by Daniel Kemp
“Not keen on you flying in your condition, painful around the jaw I would think. No, I want you here.”
“Would you care to elaborate on where that concoction was put together? My mind is telling me South America. How close is that?”
“That's better! You might have got hurt a bit, but you're up for seconds, Shaun, aren't you? Generaloberst Alexander Löhr is ours. We turned him in our direction two years after he arrived in America. It was the easiest job we've ever done,” I interrupted.
“I think that's the second time you've used the word 'we,' Jack. And now you've added a time period to it. I know your we can't be Fianna. She's not old enough, nor do I think Job is. Let's get some facts on the table, shall we?” I emphasised my use of the word we.
“There has only been one other person who could have been on point with you in all of this. Do you want to do the honours in declaring his name, at least for my benefit? I expect Fianna already knows?” She looked in my direction with sad, cold eyes that I couldn't read, as Jack replied.
“And confirm what you have already worked out, Shaun, then yes, I'd be delighted to do that; it's Alain Aberman.”
“Okay, I'm all ears.” I caught sight of a grin from Fianna as she lit another cigarette.
“When Alain first came to America he worked for the FBI. He didn't do much because they never asked much. Theirs was a long term strategy aimed at placing him inside Mossad but working for the CIA. By now you probably know that I helped Salvatore and his family to exit Italy. I suggested London, but he wanted New York. Apparently he knew half the mafia here and the other half knew of him.” Jack laughed, I smiled, determined not to be diverted by his ability to seamlessly change track.
“Okay, Shaun, you've obviously gone off my jokes. Never mind, I'll just carry on then. Sally saw Löhr opening a limousine's door one day and clocked the number. He told me, I told Alain and he traced it to old man Baxter-Clifford. It was, as I said, a simple squeeze, but it had a sting in its tail. We told him that he faced either a night-time snatch, then smuggled off to Israel to stand trial or, if he chose to cooperate in pinpointing all escaped Nazis along with continuing information on what they were getting up to we would cover his back. Alain told the FBI. That was done to protect Löhr from any subsequent discovery. Didn't want him spotted by some returning GI and turned in to the local plod, so we in effect grassed him up first. The agency developed an interest in the wheeling and dealing of the Baxters and the Cliffords because of what we fed them. Yes, Shaun, we made up lies. I bet you never thought I'd admit to that. Löhr didn't lie though. He was the coordinator of those escapees and proud of it. Knew them all and what's more, tied his benefactors into the swindle. This, of course, we kept to ourselves.” He paused to order more coffees and I jumped in.
“How did he do that, Jack?”
“In the simplest way possible, Shaun. He told them that the Bureau had made him and were attempting to turn him into a grass. If he vanished the FBI would know why that was and where to look for clues, but if he stayed then he could work the system in favour of their interests and not those of the Bureau. They had very little choice. He supplied low-grade information to the FBI, but managed to give Baxter and Clifford some useful stuff on what the FBI were doing or watching. They did quite well on the exchange. In the end it came down to who Otto feared the most; Mossad, with Sally's lot hovering in the foreground, or American justice. Guess what he chose?”
“Aberman is Mossad's man then, Jack? Was Löhr connected to Trelew? Is that how you knew?”
“You're racing, Shaun. Yes, it was. Alain has had a cadre in Argentina since we turned Otto. We had a chance to change the world, Shaun, Alain and me. We could have rounded them all up, thrown them to the wolves, sat back and congratulated ourselves on a pretty superb piece of intelligence gathering, or, done what we did. Leave them in place, watch them relentlessly and gather more. Now's the time we sell our investments and close the company books.”
“How does our Royal Family's heritage fit into this thing you have with Alain, Jack?” I asked. “And where the Hell does it all lead for Fianna and me?”
