Warfilm

by Tom Newton

  Strange was still up and in shirtsleeves. He let Franz in with his usual politeness and did not question him as to the purpose of this late night visit.

  I see you have joined the R.A.F. since we last met.

  Franz looked down at his uniform. He had forgotten he was wearing it. He had decided beforehand that he was going to be firm and aggressive but the comment threw him off. He was weakening.

  I was wondering about the arrangements for my passage to America.

  I don’t believe you kept your side of the bargain.

  So you know what happened to me?

  I don’t have to know what happened. Did you think I would be unaware that the object I entrusted you with was never delivered?

  It’s not my fault. There was an attempt on my life.

  It’s not my fault either. The object was not delivered. You knew there were risks.

  Strange’s friendliness had fallen away, leaving behind it a cold void. Franz was plagued with a sudden fatigue.

  I know why you’re here, even if you don’t. You look tired Franz. You’ve been hurt. Sit down.

  Franz felt himself slipping back into the sofa.

  What was it I was carrying for you?

  I told you once, dear boy. Don’t you remember? Let me help you off with this stiff new uniform.

  Franz had no resistance left in him. He struggled just to stay awake. He felt as if he was drowning.

  Sleep now.

  He was crossing the threshold of non sequiturs.

  Got growing again I am over by the blood of them run by there. Sleep.

  There were rows of columns stretching into the distance, lit by the moon. The altitude was high. He hid behind them as he moved among them. He had a purpose which he could not remember. As he moved he realised that the columns were a town of shattered buildings. He climbed over piles of broken stones in the streets. He saw that there were hundreds of people working high up on the walls and on scaffolds. They were painting the stones to make them look older. He came to a barrier across the road, a wrought iron fence. It was the separation of two places that looked the same. He approached it and put his face through the bars. He watched a man coming towards him. He carried a hat and cane. It took a long time for him to emerge until eventually they stood facing each other on opposite sides of the fence. Franz saw that it was Strange. They stared at each other for a while and then Strange spoke without emotion.

  I will eat your dreams.

  As soon as he had uttered these words Strange was gone. So was the fence and the entire ruined city. All of it had been replaced by a plain of flagstones for as far as he could see. Franz kept going in the direction he had always followed. Occasionally he came across holes in the stones, a palm’s width in diameter. They were ringed in iron and spewed white plumes of steam. There was a roaring sound as the vapour was emitted and shot up into the night sky. Near one of these holes he saw a man sleeping. Franz looked down at him. It was Strange, his hat by his side and his cane clasped with both hands. Then Franz knew what he had come to do. He knelt down and balled his fists and drove them into Strange’s head with a savagery that shocked him. His fists unclenched and he tore at the face with his fingers. Within minutes he had ripped away all the flesh and plunged down through the eye sockets into the brain. He got up and walked away, wiping the blood on his shirt. He walked down corridors with right angled turns and multiple staircases. There was not a curve in sight. With each step he knew that he was becoming more entombed but he could not stop and he could not turn back. He heard a female voice calling his name.

  Franz. Franz.

  He could not tell from which direction she was calling. He could see no one. The voice became more present.

  Franz. You’re naked.

  It was Ariadne bending over him as he lay on the sofa.

  Come on. Get dressed. We have to go.

  The resonance of the dream remained and he had a hard time getting into the clothes she handed him.

  Where’s Strange?

  I don’t know. Come on. Quick.

  She helped him with his shoes and led him outside. They ran through the gate, past the trees and made it to the road without looking back.

  43

  44

  When Ariadne and Franz arrived at the house Noyes had already left to meet Group Captain Stringfellow, to pass on the Arachnid. The War Office was greatly interested. Mrs Zombanakis was on her way to church. She gave them a sour look in passing. She did not approve of Germans, or women like Ariadne. Today her dislike was intense as it was a saint’s day and their iniquities seemed all the more insulting. Purvis came down to meet them and had Ariadne wait while he locked Franz back in the attic. Then he took her into his room and sat her down.

  What do you have for me?

  She had been preparing herself for this moment. She started with Franz’s arrest by the Gestapo in Berlin and his meeting with Adolf Hitler, who had ordered him to work on a propaganda film. She had persuaded Franz that it would be a good idea to give them this, as he had withheld it and it would give the previous evening some credence. She had to look out for herself as well. She told Purvis how he had driven into France with another man whose name he did not know or remember. He had insisted to her that this man went by a number. This was just one fact among many that convinced her Franz was seriously mentally confused. She did not think he was lying but that he was suffering from some type of amnesia. She had not been able to determine the cause, although she did not believe it was the result of the wound he had recently received because his capacity for more recent memory seemed to be unaffected. As far as she was concerned, she thought he was telling the truth when he said he did not know where he was or what year it was. At some point he had met, or perhaps been sought out, by a man he called Strange. This man persuaded him to act as a courier in return for assistance with escape to America. He was instructed to take a package to the German zone but had been beaten over the head and thrown into the sea by the man he had hired to take him there. After that he had been captured by the partisans.

  The rest I think you know.

  Did you manage to get information about the package?

