‘That’s it. Hurts like hell and I keep seeing flashes of light — very bright. I remember that from 1940. They said it was referred pain in the optic nerve.’
Traynor crouched towards him. ‘It’s important that we find out what happened during the German take-over to cause these headaches of yours. I was under close guard but you had some freedom and I gave you a job to do. Remember?’
‘No!’
‘If we could get your memory working you might produce invaluable information. Only you could do it — or the children.’
Skinner sank his head in his hands.
‘You’ve been making my headache worse. If you haven’t got a Disprin, please shut up.’
Traynor fell silent for a while and then in a persuasive voice took up his argument once more.
‘Skinner, being a scientist today teaches one not to be content with just what can be seen or felt. There are other realities which emerge as we examine the universe — mysteries unfolding beyond the limits of our knowledge.’ He turned to look down into the bowl of darkness that contained the old ruins and Skinner followed his gaze.
‘My head’s better,’ he said in a tired voice. ‘Let’s get back to The Bull.’
* * *
Jean Skinner sat in the lounge looking occasionally through the window. Tea was on the way. Bradley set it down by the armchair.
‘There you are, Mrs Skinner. Nice strong cuppa just like mother used to make. Like me to be mum?’
‘No, thanks,’ answered Jean. ‘Just leave it to stand a moment. Is Mr Skinner about?’
‘No, just after he took you upstairs he went out again with Mr Traynor. Up to the old Naval Station, though what they went for I wouldn’t know. Creepy place to my way of thinking and best left alone. No sense in digging up the past. I mean it’s all over and done with, all that.’
He left Jean. After she had poured out her cup of tea she sat brooding over St Oswald, its Naval Station and her husband’s sudden impulse to revisit what seemed to her a place of ill-omen. She fell back drowsily and sighed. The electronic sound-stream full of morse, howling and bursts of gabbled dialogue had begun again quite gently and this time it brought a hazy picture that seemed to flicker on and off in the lounge. Then she sat bolt upright. Across the room for a moment she had seen Liz with a mug in her hand, bending over a sleeping sailor on a couch.
‘Frank,’ she was saying. ‘I’ve got some coffee for you. Come on ... wake up. It’ll make you feel better.’
Jean’s cup crashed to the floor and she screamed, ‘Liz,’ at the top of her voice.
* * *
Traynor and Skinner bolted up the stairs into the lounge.
‘I’ve just seen Liz,’ Jean told them breathlessly. ‘Here, in this room. She was giving coffee to a young sailor in a scruffy sort of games room — he was sick or unconscious.’ ‘Unconscious, Mrs Skinner. It was your husband in 1940. Was there a billiard table in the room?’
‘Yes. Behind the sofa, I think. The picture didn’t last long and wasn’t in any detail — a sort of flashback.’
‘Exactly,’ answered Traynor, ‘a flashback to 1940 where your daughter is now.’
‘Liz in World War II?’ Jean was incredulous. ‘With a sailor called Frank?’
‘That’s my belief, Mrs Skinner.’
‘Then they’re in danger?’
‘No.’
‘What then?’
Traynor chose his words carefully. ‘We’re facing conditions in which the past doesn’t actually exist. But because of the energy that was then released it can produce an effect of reality. A sensitive or telepathic person reacts to this bubble of energy. They penetrate into or communicate with the complex of events but it’s not a reality for them — rather an exceptionally vivid hallucination. For Liz and Simon who accept the reality of this 1940 scene wholeheartedly, the events are vivid and disturbing. But there is no physical danger for them in this situation because it happened thirty years ago.’
Jean said, ‘But we can’t leave them there. I can’t anyway. So — what do you suggest we do?’
‘Do?’
‘Yes. What do we do?’
'Well, dear lady,’ Traynor was very smooth, ‘what would you suggest?’
And with that he went down to the bar.
Jean and her husband sat quietly together. They had settled on the sofa and Jean reached out a hand to him tenderly. They spoke no word for several minutes before she realized that tears were dropping from her eyes. She heard Frank say, ‘Lets go to bed, Jean. You must be tired out.’
