‘Heil Hitler.’ It was a man’s voice, low and authoritative.
‘Heil Hitler,’ replied Moray.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
My limbs suddenly felt like cotton wool. My legs gave way and I found myself on the floor, slumped against the door, taking fast, shallow and unsatisfying breaths as my heart thumped painfully. I berated myself, told myself I was stupid, needlessly reckless. How could I have got myself into such a fix? Trapped here while Moray sold out his country, and at his mercy once he had finished his dirty business?
I didn’t know whether Moray was a German spy or a British fifth columnist, but he had killed Levy and now he would kill me. Perhaps quite inadvertently, while pursuing other investigations, Levy had discovered that Moray was holding these meetings. Moray had struck him down and then dumped his body in Caroline Place.
‘I was right, Jim. I was right all along,’ I whispered, but much good it would do me. I had discovered his dirty secret, and now Moray would murder me, just as he had murdered Levy.
Well, I would not give up my life without a fight. Moray would find out that I was tougher than I looked. Growing up in Kookynie had taught me skills I would never have learned in the city. How to deal with snakes and spiders and drunks and amorous drifters. Dad had decided I needed to know how to defend myself when I was twelve, after an encounter with an inebriated swagman who had spent too long on his own. No harm had been done, because Chas Willis, our barman, heard my yelp and was there quickly enough, but my father had made it his job to teach me the dirtiest tricks that an Irish-Australian former goldminer, shearer, roustabout, lumper, cane-cutter, professional boxer now turned pub owner had picked up over the years. My mother never really forgave him.
‘Violence should always be a last resort,’ Dad had told me. ‘Try to run away, or talk your way out of it first. But if you need to fight, there’s no point in the Marquis of Queensberry Rules. You’re a little thing and any fellow you’re up against will have the advantage of height and weight.’
‘So what can I do?’ I had asked.
‘You need to use your brains and you need to be willing to hurt the chap – really hurt him. Gouge his eyes. Grab his groin and twist hard, real hard. Trouble is, most females can’t bring themselves to do that.’
My father’s advice was to get in quickly with a low, dirty blow to the groin and then run as fast as possible while the attacker was incapacitated. If a quick escape was impossible, then, while the villain was doubled over, hit him on the head, with something weighty enough to render him unconscious, and then escape.
I stood up and carefully examined the room for a weapon.
Perhaps the bed could be dismantled. I managed to unscrew one of the bed knobs but the rest remained solidly in place and parts of it were rusted together. I put the bed knob aside, in case I could find a use for it. Next I examined the wardrobe. It was empty, save for some cheap wooden coat hangers. I took one out and weighed up its usefulness. It might do to poke out an eye.
When I was twelve I had thought I could do anything. At twenty-five I was not so sure. Could I really gouge eyes, hit Moray hard enough to knock him out? Could I kill him? I stared at the coat hanger and tried to imagine thrusting it into his eye.
If it meant that I could live, and unmask Moray as a Nazi, I thought, then I would have to give it a go.
I found big, abstract notions such as freedom and democracy difficult to weigh up, but I had seen in real life how the Nazis had treated men, women and children in Prague. Here in London I had seen Messerschmitt dive-bombers strafe civilians. Moray had killed Levy, my dear friend, a much better man than Moray. If I had to do it to survive, I thought grimly, I could kill the brute.
I put the coat hanger next to the doorknob.
The only other piece of furniture in the room was the dressing table. I pulled open the drawers. They were empty. I removed the smallest drawer, which was quite heavy. Perhaps I could smash it into Moray’s face or groin.
The drawer went next to the other objects on the bed. I sat beside them, waiting for Moray’s guest to leave. I would attack the moment Moray came through the door.
For another ten minutes or so I sat listening to the drone of German aircraft punctuated by the thunder of the guns. There was nothing to be heard in the flat. Occasionally the room shook as a bomb fell in the distance. As time passed, the buoyancy that had been generated by my preparations ebbed away. Eventually I sighed.
