by Dick Hardman
“Ah yes Peter, that is the thing, my team were at the next telephone pole along when you tore down the line. We have been monitoring and intercepting calls all evening. With the lines to the house down, we’ve had to handle all the calls here. It is fortunate Stern is, sorry, was such a pompous tyrant, we were able to fly into a tantrum and slam the phone down the moment things got dicey. So we don’t need to worry about the police, old chap, they won’t be coming to our party.
“We also spoke to the fake Sundown after we established how Stern speaks to him. He is instructed to be here just before 23.45 hours as you asked.
“Unfortunately, we cannot be sure whether the fake Sundown will come here or not. I mean, any person who arrives could be him, we just can’t be certain.”
Peter could see the problem. If some unsuspecting agent turns up and the fake doesn’t, the fake will remain at large.
“How would you have known if I hadn’t ruined things?” Peter asked, suspecting a flaw in the infallible Sundown’s logic.
“It would be the hell factor,” replied Sundown as though Peter would know what that was.
“What do you mean by ‘hell factor’?
“Quite simply, all hell would break loose when the imposter turns up and discovers Stern had never asked him to come. They would know they had been exposed.”
“Yes, I see. They would go to action stations, suspecting a trap had been sprung.”
“You’ve got it Peter, there would be no doubt about it.”
“So what do we do now Stan?”
“Some of my men will use the dead guards’ clothes and pose as security. Your tidy head shots did keep the men’s clothing stain-free.
“If they bring the person into the hall, saying that Stern has company and can we pass on the message, the traitor will probably say he was ordered to come, and demand to see him. That is the best I can come up with!”
“Whoever turns up can’t be allowed to leave here alive, so if he comes at all, we will have eliminated him, by default.” Realising his mission was not yet over, Peter added, “I had better get on and install the beacon, time is pressing.”
“I rather guessed you had some guidance device, based on the success at Becton Gasworks. Jolly nifty! How certain are you about timing though Peter. It needs to be pretty exact, I don’t want to be here when the bomb drops.”
“And neither do I. I believe Germany will move heaven and earth to comply, and err on the late side if necessary. The last thing they would want is to blow up the inventor of the device.” There was a tinge of doubt in Peter’s voice. Germany was a vast machine, and most of the people in the chain did not know the implications of any variations they might personally decide to make.
Peter made his way to the attic, plugged in and set up the beacon. Everything was working and now they had to wait until the last moment, before leaving.
***
At 23.30 hours, a car pulled up at the gates, a man got out and strode up to the guards.
“I have an urgent appointment with Sir Philip Stern.”
“Of course sir, please follow me.”
One of Stan’s guards escorted the man to the front door and into the hallway.
“Please wait here sir, while I check if Sir Philip will see you.”
“Of course he will see me, he sent for me. I am early, but I have things to do and I can’t mess about here all night.”
“Who shall I say is calling?”
“Mark Holland.”
“Thank you Mr Holland, I will only be a moment.”
At that moment Peter stepped out of the lounge, pulling the door closed behind him as he approached Holland.
“Hello Sundown, Sir Philip did not send for you. Who asked you to come?”
“I had a phone call from him earlier this evening, only he has my number.
“What is going on?”
“You had better come in and we can sort it out.”
Holland followed Peter, and looked surprised at seeing Stan.
“You’re Stan Carter, aren’t you, what are you doing here? Where is Sir Philip?”
“Hello Sundown, meet the real Sundown.” There was menace in Stan’s voice.
“But the real Sundown is dead!”
“No, you are quite wrong Holland, the real one is alive. By the way, Sir Philip is over there, behind the sofa. That’s what dead looks like.”
Holland looked over to where Stan was pointing and saw the shattered head of his boss. He looked back and glimpsed the briefest flash as Stan shot him between the eyes.
“Right Peter that loose end is tied up. Let’s go.”
They dashed out into the still night air. Far, far away they could hear the burble of a V-1, then silence. The distant sky lit up and many seconds later the sound of an explosion reached them. The strike was early and had struck the first target, London Docks. The effect was devastating, as vaporised fuel oil ignited in a massive fireball.
The faint wail of air raid sirens, and the sweeping beams of searchlights stabbing and slashing the night sky, belatedly warned London, of the attack.
“The next will be in one minute’s time, we are in great danger,” Peter bellowed in alarm.
Both men broke into a run, shouting to everyone to get out of the area. Some ran to their own hidden vehicles and a couple followed Peter and Stan.
The four breathless men fell into the Jaguar, Peter started the engine and accelerated away. He tried to figure the line the V-1s would take after striking Stern’s house. Some missiles would fall short and some would fly on. Roughly, the course would follow the road they were on, and there was no turn off for several miles.
The cold engine was sluggish and acceleration was hindered by the full load, the speedometer needle rose steadily to 25 miles per hour, at least 10 miles per hour faster than Peter could see ahead.
Both Peter and Stan wondered if their charmed lives were about to be cut short, as the very device Peter had invented was targeting a massive bomb directly at them. One lapse of judgement at the steering wheel and the Jaguar would crash, preventing their escape.
