Love is the death of me

by Dick Hardman

  “Just relax Anna, you need to move on with your life, he would want that for you. You know you want me and I do so want you. I love you Anna, I would never do anything to hurt you. Just relax, you have come so far, don’t spoil it and regret it.”

  You lying bastard, she thought. You already hurt me. You crushed my toes. Clumsy prick!

  He stopped undoing buttons, leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Time for the final encouragement, he thought.

  In the next moment he was thrown off her and rolling off the bed, onto the floor. Anna leapt up and seized all his clothes from the chair; she opened the door and ran down the stairs, out into the street.

  “Help me someone, I have been raped, please help me.”

  She threw his clothing into the filthy wet gutter. Several prostitutes snatched them up, to search for money and sell the clothes. Two policemen ran down the street towards her and grabbed her.

  “What has happened to you, young lady?” one asked.

  “A man I was with from work has just tried to rape me.” She pointed out the torn off buttons, exposing her delicious white breasts to the man, in the process.

  ***

  Andrew appeared in the street, wrapped in a white sheet.

  “There he is!” Anna screamed, pointing unnecessarily at him. “Arrest the filthy bugger, I am a young widow, my husband has just died, and he has just forced himself on me. He tore open my work clothes. Look!” She huddled close to one of the policemen for protection.

  “I can explain officer, I am from MI5. This girl is suspected of being a spy, I was investigating her that was all.”

  “I suppose you can prove that, can you? Where is your identity card? Do you have it hidden in some secret pocket, or some imaginary one?”

  Andrew looked around for his clothes, but they had gone.

  “No, I no longer have it, or my clothes, they have been stolen.”

  “Well, we can sort this out down at the station. Sir, I am arresting you for attempted rape. Anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you. Put your hands behind your back while I handcuff you.”

  A large crowd had now gathered, and many of them were street girls. Andrew tried to put his hands behind his back, and the sheet slipped off onto the wet road. As the jeers and laughter erupted at the sight of the naked man standing there, he bent down to retrieve the filthy wet sheet. Thinking Andrew was about to escape, the policeman struck him hard behind the knees and he fell in a heap on the road. More jeers and laughter came from the delighted onlookers. They had now formed a large jostling crowd around the policemen, Anna and the humiliated Andrew.

  Anna realised that her plan had worked perfectly, but only up to this point. The policeman she had used to shelter against told her she must also come to the station with Andrew, and prepare a statement.

  She had caught herself now, good and proper.

  Henryk plays his hand. Late 21st December 1943

  Henryk and Jane walked briskly from the factory entrance, towards the pub. He noticed Peter and also spotted the watchers who loitered near the entrance. Security was tight here for good reason. As a first step the enemy would study the access. Henryk wondered how many people working there were enemy agents.

  There would be sympathisers, trained agents and anyone who wanted cash for information. The odd thing was, very few would know of any other. It had crossed his mind that those others could set explosives and end up killing him in the process, unaware that he was there on a mission of immense importance.

  It would be ironic if he died, as a result of sabotage planned using information he had passed to Peter.

  ***

  The weather was bitterly cold and the heavy cloud suggested rain later. The warmth hit them both as they entered the pub and they pushed their way into the modest room, packed with loud and excited people.

  The faint grey fug of dense cigarette smoke filled every corner, with more issuing in clouds from smokers and rising in columns from their poised cigarettes. The odour of hops and hot, unwashed bodies refusing to blend with the smoke, added to the overpowering atmosphere.

  The prattle from Jane now they were amid the throng, forced him to focus on what she was saying.

  “How long have you been working here at the factory, Henryk?” She had already asked this at lunch, but he passed it off as an opening gambit.

  “Oh, not long, days actually, I am lucky to be alive. I had been out looking for work and stopped off at the pub to drown my sorrows. I left, and was nearly home, when there was an air raid. My lodgings were hit, they were just rubble. I lost everything. The evil bastards, I want to shoot the lot of them. It was fortunate I had all my papers on me for the interviews, or they would also have been destroyed.

  “Enough of me, Jane, what about you?”

  “I have always lived in London, I left my family early on and have been on my own ever since. I like it that way.”

  ***

  Jane omitted to say that she had followed in the footsteps of her mother and been a high earning child prostitute. She left home because her mother kept her earnings. True, she lived in a nice home and her mother made sure she learned social graces. She attended elocution and violin classes, even ballet, but that was to ensure the high fees.

  Jane remembered vividly the first time she was used. It was on her sixth birthday. She and her mum were invited to the home of a government official, on the pretext of a party. It was also the first time she had tasted wine. It was only a small glass, but it tasted sharp and burned her mouth and throat. She knew now that he had laced it with gin.

  Feeling giddy, he had taken her to the bedroom. As she lay there in her pretty pink party frock, the room spinning madly around, he lifted her dress, and slipped off her knickers. When he had finished with her he replaced her knickers, and left her on the bed to sleep. 20 years on, she still sees the man regularly in the newspapers.

