by Stan Mason
‘What happened?’ I asked as I untied her.
She remained silent until I released her arms and she began to rub the soreness away. ‘The doorbell rang and one of the men told me he was the new landlord wanting to talk to me about an increase in the rent. As I opened the door they charged in and tied me to the chair.’
‘What did they want?’ By this time, I had undone the ropes on her legs.
‘Information about you.’
I rubbed her ankles and looked up into her eyes. ‘About me?’
‘They had a notion we worked together and that I knew all about you. When I didn’t answer their questions they became very angry. Then, mercifully, you rang. I couldn’t say anything to you for fear they would hurt me, but you realised something was wrong. How very clever of you!’ She took my hands and pulled me towards her, kissing me fully on the mouth with the softest lips I had ever tasted. ‘Should we notify the police?’
I tried to concentrate but the effect of the kiss made it difficult for me to focus my mind. ‘The facts are that you’ve suffered a smashed door,’ I began practically, ‘which means that anyone can gain access. You have no security. Equally, there’s a vacant window, which doesn’t help matters at all. It looks like I’ll have to stay the night to protect you... in case of further trouble.’
She laughed at my intentions. ‘I must be honest with you, John,’ she said sweetly. ‘I’ve only one bed here and the couch isn’t fit for a dog.
I shrugged my shoulders casually and kissed her on the lips. ‘I’m sure we’ll make out somehow,’ I told her. ‘We’ll just have to rough it for tonight.’
The evening could have ended in sheer disaster for both of us. If things had been slightly different, the police would have questioned me on the death of Calvin and perhaps have charged me with manslaughter concerning the man who fell through Tania’s window. They would have asked a multitude of questions for which I had very feeble answers. As it transpired, the man who fell through the window had not been badly injured. He was seen being helped into a car by the second man, albeit he was limping badly and appeared to have a broken arm. Tania was fortunate my suspicions were enough for me to rescue her. Who knows what might have happened to her at the hands of the two men! As luck would have it, I had the company of a charming, grateful and delightful female companion for one rewarding night. Beyond the bedroom, the absence of a front door and a missing window caused the apartment to become excessively draughty. But then, I mused to myself, it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good!
Chapter Nine
At first light on the following morning, I left Tania sleeping in bed, dressing quickly in the draught and dampness of the windowless lounge. I left the apartment without delay. She would be disappointed at my flight. However, there were a number of matters skimming through my mind and I had to get them out of my system. The first related to the car which tried to mow me down. It was almost like a nightmare and I had to pinch myself to check it had really happened. I proceeded to the rockery and gazed at the vehicle which was poised indelicately on top of a number of jagged granite rocks like the form of a giant sculpture. The vehicle was empty and I presumed that, apart from a sound shaking, those inside the car had escaped without serious injury. I scaled the rockery to examine the interior of the vehicle. There were stains of dried blood on the dashboard which led me to believe the driver’s nose came into contact with the steering wheel at the moment of impact, as the vehicle careered over the edge of the car park. I was not a vindictive person, but the fact that the driver had suffered pain and discomfort in his attempt to murder me offered some kind of vengeful satisfaction. Even better, as far as I was concerned, he had failed in his task to kill me. As I recalled the moment when all my limbs became paralysed through fear and I faced instant death, I realised I couldn’t find it in myself to turn the other cheek. I was left only with the impression of moments that should have been the final seconds of my life. The recall of the shot from a rifle echoed at the back of my mind, and I examined the tyres carefully. I discovered a neat round hole in the front off-side tyre which had been made by a bullet. It had penetrated the tyre, causing it to burst, so that the vehicle veered away from me at the most critical moment. I was grateful it had happened but there was even greater comfort to know that someone out there was taking care of my welfare. I had no idea who that person might be, but I didn’t mind in the least if my fairy Godmother, or Godfather, carried a rifle instead of a magic wand. After all, survival was the name of the game!
A buff envelope rested on the door-mat of my apartment when I opened my front door. The mandarins at Whitehall had been working like gnomes in the night for the letter was delivered some time between the hours of midnight and dawn. A small thought pervaded my mind that the messenger may have known I was occupied elsewhere. This gave ground to the possibility I was under surveillance all the time. I shrugged off the idea, ridiculing the notion that a mere newspaper reporter should be accorded such elevated importance which could never be justified. I was simply a tiny cog in an exceptionally large wheel, uninvolved with the charade of spies, undercover agents and the like. Why should anyone be remotely interested in my work except for my editor and the owners of the newspaper?
