by Dick Hardman
“First, we will hire the black Morris 8 van again.
“I want you to drive it back to another address, which I will take you to. The van will be less noticeable, when we plant a trial beacon.”
“When do we plant the beacon?”
“Sorry Andrzej, I can’t tell you that at the moment.”
“How do we get the van?”
“I recently bought a car, a black Jaguar. It forms part of the mission, but I can’t tell you more about that yet, either.” This was a lie, but Andrzej did not need to know the real reason.
“I want you to come with me in the Jaguar, and drive the van back to a hired garage where I keep the car. Drive the van inside and fit false number plates. We will pick those up on the way to the van.”
“What will you be doing, while I am doing that?”
“Not your concern, but when you are sure there is no one around, bring the van back here. I will see you here at the house, later on.”
Peter and Andrzej went by taxi to collect the Jaguar, then drove off together to collect the false number plates and the van. Having dealt with Peter before, the van hire was speedily concluded. After that Peter and Andrzej went their separate ways.
Fate and Anna. 22nd December 1943
Anna sat anxiously at the side of a police detective’s desk, waiting for him to finish typing up her statement. It was 8.00am and she should have been at work. She was grateful though, because the police were very sympathetic and had provided a breakfast and several mugs of tea. Far better than she would have had at her bedsit.
She was unaware that the police had been speaking about her with MI5 and the factory. That was why the process was taking so long. Andrew had been reprimanded for his behaviour, not so much the attempted rape, but that he had ruined his chance to determine whether she actually was a spy. He admitted he didn’t believe she was, but felt vindictive because she had tricked and humiliated him, and left him sexually frustrated.
It was routine for the personnel department at the factory, to report the incident up the chain of command, so when the technical director Sir Matthew Barker heard that it was Anna, he jumped at the opportunity now presented to him. He was infatuated, and intended to have her for himself.
Part of his responsibility within the company was to put forward to the security force, ways in which the manufacturing and assembly line could be sabotaged. It meant that they would be well prepared, and could take measures to prevent delays that a spanner-in-the-works might cause. Barker had noticed Anna, on her first day at work. There was something about her that stirred his interest, but direct contact would have been inappropriate. He tried to content himself with reading her personnel file, but that only served to make him want her more. He used his freedom around the factory, to observe and fantasize about her.
***
Anna looked up to see a tall, handsome man of about 45 walk in, as if he owned the place. He was met by her detective and they spoke in low voices, out of earshot. It was obviously about her and she recognised Sir Matthew Barker. What was his involvement in all this?
“So detective, you can confirm that MI5 have no further interest in Gohl and that you are releasing her.”
“Yes Sir Matthew, we will take no further action with her or the MI5 agent, there were no witnesses, just one person’s word against the other and no actual harm done. Havelock was just trying to do his job, catching spies. From what I have heard, she made a right fool of him. I doubt he will live it down in the department.”
“Well, detective, I had better do the decent thing and give her a lift into work. We can’t afford to lose anyone on production at the moment.
“I will tell her you are letting her go, and that is the end of it.”
“That is the size of it Sir Matthew, thank you for your time.”
The detective walked away. Barker came and stood close to Anna.
She looked up at this tall elegant man, noticing the glint in his dark brown eyes, and his warm smile. She studied his handsome face and thick steel grey hair; a blush coloured her cheeks.
“Anna Gohl?” Barker asked rhetorically.
“Yes sir. I have seen you at the factory. You are Matthew Barker. You are the technical director.” She cursed herself for giving away so much. As a spy, she had to know who everyone was and what they did, as well as any useful associations there might be.
“It is Sir Matthew Barker to you Anna.” It should have been intended to sound blunt and put her in her place, but he spoke softly and his smile clearly showed that he was being kindly towards her.
“You are in big trouble Anna, MI5 suspect you of being a German spy. They tried to trap you with that ghastly fellow Havelock. He was supposed to get romantically close to you, gain your confidence and trick you into giving yourself away.
“You will be pleased to know that he has been severely reprimanded for what he tried to do to you, and the police have charged him with the offence of attempted rape.
“The detective tells me you will have to go to court in due course to testify, but Havelock has confessed, so it is just a formality.
“The spy matter however is your great concern. MI5 want to charge you as a spy, and you face the hangman’s noose. They want to play it safe and dispose of you.”
Anna’s face turned deathly white and she began to tremble uncontrollably. So this is the end then, swinging from the gallows. She had thought about it, frequently, but it had never felt real, so was easily dismissed. Her dream of a large house, a family and being the power behind the throne was just that, a dream.
Why didn’t MI5 try to get information out of her?
Had they already tricked and arrested Henryk?
Had he done a deal to save his skin and given them all they needed?
Her mind was in turmoil, her stomach churned and anger made her blood boil.
“However, I have intervened on your behalf, and if you agree to remain in my custody at all times, you will be absolutely safe. If you don’t agree, then you will be hanged within a week.
“What do you say to that?”
A flood of relief swept through her and she burst into tears.