  Soon after the war started, she had been approached by a man who said he had some important work for her. She was surprised when she was summoned to attend an interview. The two men asked her if she was happy being a prostitute?

  She replied, “I eat well, have a nice flat and a nice life. What is there not to like?”

  She was told what she already knew, that men will form strong bonds with women who make them feel special. They have been known to pay more than they can afford and tell the woman their greatest secrets. The two men would train her to maximise her talents to extract secrets, and reveal traitors to MI5, for a small payment. The payment was laughable and she told them so. They suggested that the Inland Revenue were about to take a keen interest in her undeclared earnings, and would probably be providing her with free secure accommodation at his Majesty’s pleasure.

  Of course, if she were to work for the government that would all go away. She could still work with her own clients, provided their clients came first. The two men sniggered at the pun, thinking it was rather funny.

  Now here she was spying on a possible spy and rather enjoying it for once. He was mature, intelligent and physically very attractive. She speculated he was the sort of man who knew how to please a woman for as long as she needed pleasing. Mostly, men were a few minutes of desperate action, and a good sleep.

  ***

  Jane had just relived this tragic episode of her life, because she already had feelings for Henryk. She was ashamed of her past and present employment. However, she could never tell him any of it, and by so doing lessen her own pain.

  Her thoughts returned to finding a seat and settling in with a drink.

  The pub was packed, everyone snatching the opportunity to enjoy themselves in case it was to be their last night on earth.

  Jane slipped the 10 shilling note into Henryk’s hand.

  “Get me a G and T please Henryk and whatever you fancy for yourself. I will find us a seat.”

  He push his way to the bar and ordered a pint of stout, and her gin and tonic. He peered over the sea o
f heads and saw her waving to catch his attention. She had found a seat at a large table of fellow workers, but Anna was not there.

  Henryk delivered the drinks to the table and sat down, smiling and nodding ‘hello’ to the others there, who raised their glasses in greeting.

  He sipped his drink, listening intently to the banter, to pick up on the current topic and mood. Henryk welcomed the loud conversation at the table, because he could avoid Jane’s searching questions.

  An hour later, she accepted she was not going to trap him with all the hubbub going on. Best to get him on his own she thought, in the bedroom. She grabbed his arm and smiled warmly as he turned to hear what she wanted to say. He leaned towards her and she spoke in his ear. It was the closest he had been to her, and it sent a thrill right through him. He had decided that she was a truly a beautiful girl.

  “Shall we go back to your place Henryk, I want to get to know you better” she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

  He leaned into her again and planted a gentle kiss on her moist red lips. It took her by surprised; this display of affection was just not done in public, but she pushed back gently to confirm she wanted more.

  She stood up and swung her coat over the table, with the intention of knocking the dregs of his stout over him. Throughout the evening he had been aware that she might spring something on him to catch him out, and he deftly snatched the glass out of harm’s way. She looked disappointed for an instant, but turned it into a profuse apology, and they left.

  Even the polluted London air smelt fresh, compared to what they had just left, but it was now raining and bitingly cold.

  “Where do you live Jane? I would like to see you safely home.”

  “I was hoping you would want to, but the rain is getting worse, perhaps we could get to your place and shelter there.”

  They started running.

  How did she know my place was closer? He thought.

  “I must warn you Jane, it is a terrible room, but better than getting wet. It isn’t much further.”

  They ran at a steady pace, until he announced, “here we are, I have the key, my room is on the first floor. Room 2.”

  Jane went first, feeling her way in the gloom cast by the dull 40 watt bulb, as it filtered down the stairwell from the second floor. They entered his room and he noticed her look of disgust at the smell and appearance of the surroundings.

  The poor thing must be desperately unhappy here, I know he has no money, but this is disgusting, she thought. She cast a glance towards the single bed, noticed the stained candlewick bedspread, and prayed the sheets would be fresh and clean. She couldn’t remember ever being in a place as shabby as this, it made her skin crawl.

  The best she could hope for was that their lovemaking would take their minds off this room, the war and everything…

  All consuming passion.

  Pulling herself together, Jane slipped off her heavy wool coat and hung it carefully over the back of a wooden dining chair. She steeled herself, turned to him with the warmest smile she could muster and put her arms around his neck. Henryk smiled back and slid his hands about her waist.

  “I want to cuddle you but I don’t want to make you wet,” he whispered.

  She sniggered. “I was rather hoping you would. Maybe we should take off your damp clothes and go from there?”

  Starting with the buttons at his neck, Jane quickly moved down. As the boiler suit opened, she could see he wore no shirt or vest, he must have been freezing. She placed her warm hands on his chest and slid her fingers through his thick chest hair. His skin was like ice and he shuddered slightly as her warmth excited him.

  Slipping her arms around him inside the rain sodden suit, she pulled him close. Breathing in her warmth and fragrance, he savoured her. He shrugged off the top, and she eased away allowing it to fall in a crumpled heap around his ankles. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the damp fabric.

  She kissed him fervently and he crushed her to him.