Inside the envelope nestled a note from Maitland set out on plain paper, scribbled in ball-point pen. He didn’t define his capacity as Personal Assistant to the Prime Minister, but merely requested my presence at the House of Commons at ten o’clock that morning. I wondered what would have happened had I stayed with Tania. Presumably, someone would have contacted me at nine o’clock on her telephone to pass on the summons personally. No doubt, I was being watched all the time! What could Maitland want to say to me at this early stage of the game? Perhaps the Prime Minister had changed his mind about my involvement and wanted me to drop the investigation. An order of that magnitude would hardly go down well with Ted Flanders who was already champing at the bit for a major scoop. I realised I could drive myself insane trying to fathom out the reason for the summons. My best course of action would be to make myself a hearty breakfast and meet the man at the House of Commons with an open mind.
I caught a taxi there, leaving my car in the garage to avoid being caught up in the massive flow of traffic towards the centre of London, and asked for Maitland when I arrived there. A uniformed attendant led me though a maze of corridors to a small well-furnished wainscoted room, rich in the smell of wood varnish. I sat in a comfortable armchair reading the newspaper I had brought with me, admiring the work of some of my colleagues in the latest edition while a large clock on the mantelshelf of an ornate hearth ticked away with monotonous regularity. It was almost ten-thirty before the door opened and Maitland appeared. By that time, I had read the newspaper twice and almost finished the crossword.
‘I apologise profusely!’ he declared, feigning the expression of a young boy caught stealing apples. ‘The exigencies of the day have been such that our agenda is stretched to the full. Please forgive the delay.’
‘What do you want to see me about?’ I asked impatiently, cutting to the chase.
‘The Prime Minister would like a brief word with you,’ he replied flatly. ‘He’ll be here in a moment.’
In a flash, he left the room, leaving me on my own. It had to be important summoned here... for the Prime Minister to speak to me... something more grand than to be told to drop the assignment. I didn’t mind if they wanted to end it. It would be a relief to be given another task by Ted Flanders... something within the normal confines of human nature... something where people would resist the temptation of trying to kill me. I stood up waiting for the great man to arrive. If only my father could see me now, I thought, he might have respected my insistence to become a newspaper reporter. It was his wish, before he died, for me to become professional in law or finance. He strongly resented, in his own words, “my desire to waste my life as a hack for some damned daily rag!” Litt
le did he realise my calling would bring me into contact with such eminent people... practically the highest in the land. Shortly, Maitland opened the door again to allow the Prime Minister to enter.
‘Sit down, Mr. Savage,’ invited the senior politician, taking another chair as his Personal Assistant left the room. ‘I regret having to bring you here at such short notice but information on the matter we discussed earlier is urgently required. Are you able to offer anything of value?’
I sat down opposite him, trying to gather my thoughts cogently. ‘I’ve become a member of International Three Thousand,’ I revealed confidentially, ‘and I hope to be able to report something useful in a few day’s time. There are some side issues in which you may be interested.’ I paused for a moment nursing a horrific notion that the person to whom I was about to offer information might not be the Prime Minister at all. No... it was too absurd that an imposter would invite me to the House of Commons. Yet it had happened in relation to Henry Jacobs and Lieutenant-Colonel Topham. Ostensibly, they didn’t exist! ‘A number of people have been killed over the past few days in connection with this assignment. Indeed, there have been four attempts on my own life. It transpires that a date known as Die Stunde has been set for the first of June two thousand and fifteen although I’m not certain yet of its inference. Secondly, I’m desperately seeking Der Bankvorsteher... the banker... a person handling funds amounting to fifty billion United States dollars accumulated from the sale of Nazi war treasures. I understand the funds have been invested in markets and currencies all over the world.
The Prime Minister listened intently without showing surprise or emotion. ‘Do you have any further details?’ he asked quietly.
‘Not at present. There’s a lot of mystery, but I’ll find out in due course.’
He glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf as though pressed for another appointment. ‘Do you have anything else to tell me?’
I paused once more and then decided to express my concern about his welfare. ‘Yes, there is,’ I went on, as my heart beat loudly in my ears. ‘I think you may be in great danger yourself. My research indicates that the person you know as Henry Jacobs doesn’t exist... nor does the agency known as State Security. The same applies to Lieutenant-Colonel Topham. I presume you’re aware of their infiltration because you’ve chosen to talk with me directly rather than communicate through Miss Grayson.’
He stood up and walked to the door. ‘Thank you for your helpful comments, Mr. Savage,’ he said, with a brief smile touching his lips. ‘I regret you found yourself in danger, but the excellent work you’re doing for your country is much appreciated. I hope you will continue with your efforts. If you wait here I’ll arrange for Maitland to see you out.’
He opened the door and departed. The man seemed genuinely sympathetic towards me, but that may have been the reason why he was elected to his eminent position... he was sympathetic and grateful to everyone. Maitland appeared almost instantly. ‘The P.M. is very pleased with you,’ he told me politely, although I came to the conclusion that he made the same comment to practically everyone.