Barker pulled out a fresh white handkerchief, neatly folded and monogramed in blue silk, and offered it to Anna. She took it and from the look of sheer gratitude in her red-rimmed eyes, and on her tear-stained face, he owned her.
“Come along Anna, let us leave this distressing place. I take it you have all your papers?”
“Yes, the police gave them to me, after MI5 searched my room. Where are we going? Am I going back to work? I am late. I am very sorry.”
“Actually Anna, you are coming to my house in Windsor, and you will stay with me. We must do some shopping to make sure you are properly dressed for all occasions. I did tell you, the condition of your release was that you would be in my sole charge. If that is not what you want, then say so now and MI5 can take you straight to Pentonville Prison.”
***
Anna was stunned; she could not grasp what he was meaning, even though what he said seemed clear enough. Either I live in a nice house in his charge or I dangle from a rope.
What was there not to like about being in his charge?
“But what will your wife and family say, about having a suspected spy in your company?”
“No need for you to concern yourself with that. You will discover that my wife was killed abroad, several months ago. I have no family.”
Aghast, Anna silently followed Sir Matthew, out to his waiting Bentley.
“Straight to Harrods will you Smyth.”
“At once Sir.”
When they reached Harrods, Anna felt overawed at the vast store. It had everything any wealthy person could wish to buy, and more.
“What about the coupons? I only have 40. I don’t have money either.”
“Not your concern any more, Anna. People like us require people like you to have coupons, so people like us can have whatever we want. Without coupons and ra
tioning, there would nothing left for us. We just can’t have that, can we?”
Anna was becoming more and more uneasy; Sir Matthew seemed to think he now owned her. That cannot be right, no one owns people these days.
The young female sales assistant soon took Anna’s mind off her concerns, as she dressed her. She recognised Sir Matthew’s generosity knew no bounds when it suited him. She had had her turn while Lady Barker was preparing to leave for Australia.
***
Barker’s huge house was as elegant as its owner. There was a live in maid, a cook and a butler. Anna found the maid welcoming, and unconcerned regarding her unusual circumstances. She had the strange notion that Anna would be sharing the same bed as Sir Matthew. Certainly all her new clothes had been placed in his bedroom, probably hanging in the late Lady Barker’s wardrobe.
“Sir Matthew, may I make a telephone call to let the flat owner know where I am?”
“That will not be necessary, the owner has been paid off and you have no need to return there, certainly no reason to speak to the dreadful woman.
“You must understand Anna, I cannot let you use the telephone, or speak to anyone without me being present. I am responsible for you now and if you are a spy, you cannot be allowed to make further contact. You do understand the risk I am taking in trusting you, don’t you?”
“Yes sir, I do of course. I am in your debt. I will do everything you ask.”
Her mind was racing, how was she going to make contact with Peter and tell him what had happened?
Sir Matthew showed her around his fabulous house, and his warm side re-emerged. He was amusing and quickly put her at ease. Perhaps this would not be such a bad situation after all.
She remembered her thoughts when she had agreed to train for the mission on Alderney. Somehow, her dream had become a reality!
Fate and Henryk. 22nd December.
Henryk woke at 6.00 am his usual time, cleaned up and ate a piece of toast. It was the remaining crusty end of a stale loaf. The blue mould soon became charred, but that did not make it any more edible. Without butter, margarine or dripping, it was dry, gritty, and difficult to chew or swallow. Neither was there a cup of tea to wash it down, he lacked both tea and milk.
Retrieving his boiler suit from the floor, he discovered it was still damp. He dressed hurriedly and left his depressing room. As he rushed along in the bleak winter morning gloom, to the factory, he wondered if he would ever get warm. He was desperate to find Jane, and prayed he would see her during the lunch break.
When lunch time came around, Henryk scanned the canteen and grew concerned that Anna was nowhere to be seen. Had she fallen prey to MI5?
Was the man with her last night an MI5 agent?
Where would it leave him and the team?
As he sat eating his lunch, the hopelessness of the situation settled on him like a thick black shroud, he could see no way out.
***
This mission would drag on for months. Every moment in this miserable country was a death sentence waiting to happen. It was not as if there was any compensation for the hardship and misery he was enduring. The work was mindlessly unchallenging and strenuous. It angered him that he was making crucial aircraft parts that would kill his countrymen. The pay was an insult, forcing him to live in a vile hovel, all alone.
The only light in this darkness was Jane. Maybe she was a spy catcher, maybe not. If she was, she was not a very good one, which bolstered his doubt that she was. No one could be that bad. True, he would have snapped up any girl who wanted to spend time with him, but he knew she was perfect for him. They just felt right together. Conversation was easy, and just flowed. Actually they never had that much time to talk. The pub was too noisy and the bedroom – ah yes, the bedroom. Love making at the best of times was tricky to get perfect. Technique, emotion, mood, stresses of the day, were all variables that could destroy perfect bliss. But it was perfect in spite of all of them.
***
“Hello Henryk. How are you today?”