  ***

  Sweeping her up bodily, he pulled back the bed covers. She clung to him while he placed her in the bed.

  In Jane’s mind, this could go on for a million years and it would never be enough for her.

  She had never had a real man make love to her only self-indulgent old men. Sweat poured off them as they lay bonded together, utterly exhausted. With their sated bodies and minds high on surging endorphins, sleep engulfed them.

  The morning after. 22nd December 1943

  When the bitter cold finally woke him, Henryk found himself alone in his bed. Jane had slipped away during the night.

  Disappointed, he pulled up the covers and drifted off once more, wondering whether he would ever see her again at work. He was in love and never wanted to be alone or without her again.

  ***

  Jane went home by taxi, cleaned up, phoned her handler and took the same taxi to her office at MI5. She made a report about the evening, waited while it was typed up, and then signed it. She had discovered no evidence that pointed to Henryk being a spy, but recommended that she maintain contact and continue surveillance.

  Permission was granted.

  Peter gets a message. 22nd December 1943

  Peter hurried out early from his hotel, to check whether Anna and Henryk had turned up for work after their night out, but he saw only Henryk. Maybe he had missed Anna amongst the hundreds of other workers.

  Now he was faced with a dilemma. If she had been captured, he should clear out her lockup immediately. However, his instinct was to wait until the meeting tonight. Either she would turn up and no harm done, or there was big trouble. With everything else he had to do today, he decided to take a chance and wait.

  ***

  Peter switched his concern back to the alarming radio broadcasts he had received last evening. If Sundown were dead, there was every possibility that MI5 had his contacts, codes and list of dead drops. Most likely, they would already have copied the confirmation letter from Berlin and were trying to decode it. Nevertheless, he had to see the message that would explain or support Berlin’s current decisions.

  At 10.00am he dashed off to the dead drop and gave a cocky brat a threepenny piece to retrieve the message, pinned under the park bench.

  “What’s your name, lad?”

  “Billy, sir. Why do you want to know?” The boy was curious about the stranger, but sensibly cautious.

  “There is a letter from my girlfriend, pinned underneath the seat of the park bench, just up this road. We want to run away together and get married, but her Dad is waiting in the bushes opposite, trying to catch me.

  “If I give you threepence, will you get the letter for me?”

  “Won’t the man grab me when I get it?”

  “He won’t be interested in someone of your age and I am sure you can secretly pinch the letter, like a spy, and bring it to me.”

  The boy thought about it for a moment. The idea of being a spy and the threepence reward was beyond his wildest dreams.

  “OK! But he will see me take the letter.”

  “Well, a spy would probably pretend to have dropped something under the seat. With his back to the man, he would reach up and grab the letter, without being seen.”

  “OK, I will get it, but I want my money first.”

  “Do I look stupid to you? You are a smart lad and I am certain you will run off with the money and not get the letter. If you want the money, bring me the letter. I can soon find someone else to get it if you are a coward.”

  “I’m no coward, and I will bring you the letter to prove it.” The boy walked off, planning how he would spend his fortune.

  The MI5 agent lurking out of sight, saw the boy looking for something around and under the seat, but was unable to see him take the message. The man decided not to speak to the boy, thinking that the spy he was after would appear at any moment. He had the boy’s photo, so perhaps they could find him later and investigate then, if necessary.

  The boy ran back t
o Peter, grabbed his money for the letter and headed for the shops.

  ***

  Peter rushed back to his hotel to decode it, but the message confirmed his worst fears.

  Test date confirmed.

  Agent declined due to damage and supported.

  Sundown dead 9th Dec. All contacts, codes & drops unusable.

  Enemy will have seen this message.

  The test was arranged as he requested, so there was no way to cancel it now, even if Anna had been captured.

  Ernst Huber had declined the mission and his reasons were supported by his superiors. His facial disfigurement would raise questions in the minds of anyone who saw him. He would have needed to move freely and openly if he were to track down the persons who had betrayed the mission.

  Peter had to agree with the reasoning and regretted his haste in asking for help. He had done so in a moment of depression, forgetting Ernst’s scarred face. He was so familiar with how the man looked, after the grenade incident, he had never considered it. This was a grave error of judgement on Peter’s part and was a warning to review everything he had planned. If he could make such a stupid mistake with Ernst, what else had he got wrong?

  The final blow was the confirmation that Sundown was dead, and had been since the 9th of December. Nothing from that source could be trusted, including codes and dead drops. Even this message should be regarded as having been decoded by the enemy.

  Things were unravelling faster than he could cope with. All he could hope for now was to test the beacon and if necessary, clear out Anna’s lockup.

  ***

  Peter went out and left a chalk mark on the pavement at the team’s agreed spot. It was where they would see it on their way home from work, and indicated there were messages at the dead drop, for Anna and Henryk.

  It simply said, ’team to meet at the usual meeting place, 10pm.’

  ***

  Peter needed Andrzej’s help now and over mugs of tea back at the house, he briefly explained the plan of action.