DEADLY DECEPTIONS

by Bill WENHAM

  “Mine,” Rose said.

  “What?”

  “You said ours, Leo. The house and all this stuff is mine. Mr. Grenville said so,” she said.

  Leo shrugged and laughed.

  “Same difference, Rosie my pet. Same difference.” Leo said, and changed the subject.

  “I’ll pop down the pub tonight and see if he’s there,” he said.

  “Is it really worth it, Leo?” Rose said. “We don’t need the money now, do we? With what old Eric’s going to be giving us, we’ll have more than enough, surely?”

  Leo grinned at her.

  “You must be kidding me, Rose? It’s the very first rule of life, Rose. No one’s ever got enough money. You ask any multi-billionaire.”

  “I don’t know any multi-billionaires,” Rose retorted.

  Leo grinned.

  “Well then, my pet, you’ll just have to take my word for it, won’t you? Any way, I bet old Parker will just about fall over himself to give me a few quid for this little lot,” he said.

  “Give me, Leo,” Rose said again.

  “What? Oh, yeah, right. But come on, Rosie, its just beer money for me, that’s all. Be fair.”

  Rose sighed.

  “Well, okay, if you must, you must, I suppose, but I still don’t know why you need to. This stuff will probably be a lot more trouble than its worth anyway,” she said.

  Little did she know it at the time, but Rose Surridge had never spoken a truer word in her entire life!

  Chapter Seven

  Parker Prentiss was an older man in his late seventies. He was tall, thin, angular, very studious looking and with a very upright military bearing.

  It was something that he had developed for appearances sake rather than having earned it.

  He was very interested in any kind of World War II memorabilia and currently had hundreds of books, documents and artifacts from both the Allied and Axis forces in his possession. Parker lived alone, having never married and his love for his collection had replaced any love he might have ever had for a woman.

  To contain and display his collection, he had turned the largest of the bedrooms in his three bedroom London house into a small private museum. It would never be open to the public and only one or two of his very few friends had ever seen it.

  Years ago his collection had gone a long way past being an intellectual hobby and was now a fully fledged obsession for him. He had now spent almost his entire life and a small fortune collecting, maintaining and cataloguing his prizes. All of his efforts had been directed to one specific objective but one that he had not yet been able to uncover.

  Parker Prentiss had just been ten years old when his father had returned from the war after being held prisoner in Nazi Germany. Harold Prentiss had been a handsome, intelligent and strapping young man when he had gone away to ‘do his bit’ for the war effort.

  The husband and father that was returned to the family after the war was a hideous looking, wheelchair bound freak of a man who could barely communicate with them. His condition was also something that was deteriorating almost daily. Consequently, he was unable, even if he had wanted to, to speak to his wife, son and daughter of his continuous, sadistic and horrifying torture at the hands of the German Gestapo.

  He was found, lying in his own filth, more dead than alive, by the advancing U.S. forces and was taken and expected to die there, to an Allied field hospital. But Harold Prentiss was not ready to die yet. The Gestapo had broken his body and a lot of his mind but they hadn’t been able to break his spirit.

  He and his case was taken over by a member of British Intelligence who managed, after hours of gentle coaxing, to get Harold Prentiss to reveal what had happened and who had done it all to him. In order to keep himself from going mad, Prentiss had memorized the names, ranks and faces of all of the Gestapo members responsible.

  Even in his pitiful state, he was astounded by how freely the names and ranks of his captors were bandied about in front of him. The torturers had obviously believed that Prentiss would die, the Nazis would be victorious and that their inhumane actions would never be brought to justice.

  Prentiss, whenever he was able to do so, was asked to identify his torturers from photographs of captured Gestapo members. To those, over time, recorded statements were also made to match the selected photo.

  Unfortunately, Harold Prentiss, although repatriated back to England and his family, never actually went back to his home. Because of his horrific appearance and condition, he was assigned to a special hospital for those servicemen with similar afflictions, who although alive, none of them would ever rejoin the human race as they had once known it. Some of them were there because, as fighter pilots, they had been burned almost beyond belief or recognition in their flaming aircraft.

  One by one, over the years, they all died, as did Harold Prentiss in excruciating pain and despite his earlier identification efforts, he was never able to see his Gestapo tormentors brought to justice.

  But that wasn’t the end of Harold’s story – because Harold had a son, Parker.

  Parker Prentiss had only seen his father in that condition once, a few days prior to his death. His mother had taken him to the hospital to say goodbye to his father, having been advised that her husband was about to die of his wounds. Her daughter, Pauline, was spared the ordeal.

  The boy was naturally horrified by what he saw but rather than running off and screaming as most children would have done; the boy just took the mutilated hand of his hideous looking father and made him a vow, one that would take him a lifetime to fulfill.

  “I’ll find them, Dad, and I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done to you. I promise you,” he said.

  Harold Prentiss could no longer talk at all and managed to just gently squeeze his young son’s hand in response. Whether the squeeze was a sign of approval or not, Parker never knew but it would be a sign that would rule his mind and actions for the rest of his life.

  He, as he grew older, and as an average private citizen, had no success whatsoever in locating any members of the notorious Gestapo. He was unable to find a German who he could prove to even be a Nazi at this point.

