Shadows of the Dead

by Jim Eldridge

  It was Sarah who broke the silence. ‘He wasn’t always miserable, like he was at the end,’ she said. ‘He was fun when he was younger. You must remember him playing with you in the park.’

  ‘I do,’ said Stark, although the truth was his childhood was such a distant memory that he barely remembered it. All he could remember of his father was the way he’d been these last three years: angry and bitter.

  ‘It was the war that really did it,’ said Sarah. ‘You going off. He spent the whole time in a panic, worried. He took to reading the newspaper every day, studying every word of every battle, in case you were mentioned as killed or missing.’

  ‘They didn’t put the names of the dead and injured in the papers,’ said Stark. ‘Bad for morale back home.’

  ‘He couldn’t get to sleep at night for worrying about you. The whole four years. But he had to be strong for Susan and Stephen.’ She fell silent, lost in her memories. Finally, she said, ‘When we came to see you in the army hospital, when they brought you back, I thought he was going to break down and collapse. You were a mess. Shrapnel. Bullet wounds. The doctor said by rights you ought to be dead; he didn’t know how you survived.’ She looked at her son. ‘It was that same stubbornness that your dad had that kept you alive – same as it did him at the end. The only difference was, his body was worn out by then. He must have coughed his life away every winter these last ten years.’

  ‘I could hear his cough getting worse before I went off to war,’ said Stark. ‘He said it was bronchitis.’

  ‘It was, but some winters it would get worse. Especially while you were away. Like I said, it was the worry about you. He didn’t sleep and his body started to pack up. And then he had the pain of watching you try to recover when you came out of hospital.’

  ‘It wasn’t just Dad,’ Stark pointed out. ‘You had the same worry about me.’

  ‘Yes, but I was always stronger than your dad.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘And then Susan died. Your dad really cared for Susan. I did, as well. She was lovely. But your dad … he was always soft.’ She gave another deep sigh. ‘Look at the way he was with Stephen.’

  They talked some more about their memories of Henry, mainly Sarah’s memories of her younger days with Henry when he was struggling to make ends meet as a carpenter.

  ‘It was never easy for him,’ she said.

  Finally, she stood up, kissed Stark goodnight and went to bed. Stark soon followed, checking on the sleeping Stephen before going to his own room. His mind was too full for him to sleep. He picked a book which he hoped might lull him to drowsiness, but as he sat up in bed, he couldn’t concentrate on the open pages before him. His mother’s words about Henry hung over him.

  All that pain and worry over me while I was in France, but he never showed it to me once I was back. Why?

  He remembered his own awkwardness when Noble had offered his condolences over Henry’s death. God, I’m just as bad as my father was for not showing my emotions! I didn’t know how much he cared for me because he never said it, never showed it. And I’m the same!

  In his mind, he went back to when he was Stephen’s age – Henry taking him to the park where they flew kites and kicked a ball about. He remembered Henry laughing at himself the time he slipped while trying to kick a ball and fell over. Then there had been the time the kite he was flying got caught in a tree, and Henry had lost his temper and kicked the tree and a load of conkers fell down on him, and again Henry had laughed so much he had fallen over, and the young Stark had fallen to the grass with laughing at the sight.

  Such times! Such happy times! The sun always seemed warmer and the winter snow cleaner and deeper. And after, when the day was done, he remembered his father tucking him into his bed and then telling him a story – one Henry had made up. It usually involved blacksmiths, Stark remembered. And a dragon and a princess.

  Suddenly, he realized he was crying. Crying for the days that were gone and would never be again. Those wonderful days that had disappeared so painfully these last few years.

  Next morning, he told Stephen that he and Sarah would be going away for a few days. ‘Your grandma will feel better if she’s not here, constantly being reminded of Grandad. It’s just for a couple of days.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Stephen.

  ‘It’s a surprise,’ Stark told him.

  Stark’s hardest task was persuading Sarah to accept a taxi to Finchley.

  ‘It’ll cost too much!’ she protested. ‘We can do it by underground train. Or bus.’