  Not really. He told me he never looked at it until you showed it to him. Beyond being told it was a bit of Thor’s hammer, he didn’t know anything about it and still doesn’t. He noticed your interest in the thing and is very worried that it will condemn him as a spy. I don’t think he is, for what it’s worth. He just seems to me like a very troubled man. There are plenty of those about. Wrong place, wrong time. And I think he is quite likely mentally ill.

  This man Strange. You haven’t met him by any chance, have you?

  No. I’d never heard of him until last night.

  It’s all a bit rum to me. Well I think that is enough for now, thank you Dimitra. You’ve done well. Drinks this evening, possibly?

  He showed her out.

  Noyes returned several hours later. He had given Stringfellow the Arachnid along with his suspicions, which were redundant as he had already written to Shilltowe. He had never met the Group Captain before. He must be new at M.A.A.F. He had seemed capable and decent enough. The only impression that Noyes had come away with was that he was not well suited to his name, being of short and stocky physique. Though he knew it was for the best, parting with the Arachnid left Noyes feeling slightly depressed. He would gain great kudos if his conjectures turned out to be correct. If it was not snatched from him. He had firsthand experience of the Machiavellian machinations rampant in the services. Too many times he had been studying important documents when a superior officer from another branch had walked into his room and taken them from him with a mere “What are you keeping from us now?” How was he to do his work? It had happened with the Flug. He had been the first person to discover and comprehend it, only to have it pulled away. He had reservations about the Arachnid.

  There was a knock on his door and Purvis came in.

  I don’t like it. The whole thing is quee
r. Nothing adds up.

  Didn’t you get any gen off the girl?

  A little. Nothing very helpful. I’m wondering who this Strange chap is.

  What strange chap?

  The man he told us about. If there was an English archaeological boffin around here, you’d think we would have heard of him.

  They decided the best course of action was to go and see for themselves. They would have Henry take them to see this man, if he existed, and then they would act accordingly. They would be a little harder on the prisoner as the soft approach had produced results that were insipid at best.

  Franz was asleep when they burst into the attic.

  Get up!

  He was feeling tired and hungover. Purvis grabbed him roughly and pushed him through the doorway and down the stairs. They clambered into the Jeep outside.

  You’re going to introduce us to Mr. Strange.

  Lord Strange.

  Oh. He’s a lord is he? Do you remember the way?

  Franz nodded. Noyes fired up the engine and soon his left leg began to dangle. He wished he could taste marmalade.

  They soon reached the hilly road that led up to the villa. On the two occasions he had been there before, Franz had walked and now, arriving so quickly by car, he felt cheated. The experience seemed less real.

  This is it.

  They parked by the gate and went on foot to the house. The door was ajar.

  Hello?

  There was no answer so they let themselves in. The place was empty. The furniture had gone and the glass in the windows was broken. There was a hole in the roof that had let in the weather.

  This is the right place?

  Yes.

  When did you say you were last here?

  About a week ago. Maybe a bit longer.

  Well it doesn’t look like anyone has been living here for years.

  They went from room to room. There was no sign that Strange had ever been there. Franz was full of doubts. He was certain this was the villa but how could it be? In his previous life he would have known that such a thing was impossible. Now he could not be sure. They went into the study and Purvis chuckled.

  Looks like one of our locals left his calling card. Not you Henry, what?

  There was a lone human turd on the floor in the middle of the room.

  45

  c/o G-2 Air, 13 Corps

  26.4.45

  Dear Daniel

  Gudrun reports that the activity where he has been is highly suggestive and reminiscent.

  I think you should ask Major Randel to find out if we are to be involved and if so if we are to return to HQ first. None of us wish to take part in anything without returning to go over our personal kit left behind at HQ, so ample warning is required. We cannot be expected to go straight off on some jaunt in our present state – or can we?

  Yours sincerely

  G.R. Shilltowe

  BURN

  46

  Who was the man that accompanied you when you drove into France?

  I don’t know. I’d never met him before. He was taken from a prison camp and I was ordered to kill him. I think he was an artist of some kind.

  What was his name?

  I don’t know. He never told me. He referred to himself with a number. When we first met it was Two Point Seven. He later changed it to Nine.

  Why were you ordered to kill him?

  It had something to do with the film the Führer was making.

  What was the point of it?

  How can I answer that? It’s like asking me “why is a window?” It didn’t make sense to me then or now. You see, in the film business, sense isn’t necessarily the main motivator. Whim has a lot to do with it. What they call vision, in the trade. It was an order. A Führerbefehl. Are you allowed to question your superiors?

  The little shit. He was doing it again – turning things around. His whole story was ridiculous. Purvis liked to think that he had some skill as an interrogator but he was beginning to feel an amateur, a fledgling schoolmaster, trying his hand at intelligence work.

  Where did you learn to speak English?

  From my mother. She was a school teacher. English was her subject.

  Did you kill him?

  Who?

  Nine.

  No.

  So you disobeyed an order.

  I did. Not the first time either.

  Franz was enjoying this conversation. It had carried him to a point where he no longer cared about the outcome. He quite liked Purvis but to see him so frustrated was entertaining. The beauty of it was that he was telling the truth. He knew his story did not make sense.

