Avenging Steel 4: The Tree of Liberty

by Hall, Ian

  Gradually, as we topped the hill, I caught glimpses of the red railway bridge, that icon of Victorian engineering, its three arches looping over to Fife.

  The sun peeked from between scudding clouds as we dipped downwards through a tree-lined valley towards the waterside. Despite Möller’s cryptic wording, I felt an edge of anticipation, and considering we would soon be emerging out onto one of the best views in Scotland, I readied myself for whatever was coming next. My mood wasn’t improved by Möller’s advice. “It is time to get your binoculars ready, Herr Baird.”

  Then the straight approach of the bridge was visible high above us, resting gently on high stone pillars.

  It was only then I noticed Möller’s position, restlessly looking around, looking back past the trees, trying to see something.

  Then, almost without warning, we turned the corner and were out onto the waterfront drive.

  “Gott im Himmel,” Möller gasped, looking back out to sea. “Langsamer!” he scolded the driver, who immediately slowed the car.

  As we braked, I followed the German’s gaze. I almost swore myself. Out to sea, and obviously being guided inshore was the biggest ship I had ever seen in my life. Huge guns sat both bow and stern, and large zig-zag patterns had been painted on her sides and superstructure.

  “What is it?” I had to ask, the scene was simply breathtaking.

  “That, my friend, is the flagship of the German Kriegsmarine, the Bismarck.”

  Bleeding Out

  I now realized why Möller had insisted I bring a photographer along.

  Colin virtually ran to the end of the pier, already crowded with locals and sightseers. Five minutes later, he returned, grinning hugely.

  From behind the Bismarck, a smaller ship appeared, hidden from view by the huge battleship.

  “That is the Prinz Eugen,” Möller said, now standing in the car, binoculars fastened to his eyes. I have to admit, mine were also trained on the new arrival, coasting serenely towards the bridge. “Is she not beautiful? She is heavy cruiser, and faster, but are they not beautiful together?”

  He railed on for some time, and I sat, my eyes glued to the lines of the new ships and the size of their guns. Despite my knee-jerk patriotism at these giant behemoths invading our land, I failed to see how we had anything to beat these formidable craft. I had no idea how the Royal Navy were faring against the Germans.

  Möller got out of the car. “Come on, Herr Baird, we go to get a closer look.”

  That meant getting on a German torpedo boat. Boy, was I getting the first-class treatment today.

  I was eternally grateful the sea was relatively calm, and my getting from the jetty to the boat’s deck was uneventful, my side only jarring slightly.

  The Commander of the boat, gave us both a stiff salute, and I watched as the crew unfastened the ropes holding us to the stone harbor wall. The engines gave a deep growl as we slowly headed for open sea. I held tight to the nearest handrail, and braced myself against any sudden motion.

  We did get a warning to ‘hold on’, but even I was unprepared for the acceleration of the small craft. We took off like a rocket, the bow rising, and a thick spray of foam being parted by our sharp front. The speed took my breath away. I looked at the captain next to me who marveled in my astonishment. “How fast?” I roared.

  “Fifty miles an hour!” he grinned back. I could hardly believe it. For me, the short journey out into the Firth of Forth was a time of bewildering doubt in our cause. Surely we British had craft of a similar ilk? Yet as we careered out onto the bay, the battleships loomed higher, their guns larger, their armour almost seemed to grow thicker.

  Colin must have changed film a dozen times, his eyes wide and excited. I would want some of the film when we got back to base. I’m quite certain Ivanhoe would want such detail.

  We lurched to one side, and I fell against the handrail. Of course it hit me right on my wound, and I gasped, holding my face away from my German comrades.

  Then we slowed, and the whole crew lined up on the side closest to the Prinz Eugen as it slowly cruised past. I nudged Colin on the shoulder to get a pic or two of the crew as they gave homage to their big brother.

  I’m not sure we could have had a better view. As the ships passed us, I don’t think we were two hundred yards away.