He was startled to hear her voice again. It was warm and friendly, but tinged with anxiety. She was unsure as to how he was feeling, having woken up alone, with no opportunity to take her home or say goodnight. She had seen how depressed and preoccupied he was, not the sort of thing any self-respecting spy would ever dare to show.
He looked up, beaming at her with such joy and relief, she knew he felt as deeply for her as she did about him. His eyes welled up with joyous tears and he sniffed them back, regaining his composure. It wrenched at her heart strings, no man had ever looked at her that way. His real feelings were betrayed in those spontaneous tears. She knew she loved him, and what she was planning to say could not be influenced by any such feelings.
“I don’t have time to talk now, but take this money for a taxi and here is my address. Be there at 10 o’clock tonight, I have something I must tell you, and you won’t understand unless you meet me there.”
He frowned and took what she offered.
She smiled and said, “I must go. See you tonight, wear your best clothes please.”
“I can’t wait, I will be there, depend on it.” He smiled, she lingered a moment, then turned and walked briskly into the crowd.
She was wearing the universal boiler suit though it somehow seemed to fit her perfectly, its cut emphasized her feminine curves, but perhaps he was biased.
He speculated that she had a surprise for him, perhaps a party or dinner out. It was important enough to look smart, so it was not just a cosy night in. No clothes were required for that.
***
Henryk left work as usual and on his way home, noticed Peter had left a sign for his team to contact him. His dead-drop coded message required him to meet at their agreed place at 10pm. There was no way he could do that if he kept the appointment with Jane. He decided to ignore Peter, his life was not worth living without Jane. If he claimed he was being followed, Peter would respect that.
He made a phone call to a taxi firm and booked the cab to get him to Chelsea for 10 o’clock that night. He bought some food for his evening meal, bathed and dressed in his only dark grey trousers, and worn tweed jacket. His second hand shoes were highly polished black leather, but were hell to walk in. The previous owner’s feet had moulded them differently to his own foot shape. The new white shirt and the silk tie with its dark green and brown pattern, set off the whole ensemble. He looked clean and smart.
The cab arrived on time and dropped him at Jane’s apartment block, not a pretty building, but it was a select property. He paid the driver and went in. He was greeted by a uniformed doorman and asked to be shown up to Jane Smith’s apartment, number 6, top floor.
The doorman took him to the lift, their footfalls were soundless over the thick plain red carpet, as spotless as the day it was laid. In fact the whole foyer was richly decorated, with impressive oil paintings on the wall depicting scenes of London, and numerous vases of fresh cut flowers were placed thoughtfully around. Unlike Henryk’s entrance hall, reeking of damp, smoke and stale cooking, this smelt clean and fresh, with a hint of polish.
On his way up in the cramped 4 person lift, Henryk wondered what he was walking into.
This must be Jane’s family home and she wants to show me off to her parents. A bit soon for that, surely. Perhaps it’s a party of rich friends. Yes, that must be it.
The lift jerked to a stop. He slid back the folding door and walked briskly to her flat. Adrenalin was surging through his body and making him short of breath. The tension and expectations were playing havoc with his brain. He paused for a second to calm himself down and then pressed the polished brass button of the doorbell.
Seconds later, Jane opened the panelled mahogany door and greeted him with her stunning smile. She pulled him in, draped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a lingering wet kiss, they both felt the passion and he knew where this would lead.
The lounge was empty, no party guests or family. The mystery deepened. What was sh
e going to tell him? It is nearly Christmas Eve, so perhaps we are going on to a party, but why would she meet me here and why does she want to talk to me first?
She broke away and closed the door, twisting the key in the lock as if it were routine. No harm in being secure, he thought. There are quite a few valuables here worth stealing.
***
They walked hand in hand across the deep pile Wilton carpet towards the fire. Its lively orange/red flames complimented the Christmas decorations, tastefully arranged along the white Adam style fire surround. She turned to him, her face serious, so the mystery was about to be revealed.
“Henryk, thank you for coming. The first thing I must tell you is, I am in love with you, and I don’t want you to be in any doubt about that. I would like to believe you feel the same way about me.”
Henryk’s face lit up. These were the words he had wanted to hear, but never believed he would. Hold on a moment, she is still serious, what will she say next? First the good news, to soften the bad news.
“I own this apartment and everything in it. I am a high class call girl, a prostitute. That is what pays for all of this. I am getting older and becoming less desirable, so soon the income will stop. If we are to be together, I would make it stop.
“However, you have nothing at all, and no prospect of earning the sort of money I need to continue living in comfort. How can we realistically be together?”
Henryk was stunned into silence. His world had just crumbled. He was shocked she was a prostitute, but that soon passed; he did not care, he just had to be with her. She was absolutely right, he could not afford to keep her and he would not expect her to live in squalor with him. What could he do? He had no way of earning this sort of money.
“There is one possibility though. One of my clients works for MI5.”
***
Henryk’s blood ran cold and his face tensed noticeably, but Jane appeared not to notice. Perhaps she was concentrating on getting her message out to him, without misunderstanding.
“He was saying that there is a group of German spies in London, a woman and three men. I think they may have caught the woman last night, perhaps one of the men as well.”