  And then, almost a lifetime later, Leo Surridge came looking for him in the Coach and Horses, to say that he had some interesting German memorabilia for sale.

  By now, Leo and Rose had taken legal possession of Erik’s place and had brought the steamer trunk down from his loft and over to their own house. They had put it up in one of the back bedrooms. Leo had unpacked it and had arranged all of the items from it on top of the bedspread.

  When Leo took him upstairs to see what he had, Parker Prentiss felt his knees go weak and rubbery. He thought for a moment that he might pass out. He realized immediately that, although he had some similar pieces himself, he had never seen such a complete collection of German spy paraphernalia in one place before.

  Leo’s, or more correctly, Rose’s, collection consisted of an almost mint German wartime radio, an ‘Enigma’ coding machine, of all things, code books and the ‘piece de resistance’, a document containing the details of a German undercover mission in 1944 in Cambridgeshire.

  It also contained the real names and assumed identities of all of the major participants, including one Erik Mannheim, but the name meant nothing to Prentiss. The Germans were always so meticulous in their record keeping, Prentiss thought.

  He asked Leo where he had got it all from and Leo had his story ready for him.

  “My old Dad and Mum bought this house right after the war and neither of them was up to messing about in the loft and, me, well, I was never allowed to go up there, was I? Dad died first and my Mum left the house to me and Rosie, and you know something, Parker, me old son, I never bothered to look up there neither. It wasn’t until my Rosie here said I should maybe make her a sewing room up there that I took a look, right, Rose?”

  “That’s right,” Rose said dutifully.

  “And that’s when I found this little lot. I suppose
my old Dad got it from somewhere and shoved it up there. For the trunk, more than anything, I would think.”

  Prentiss took a deep breath.

  “Now, look here, Leo. I think I can use all this stuff for my collection and I’ll give you five….”

  Before he could continue and thinking that Prentiss was about to say five pounds, Leo said, “Well, I was thinkin’ more like…”

  This time it was Prentiss who cut in quickly.

  “Alright, then, Leo. I don’t want to haggle with you over this. Ten thousand it is, then, okay?”

  “Ten thousand!” Rose said weakly and sat down abruptly on a small bedroom chair.

  “That’s about my limit, I’m afraid, Leo, but I’d really like it all,” Prentice said. This was not true at all. He would had paid far more and just for the one record, the one describing the Cambridgeshire mission. “So, what do you think? Is it a deal? I can give you a cheque or cash if you prefer,” Prentiss, trying not to show his eagerness.

  “Rose?” Leo said, not trusting himself to say more.

  “Yes,” Rose said in a barely audible voice. “And cash would be nice.”

  “Then, cash it is. I’ll go straight to the bank and get it for you right now.”

  He glanced over at the trunk over by the wall.

  “Can the price include that old trunk, Leo? It will make it easier to transport it all over to my place, won’t it?”

  “What will?” a dazed Leo answered.

  “The trunk, Leo. I asked if you would include the trunk in the price.”

  Rose, who had recovered from her shock more quickly, said, “Of course we will, Mr. Prentiss, and my Leo will help you move it over to your place as well, won’t you Leo? We’ll pack it all back in the trunk while you’re at the bank as well.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Surridge, that would be most appreciated, I’m sure” Prentiss said, turned and hurried back down the stairs. Rose followed and opened the front door for him.

  “Be right back with the cash,” Prentiss said.

  “Rightyo, Mr. Prentiss. I’ll leave the door unlocked. You just let yourself in when you get back. Leo and me will be upstairs packing your stuff for you.” Rose said.

  “I like the sound of that. Your stuff.” Prentiss said aloud and happily as he walked back to his car. He truly believed that this was the day he’d finally discovered a goldmine of information and that his lifelong search was now almost over.

  If this was what he thought it was and if the participants of that mission were still alive, he would finally be able to avenge his poor father. Parker Prentiss was practically crying with joy as he got in and started his car.

  Peace of mind was now perhaps within his grasp. Within the hour, he was back, had paid Rose and he and Leo had delivered the trunk to his home.

  “Would you do me one more small favour please, Leo?” Prentiss said.

  “Sure, what is it?’ Leo replied cautiously.

  “Take a taxi home, there’s a good fellow,” Prentiss said and pressed a twenty pound note into Leo’s hand.

  “Nah, that’s okay, Parker, me old son, I can walk. It ain’t that far is it?” Leo said, handing back the twenty.

  “You keep it, Leo. Have a few beers on me with it down at the Coach. It’s for helping me over with the trunk anyway,” Prentiss said and opened his front door.

  “See ya then, Parker,” Leo said, giving Prentiss a quick wave. He pocketed the money, which he still held in his hand, and set off home.

  Twenty quid! – and Rose didn’t need to know about that either, did she?

  Once Prentiss had closed his front door and locked it, he unpacked his treasure trove and arranged it all on his large and old fashioned oak dining room table. Then he picked up the most important item and sat down in an armchair in his lounge to read it again. He had only been able to scan it briefly but long enough to know its value to him.

