The Alice Factor

by J. Robert Janes

  He gave her the merest of nods. If Heydrich ever got to her, his work was finished. They’d kill her, too. “Guenther was to give these to one of the German customs guards at Emmerich. For some reason he didn’t use the line. Did he say why? Arlette, you’ve got to tell me. It’s an escape route, and yes, Klees is at the end of it, and yes, I’ve had to take his diamonds to London.”

  “How is it that he trusts you not to steal them?”

  “Periodically the Dutchman goes to London and transfers the diamonds to another vault.”

  “Then he only needs you to carry then into Britain for him.”

  She’d thought it all out, had known he would have recovered the Jagers and put them back. No need for signatures and dates, no record. Everything so secret.

  “Arlette, I have to know exactly what Guenther said. Please, it’s vital to others.”

  As she told him what had happened, Arlette found that the nearness of him was troubling in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

  He asked why the engineer hadn’t used the line.

  “Is it still safe, is that it, Richard?”

  His smile was there as it used to be, but she couldn’t look at him any longer. Lev’s daughter and son-in-law were one thing, de Heer Klees another, and those Berlin women yet another!

  “Arlette, I asked it only because others will ask it of me.”

  Others … the ones to whom he sent his secret messages. She shook her head. “There was nothing else. So, it is finished between us, Richard. I have helped you, and I will leave de Heer Wunsch’s employ this time for good, hoping that you will have the courage to tell him the truth.”

  Out on the street he told her that Winston Churchill wanted him to bring her to England.

  At 2:00 a.m. fog clung to the darkness of Amsterdam’s canals. All along the Prinsengracht the bare branches of the lindens dripped moisture.

  Up from the quays came the sounds of gently lapping waves. Two barges plied the eerie sargasso. Hagen could just see the faint glimmer of the running lights and hear the patient chugging of their engines.

  He thought to use them as cover. Steps echoed from the cobblestones. Puddles lay in the hollows. The street lamps seemed so distant.

  The steps came on, and when the man passed the doorway, the sour smell of the canal was mingled with that of stale tobacco smoke.

  In time the other one passed him. Then this one, too, was gone, absorbed by the fog. Three … there had been three of them. Dutch fascists in the pay of the Sicherheitsdienst.

  Hagen walked quickly back along the canal. When he found a lone taxi at a corner, he took it to the house Klees operated on the Achterburgwal.

  The prostitute he chose had long dark hair and dark eyes. Just in case they had followed him here, he made her stand at the window as she undressed. He stood with his back to the bedside lamp so that they could see his shadow on the ceiling from the street below.

  Then he drew the curtains but left the light on and went out the back door.

  Again he headed for the shop on the Prinsengracht. This time the street was clear. A glimmer of lamplight revealed the puddles.

  A child had lost her doll. It lay half in the water, half out of it. The china head had been smashed. The pieces were strewn about.

  Klees’s houseboat rocked gently at the quayside.

  At a touch, the door to the shop opened, and Hagen closed it quickly behind himself and put the lock on.

  “Mijnheer Klees …?” he began. There was no answer. Had they killed the Dutchman? Was that it?

  He felt his way forward and when he found the Dutchman in the darkness, Klees was breathing hard. The gun was in his hand. “Why are you so late? Why have you come like this?”

  Seven

  CHESIL BEACH WAS NOT that far from Black Down Heath. They’d come down in the car for a stroll, a quiet talk. In many ways Arlette felt so out of things. The obvious wealth of Inverlin “Cottage,” the difference of class, the barriers of custom and language. Oh, for sure, her English it was good enough, but …

  Lois Anne Winfield took the girl by the arm. The breeze tugged at the lovely hair, and for a moment she thought, Well, if Richard must settle down, this one would have been ideal for him. But then she shoved such nonsense from her. The girl would have to be told. “To Richard and Duncan you can lie, my dear, but to me you’re still very much in love with him.”

  “Is it so evident?”