  ‘You’re taking a taxi and that’s it,’ Stark told her firmly.

  Finally, still complaining, she and Stephen got into a taxi and headed off.

  By five to eleven, Stark was walking into Trafalgar Square. Danvers and Noble were already there. At this time of year there were few others, although the women sitting on upturned wooden crates, surrounded by the paper bags of bird food they sold, were doing a good trade with the few people there.

  ‘So, what’s all this cloak-and-dagger stuff?’ asked Noble. ‘Why here?’

  ‘Less chance of being overheard,’ Stark told him. ‘Here, we can see everyone. Inside, you never know who’s listening at doors.’

  He told them of his experiences the previous afternoon: being called to Amelia’s house, then being taken at gunpoint to meet Glenavon and Cavendish.

  ‘Then we’ve got them!’ burst out Noble triumphantly. ‘I knew my wire would make them move! That’s all the evidence we need!’

  ‘Unfortunately, we can’t use it while they’ve got Lady Amelia,’ said Stark. ‘If we try, they’ll kill her.’ He then told them about the further threats to his own family, and to Danvers.

  ‘So what do we do?’ demanded Noble angrily. ‘Let them get away with whatever they’re planning? You know they’ll kill her anyway!’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Stark. ‘Which is why I’m going to rescue her tonight.’

  ‘From where?’ demanded Noble. ‘We don’t even know where they’re holding her.’

  ‘I’ve got someone working on that,’ said Stark. ‘I hope to get it confirmed later today.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Danvers.

  ‘Red Tops.’

  ‘Lord Glenavon’s place,’ nodded Danvers.

  ‘Do you know it? Have you been there?’

  ‘Sorry, no,’ said Danvers. ‘My family and Lord Glenavon don’t exactly see eye to eye. Well, my parents, that is. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that Lettie’s been there with Cavendish for some do or other.’

  ‘Maybe you could ask her?’ asked Noble.

  Danvers gave a regretful sigh. ‘I’m afraid my sister isn’t talking to me at the moment, not after we had that scene when we asked her about Cavendish.’

  ‘I may have something,’ said Noble. ‘I went to the embassy to do some nosing around about Cavendish and Glenavon, and I found out they’d both been guests recently at some dinner to promote Anglo-American relations. It sounds like a big-hitting affair – plenty of lords and ladies and dukes and earls. And a member of the royal family. The heir to the throne, the Prince of Wales himself. Prince Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David Windsor.’ He shook his head. ‘How does anyone get so many names?’

  ‘By having lots of very important relatives and revered ancestors who have to be taken into consideration,’ said Stark.

  ‘I also found out that the Prince was very taken with Cavendish, especially this whole moving picture business. I get the impression the Prince quite fancies himself as some kind of moving picture star.’

  ‘The Palace would never allow it,’ said Stark.

  ‘You and I know that, but does the Prince?’ asked Noble.

  ‘Of course,’ said Stark. ‘He’s the heir to the throne. His duties would have been made very clear to him almost from birth.’

  ‘My pal in the embassy says he gets the impression that the Prince is not the kind of guy to follow rules so easily. He says he’s got his own mind. His own way of doing things.�
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  ‘Then he’s going to come up against some fierce opposition, both inside his own family and the government,’ said Stark.

  ‘Even once he’s King?’

  ‘Especially once he’s King,’ said Stark. ‘To outsiders it may look as if the King is some powerful figure, but in reality he’s a figurehead. An important one, but the real power is in Parliament. That’s why we had a civil war.’

  ‘Yeah, Oliver Cromwell,’ nodded Noble. ‘We did it in school. Mainly to teach us that kings were a bad thing, and especially British kings. Hence our Declaration of Independence.’

  ‘And here we are, after all these years, making up with a dinner to celebrate Anglo-American relations and a future King who wants to be in moving pictures,’ observed Stark.

  ‘Anyway, the thing is, I hear from the same source that the Prince has accepted an invitation to have dinner with Cavendish at Lord Glenavon’s place the evening after tomorrow.’

  ‘The evening after tomorrow!’ exclaimed Stark.