He looked at her in concern. She had fallen back on the sofa, her eyes closed, her face a set mask of fear. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, her eyes wide open, and she was screaming. ‘A German, by a wire fence. He’s going to hit her. Oh,Liz!’
12
Simon froze with fear as Gottfried swung round on him.
‘Tricks again! You lying, untrustworthy brat. Now they’ll head for the village and...’ He turned on Fritz. ‘Get a message through to have the girls picked up. And you,’ he ordered Simon, ‘you follow me.’
Simon took a regretful look towards where he believed the hole in the time barrier should be and trudged after the Kapitan until they reached the Recreation room.
Traynor looked up as they entered. ‘Where are the two girls?’ he asked severely.
‘They’ve got away.’
Gottfried left them. ‘I’m going to be very busy. Commander,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave your collaborator with you. Though sometimes he gives me a funny feeling that there’s a third party at work among us here.’
Traynor looked quizzically at the Kapitan’s back and just as suspiciously at Simon.
‘Well, what’s the latest turn you’ve put on for the troops?’ he asked.
Simon shrugged dismally. ‘Tried to escape. Liz and Sarah got away but the Kapitan got in my way.’
Traynor sat looking at Simon pondering on this information.
‘Then they’ll alert the police,’ he said.
‘I don’t know if it will work out like that. The Kapitan has sent a signal to someone to pick them up.’
‘I was watching some of that.’
‘They get messages back too.’
‘From the village?’
‘Yes.’
‘Of course. They’ll have a series of contacts from here to the coast, and across to Holland even. They will keep this lot informed about when to move and when to stay put. And where do you fit into all this, young man?’
‘I’ve told you, I don’t!’ Simon shouted so loudly that Graz reached for his pistol.
Traynor laughed and waved him down.
Simon went on more calmly. ‘You mean that they’ve got spies helping them. We don’t have spies in England ... well, do we, sir?’
‘Don’t we just,’ Traynor said bitterly.
‘And, Mr Traynor, why here? I mean a little place like St Oswald? There’d have to be some special reason for coming here. Old Gottfried knew all about that radio set; I could see that it wasn’t news to him.’
Traynor frowned heavily. ‘For a kid who knows more than he should, Simon, you ask some damn fool questions. And not so much of that Mr Traynor stuff. We’re in the Navy here.’
‘I only...’ Simon stammered.
The Commander picked up a cue and played a rather careless stroke on the billiard table. ‘I think you’d better lie low and say nuffin’ for a while,’ he said. ‘You may be on the side of the angels but I don’t understand how and I don’t trust you.’
* * *
In the Operations room the Kapitan and Fritz continued their search. The heavier filing cabinets they had already examined but there were rows of locked drawers. Gottfried felt that he might find the clue to this small establishment somewhere among them. It need be no more than a sheet of paper or a special tool or a piece of material. At the end of one bank of cabinets he looked to his left into the back room and turned towards it. Fritz was scrambling through the shelves of a cupboard, looking at
an accumulation of radio equipment and maintenance gear. He shook his head in a bored way every few seconds.
Gottfried stood arms akimbo and slowly inspected the back room. Two waist-high cupboards interested him. They stood against the wall opposite the work bench and a mixed lot of tools and materials was piled against them.
‘Moment,’ he called out to Fritz.
He entered the Recreation room to find Traynor bending over Frank. ‘Feeling better?’ Traynor was asking. ‘Anything you want?’.
Frank’s voice was wavering a little. ‘No, no, I don’t think so...’
Gottfried looked down at him. ‘Are you recovered? What happened? What was it that hit you?’
Frank pushed himself up on one elbow. ‘What do you mean “happened”? I got a headache and saw bright lights. A ruddy Christmas tree it was.’
‘Bright lights?’ Gottfried seemed surprised.
‘Yes, and then a blackout. What’s this crummy place here?’ He looked Traynor up and down. ‘You in the Navy, chum?’
Traynor and Gottfried looked at one another. Then the Kapitan said, ‘I need a detail for a small job. Commander. I think this man could work. It might help him.’