“I'm not sure how you arrived at that first question, Shaun, as the two operations are separate, merely being handled by the same two men, but I guess you will explain how you came to that conclusion at some point. You and Fianna can go as far as you wish within my organisation, that decision is entirely up to you two. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm only on a lunch break. I have to get back. I have a date with a lady after work, but I won't be detained long with her. I need to finalise certain things and then, when everything is tidied away, I'll come clean with you, Shaun. Just trust me for a few more hours and wait until you've heard it all before you jump ship or decide to carry on. Okay?”
“I think I've heard too much already to have that choice, Jack. There's no way you allow me to walk from this knowing all what I know, nor, come to that, can Fianna walk away.” As I looked at them both I couldn't decide who I trusted the least.
I felt trapped inside Jack's warren of lies and inside Salvatore's restaurant. I wanted to walk freely and feel the sun on my face. I wanted not to feel the stitches in my mouth pulling the skin tight and making it so uncomfortable, but most of all I wanted the truth but I had no idea where to look for it, let alone find it. I decided to start with Fianna, but that intent didn't last long.
“Let's stop messing around, Fianna. I'm getting lost in all these stories from Jack, I would hate to think that you're telling me stories as well. How was that you knew I'd been shot? I'm thinking that the news of that never came from Jack. If I'm right then how did you hear of it?”
“Okay, Shaun, it's a bit before I wanted to tell you, but as you've asked; here goes. In that letter of mine that I left you I told of how the British got hold of me. Well, I became attached to that chap who was old enough to be me father in a big way. Yes, I was having sex with women then, but with him I was different. Please don't ask me how that was, the difference I mean, it just was. He told me he was a widower, but he wasn't, he was married and in love with his job not her nor me. There was no space for anyone else in his life. I broke off our relationship by crossing over and dropping him right in it. I told the high command of the Provos where they could find him. I wanted him dead, Shaun, but couldn't go through with it. I tipped him off. Sent him on his way back to England with a bullet from me gun in his arm. Told the brigade commander a pack of lies, smiled at him, said three Hail Mary's and got away with it.
Later on down the road of Irish troubles I met a man who knew my man very well he said. Said he'd broker a deal; my liberty for agreeing to keep in touch and working for the Brits if my profile fitted any of their particular nasty schemes. I did a few things for them. Yes, okay, I killed for them, laying the blame on the Republicans. They got their money's worth and I thought I was free. Then I get a message from that man I mentioned; said Sir Horace Butler in trouble. Your help needed. I tidied up at Michael Clifford's, a little sooner than intended, and caught a train back to New York. It was Salvatore who told me that you'd been shot. Jack confirmed it when I saw him in the early hours of today.”
“My head is spinning, Fianna, and not because of the pain in my face! What sort of trouble is Jack in?”
“All I know is what I read on a sheet a paper I took out of a diplomatic pouch last night along with the two guns I told you I had. It said that someone, no name was mentioned, was over here intent on retribution for some unstated reason. He had targeted Jack, you and Alain Aberman. Jack was instructed not to tell Aberman of this. Contact was to be made sometime today or tomorrow by a senior British intelligence officer. It was signed Porton Down. When I gave it to Jack he just smiled and said nothing for a minute or more, then he said I could tell you, but not to scare you because if he knew anything about David Lewis then we are all in safe hands. The very best the English have got, Bridget, the very best!”
“I wonder who's David Lewis when he's at home, Fianna?”
“Beats me, Shaun. Would you tell me what Jack meant when he said that you'd explain about the Royal heritage bit you spoke of, only that left me standing?”
“It wasn't Hitler who fathered Penina, it was the Duke of Windsor.”
* * *
Throughout this forty minutes or so Daniel Cardiff had sat quietly at the same window table where I had first spotted Jack sitting. He looked disconsolate with an elbow on the table in which he rested his head. Having eaten a more than adequate breakfast at the Regis where they served a rather good pot of Darjeeling tea he wondered what he would order at this Italian restaurant other than the obvious coffee for which he had little liking. Eventually he'd settled on a glass of fresh orange. When Jack arrived he almost lost the glass from his grip as all his concentration was focused on the man who until then had only existed in the photograph that he carried in his jacket pocket.
