‘I have been following the case closely. You may not have noticed me, but I have been in court since the start of evidence, not as you see me now but much more modestly dressed. I did not want anyone to recognise me as he fumbled to put on some heavy rimmed glasses.’
‘Why was that?’
‘I know of all the main witnesses, the deceased and of your client and I know of matters first-hand that no-one here is aware of.
‘Can you tell us what those are?’
‘It was 1946, I had been imprisoned since 1942 and was moved from one Gulag to another. We were treated harshly by the Soviets as many of the camps were run by convicted criminals. The camps included others from the war in Yugoslavia and Poland. We were prisoners and toiled as slave labour for years.’
The witness described harrowing stories of life in Soviet Russia. Counsel for both sides allowed the witness to ramble, but the Sir Martin interrupted.
‘Sorry and I know this must bring back terrible memories, but can you now direct your mind to the events of 15 April 1952.’
‘I was moved to Vyatlag was one of the largest prison camps in the GULAG system when I arrived there were more than 20,000 prisoners. Political prisoners were sent there for counter-revolutionary or other subversive activities, treason, spying or terrorism, and there were the criminals as well as hundreds of German POWs. The work they did was building a railway and logging.
'I was assigned to settlement no 11 in the very north, nearer to Syktyvkar, capital of the Komi Republic. I was in a group of about eighty prisoners and we were force marched from the station. It was night-time when we arrived, but there was light shining all around and I thought to myself that, thank heavens, the village didn't look too bad, but as I was being taken to a wooden hut I began to realise it wasn’t a village but a camp with watchtowers, guards with guns and dogs. The hut was small with four trestle beds in it, on one of which a woman in a red coat was asleep. I said, “There must be some mistake here, surely men and women live separately?” but was told that, no, everyone lives together here. The woman, it turned out, had come here with her husband, a fellow prisoner. That woman’s name was Elsie Heidmann and later that first night I met Gurt Heidmann.
‘Let us be clear. You are telling us that the accused parents were alive and well in 1953.’
‘Yes, Sir. Let’s just say they were alive. None of us were well.’
‘Are you able tell us what happened after that first meeting?’
‘We were assigned to the same work group, felling trees in the forest. They found out that I was a Captain in the German army and assumed I was also a Nazi. We got into some vicious arguments. They couldn’t accept that I was a Wehrmacht officer not a member of the SS. They accused me of being responsible for their plight. The Russian guards took great pleasure in seeing German prisoners at each other’s throats.’
Bron took a sip of water as he looked at the rapped attention the jury were giving him, he then continued to explain the continued goading and threats he received daily from Gurt and Elsie Heidmann then his voice faltered, and he stopped. An eerie silence hung over the court. Finally, he turned to Inspector Smith sitting between two police officers. He then shouted at him.
‘You killed the wrong man, Inspector. I killed your parents. It was either them or me. Do you understand?’
Uproar burst out in the courtroom as Captain Bron held his head in his hands, cried and slumped to the floor holding his chest. Nadine ran to him shouting his name. Stewart Isaacs started CPR and managed to restarted Bron’s heart.
Chapter 71
The Boar’s Head Inn London
‘I don’t think there was much doubt about the guilty verdict. Campbell’s evidence was a pretty good clincher giving the evidence about Solomon’s recollections as you did yourself, Jonny.’
Graham Rainham held his pint of beer aloft and nodded at Jonny in a gesture of well done. ‘Not quite what we expected. Too many loose ends, that’s what you said about the manuscript, Jonny.’
‘Bron’s evidence seemed to be one of personal closure. Sitting in that courtroom, he could have pulled that stunt much earlier.’
‘Why didn’t he?’
‘‘I am going to see him now he’s recovered from his heart attack, but that’s not a question I’m going to ask, Graham. It just seems not to matter anymore, and in any case, Nadine has asked to go with me, I’m no match maker but something tells me they’ll make each other happy for the first time in years.’
Johann Bron looked better than either Nadine or Jonny had hoped. He seemed to have had a new lease of life. They sat outside under the shade of large umbrella. Johann’s face shielded under an ancient panama hat. Nadine sat beside him and put her hand on his arm, he covered it with his and smiled into her eyes, she turned to Jonny.
‘Are you going to publish?’
‘Yes, but only if you agree. You’re his heir. It’s your decision, of course, I’d like to if only to bring finality.’ Nadine nodded her approval.
Chapter 72
Royal Albert Hall South Kensington London
October 21 had arrived all too quickly. Despite the early autumn chill in the air, the sun at midday day illuminated the exterior of what the designers, Captain Francis Fowke and Major-General Henry Scott, had hoped would be a modern version of an ancient amphitheatre as the foundation stone was laid in 1867. It certainly felt like that as the Rufus Alroyd, Jonny and Nadine Solomon walked towards the elevated stage. Behind them as they faced what would be an audience of several hundred, hung a collage of images representing important points in Solomon’s narrative.
Grange House Publications had received a generous sum for the film rights to Stealing the Staircase and so such an auspicious and expensive event was now beginning to make sense.
Nadine sat down and leaned her arms on the table dais in front of him. She held her head in her hands looking at the Royal Crest in the distance, deep in thought. Her mind wandered back in time. Had she done the right thing? She had not read Queen Victoria’s speech when she opened the Hall in 1871 as a practical memorial to her late husband Albert who died six years earlier. She must have had her doubts about the occasion and how it was going to be received, just like her. Stewart, her son, had reluctantly agreed to support her and sat in the front row with Johann Bron and Captain Campbell.