Henryk & Anna
Earlier that evening at 7.00pm, Drake the butler showed Mr Henry Roberts (Henryk) the reporter into the Drawing Room. The butler poured drinks and retired for the night.
After some preliminary pretence that they were conducting an interview, Anna stood up and checked outside the door. The hall was empty and they were alone. She switched off the lights and stood in front of Henryk.
Although she did not feel like it, she pulled Henryk to her and resumed the kissing and stimulation of their previous encounter several days ago, in the warm glow of the firelight…
Anna and Henryk lay by the fire recuperating, and after more drinks they made their way up to the master bedroom, to continue leisurely lovemaking.
Irony being what it was, it was amusing that at that moment, the second V-1 struck Sir Philip’s house. They were so close that the earth did move for them.
A minute later as they tried to dash from Barker’s house, the next explosion was the last sound they would ever hear.
Straddled.
As they charged blindly through the night in the Jaguar, away from Stern’s house, the three men with Peter felt confident they would be safe. The third missile fell short of Stern’s house, so they wrongly assumed they had left the danger behind them. Peter knew better and could only hope luck would stay with them.
A minute later there was a brilliant explosion about three miles ahead, where they would turn off. It might well be that they were driving into the barrage.
The light from the explosions had adversely affected Peter’s night vision and he was forced to slow to 10 miles per hour, or they risked running off the narrow road. Not only would a crash raise questions as to why they were there, but the equipment in the car boot would hang them.
Later explosions were miles ahead, and they were able to turn off and head for London. Stan and his two men got out at the newsagent�
�s where the messages were posted, and split up. Peter headed home to Chelsea.
Forbes was surprised to see Peter in such a bedraggled state, but it was not his place to pry. Totally exhausted and relieved to be alive, he sank gratefully onto his bed, dragged the covers over his weary body and fell into a deep and satisfying sleep.
***
Peter was woken up by the sound of Forbes drawing back the thick bedroom curtains. He would have to get a move on, or be late for breakfast, something that was almost unforgiveable.
His right hand bore an angry red and black bruise. It was agony to move, but the hot bath and gentle exercise eased it considerably.
In her mind, Cathy had pieced together Peter’s recent activity and his mysterious meeting at the newsagent’s. She hadn’t overlooked the tragic news of the bomb strikes last night, or his injured hand. They were linked.
Having worked in MI5, she first thought he was working for them. That would explain why he worked a lot in Europe. Every secret was safe with her, so she would never speak to him about it, even to satisfy her boundless curiosity.
Peter had promised her she would not see Sir Philip Stern, ever again, how did he know that a bomb would fall on him? It upset her to some extent when she read that Lady Anna Barker had also died in the air raid. That family seemed to have such awful luck.
Peter took the opportunity to tell the family he was leaving for Europe again on the 19th January and would be away for several weeks. He made it quite clear he would be meeting Helga, with the hope of marrying her after the war.
His father’s tone as he wished him luck confirmed he still disapproved of the relationship. His mother was warm and sincere with her best wishes, whilst Cathy imagined Helga would be a female version of Peter. That would be huge fun.
Alderney. 20th January 1944
When Peter read again the newspaper report about the bombing, there was a brief mention of the sad loss of the Stern family and their staff. There was more though about Lady Anna and an unidentifiable male visitor. Their charred remains pulled from the house rubble led the papers to speculate about the late night visit, as they always do. Peter wondered if it might have been Henryk, he could have made contact by now if he were free.
He was sad to think of his team no longer alive and unable to appreciate their mission had been such a success. Andrzej had started out as an immature boy, eager to impress, who had matured quickly and proved very useful. He had survived longer than expected.
Henryk was consistent and on reflection, Peter was not overly surprised that he had broken from the team. He had his own agenda and dead or alive, he would never surface again.
Anna was probably the deepest character in the team, smart and devious too. He always admired that in a woman, although in his experience, they missed out on life. Perhaps because they grabbed every opportunity, endlessly plotting and scheming to get their way, they disregarded the simple things that less complex women experience.
In pursuit of the handsome, wealthy man of power, they rejected or overlooked the man who would actually love them and bring them true happiness.
He could imagine, under other circumstances, Anna would have been a fantastic companion. She had the wit to know he could never love her, but would take great care of her and protect her, as long as she played her part. She would always there for him, bright, witty, exciting and beautiful on his arm. The endless hours of indulgent passionate love making was a given. So what if she was not in the mood, in an effort to keep him she would have to fake it!
That is what separated her from Helga.
Helga would have her moods, good and bad, but they would be genuine. So long as she loved him, it would be unconditional and nothing would be too much trouble. Her reward would be his love, his unswerving devotion and loyalty. She would certainly not be his slave or submit to his domination, she would spark back.
He knew he was fantasizing about her; she might well have moved on. If so, then it was not to be. Better it had ended when he left to start the mission, but he would know soon enough.
His stomach was fluttering like that of a pubescent girl with a crush. Soon he would know whether or not Helga was there.