  She gave the girl’s arm a sympathetic squeeze and added a snort of wry laughter. “To me, of course. After all, I was young once, and Richard is so very like his father. Hell—absolute bloody hell—that man made my life a misery. You’d think taking a young wife and son into the jungle would be enough of a challenge for any man. Couple that with prospecting for diamonds in largely untracked ground and you’ve got yourself trouble. But oh no, take it all in your stride. Reach for the Beefeater’s London Dry and top it up with Boodles. Gin, Arlette—please, I must call you that. If you still insist on trying to keep up with Richard, you’ll need a shoulder to cry on.

  “Bill Hagen regularly took along sixteen cases of Beefeater’s and another eight of Boodles British. It ‘beat’ the malaria. It helped to ‘cleanse’ the pores, and after all, why God, you couldn’t drink the bloody water anyway.

  “At first I thought it a great adventure. He was handsome, so full of fun and such a damned good lover. My God, that man could send me crazy—but Richard’s father didn’t just have sex with me, Arlette. Oh my, no. In his cups that bastard was a roaring drunk and all female flesh was game, especially his precious Bantu to whom he was not above comparing me.”

  “Richard’s … Richard’s file does not say he is like this, Mrs. Winfield. Please, I must tell you it says his affairs they are characterized by a deep sense of commitment. He is a man of responsibility.”

  The laughter was harsh. “My dear, you watch him. He’ll go back to someone for old time’s sake just like his father did.”

  They walked in silence, but now Arlette felt her arm gripped as if to prevent her from escaping.

  “There was another woman, a Dutch one, or … oh, what is it you call them in Belgium?”

  “A Fleming.”

  “Cecile … yes, a nightclub owner.”

  “A jazz club.”

  “Tall—an absolutely gorgeous figure. Richard loaned her money just like his father would have done. The poor boy was really quite smitten with her. They made a smashing couple, as the Brits are so fond of saying. There was a child, too—well, part of one, but she got rid of it.”

  Arlette shut her eyes and bit her lower lip. Why did the woman have to tell her this? “You do not think much of your son.”

  “And now you feel sick. My dear, I’m simply trying to warn you.”

  The light was almost gone. “If it was only this, I could understand your being upset. But you are worried, madame, and I know the reason why.”

  “Then tell him, please, to stop what he’s doing before they kill him.”

  The gate house at Inverlin Cottage was crowded with artifacts from Maiden Castle and other archaeological digs. Bones, a skull, some hand axes, scrapers, arrowheads and spear points, bits of pottery.

  Three cats and an old sheepdog lay about and didn’t welcome intrusion.

  Arlette tried to stir the fire to life. She felt like burning some of Duncan McPherson’s papers! Oh, for sure, he could be kind, but this boyhood friend of Richard’s viewed her with the utmost suspicion.

  She was a threat to Richard’s spying, and Duncan knew this. He doubted her abilities and was angry that Mr. Churchill had asked to see her. Secretly he blamed her for the loss of the engineer.

  There were some papers in the wastebasket. Stuffing them beneath the coals, she added kindling and warmed her hands. Richard loved her. Richard was in danger all the time.

  As the last of the papers caught, she read: “The White Knight is sliding down the poker.” White keyed to 7,18,3,4 …

  Though she searched, there
was no more of the code. Duncan had been so careless!

  The passage was on page 22 of Through the Looking Glass. They had been working on another code. Instead of the poems, they would now use bits of the text. Perhaps both, so as to confuse the Germans.

  “Arlette, what are you doing?”

  She gave a yelp and spun around.

  McPherson tugged the books from her fingers, knew then that he couldn’t avoid things any longer. “Och, I’m no happy with your being here, and that’s the truth of it, though in all honesty I wish things could be different.”

  “Where’s Richard?”

  “With his mother. Arlette, listen to me. We can’t allow him to become mixed up with anyone. It’s far too dangerous and far too important. He’s our eyes and ears, for pity’s sake!”

  “And I am not mixed up with him! I did not ask to come here!”

  “Then put him out of your mind. Listen to that mother of his.”

  “You … you have told her to tell me those things! My God, I have thought …”

  McPherson shook his head. “I couldn’t have told that woman to do a blessed thing, but no matter. Everything she said was true.”