‘You can’t do it, Lily,’ I said softly to myself.
My father was right. This plan would work only if I was willing to gouge Moray’s eyes or attack him like a mad woman. The problem was that, although I was fairly sure I could fight in my own defence, I was not sure I could attack. And I knew that if I tried to attack Moray and failed, it would all be so much worse. Besides, my plan was doomed to failure if Moray came into the room holding a gun or a knife.
I stood up and strode around the room, trying to think of something that would get me out of this mess alive. I stopped my pacing in front of the wardrobe, which stood next to the door. It was a big, solid piece of furniture and it was empty. A new plan presented itself. If I really put my back into it, I could push an empty wardrobe across the door. Moray and his Nazi friend would not hear a thing over the air raid racket.
At the very least, I would buy myself some time.
I put my back against the side of the wardrobe and used my legs to shove it towards the door in a series of jerks. It moved fairly smoothly on the wooden floor and the drone of the bombers and percussion of bombs masked the scraping sounds.
And as I was pushing, a second plan presented itself. Even if the window was barred, as Moray had said, if I moved the bed and pushed the dressing table under the window I could lift the blackout blind. Once the air raid ceased, then people would be on the street. The bright light in the room would be a beacon to any passing ARP Warden. When he ordered Moray to turn out the light, I could scream blue murder and be saved.
With a last jerk, the wardrobe settled into place in front of the door. As I took a moment to exult in how easy it had been, I heard voices. It seemed that Moray’s guest was leaving. Two more Heil Hitlers were followed by the noise of a door shutting. After a moment Moray knocked on the door.
‘Lily,’ he said.
I didn’t answer.
He turned the key in the lock, and the door banged fruitlessly against the back of the wardrobe.
‘What have you done?’ His voice was sharply annoyed.
‘You can’t come in.’
He pushed the door a few times and to my horror, the wardrobe moved slightly. I pushed it back into place.
‘Lily, this is not what it seems.’
‘Oh? It’s not? Heil Hitler is the new English greeting, is it?’
Bang. He was putting more effort in now, and the wardrobe shuddered and moved forward slightly. I put my back to it and pushed it firmly against the door.
‘I can keep this up all night,’ I said.
‘So can I,’ he replied. ‘But all I need to do is take the door off its hinges. A hammer will make short work of the back of the wardrobe, or whatever it is you’ve put there.’
It was no idle threat. The back of the wardrobe was thin plywood and a hammer would indeed make short work of it.
‘I’ll remove the blackout blind,’ I yelled. ‘A warden will come pretty quickly, I’m sure, with the light spilling out on the road.’
He did not reply. In a few moments the room went dark. I realised that he must have removed the fuse.
‘Stupid girl,’ I muttered. ‘Stupid.’
‘It’s stalemate, Lily,’ he said. ‘Will you just listen to me? It’s not what you think.’
‘I heard more than enough when that man arrived. I know what you are, you filthy traitor. I know you killed Levy.’
‘I didn’t kill Levy,’ he said, ‘and you have no idea what I am.’
I made no reply. Moray called out my name a few more times but I said nothin
g. And I heard nothing more.
It was black as pitch in the bedroom. I felt my way to the bed and groped around for my handbag, and in it, my torch. I felt safer, somehow, with its slim light for company, and prayed the battery was good for a while longer. I sat down in front of the wardrobe and rested against it.
‘Lily?’ Moray was back. ‘I’m going to tell you something very secret. Lives depend upon you keeping this secret.’
‘I won’t believe anything you say,’ I said. ‘I heard you. Heard you Heil Hitler, you Nazi swine.’
‘Lily, I’m a British Intelligence agent.’
I laughed out loud. ‘Yes, and I’m Mata Hari.’ It was not the best retort, but it was the best I could do, and it shut him up.
Time seemed to slow as I waited in the dark by the wardrobe. At one-thirty, by my watch, the All Clear sounded. Not long afterwards Moray knocked on the door.