  As the Bismarck passed under the towering bridge it seemed inconceivable that she’d make it without mishap, her radar masts seeming to scratch the railway bridge’s underside.

  But of course, such a happening had been long thought of, and she sailed safely under, her bows now nudged by tug-boats. As the hull cleared the bridge, I could now see three other ships behind the two capital ones, tiny by comparison, but probably huge warships in their own right.

  After the E-Boat crew finished their salute to the Bismarck, I could see Möller have a short word with the commander.

  With a curt shout, and a growl of engines, we lurched forward and sharply turned back to shore. I don’t think I’ve ever gripped something more fiercely as I did to the handrail on that hair-raising turn. It didn’t help that the listing boat pressed the rail right into my side. Yeah, you guessed it, right onto my dressing.

  “You seem distressed, Herr Baird!” Möller roared into my ear as the engines screamed in protest under us.

  I waved my hand against my throat. “Maybe slightly sea-sick!” I shouted back.

  Imagine my horror when we got back onto dry land and Möller told the driver to head to The Bridge, South Queensferry’s premier hotel. “We will eat, Herr Moller, and we will toast to Germany’s engineering and ship-building.”

  So with both ships now crawling past the hotel’s window, I sat in pain, relishing not one iota of it.

  We began with cod and vegetable soup. I’m pretty certain it was the best variation I’d ever tasted, but I ate it slowly, then made my excuses, leaving the idea that I was going to throw up, and retired to the toilet to check my side.

  The thick dressing inside my newly ironed white shirt was stained heavily, dark red blood the size of a tennis ball at both holes. I tucked my shirt back into my trousers, and replaced my jacket.

  I found two of the pain pills and downed them with a drink of water from the tap, hoping they’d alleviate some of my symptoms, if not all.

  Back at the table I refused the main course, and made little more conversation. My German host looked on with some concern, but of course, he couldn’t help but chide me in my inability to handle the short sea trip.

  Within half an hour, we were back in the car, where I resisted the temptation to lie back, knowing that my bleeding would be discovered.

  The journey through Edinburgh was a nightmare, and I swear the nausea came upon me in waves. We stopped once on Hillhouse Road, where I unceremoniously threw up against the large wall.

  The Scotsman offices never looked so inviting. I waved thanks to Möller, and holding my belly, walked slowly along the short concourse to the main door.

  Once inside all my reserve left me.

  I moaned in pain, and started towards the stairs. Then I realized I had no chance of making it up three flights, so turned to the main desk.

  Daphne must have caught something in my gait or expression to be worried about for I saw her rise. My feet started the journey, but it seemed an earthquake hit the building, and I toppled ungraciously to the hard tiled floor.

  I woke in the nurse’s room, Alice’s face hovering over me. “The doc’s on his way.”

  My head swam, but I remembered my entry to the building. I couldn’t let any kind of rumor start in my own workplace. “How did I get here?”

  “Martin and Al from security carried you,” she said, pushing me firmly down on the gurney when I tried to rise. “You need to rest.”

  I nodded, lay my head back down. Just being horizontal seemed to work wonders. “Did anyone see me fall?”

  “Only Colin and Daphne. We just spread it around you’d taken a bad turn after your little boat trip.”
/>   “How did you know…?”

  “Colin told us all about it.”

  Oh, Colin. “Alice you have to get Colin in here right now.”

  “It’s okay, baby, let’s just get the doctor to have a look first.”

  “Alice!” I snapped. “This is important. Get Colin here immediately.”

  She looked concerned, yet she reluctantly left the room. Minutes later she re-appeared with Colin in tow. “Now tell us what’s so important.” She scolded.

  There was no point in clearing the room. “Colin. I need you to hide a couple of rolls of the film. The government will want a good look at these ships, and we got the best view.”

  He looked a little peeved, then nodded. “I can lose a couple of rolls, I took eight.”