‘Maybe,’ Traynor said doubtfully. ‘It would have to be light work.’
‘Come, on your feet, man.’ Gottfried tapped Frank’s shoulder. Frank scrambled shakily upright. ‘I’m fine now,’ he said looking at Gottfried. ‘You in the Navy too?’
For a German officer the Kapitan took this bravely and turned to Traynor. ‘Perhaps the boy would be a help. I’ll take him as well.’
The three left and Traynor gazed speechlessly after them. He wondered apprehensively what Frank might blurt out in his stupefied condition.
* * *
‘Skinner,’ said Gottfried. ‘I want to search these cupboards. You and the boy will remove all this stuff.’
‘Very good, sir,’ said Skinner. He seemed quite normal again and even gestured a salute as Gottfried left.
He stretched up, examined Simon and looked interested when Simon said, ‘I overheard the Commander trying to ask you about a job you had to do. Did you do it?’
‘I expect so, sonny. You’re a bit young for the Navy, aren’t you?’
‘Me? I’m still at school.’
What I mean, son. Who are you?’
‘You know me. I’m Simon. I came in with Liz earlier tonight. You arrested us.’
‘Ah, maybe. Well, come on. let’s clear all this junk for the new bloke.’
Frank started to clear the cupboards, then stood up and stretched his back. ‘Dunno what he wants to look in these for. This one’s got rum, spirits and table wines in it and this one is full of pilchards and tomato sauce. Still ... you can’t tell ’em anything.’
He stood up with an armful of perforated angle iron and dropped it gently on the work bench. As he straightened again he saw the peg-board on the wall and reached up towards the tiny switch concealed behind it.
‘That’s it. Now push the door to.’ He was talking quietly, as if to himself, Simon thought. The main door swung to and the panel slid open. The servo was in operation but the framework carrying the cylinder stood a bit askew. Simon took a step towards it but Frank pulled him back. ‘Disconnect power,’ he whispered. He was trembling a little. ‘Like this.’ He reached for the sockets and wrenched out the plugs. Abruptly the remote murmur stopped. ‘Now destroy it.’ Frank went on softly.
‘Destroy it? That’s sabotage.’
‘No, no. CO’s orders,’ Frank insisted and reached for the framework. For all his weakness he worked fast on the butterfly nuts and the assembly screws of the cylindrical interior. The pieces disappeared among the metal and radio parts they had cleared from the front of the wine cupboards.
Simon watched and helped as Frank’s energies slowly faded. They kept up a clatter of metal in the room and as they dismantled the central apparatus Simon distributed its bits as widely as possible. He knew now, to his amazement, what the Station was for. And he knew, with more than fear, that he must conceal this knowledge both from Traynor and Gottfried.
13
At the heart of the assembly Simon had found the ruby. Frank looked at it casually. ‘A glass rod,’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ said Simon and tossed it among the rubbish on the bench. ‘Something like that.’
The cabinet was empty. ‘Switch,’ gasped Frank.
Simon reached up to flip the servo, the cabinet closed noiselessly and Frank sank to his hands and knees. ‘Frank! ’ Simon shouted at him. He heard a step and, turning, faced Gottfried. ‘I think he’s fainted again, sir,’ he said.
‘When you call me sir, you wake up all my worst suspicions,’ snapped the Kapitan.
‘Better look for yourself then, sir,’ said Simon, drawing back and Gottfried, after turning Frank over on his back, snarled, ‘Fritz, der Matrose ist wieder krank.’
* * *
Gottfried stood among the well-searched contents of Traynor’s office. The floor was littered with papers and a few tools and instruments were piled on the desk. He flung himself into Traynor’s chair and shouted, ‘Herein.’
Graz brought Traynor in. Gottfried waved him silently to the chair facing the desk.
‘Nobody,’ he said, ‘knows anything about those children of yours. Commander. Nobody in the village, that is.’
‘Tell me, Gottfried,’ Traynor asked. ‘Who is the nobody in the village who doesn’t know them?’