  “Well, I am not interested in him any longer. For me he is finished!”

  Angrily she turned back to the fire.

  Picking up the dog, he sat down heavily in his favorite chair to gaze thoughtfully at her.

  She was bonny—he’d give her that. She wore beige woolen knee socks, sensible brogues, had such an innocent look about her even when furious. “The Nazis will break you,” he said. “If they should ever get their hands on you, Richard is as good as dead.”

  “Is it my fault that I am here?”

  Anger shone in her cheeks. “How much do you know about his work?”

  She shrugged. “Enough to matter, I guess.”

  “Then we’re stuck with you, and I pray to God Mr. Churchill doesna see fit to send you back!”

  Stung by this, Arlette hardened her voice. “You cannot keep me a prisoner. Not the British, or are you the same as the Nazis?”

  She let him think about that, then said, “My parents would ask where I was. My employer, de Heer Wunsch, would—”

  “Aye, he’s another thorn we must deal with. Arlette, they mean business. You’re being followed. The Nazis are on to you. Leave Dillingham’s. Take another job. Go home if you must, but keep away from Antwerp and from Richard. Maybe then … Och, it’s a fool’s notion to even think they’ll leave you alone.” The Nazi takeover of Austria had a profound effect on Winston Churchill. He glowered, brooded, sat stonily by the fire in his study at Chartwell.

  What had come to pass had in one bold stroke swept into the Nazi net the whole of Austria’s industrial might plus her considerable stocks of weapons and modern, well-equipped army.

  The road to war had been drastically shortened. Now, more than ever, the focus would be on the Antwerp diamond stocks and alternate sources should the Reich be cut off by a blockade.

  God help the world if Czechoslovakia were next, which it would be! More industry then; a far greater need for diamonds and an increased threat.

  He had listened in silence and with growing impatience to the salesman. The effects of winter weather on the Wehrmacht’s Panzers had been vital information—absolutely critical. The Vienna business and Heydrich’s use of Fräulein Reismann was, to say the least, exceedingly troublesome.

  Hagen had handed him the blue diamond pendant that the Huysmans girl had returned. Impetuously Churchill spun the stone. It was such a pretty thing, but had Heydrich known the salesman had given it to the girl?

  They’d been having her followed. They’d been playing on Hagen’s sympathies, probing for weaknesses.

  “Richard, does Heydrich think you corruptible yet?” he asked suddenly.

  Hagen shook his head. “Canaris perhaps, but not him, though I’m almost certain Krantz knows about Klees and the escape route.”

  “Will Heydrich succeed in using this Schroeder woman against you?”

  The lack of a ready answer angered Churchill and he caught the stone up in a fist. “Damn it, man, we are matching wits with infamy. Don’t you become a mush of pulp in Heydrich’s hands!”

  “Dee Dee’s in danger, Mr. Churchill.”

  “Danger is the staff of life! Cut yourself loose from her. Too much is at stake.”

  “I can’t. She’s a friend.”

  Churchill’s voice leapt. “Heydrich’s using her against you, is that it?”

  “Yes, damn it, he is. But I’m not prepared to let him destroy her, not when I can get her out. There are others, too.”

  “Or else not live with yourself?” shouted Churchill. He knew it was.

  “Duncan, I’m off. Tell him to find someone else. I’ll see myself out.”

  “Now wait. Let’s not be hasty.” Churchill raised a hand. “Duncan, stop him. Richard, you must understand the heart of infamy. Let us use the situation to our advantage and outwit Herr Heydrich.”

  The blue diamond was offered as a token of peace. Hagen pocketed it and reached for his hat and coat. “Neither you nor Duncan can possibly know what it’s been like for me. The only thing, I have is my friends. They’ve helped me in the past, and I’m not about to stand idly by and let that bastard destroy them.”

  “That is fair enough, and we will try to accommodate your wishes. Now put that coat and hat down.”

  Hagen hesitated. Duncan moved to block the nearest door. “Richard, please, for all our sakes. What Mr. Churchill has said may have seemed unkind but … och, it’s only too true. Heydrich’s read your character. He knows he can use Dee Dee against you, and Irmgard or anyone else. Arlette as well.”