At last I'm in the game, he thought as he tried not to look in Jack's direction too often.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
An Introduction
The walk from the cab had more effect on me than I first realised. As I went to stand from the table, my leg gave way and I almost fell. It was Fianna who stopped me.
“You're doing too much too quick,” she said. “Sit awhile longer, Shaun, there's no rush,” she added.
“I need air. I feel suffocated in here, besides it's getting busy and we can't sit here all day.” With the aid of the frame and despite her protests, I ventured back out onto the street.
As we exited the swinging doors the first thing I noticed was the intense heat that almost took my breath away and then the raucous comments from Sally's men gathered around the outside tables which did nothing to restore my pride. Perhaps there were some that I had seen there the first time I'd visited his restaurant, but my mind was otherwise engaged to bother to look. Then I heard an unmistakeable, “Ouch! I bet that hurt,” spoken in clear, unbroken English. I instinctively turned and for no logical reason replied, “It still does, but you should see the other man. He's laid out in the morgue.”
“I don't think that's true, but if it is then it wasn't you who put him there, was it, Shaun? My name is Alain Aberman, but Jack tells me, that you have discovered one of my other names; Adam Berman. I have many, but we'll save that topic for another time. One will be of immediate interest to you though. The Secret Intelligence Services in London christened me as Eva. If you allow, I'll have a stab at explaining that as it has a direct bearing on why you and I are here.”
I had played mind games with his name ever since Jack had first told of it. When I was younger I had a fictitious elder brother who I named Alan. He was my shining knight in armour who was a champion at the jousts in lance and sword. A defender of the faith and all good egg to younger relatives in trouble. When I was growing up, often I would confide in him when alone in my room. He was my hero. Perhaps he represented all that aspired to be, or, perhaps I was simply lonely and in need of company. Whatever the reason Alain came close to my make-believe brother's name so it brought comfort and reassurance to my playful mind. Aberman had strength too. Able-man, capable of things that others were not. A man's man. A crusher of walls and all round dependable figure. The actuality of my imagination now stood before me; the manifestation was disappointing.
He was a short, slim man with a tanned complexion, brown well-cut hair, deeply set blue eyes with thick eyebrows above a prominent sloping nose. The laughter lines that were etched into a drooping face with heavy jowls gave the impression of a happy disposition. It was a well-worn face that had lived through many lives but now looked exhausted. By any description he was immaculately groomed. Two things was obviously clear; he was not as old as the birth date I had read ascribed to him; being no more than middle sixty, not the seventy-nine he would have been if born in April 1893, and secondly he was no warring knight in armour.
He took up his introduction as soon as our hands parted from his initial enfeebled greeting.
“After the war finished in Europe I had a keen interest in a man named Ante Pavelić. He ended up in Argentina advising Eva Perón's President husband for a time, hence my coded name. The two of them shared some right-wing fascist views that were abhorrent to me. Unfortunately, those views are in play as we speak. The situation requires brave men to end it. Jack sings your praises in that regard, Shaun. That's why I'm here; to meet the man Jack has selected to eventually take his place.”
Fianna suddenly turned squarely towards me with her back to the opposite pavement. As she did so I caught sight of a man with a camera trying to find a better position to take our photograph. Alain's gaze followed mine, but he was not perturbed by this sight. Fianna obviously was.
“My car is on the corner, Shaun. There's a place I want to take you that's not far from here, but an awful lot more secure for what you need to know and I'm able to tell you. No, don't look so cynical. It's not that I have things that I won't tell you because of some subterfuge of mine, it's just that I don't know it all. I only know what has involved me directly. That I'll disclose without holding back on anything, I promise. I'm not Jack. He has to work in circles surrounded by mirrors and whispers. I'm different, I'm a native here. Don't blame him for being what he is, as it has been those unusual methods of his that have kept him alive and out of everyone's sight for so long.” Momentary taking his eyes from mine and looking at Fianna, he added,
“I expect you both have heard that nonsensical saying of his about all being equal and of the same importance without me having to rack my brains and repeat it.” His attention returned to me without one word said in recognition of her.