The Kapitan leant across the desk. ‘Graz,’ he said, ‘tie him up. If he won’t talk to us about his work you can talk to him about yours.’ Graz moved so swiftly towards the back of Traynor’s chair slipping a cord around him that all the Commander could do was cry out in surprise. His shoulders were jerked back and he turned angrily.
‘What the? ...’ he shouted.
‘Halt’s Maul Englander,’ Graz shouted back and struck him across the face with an open hand. Traynor turned his head to Gottfried.
‘You can’t be serious, man,’ he said in outrage.
‘You give us no choice,’ Gottfried answered.
‘Me? You have the choice here. You, who were talking earlier about being a reasonable man — a scientist.’
Graz sank half a dozen savage blows into Traynor’s belly.
‘Gottfried,’ he gasped. ‘So you’re just another of the Hitler gang after all.’
Graz delivered another punch and then seizing Traynor’s hair dragged his head back again. He raised his Luger and swept it down in a cruel blow across the Commander’s face. Traynor arched his back and gasped with the pain which tore through him. Gottfried swung round on Graz. ‘Genug. genug. Halt,’ he shouted at him and stepped forward between the two men.
‘Graz,’ he snapped. ‘Machen Sie den Kommander frei.’
An amazed and furious Graz loosened the knots and stepped warily back, pistol in hand.
‘It was a foolish mistake,’ Gottfried went on. ‘This is a foolish way to behave and I am sorry.’
‘You’re sorry? Think how I feel,’ Traynor growled as the blood trickled down his face. ‘And don’t think you’re going to get information out of me. There’s nothing to tell and that’s final.’
'Graz will take you to the Recreation room. We’ll continue our discussion when you’ve had time to get to grips with your predicament and I have considered my own findings. It will take a little longer, I suppose. Go with Graz.’
Traynor, stiff and sore, got to his feet and left with his guard. The Kapitan leant back in his swivel chair and spun round in it. He was depressed by what had happened and sat gazing at the floor. The panel of the skirting board caught his eye and quickly he kicked it open and searched. One paper clip, new and shining, was all.
So this hiding place had been in use. He left the office, brooding, hands clasped behind his back. What a fool to let Graz beat up this English scientist. The secrets that matters are seldom on paper in their basic stages. It’s the man’s own thoughts one must try to prise out o
f their hiding places.
14
The bar at The Bull was busy and noisy that evening. But when Liz and Sarah walked in, silence fell like a cold blanket. Even upstairs the Skinners could feel it.
Then talk exploded.
‘You’re back! ... Where you been, you two? Arthur seen you vanish, Sal! ’
‘You had us all worried sick,’ said Bradley.
‘You was up the potholes. I’ll bet.’
‘Potholes?’ stammered Sarah. ‘Yes, yes the potholes, Mr Bradley,’ she exclaimed as Liz gave her a sharp dig in the ribs. Behind them Traynor watched this prompting from the door. Then Jean wrapped a laughing, hugging Liz in her arms.
In the happiness of their reunion Jean turned to Bradley. ‘Do get someone to take poor Sarah home,’ she said. ‘She’s tired out and as for her mother...’
‘I’ll get our Eileen to walk her down road. They do better meet at home.’ He turned and shouted down the hatch: ‘Eileen! Wantcha!’
Liz found herself looking over Jean’s shoulder into Traynor’s eyes.
‘Commander Traynor?’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘As I thought.’
He moved over to the bar as Eileen and Sarah went off. Bradley turned towards him, a triumphant smile on his face. But the eyes that stared back at him were cold and implacable.
* * *
Next morning, from the broad windows of the hotel lounge Liz gloomed over the dull, damp hillside. All through the midnight hours she and Jean had gone over their experiences, tallying Jean’s visions with her own actions inside the time bubble. Jean and Traynor and her father had tried to fill in the world of 1939 and 1940 with its months of phoney war, ending in Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain.
But constantly she was saddened by her father’s lost experience of those war years that had sharpened the wits and courage of others. Perhaps he would once again be a lively man if only she could help him find out what had destroyed the friendly sailor of 1940.
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