  “Okay, but give them to Alice here, they need to be away from you. Away from the building.” I fastened him with a steely gaze. “Now, both of you, go.”

  They got the importance, and Alice returned a few minutes later. “Colin gave me three rolls. They’re hidden.”

  I relaxed slightly. I knew that Möller had taken me out on the trip, but that didn’t mean we could keep all the photos we’d taken. I fully expected a little visit from the Gestapo, and I had planned for its eventuality.

  The Doctor arrived, the same man that had dressed the wound the night before. Once the bandage had been unwound, he looked carefully, probing with gentle fingers. “The stitches have held; he’s just twisted wrong or something.” As he wound new lengths around my waist, I cursed the German E-boot and its powerful acceleration.

  By the end of the day I was walking around with little difficulty again, although I placed a fair bit of the recovery on the pills I’d taken. I didn’t rise when I heard a commotion in the corridor outside my office, but craned my neck to see out the door’s window.

  Suddenly a small man thrust himself into my office, fedora, long black coat. He wore no uniform, but he needed none; I recognized him as gestapo of some kind. “Herr Baird?” His accent was thick, and my name came out as ‘Berrd’.

  “Yes?”

  “Com, wis me plis,”

  I stood slowly. “And you are?”

  He gave me a controlled look, seemingly almost expecting me to wither under his gaze, but I held firm. “My name is Gunther, and you vill come vis me.”

  I opened my wallet and held my card for him to see. “You might be MI6, trying to capture and kill me.”

  To my surprise my bluntness caught a nerve; he smiled, showing me his card.

  Nikoli Gunther

  Gehelme Feldpolizeii

  Abteilung Iii-M

  The words would have meant nothing to most, and I made my look appear cursory, but I did translate the terms to Secret Field Police, Navy Department. “How can I help you, Herr Gunther?”

  He pocketed the card. “You were ze guest of Captain Möller zis morning?”

  “We were. We got to see two of Germany’s finest battleships.”

  “Did you take photographs yourself?”

  “Eh, no we use our photographers for all that kind of stuff. I just write the stories.”

  “Ze photographer’s name?”

  “Colin, I think.”

  “And he is here? In ze building?”

  I picked up the phone, consulted the directory on the desk next to it, and waited. “Colin?”

  “Yes?”

  “I have a member of German security here, he wants to see you…”

  Gunther waved his hand. “We will go to him!”

  I nodded. “We’ll be down in a minute. Just hold on.

  Gunther ended up taking most of the developed pictures, and every roll of film. Not that any of them showed much of anything; big ship, big bridge, sea. He did leave us the perfect shots for our front page the next day. The story was already written, nothing damning for our German overlords, nothing they could scold us for.

  Gunther held the rolls up to the light. “Zer is a roll missing.”

  Colin shook his head. “No, that’s the lot. That’s all that turned out.”

  “You took ozer film?”

  “No, I tried to, but the loading mechanism failed, the whole film was lost.”

  “Wer is it now?”

  Gunther looked at the cameraman carefully, then shrugged his shoulders. “Alles is gut.”

  Boy was I happy that we’d snagged the films.

  The next day, obviously with so much to report, Alice put the we’ve-got-a-message sign in the window.

  A Double Whammy

  The next morning, bright and early, I got called through to the editor’s office. “Jimmy, I got a man on the line, says he can’t get through to your phone.”

  “That’s strange, Steve. I’ve not touched it all morning.” I took the handed receiver. “Yes?”

  “Your building’s being watched.” Balfour’s voice. “New instructions tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  I handed the phone back, made an excuse of a ‘family crisis’ and went through to Alice’s office. Ted, her kind-of assistant was hovering. “Can I get a minute?”

  Once alone, I told her of Balfour’s warning.

  She stood, arms folded, one hand cradling her jaw. “So does this mean the new Secret Police or the regular Gestapo?”