  So where is Nine now?

  I couldn’t say. He shows up from time to time unexpectedly. He vanishes, he reappears. To be honest, I’ve often wondered if he exists only in my own mind.

  Purvis had wondered about that too. It was obvious to him that they would get nothing useful from this prisoner, spy or not. He had no technical knowledge. In fact he had no knowledge at all. He was a fool, living in a complete fantasy world. Damaged goods.

  What unit did you desert from?

  I’m a civilian. I told you that already.

  He probably was a deserter. A mental case, an amnesiac. That was the most likely explanation.

  It was time to dispose of this man.

  47

  TOP SECRET

  FIELD INTELLIGENCE UNIT

  Instructions for passage to CORSICA from R.A.F. CASTELLI

  S/Ldr NOYES

  F/Lt PURVIS

  1.You are to report on 30/4/45 at 07.25 hours at CASTELLI for passage to CORSICA by M.A.T.S. Aircraft leaves approx 08.10 hours.

  2.100 lbs of kit plus 60 lbs of essential technical equipment may be carried. A certificate for technical equipment is attached.

  3.On arrival, report to D.A.F. Detachment (possibly renamed R.A.F. Admin. Group), contacting W/Cdr DALE at FURIANI, map reference QD2559. Then join 2788 Sqdn. R.A.F. Regt. based at FURIANA (QD2560). Bring cameras and film and any further mail for officers and c/r’s.

  for Air Commodore

  Chief Intelligence Officer,

  Mediterranean Allied Air Forces

  48

  So much for ample warning. They had to leave in two days. It left little time to put their affairs in order. They also had to dispose of their prisoner, which meant driving him out to the Major at Rethimnon, where he could be transported to a camp in Egypt or wherever else they chose to send him. Noyes suspected the War Office might want a word. Matters had been made worse when they had received a telegram that morning from Shilltowe, informing them that the aircraft carrying Group Captain Stringfellow had been lost over the Aegean and so far not a trace had been found. Noyes was distraught. Purvis was also unhappy that his home leave had again evaporated in the vagaries of war.

  Despite his irritation at having to part with the Arachnid, Noyes had been pleased that its journey to London was going to be overseen by a competent officer. He’d previously had some bad experiences shipping back salvaged material to England, most notably a large Wassermann which had left him in pristine condition, to arrive some months later, looking as if it had been dropped from a height of twenty feet, fit only for the scrap heap. It had taken considerable effort to salvage that machine, enlisting a crane from the Americans and finding a suitable vessel. After that, he vowed never again to send anything back unaccompanied. Now the Arachnid was lost forever, an opportunity for technological advancement scuttled. He felt as if he had nothing left to give but he knew there was no option other than to persevere. For this reason, and as a means of distraction, he told Purvis that he would drive the prisoner out to Rethimnon. He had already settled up with Mrs. Zombanakis who was very happy with the meagre sum he gave her, telling him over and over that the Germans had paid her nothing. He had also purchased from her some of her husband’s clothes, which she still kept in a drawer. Franz was forced to shed his Flight Lieutenant’s uniform and be refitted. It did not bode well.

&nb
sp; Noyes was nervous. He spent some time cleaning his revolver and checking the ammunition, then he went to fetch Franz and put him in the Jeep. He was not in the mood for conversation when he drove him away. Aside from his melancholy, Noyes was glad to be sent back to Italy. He liked the country. He had found a good piano teacher in Naples when he had been delayed there by German activity and intended to pick up the piano lessons again, if not in Naples, then somewhere else. Italy was full of starving maestros. He was quite an accomplished pianist and fantasized about going professional after the war but he knew he was not good enough.

  Where are you taking me?

  To Rethimnon. You’ll be shipped out to a camp. Probably in Egypt.

  Then there was silence. Neither man felt like talking. There was only the sound of the engine. They were on the road, high in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere, when the engine sputtered and died.

  They glided to a stop. Noyes got out and opened the bonnet. The problem was a ruptured hose. Not too serious. He got his tools from the back and buried himself in his repair work. On an impulse which had been building for a while, Franz took his chance. He did not want to be incarcerated in some fetid Egyptian prison camp. While Noyes had his head under the bonnet, he slipped over the side and ran as fast as he could into the wilderness. He did not waste time by looking back.

  49

  Franz kept running as long as he could. It was early evening, he had come quite some distance from the road and had neither seen nor heard any sign of pursuit. He slowed to a walk and tried to think of a plan. Noyes would no doubt inform the Major and the army would be out for him. They might send spotter planes and then of course there were the partisans to worry about. He was looking forward to nightfall. It had been a stressful day but wandering in solitude calmed him a little. His clothes were too big and he was not sure exactly where he was. He thought that he needed to go east and was able to find that direction from the sun which was just beginning to set. He hoped that soon it would be too dark to walk and he looked around for a suitable place to pass the night. Tomorrow he would find his way back to town and then to his hotel. He would be safe there. He could ride out the rest of the war, protected by its unreality. Maybe Ariadne would join him and some day they would reach America.