  Churchill went on as if things had been agreed, but altered his tone to one of reconciliation. “Richard, while you were in Vienna, Heydrich referred to the diamonds as the Reich’s little problem. That suggests he thinks they have the solution well in hand.”

  Again it was Duncan who stepped in. “Richard, we must outmaneuver him. What the Reich needs most right now is a man of your experience. Dieter Karl canna match the years you’ve been at it. Och, you’ve said as much yourself. If they’re to find sufficient diamonds they’ll have to have you working for them.”

  “And that may well be what Heydrich ultimately wants,” said Churchill. To think that they could have a man within the Reich! It was almost too good to hope for.

  Hagen looked at the two of them. “Heydrich could well have another reason and another and another. For all I really know, he might simply have wanted me to take back to you the thought that he doesn’t consider the diamonds to be much of a problem. Until I’m faced with what he has in mind. I can only speculate. Maybe Krantz will arrest me the next time I cross the border. Maybe Heydrich will let me continue to send information out if needed so long as he can trap me in the end.”

  “And if not a bit of blackmail with Dee Dee, Richard, then with Arlette. You know it as well as I,” said Duncan.

  Churchill waved the cigar to dismiss the thought and turned to other matters. “Will the traders in Antwerp agree to train the men the Reich will need to make their own diamond tools?”

  “After what’s happened to Austria, I doubt it. Far too many of them have relatives who are only going to be hurt.”

  “But you’ll continue to tempt the Nazis with the prospect?”

  Hagen nodded. “And the line through this Dutchman, Klees?” asked Churchill sharply.

  “He’s terrified of the Nazis. He suspects they may have discovered the line and that I might have brought them to this, but he isn’t saying and I’m not asking. Until I’ve made the run again I really won’t know how to advise you. Klees is only the buyer. People on both sides of the frontier are involved. If they didn’t use him, they’d simply find someone else.”

  Churchill took his time, and when the cigar left his lips, he carefully removed the ash. “Is there some Nazi bigwig behind that line? Is it a part of their ‘Jewish immigration po
licy’?”

  “I really don’t know, nor do I see how I can find out without drawing attention to myself.”

  They returned to the Antwerp diamond stocks, and Hagen asked if Churchill couldn’t convince the prime minister now of the urgency of moving them.

  The pleading in the salesman’s eyes was all too evident. “I can only try, Richard. Even if Ernest was to ask them himself, it still might not be possible. Whitehall views King Leopold’s policy of neutrality with the utmost suspicion. They also cling stubbornly to the idea of establishing a cutting center in Brighton. They are determined to take over Antwerp’s position, Richard—it’s far too good an opportunity for some of them. They want to gamble, to stall, to do everything they can to thwart the move so long as they can win out in the end.”

  He tossed a hand. “Mr. Chamberlain also steadfastly refuses to rearm at a rate that is prudent. We are among fools.”

  “And the plan to move the stocks by rail instead of by sea?”

  Churchill nodded to indicate that he had been puzzling over this. “Tell Heydrich you plan to use that rusty freighter. Keep the alternative of using the railway cars from him for as long as you possibly can—it’s the price you will ultimately have to yield. But deal it off to Canaris. Make them jealous of each other. Then let Heydrich know they plan to send the diamonds by rail and not by ship.”

  “But …”

  Churchill chuckled. “Be deceitful, Richard. Make Heydrich think you’re hiding the truth! Make it so difficult for him to find out about the railway cars he will be forced into believing that is the way the Committee plans to send the diamonds. Mislead him, damn it! And Canaris!”

  “And the Committee? What am I supposed to tell them?”

  The cigar was savored, studied and savored again. The moment of truth had come. “Keep this little change of plan to ourselves until we absolutely have to tell them. Trust the sea and my judgment in this. Let us outwit Heydrich and Canaris so that if they should make a rush for the diamonds, we may yet see the expressions on their faces when those railway cars draw into Berlin with empty strongboxes!”