Did she want him, or not?
***
Whoever it was in Berlin, that Sundown had passed Peter’s message to, they had arranged everything perfectly. Not only the V-1 launch but his fast track passage to Alderney. His thoughts drifted back to the last time he was about to land on the island. He had fallen asleep, the deep dark secret he kept was not the beacon, but the revenge he would take on the person who had raped Cathy. Now he shared the secret with Stan Carter and, probably, Cathy herself.
Revenge is a dish best served cold.
He doubted the revenge he planned for the Alderney spy (Raven) would be cold, there would be little chance of that.
***
The float plane circled for its final approach. The island spread out below looked almost tropical, the white fluffy clouds and blue sky above, the blue sea twinkling calmly below. That it was wintertime was hard to believe. A good omen he hoped, as his anxiety racked up another notch.
As the floats kissed the water, the spray sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, reminding him of the jewels he had placed in his Bank for safe keeping. Peter and his team had stolen them in London, immediately after they snatched Andrzej from the MI5 agents. He had kept an engagement and wedding ring from the haul, for Helga. He would never tell her how he had come by it. Another of his dark secrets.
***
During the 35 days since he left the island, a lot had changed. Food and fuel supplies were very low, and so was morale. The Oberst sent a car to meet Pieter Klein, as he was still known there. Pieter wondered how the man would receive him if he had discovered the affair with Helga.
Nervously Pieter walked into the entrance hall of Fort Clonque and was greeted enthusiastically by Dedrick Schwalm, the Oberst.
“Hello Pieter, we are all delighted to see you back here safely and congratulate you on the success of the mission.”
Herman respectfully approached, offering his hand and a warm smile.
I wonder if you are the Alderney spy (Raven) Pieter thought.
“Well done Pieter, I had not expected to see you again, but I am pleased to be wrong.”
“Thank you Herr Oberst, thank you Herman, I am delighted to be back and intact. I never expected to survive and sadly, I lost the three members of my team.
“As you know, we were betrayed by the Alderney spy, even before we left here, and the British were on to us the moment we went ashore.” Pieter noticed Herman’s eyes harden and look away for an instant. It could mean nothing, but then it might.
“Did you ever catch the spy, Herr Oberst?”
“No, we have not caught whoever it was, but we have been told that the British code name for the Alderney spy is ‘Raven’. It took a while to filter back here from Berlin,” remarked the Oberst.
“Well, one of the reasons why I came back was to catch the traitor, and plug the leak.”
“Now you are here, I guarantee Raven will tell MI5 about it, tonight.”
There was an awkward pause in conversation.
Pieter wondered where Helga was. He expected her to find some excuse to greet him.
Dedrick wondered whether Pieter would take up with Helga again.
Herman was thinking about Pieter’s betrayal.
“Herman, please organise lunch now Pieter has arrived and tell Helga to come here, I have orders for her.”
“At once Herr Oberst.”
Pieter’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Emotions swept through him. Surely the Oberst could hear the beating?
His fear of losing Helga made him feel queasy, he could not face her rejection. She had been the only thing that kept him going. He could face anything, but not losing her.
He heard her light, quick footsteps on the stone floor and turned. He glimpsed a man’s profile as it ducked back into the kitchen. It c
ould mean nothing, but the cook and his assistant were in a good position to gather intelligence, right next door to Helga’s pristine office. Hiding in plain sight, a perfect opportunity for a spy.
Helga walked up to the Oberst, and gave no indication that she had noticed Pieter.
“Herman said you had orders for me, Herr Oberst.”
“Yes Helga, they are on my desk. They are urgent, please deal with them immediately.” Dedrick smiled warmly at her, her eyes flicked up and held his gaze for a moment. Something was going on between them. She turned and saluted Pieter, but made no eye contact, then scuttled away.
The smile and expression on Dedrick’s face could be taken as a look of triumph that she had snubbed Pieter. Ludicrous though the thought was, her reaction just then could have been disappointment and anger that Pieter had returned.
If she were Raven, it would explain a great deal. Pieter had toyed with that possibility. She was always out and about, she was intelligent and had no cast iron alibi for when the Raven was active. The big snag with that ridiculous idea was, how could she have carried him and shoved him off the cliff on the night Raven had clubbed him unconscious. He thought about the cunning black cape the Raven had used to hide under in the dark. The silhouette it created was unlike that of a person, but whoever wore it was slightly built and of average height, as far as he could judge. Slightly built was the key here, that slightly built person carried his body several hundred metres to the cliff edge. So could she have carried him?
The cook and his assistant were also of slight build. Damn it, this speculation was getting him nowhere.
“If you wish Herr Oberst, we could update one another with news and events, and then plan the next session of training.”
“I would like that Pieter, though your exploits will be much more interesting than what I have to say.”
The two men sat down and shared their stories.
***
After lunch, Pieter made a request. “Herr Oberst could I borrow a Luger, a couple of clips of ammunition and a powerful torch. I feel the need to do a bit of target practice after dark.”