The three retired, in silence, to the back-stage area. Each was tense in their own way. Rufus knew the book was going to be a monumental success. The feed-back from the ARCs, all two hundred of them, was incredibly encouraging. Advance orders were pouring in and Grange House would be hard pressed to meet the worldwide distribution dates.
He could not help himself from peering into the auditorium as the guests took their seats. As befits such a venue, everyone despite the afternoon timing, had dressed appropriately. As two o’clock arrived he shook Nadine’s hand and patted Jonny on the shoulder.
‘And, so to battle,’ he whispered as the curtain opened and the three walked purposefully amid rapturous applause onto the stage and took their seats.
Rufus introduced Jonny and Nadine but it was quite unnecessary. He covered the usual pleasantries and then launched into why Grange House had such pleasure in offering Stealing the Staircase to a worldwide audience. Not many were listening too intently, it was Nadine they’d come to hear, but they’d have to wait. Jonny recalled the Osborne case and the unusual way the manuscript came into his hands. Mrs Green, at Jonny’s insistence, had been invited and when Jonny pointed her out at the back of the Hall, she burst into tears she couldn’t control, as all eyes swivelled to see who the mystery lady was. They clapped generously. Jonny sat down.
Rufus then turned to Nadine. Her time had come. She stood and gave a deep bow. Everyone stood in unison and eventually once the hoots and clapping had finished, she sat down again. Time hung perilously in the air. Rufus and Jonny began to worry as they looked at each other. The audience was just about to wonder what was happening when she began to speak.
‘You will
have to forgive me but years ago Solomon asked an old man, many years older than he at the time, to what do you attribute your great age. “Simple the man said when I’m standing and I can sit down, I sit and when I sitting and I can lie down, I lie down”. Nadine got up and stepped to the front of the dais and lay down and for the next few minutes remained there, she seemed to be mesmerised by the backdrop with the picture of a young Solomon Isaacs gazing out from the collage of his life. Another uproar cascaded around the auditorium as she got up.
Nadine’s speech started with the work of code that Solomon produced in Belmarsh. No-one in the audience had any idea that he had smuggled his book out of prison and were now silent as she gave them examples of the code he formulated. She then turned to Rufus. None of this was in the carefully prepared script from Grange House, but what the hell, she had this audience in her hand just as he’d hoped.
‘Have you a copy of the seating arrangement, Rufus. I only know where Wendy, Mrs Green, is sitting?’
Rufus shook his head. Back-stage, the Manager beckoned and within a few seconds a large plan appeared. She scanned it and handed it back.
She then started to rattle off all the names and who they represented in order along the front row. Each one looked at their neighbour as she ventured along the line.
‘It’s easy when to how,’ she chuckled. She was no Solomon with his photographic memory but she’d practised this quietly behind everyone’s back just to give life to his intellectual ability.
Rufus whispered in Jonny’s ear behind Solomon’s back, ‘that’s another million copies!’
It was now that she started on the real script. It was based primarily on the collage behind the dais. At one stage, tears streamed done her face as she recalled the suffering in Auschwitz.
‘Forgive me, even now I think of those poor little ones who never had a chance to live as long as me.’ She dabbed her eyes but was unable to continue and mumbled, ‘I am sorry, I thought this was all over as she sat down to silence. Then as one everyone rose and clapped.
THE END
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KEEPING IN TOUCH
Thank you for taking the time to journey through my fictional account of some harrowing times during the C20th century with Solomon Isaacs and Jonny Wightman in Prisoner 441. Auschwitz is real and most of us know what really happened there was appaling. Porton Down is real but only when thing go wrong, do we hear about them. I hope you felt that the different threads of secrecy can be dangerous for us all. If you would like to contact me with your thoughts, visit my website www.geoffleather.com and leave a message, or email me at [email protected] .
BIOGRAPHY
The criminal mind is challenging. The lessons from history are rarely learned. I love the combination of them.
I grew up in Devon and went on to University in Cardiff and Bristol College of Law. I have a Law degree and a Diploma in Forensic Science and Profiling.
Academically, Criminal Law is a fascinating subject, but its practice never appealed to me, although I spent many an hour listening avidly to my colleagues in that field when I was a practicing lawyer. Some of those revelations appear now and again when I am writing.
Geoff Leather 2020
COPYRIGHT
This novel is entirely a work of fiction
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © Geoff Leather 2020
Geoff Leather asserts the moral right to be identified as author of this work
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library
ISBN:978-1-9163494-3-8
All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, of stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the publishers or the author.
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS
Thanks to David at d.ology Ltd for guiding me through the pitfalls of computing with his vast knowledge of the science and explaining to me in simple terms how to connect lose ends.
Thanks to Warren Design for juggling my thoughts into great covers.
To Chris, Jan and Amanda who struggled through some early efforts with encouraging words.
To my three children, Rachel, Sophie and David, who never bored at my constant questioning.
To those at Jericho Writers for their invaluable advice.
But most of all to my wife, Judy, who read the drafts, suggested better ways of expression and wording and kept up my spirits when they were flagging.
Prisoner 441 Page 24