  As he read, he found himself becoming short of breath and his heart pounded with excitement. This was it!

  Prentiss realized that he had to calm himself down because he was much too old now to get this excited all in one day. Reluctantly, he put the document back on the table and went upstairs to take a nap. He knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, but the rest would do much to calm him.

  Later, he would have a meal out and would go to the Coach and Horses to celebrate his good fortune.

  Then, tomorrow he would awaken early and put a detailed plan of action together, but Prentiss was wrong. He did sleep and felt very much refreshed by it. He went downstairs and with a smiling glance at his prize on the table, he went out, being sure to lock the door securely behind him and headed for his favourite restaurant. Later, in the pub, Leo was quite happy to buy the old man a double whiskey but he didn’t sit with him. Leo could only take so much of old Parker in one day.

  On the following morning, Prentiss arose eagerly and ready to start to put a plan together. The first thing he did, after making himself a good breakfast, was to go onto his computer. After spending several frustrating hours on some unproductive websites, he finally discovered the life status of the various names mentioned in his newly acquired document.

  It was a disappointing discovery. He found that, with one exception, including the principal woman, they had all died. However, the exception was the one he wanted, the leader of the mission and he was very much alive!

  Prentiss immediately realized that to do what he wanted to do properly, it would be a long term project, and probably the last one he would ever do for the rest of his life. Therefore, he reasoned, he would have to make sacrifices in both time and creature comforts to do it successfully.

  A week later he set out to accomplish the first step of his carefully thought out plan. He caught a morning train from London to Cambridge and then a local bus to his destination. All he had with him was a small overnight bag since, if successful, his visit would be very brief.

  His first stop, upon arrival in Little Carrington was to an estate agent’s office, the only one in the entire parish of Carrington. It was in one of the quaint thatched roofed cottages on the entry road into the village from Cambridge. Prentiss had noticed it from the bus on the way in.

  The estate agent’s office, run by a very pleasant young woman who introduced herself as Pam Wigglesworth, was very tiny. Each of the interior walls was covered with eight and a half by eleven inch color photos of the properties on offer, including several farms in the villages and surrounding area.

  “What, exactly, is it that you are looking for, Mr…?”

  “Prentiss - Parker Prentiss,” he said as he scanned the walls, “But I fear I may be wasting your time, dear lady.”

  “And why would that be, Mr. Prentiss?” Pam asked.

  Prentiss gave a small apologetic cough.

  “Well, I’m actually looking to rent, rather than to buy, Miss Wigglesworth,” he said.

  Prentiss was putting on a deliberate act here in the village, from the moment he had apparently stepped down painfully down from the bus, aided by a walking stick. Apart from a series of other changes to alter his appearance, Prentiss also looked considerably older than he had the day before in London.

  Pam Wigglesworth gave the old and bent over man leaning heavily on a stick in front of her a warm, welcoming and friendly smile.

  “That’s good, because you’ve still come to the right place. We have several rentals available locally as well. Why don’t you just take a seat and I’ll show you what there is.”

  Prentiss made a show of lowering himself painfully into a chair in front of her desk and dropping his walking stick in the process.

  Poor old dear, Pam thought. She reached into a file drawer and pulled out a folder.

  “I have all these all in the computer, of course, but I’m a bit old fashioned and like to have the photos and information in a folder to show a client. But now, before we get into that, I need to ask you a few questions. Will that be alright?”

  “Yes, of course,” P
rentiss replied.

  “Okay, the first, and usually the most important to most of my clients is the price range…” Pam said and paused expectantly.

  “I suppose I’m the exception then, Miss Wigglesworth. I’m concerned only about the cottage, if that’s what you have available. The rental cost itself is not an issue at all. I would, however, only wish to lease it for a maximum of two years,” he said.

  “Only two years, Mr. Prentiss. No longer?” Pam said disappointedly.

  Prentiss gave her a wan smile and looked as though he could barely lift his head. Little did the young woman across the desk from him realize that he could easily have lifted her if need be.

  “Just look at me, Miss Wigglesworth. I am a very old man now. If I last two more years I will consider myself to be extremely lucky.”

  He looked at her with another wan smile.

  “I really would not like this to be made public, Miss Wigglesworth, but I’ve come to this pretty place to end my days here. To die actually, ma’am.” he said softly.

  “Oh, my goodness, surely not,” Pam exclaimed.

  Prentiss put his head on one side and frowned.

  “Perhaps I’ve said too much. Will that prevent me from being able to rent a cottage here then?” he said with a sad tone to his voice.

  “No, no, of course not, Mr. Prentiss. I was just saddened that you don’t expect to stay with us with us very long, that’s all.” She wondered momentarily if she should tell him that they had an undertaker in the village.

  Prentiss smiled again.

  “Whatever is God’s will, my dear. The end comes to all of us eventually. So, what do you have in that binder of yours that might interest me?’

  “Actually, I have two here in Little Carrington and another in our adjoining village of Great Carrington. I shouldn’t really be saying this, but I think one of the ones here would be more suitable to your needs, Mr. Prentiss,” she said.

  “And why is that, Miss Wigglesworth,” he asked.

  “It’s closer to everything, sir.”