s life and his own.

  The next morning, he telephoned Gerhardt Steiner and told all that had happened in England.

  ‘She survived the war, Gerhardt. Isn’t that amazing?’

  ‘Where is she now, Johann?’ You going to get in touch?’

  ‘No idea where she is now. Find her, can you do that for me, Gerhardt?’

  ‘Yes, of course. What’s her full name and where was she last living? That’s a minimum to start with.’

  ‘She married Solomon Isaacs. First name, as you well know is Nadine. Campbell said that she always, to his knowledge, lived in London.’

  ‘Big place, London, Johann, I’ll do my best.’

  Gerhardt put down the telephone and rang records in Berlin. Their Interpol connection was better than his and Reinhart Schreiber, his colleague from long ago at college, was his first point of contact.

  ‘Old friend of my father’s has asked me to trace a woman in London, he thought had died in the war, but has now discovered, survived. They were very close at one time. Any chance of a favour?’

  ‘Fax through the details, I see what I can do, Gerhardt. Give my love to Munich.’
>
  ‘Thanks, Reinhart.’

  Two weeks later, as Gerhardt was sitting at his desk pondering a list of unsolved house burglaries that was upsetting his boss, the telephone rang. His private line.

  ‘Gerhardt, I don’t know what you are getting into but there’s some shit coming out of your request. This guy, Solomon Isaac, in a high security prison, the highest, in London. Breach of Official Secrets Act, thirty-five-year term with no remission.’

  ‘What/ Oh my god, Reinhart. Look don’t do anything. I’ll call you back after I’ve checked with my father’s friend.’

  ‘Johann, why didn’t you tell me about Solomon Isaacs?’ said Gerhardt.

  ‘What do you mean? I told you all I know, Gerhardt.’

  ‘The guy’s in Belmarsh, a high security prison in London. Messing with Official Secrets or something. You didn’t know?’ sighed Gerhardt irritably.

  ‘No. I’m sorry, has this got you into trouble?’

  ‘No. Not yet anyway. Look, Johann, I may be able to get an address now and will kill this enquiry in Berlin. That should do it.’

  ‘Thanks, Gerhardt.’

  He replaced the receiver ending the call then looked at his watch and immediately the picked it up again.

  ‘Reinhart, I’ve spoken to my chap. Didn’t know anything about it. All I need is last known address of the wife so I can start my trace. You can drop your end. Is that OK?’

  ‘Yep. Last known address coming up.’

  ‘Thanks, Reinhart. See you my friend.’