“He really does believe it, you know. No doubt it will be the sermon he preaches when he dies and goes off to wherever he goes, or, it will be the epilogue engraved on his headstone. Certain to be one of the two at any rate. But listen to me! I'm rambling on whilst I guess all you want to do is give me the third degree and draw blood from my veins in the form of information.”
He took a step backwards and to one side, allowing for a wider passage along the footpath.
“Owing to logistical reasons I cannot invite you, Fianna, I can only take Shaun. If that's okay with you, then; shall we?” He extended his right arm by way of an invitation to walk to the awaiting car.
“In that case, Mister whatever your name is, you'd better hold his arm. First day up walking without all his little piggies, is my lovely brother. Oh, and don't go offering him a slap-up lunch either, nor any of that whisky stuff he's so fond of. I need to look after him for a couple of days and get him relatively well.” Fianna let go of me and turned and walked away with an unmistakable scowl on her face.
“I fell in love with your letter writing, Fianna. It almost made me cry.” With sincerity I called out to her, but she either never heard it or never felt it, as she never turned around.
After a twenty-minute drive, where I sat in the back of the car and Alain sat next to the driver simply looking straight ahead, without speaking to either of us, we drove through two high, thick steel gates manned by two uniformed armed guards on the outside, then once inside, four more waited in the courtyard. Flying above the stone white-painted, palatial building was a white banner, with two horizontal blue lines with the blue Star of David in the centre. I was in the grounds of the Israeli Embassy. Before alighting from the car he spoke.
“If the need arises that I must deny you ever entered this building then I will. Nobody of importance knows that you're here. The Americans film us, but we are able to disfigure their images when necessary. What I tell you inside this building will also be denied if that occasion too arises. You are, so Jack tells me, a signatory to the UK Official Secrets Act; that act obviously does not cover Israel, so I'm trusting you, not something I easily do, Shaun. I'll use that name in all our dealings, present and future, but I know all about you and probably more than Jack knows. For example, I had you followed last Saturday morning when you left your lodgings in Covent Garden. Why did you not tell Jac
k that you went to your Home Office before reporting to C11?”
“I didn't trust Jack nor Trenchard, Alain. Would you have?”
“So you gave a copy of the police report you'd compiled on corruption to the Home Office and your commanding officer?”
“I did. Whoever you had following me probably told you that I used the copying machine in the Post Office at St Martins Place on the way.”
“You were seen going in, but we could only guess at what you were doing. That report you put to the Home Office has caused a few ripples inside Scotland Yard. Your Commander Trenchard has gone missing and the head of MI6 has been scurrying to and fro across London for no apparent reason. I was wondering what might have caused those two events? Jack tells me that he gave you the name Alhambra. Did you report that name to both places?”
“Yes, I did. Shouldn't I have done?”
“No, of course you should have. I'm just pleased that's been cleared up. We can now start at the beginning, but first let me say this. What started in Vienna ends in New York here and now. We are already writing that ending, there will be no second chance to come nor forgiveness if we fail.”
We took the escalator to the top floor and then entered a spartan, white coloured office at the rear of the building. Once inside I heard the distinct sound of a lock automatically operated on the door through which we'd come. There had been a noticeable absence of other people inside the embassy which I mentioned to him.
“Is it normally this empty, Alain, only I find it weird not to see people scurrying around?”
“We have what we call a 'lock-down' system in operation. Within seconds of a stranger being admitted through the outside gates all corridors are cleared and the offices automatically locked down. It's an anti-terrorist strategy, Shaun, and nothing for you to worry about. This door has now locked and will remain so until I unlock it. All the other offices have reopened and normal service has returned to the embassy. When we leave here, there's a time delay allowing the procedure to cut in again.” I was impressed, but didn't tell him that.