  ‘That’s within the time frame they gave you, sir,’ said Danvers.

  ‘Exactly,’ nodded Stark grimly. ‘Logic says it’s connected with whatever it is they’re trying to keep secret.’

  ‘If so, Cavendish isn’t doing a very good job of hiding it,’ observed Noble. ‘It’s supposed to be hush-hush, and my pal said Cavendish swore him to secrecy. But telling a press officer that is like telling a hooker to give up sex.’

  ‘The Prince of Wales,’ mused Stark.

  ‘Exactly! My pal said Cavendish was so puffed up with the Prince having a private dinner with him that he just had to tell someone.’

  Stark nodded thoughtfully. ‘What would Glenavon and Cavendish want with the Prince? It’s obviously nothing to do with the moving pictures, whatever they’ve told him.’

  ‘Maybe they want to hook him up to their organization?’ suggested Noble. ‘This BUP outfit?’

  ‘I can’t see it,’ said Stark doubtfully. ‘Members of the royal family don’t get involved in politics.’

  ‘Getting back to Lady Amelia,’ said Danvers. ‘How do we go about rescuing her?’

  Stark shook his head. ‘I appreciate the offer from both of you, but I can’t ask you to put your lives on the line in this way.’

  ‘Hell, you don’t have to ask!’ snorted Noble. ‘We three are in this together!’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Danvers.

  ‘This is not an official mission,’ Stark pointed out. ‘What I’ll be doing is strictly illegal.’

  ‘And you can’t do it on your own,’ said Noble. ‘So, the question is: who else can we count on?’

  ‘And that is the problem,’ admitted Stark unhappily. He reminded them about the clerk at the records department, PC Fields at Finsbury Park, and Glenavon’s boast about his organization having fingers everywhere inside the police. ‘They even had my car moved! We can’t trust anyone in the police, which is why we’re standing here in the cold in Trafalgar Square!’

  ‘What about the officers who helped us when we protected the King?’ asked Danvers. He reeled off the names. Sergeant Alder from Maida Vale, along with Constables Forsythe, Smith, Adams, Rushmore and Whittaker. ‘And there’s Superintendent Hammond from Finsbury Park!’

  ‘All very good men whom I’d trust completely,’ agreed Stark. ‘But this is not official. I’d be asking them to break the law and put their careers at risk, not to mention their lives and liberty. And we’d never be able to keep it secret. Somehow, someone at Maida Vale or at Finsbury Park would find out what was going on.’

  ‘So it’s just us three,’ said Danvers.

  ‘Unless I can make contact with some old army comrades who might agree to join in,’ said Stark.

  ‘If we were in the States, I’d have a whole heap of guys clamouring to come with us,’ said Noble. He gave a rueful grin. ‘Unfortunately, we’re not in the States.’

  ‘When will we know if Red Tops is the place they’re holding Lady Amelia?’ asked Danvers.

  ‘Later this afternoon, I hope. In the meantime, I thought we might spend the time spreading disinformation, as I believe the intelligence agencies call it.’

  ‘Not us,’ said Noble. ‘We call it bullshit.’

  ‘Yes, well, I think it’s time to spread some to try to take some of the heat off us from our enemies. Don, you mentioned a telegraph clerk at the American Embassy you used to send a false wire to spook Cavendish.’

  ‘Yeah, and it looked like I succeeded a bit too well. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been in this spot,’ he said ruefully.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ said Stark. ‘I think my asking about Adolf Hitler may have been the final straw for them. But back to this woman …’

  ‘Myrtle Evans,’ nodded Noble.

  ‘Yes. I think it might be useful for you to send another wire that she can report back to Cavendish. This one should be along the lines of “Re last wire. Been told to hold off from EC by Scotland Yard”. That should let Cavendish know that I’ve passed on their instructions about keeping our hands off the case for three days.

  ‘To the same end, Sergeant, I’d like you to go and see Chief Superintendent Benson and say you’re concerned because I’ve ordered you to hold off from further investigations into the case for the next two days, until I get back.’