‘I attended the meeting here the other day,’ I began, digging for information. ‘Did you convene it?’ He nodded, giving me the impression he was in a particular haste to be elsewhere. ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with Henry Jacobs. He offered to lend me support with his man... Mr. Gates. Do you know where I can find him?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he replied diplomatically, showing no sign of hesitation or emotion at the request. ‘Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the exit.’
To his irritation, I decided to thwart his attempt to oust me from the building. ‘Before I go, there’s a favour I want to ask you,’ I pressed. A small twitch of annoyance appeared on his face as I placed him under pressure again. ‘May I look at the books in your main library? As a newspaper reporter I have few opportunities to attend the House of Commons. I would take it as payment in lieu of my services.’
He thought about it for a moment and then conceded. ‘Very well,’ he replied tiredly. ‘I’ll get someone to take you there.’
He left the room and I waited until a uniformed attendant arrived to lead me to the library. He left me there when I told him I would see myself out of the building. After he had gone, I travelled along the corridors until reaching the room where the initial meeting had been held. Inside, I sat down on a chair and looked round the room slowly. It was real, and all the people there had been real. I recalled the words of Carrie when she was boasting about the excellent work of Jack Berg. He had fooled a Nazi war criminal by taking him to an ordinary room adjoining the Crown Court which had been set up to represent an authentic Court-room. The judge, jury and the public had been actors employed to carry out the charade to obtain the information required. I questioned whether something similar had happened in this room on the day I was abducted. Members of the public were not normally carried off to the House of Commons to be given dangerous assignments for their country. Or were they? Had I been introduced to a world of make believe far beyond the run of the normal citizen? And why were people in attendance who didn’t exist in the annals of the Civil Service or the Military List? Even more intriguing was the fact that they focussed their attention on a newspaper reporter. What did they really want with me? And why should the Prime Minister seek a private interview with me when Miss Grayson was the person responsible for passing information directly to him and the other members of the committee. It didn’t make sense... and it left me in no man’s land!
I made a mental note that if I managed to survive long enough to write my memoirs I would record that the life of a reporter was often the loneliest in the world. Secrecy had to be maintained at all time, not only to preserve the assignment but also to screen it from competitor reporters. In addition, one was bullied, harassed and hounded by editors and interviewees into the bargain. At that moment, a shaft of inspiration seared through my brain and I thought of a new tack which would set the newspaper alight. The main problem was to present it in such a manner that Ted Flanders believed he had formulated the idea himself. It was the only way to get the story into print! I returned to the office and sat waiting for Flanders to finish a telephone call. After replacing the receiver, he picked up a half-smoked cigar and started puffing on it, choking on the smoke in the process.
What are you doing here?’ he growled, wiping his mouth as dribble eked out of the end of the cigar. ‘I put you out on assignment and you end up spending most of your time here. This isn’t a holiday camp, you know. Go out and get some news!’
‘I need some more research, Ted,’ I told him bluntly. ‘It relates directly to the assignment.’
‘Not more research!’ he complained bitterly. ‘What’s it this time? Looking for the man in the moon or trying to find Noah’s ark?’
I shrugged off the sarcasm calmly. ‘What do you know about the children and grandchildren of dedicated Nazi leaders and senior officers... starting with people like Goering, Himmler, Borman, Goebbels, and so on?’
He stared at me for a while without speaking and I wondered whether he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. Eventually, he shifted in his seat, puffed his cigar, waved the clouds of smoke away from his watering eyes and coughed a few times. ‘What are you after?’ he muttered.. ‘A lot of gaps exist in the records. Too many. But Research might come up with something interesting. They might at that.’ A serious expression crossed his face as he began to develop his thoughts. He was taking the bait. I could have blurted out the means by which he could achieve a fantastic scoop if Research Department managed to produce the essential data, but I had to allow it to ferment gradually in his mind.
‘Hey, I’ve had a terrific idea!’ he exclaimed excitedly, applauding himself for the effort. ‘If we track down the sons and grandsons of the Nazis and beard the bastards in their dens...’ He tailed off as his eyes lit up from the vision of mil
lions of newspapers being sold containing the scoop. ‘I can see it now! Where are they... the sons and grandsons of that awful regime? What are they doing? Are they affected? Are they following in their fathers/grandfathers footsteps? It would make a great series, Jimmy. You follow my lead and you’ll do all right, boy!’ he puffed furiously on the cigar, lost in his own imagination. ‘We can run it over a period of two weeks in the daily editions... and as a five-part serial in the Sundays. It could have a tremendous impact.’ He bobbed up and down in his chair with excitement. ‘Better still! The other newspapers will lose their lead time. We’ll be a month ahead of them with the research at least. I knew this assignment would bear fruit the moment I gave it to you!’