  “You mean are we being watched for the photos of the Bismarck or the break-in at the Radio Station.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, we can’t be sure, so nothing out of the ordinary for the next few days.” I said, turning for the door. “Oh, where are the buckshee films?”

  “I took them home last night; they’re well hidden.”

  I shared her look of concern. What I didn’t need was the apartment getting searched. Then I had a more harrowing thought. We had a pile of stolen records in the closet-room, and two rucksacks full in the boot of the car. Some chance of getting those retrieved with us maybe being under observation.

  For the rest of the day we behaved like normal people, no furtive glances, no anti-being-followed maneuvers. It was actually strange after spending all of our waking time being super-observant.

  When we got back to the apartment, since Alice was down at Saundersons-the Butcher’s in line for their latest haul of meat, I decided to go through the records in the closet-room to see exactly what we’d hauled away. It turned out to be run-of-the-mill stuff, but I’d underestimated Frances’s nose for trouble.

  “What you doin’?” she was instantly behind me, looking over my shoulder, I couldn’t hide the pile.

  “Oh, stuff I got today.” I was searching frantically for a decent story. “I met a man in a bar that had these to sell. I got them cheap.” And, of course, she had already squirmed in front of me and was browsing the labels. I got a few ‘ah’s’ and a couple of squeals. “Well, do you already have them?”

  “No!” she replied, almost covering her haul with her arms in case I was going to spirit them away. “No, these are the biggest bees knees I’ve ever seen. Look!” She slid one out of the cover. It looked blacker than I was accustomed to. “This is a vinyl one.” She held it carefully between her fingers and flexed it. God if it didn’t actually bend and twist, like it was made of rubber or something. Frances suddenly stiffened up. “Oh, God.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, Radio Heartland hasn’t broadcast since Wednesday morning. The news said it was a fire, but the rumor is that they were hit by commandoes at night.”

  I could feel my heart in my mouth.

  “What happens if these records are from Radio Heartland?”

  “How is that possible?” For all my training, my cover story couldn’t keep up with her fantasies.

  “Well! You got them from a ‘man in a bar’, for the first thing. How much did you pay him?”

  “Eh, just a couple of quid.”

  “For how many?” she started to count.

  “There’s twenty-six.” I said, “And more in the car.”

  Oh, crap. Me and my big mouth.

&n
bsp; “Keys! Keys!” she fussed at me, rummaging my pockets.

  “WAIT!”

  The rumpus brought mum to the closet door. “What’s going on?”

  I opened my mouth to put a logical, calm explanation on the table.

  “James got stolen records from a man in a bar, they’re probably commando goods and…”

  I held her tight, with one hand firmly over her mouth. “Frances is being a bit too excited, Mum. I bought some records from a man in a bar, yes. Okay, they might be stolen, but we simply don’t know.” I turned to my sister, nuzzled my face to her ear. “Now are you going to calm down?”

  She nodded as much as my grip would allow, and I released her.

  “And he’s got more in the car.”

  So much for that.

  I nodded frantically. “Yes, and if they’re stolen, maybe…” damn, I’d almost said ‘we’re being watched’, but that was all mum needed. Her life was precarious enough without me bringing my nefarious lifestyle into her midst.

  “Then we better get them out of the car.” Mum said.

  Oh no, how could this have turned for the worst.

  “Keys, keys!” Frances repeated her mantra, this time with one hand on her hip, the other stretched out to me.

  I couldn’t think of anything to divert her from her intention.

  “They’re in the boot. In two haversacks.”

  And off she went.

  She returned puffing with exertion, two heavy haversacks over her shoulders. Alice walked in right behind her. “What’s going on?”

  Well, I suppose me and mum standing in the hallway was a bit of a giveaway. “Frances found the records.”

  “Oh bloody hell.”

  Mum’s hand flew to her mouth; I don’t think she’d heard Alice swear before.

  It led to a good five minutes of rather awkward talk in the kitchen as Frances slobbered over her newest acquisitions in her bedroom. The new sounds were played loud.