‘Lily?’ his voice was a hissing whisper.
‘What?’
‘I am a British agent, and some Intelligence officers will be arriving soon to verify what I’m telling you.’
‘As if I’d believe your Nazi mates pretending to be army officers.’ But I was beginning to feel confused. Would he be saying all this if he intended to kill me?
‘British Military Intelligence set me up as the Gestapo’s contact in Britain. My role in the Ambulance Service is simply my cover. I control the activities of Nazi sympathisers in this country. It means we’re able to neutralise their threat to the war effort.
‘Hah. Nothing you could possibly say will convince me.’
‘I thought you might say that. So they’re bringing your pilot friend along with them. He knows all about the project.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
An hour later, Jim was on the other side of the door telling me that Moray was indeed a British Intelligence agent whose mission was of the utmost importance and would I please push the wardrobe out of the way and let us all talk about this like civilised people.
He took a while to convince me.
‘You can’t think I’m a traitor, Lily.’
‘I don’t.’ Somehow, deep in my bones I knew that Jim was no traitor. ‘You may be acting under duress, though.’
His voice thrummed with indignation. ‘There is nothing anyone could do to me or threaten me with that would cause me to betray you or my country.’
‘But—’
‘My commanding officer is here with me, as is Moray’s superior. Please open the door, Lily.’
Now I felt sick with thinking that all along Jim had been lying to me. He had known about Moray, and he had lied to me. I pushed the wardrobe away from the door and prepared to face him.
Ten minutes later, Major Whitehead was handing me a cup of tea. He was big and hearty, with a cheerfully lined face and intensely blue eyes. Beside him was a slim man with a small moustache who was dressed in RAF blue and had introduced himself as Wing Commander Maine.
‘So Mr Moray had you convinced that he was a bad sort, eh?’ said the Major. ‘He’s convinced a lot of people of that, which is exactly what we need him to do.’
I glanced at Moray, who had been chatting to Jim.
‘How did you know I was outside the flat?’ I asked him.
‘I was behind you when you got onto the Tube train. I thought someone was listening when the ridiculously indiscreet Fripp was talking to me. You left the station like a woman with a mission, and I followed you from Tottenham Court Road. I was on tenterhooks throughout the meeting, expecting you to burst in with a couple of burly policemen. I crept up the stairs behind Fripp and the others, wondering if you were still there. You were, and I acted quickly. I’m very sorry if I hurt you when I dragged you in here.’ He threw me a sharp glance. ‘But however did you know about this place?’
‘I saw you coming in here some weeks ago. I was with a friend, across the square, on our way to a cafe.’ I felt my cheeks burn. ‘We thought you were going to a brothel.’
He gave a bark of laughter. ‘Some of these flats are used for such purposes. After you’d had your run-in with Edna I flashed my torch in your face, just to make sure it really was you and I took advantage of your confusion to get ahead of you and into the flat.’
‘Edna?’
He gave me his wolfish grin.
‘Oh, that woman,’ I said, still embarrassed about the incident.
Jim looked at me quizzically.
‘I was approached by one of those – those women that hang around in the streets here.’
‘What?’ He seemed to be repressing laughter. He looked at Moray. ‘One of the girls approached Lily?’
Moray laughed. ‘Who scuttled away like a frightened rabbit. Edna thought she was just a lad.’
I wanted to thump them both, laughing at my situation. How alone I had been in the bedroom, wondering if I was going to be murdered. From the heat in my face my cheeks must have been beetroot red, but I managed to say, maintaining a last shred of dignity, ‘You know that woman’s name then?’
‘I do not know her professionally, I assure you. But I’m here often enough to have got to know most of the girls.’ His smile broadened. ‘I’m a happily married man, Lily. My wife’s in the country with our three children.’
‘And your name’s not Jack Moray?’
‘Nothing like it.’
I looked at Major Whitehead.
‘Mr Moray has made contact with scores of fifth columnists all over Britain,’ he said. ‘This has been a highly successful strategy for us.’