  ‘Get back from where?’

  ‘From compassionate leave while I sort out things relating to the recent death of my father.’

  ‘You think that Benson is involved?’ asked Noble.

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Stark. ‘I may be misjudging him, but there have been certain indications lately. If I’m wrong, there’s no harm done. If I’m right, it will give us space from being watched.’

  Noble looked around. ‘You think they’re watching us now?’

  ‘I think it highly likely. This way, they’ll think they know what we were talking about: that I was telling you chaps to stand down, just as they ordered me.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m now going to check on my investigator. After that, I’m going to see what I can do about getting us some reinforcements we can trust.’

  ‘Where can we get hold of you?’ asked Noble.

  ‘At home. And say nothing incriminating on the telephone. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that they’ve got a few telephone operators feeding them information as well.’

  THIRTY-FIVE

  As Stark walked into his house, his heart jumped at the sight of the folded piece of paper on his doormat. Another warning from Glenavon or Cavendish? Had they traced Sarah and Stephen?

  The note was from Peters. Got what you wanted. Call me.

  Stark headed for the nearest telephone box and dialled Peters’ number.

  ‘Charles Peters.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ Stark told him.

  Half an hour later, Stark was once again sitting in Charlie Peters’ room, with its overpowering smell of stale tobacco.

  Peters rolled himself a cigarette as he talked. ‘She’s in there.’

  ‘You’re certain?’

  Peters nodded. ‘I did all the usual: talked to locals, the postman, the postmistress, the delivery people, and I got reports of a woman fitting Lady Amelia Fairfax’s description being seen looking out of an upstairs room.’

  ‘How sure are they it’s her? It could be Lady Glenavon? Or a mistress?’

  ‘For one thing, Lady Glenavon doesn’t live at Red Tops. She’s been banished to some castle in Scottish Highlands. For another, if what I hear is true, Lord Glenavon doesn’t exactly go for mistresses. Or women of any sort. Stable boys and rough trade are more his thing.

  ‘Just to confirm, I managed to get a peek at this particular window. Most times lately it seems the curtains are kept closed, but I managed to get a look when the curtains opened.’

  ‘You’re sure it was her?’

  ‘I recognized her from her pictures in the papers. It was only fleeting, because then someone came in and pulled the curtains shut again. But it was her, no question.
’ He then added, ‘They’ve got another house guest there as well, at the moment. A foreign bloke. The locals think he’s German.’

  Immediately, Stark was alert. ‘Did you get his name?’

  Peters shook his head. ‘No. It seems it’s all very hush-hush. He arrived by car with the windows blacked out. And he hasn’t been seen outside since he arrived. I got all this from the postmistress, who really does know everything that goes on.

  ‘I’ll tell you another thing. Since he arrived, security there has been increased. More blokes, with guns.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘From what I hear, there are ten: five on the day shift, five at night. It ain’t going to be easy getting in.’ Peters got up and went to a cupboard, from which he took a rolled-up piece of paper. ‘I’ve done a plan of the place. It’s only rough, but it shows where the wall is that runs all round the house, the grounds, the outbuildings, the doors, and where her room is.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Stark.

  He unrolled the paper and studied the drawing. It was better than many he’d seen during the war; drawings showing the supposed enemy lines. He’d done Charlie Peters a disservice. He may appear untidy and dishevelled, but his mind and his detective skills were razor-sharp.

  As before, he reached for his wallet, but Peters stopped him. ‘Wait till the job’s over,’ he said. ‘Then we can settle up.’

  ‘But I might get killed doing this,’ pointed out Stark. ‘Then you won’t get paid.’

  Peters shrugged. ‘Then it shows I’ve been a mug,’ he said with a slight grin.

  As Stark headed back to town, he reflected that he had all the information he needed. The question now was how to rescue Amelia and make sure they all got out alive. And, at the same time, stop Cavendish and Glenavon taking their revenge.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Churchill wasn’t at the Ministry.

  ‘He’s at the House,’ Stark was informed by Churchill’s private secretary. ‘There’s a debate on the Colonies Bill.’