‘Actually, we’ve been rather shocked by the numbers of people who’ve approached him wanting to give assistance to the Nazis,’ said the major. ‘Some have proffered information that would have been very useful indeed to the Germans.’
I felt dizzy. Britain was at war. German bombers had killed thousands of civilians in the Blitz. Our armies were fighting for their lives, and yet there were British citizens willing to assist the Nazis?
‘What sort of people would commit treason to help Germany defeat us?’ I asked.
‘All sorts,’ said Moray, ‘but I’ve found it’s mainly those who hate Jews. Most of the people I’ve encountered have never been members of a fascist party, but they hold such extreme anti-Semitic feelings that they think a British victory would mean victory for the Jews. So they give their support to Hitler.’
‘But that’s madness,’ I said. ‘What could possibly make them hate Jews so much?’
‘I don’t know, Lily. There’s a long history to anti-Semitism. I can’t find a reason really, other than people hate those who are different.’
‘And that’s why you were so horrible to Levy? To convince us you were anti-Semitic, fascist.’ I looked at him. ‘You did a good job of it.’
He held my gaze. ‘I liked David Levy and I am very sorry about his death.’
‘And you had nothing to do with it?’
Moray shook his head in mock bewilderment and looked across at Jim.
‘She’s like a terrier, isn’t she? After a rat.’
I broke in. ‘She needs to know for sure,’ I said, annoyed. ‘And if the analogy fits . . .’
He looked at me. ‘I had absolutely nothing to do with David Levy’s death and I have no idea how he ended up in the flat in Caroline Place. I can only presume his death was as the inquest found it. On the night Levy died I was at a meeting here with Fripp and some others.’
‘People from the station? Was Ashwin one of them?’
‘Ashwin has never approached me with regard to assisting Germany. I can’t tell you any more, Lily. You saw Fripp come here tonight, which is unfortunate. I can’t give you any more information.’
‘But what’s going to happen to Fripp? Will she be arrested? Are you just going to let her keep spreading her traitorous information and defeatism?’
‘Fripp will be dealt with at the appropriate time, but if you give me away to her, or to anyone else, by even the slightest hint, it could jeopardise the complete operation. You do
understand? If you cannot guarantee this, we will have to transfer you out of the station.’
‘I understand. I won’t say a word.’
Major Whitehead made a gentle throat-clearing noise. I looked at him.
‘We need you to sign some documents, Miss Brennan.’
I signed all the documents Major Whitehead put in front of me. And in so doing I gave my binding word to take the secrets I had learned that night to my grave, or risk imprisonment or worse.
The five of us climbed the steps and stood together in a dark and silent London. It was around three o’clock and thick clouds formed a cloak over the city. The raiders had disappeared.
‘Don’t come to work today,’ said Moray. ‘I’ll find cover for you.’ He said goodbye and walked off briskly along the street.
Major Whitehead led the rest of us around the corner, where a large saloon was parked with a driver from the women’s army service at the wheel. Jim gave her my address and she drove us to Bloomsbury through the usual maze of detours.
‘Not much damage here tonight,’ said the major, twisting around to address us from the front seat.
The wing commander snorted softly. ‘They tend to become a trifle lost when there’s thick cloud cover like this. I expect we’ll find that the outer suburbs have had a rough time of it.’
Jim saw me to my door.
‘Do you want me to stay?’ he asked.
I shook my head. I was still angry about all his lies and I found it hard to speak to him.
‘I couldn’t tell you anything. Lily, you must understand that.’
‘But you lied to me. I accepted everything you said, because I never thought you would lie to me.’ I understood why he had done so, but I was not sure how we could move on.
‘Lily, I had no choice.’
I opened the door and went inside, feeling lost and very alone.
Katherine sat down with me at lunch in the service restaurant, later that day.
‘I’m on night shift,’ she said, yawning. ‘Why are you here? I thought you were on days this week.’
I shrugged. ‘Took the day off. I needed a break’
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