“John?”
“Yes.”
“Y-you have the Bear?”
“Yes.”
“But you aren’t g-giving him to us?”
“No.”
“You’re s-stealing the gold?”
“No.”
After a moment Iris called out again.
“You’re protecting h-him?”
Rossett saw the tilt of her head silhouetted by the headlamps as she waited for his answer.
“I’m arresting him.”
Iris looked over her shoulder at the guns behind her, then back at Rossett.
“You’re not d-doing a very good job.”
“He’s wearing handcuffs.”
“Not for long.”
“We’ll see.” Rossett shifted the Webley slightly.
“He killed your partner.”
“He didn’t do anything you weren’t going to do eventually.”
“That’s not t-true.”
“You kept him alive long enough to get me over to your side.”
“The r-right side.”
Rossett spread his feet a few inches wider, settling into his shooting stance.
“You know, Iris, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last couple of years it is that there isn’t really such a thing as a good side and a bad side. There’s just people fighting for the edge of the same coin from opposite sides.”
“You th-think we’re as bad as the Nazis?”
“No, but being less bad than something doesn’t mean you are better than it.”
“So you carry on working for them?”
“I carry on being a policeman.”
“Just like that?”
Rossett took a breath, held it, thought for a moment, and then called back to her.
“There’s a police warrant card in my pocket, Iris. To some people it is just a bit of card. I’ll be honest: for a while, that’s all it was to me, but . . .” Rossett wiped his forehead on his upper arm and felt the sting of the cut there as it scraped against his coat. He paused again, watching her through the sights of the Webley for a moment before he spoke again. “I realized that I made an oath to uphold the law. I keep telling people that’s all I want to do, but I then keep forgetting to do it. The Bear, Bauer, he’s a murderer. Consul Hawthorn, Neumann, your people, and the countless others he’s put to death—he has to face justice for that, and I have to play by the rules, even if nobody else does. I’m going to put him in a cell, I’m going to do my job, and I am going to start worrying about the people I swore to protect. Maybe then I can start sleeping at night.”
Iris took a tiny step to the side as her left leg twitched. She rested her right hand on her hip and looked over her shoulder at her men. A second passed, then she turned back to Rossett and took a few paces forward. She finally stopped when she was less than four feet from Brian’s door. He leaned out the open window a few inches and whispered to her.
“This is nothing to do with me, love, I was just drivin’ home. He’s a nutter; reckons he is a copper but he hasn’t shown me a badge or nothing. Can I get out? I love Churchill, can I go? God save King George and all that.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she stared at the Bear in the backseat for a moment, then at Rossett.
“I could just t-take him.”
“I’ll shoot him, or your men will shoot him, but either way you don’t get the gold.”
“John, w-we don’t have much time.”
“Let the Germans have the gold.” Rossett said it quietly.
“What?”
“How long do you think Dannecker can keep a lid on this for? I figure you’ve got maybe a day before reinforcements start to head up from London, or even closer. When the new men arrive and find out what’s been going on, Dannecker will be in a cell before nightfall. He’ll tell them about the gold and they will rip this city apart to find it.”
“We can kill D-Dannecker, and his bosses will never know the gold existed. That’ll buy us time to find it and arrange another ship.”
“Kill him and there’ll be a crackdown so heavy, the people of Liverpool will be lucky if they make it out the other side. The Germans will land hard, Iris, harder than you can imagine. I’ve seen what they can do.”
“We need that gold to keep on fighting.”
“Sometimes you need to stop fighting. Sometimes you need to think about the people you are fighting for and whether you are doing more harm than good.”
“I’m fighting for their freedom.”
“They aren’t free when they’re dead, Iris. They are just dead. You don’t want the crackdown, it’ll destroy this place, kill hundreds, maybe thousands of people. The only way around it is to lose the gold and make Dannecker look corrupt, and I think that is a price worth paying.”
“You’re helping them win the war.”
“They already won the war, you just haven’t realized it yet.”
“You don’t kn-know how wrong you are, John.” Iris looked at the Bear again. She chewed her lip, then ran a fluttering hand through her cropped hair. “O’Kane will come after you.”
“I have to try to save the people of this city.”
She looked at the Bear again. The men behind her were like greyhounds in the traps, straining to let fly.
“I can just t-take him.”
“Then you’ll make me kill him. And you’ll kill the city you love.”
Iris stared at Rossett, then turned to her men and lifted a feather-light hand.
“Let them pass.”
Chapter 20
“I’m not supposed to let people in at night.” The police constable on the other side of the glass didn’t look entirely happy with the conversation he was having with Rossett.
“Open the door, son, before I kick it in and then kick you in.”
“I’ve been given strict orders.”
Rossett stepped back from the door of the central police station, lowered his warrant card, and raised the Webley. He jerked the Bear around so that he was close to the glass panel and kicked the back of his leg gently to force him down onto his knees.
The bobby watched the Bear sink to the floor.
Rossett placed the Webley against the back of the Bear’s skull.
“Open the door.”
“I’m not allowed to. I—”
“Open the fucking door.”
“I’d appreciate it,” the Bear added for good measure.
The bobby took a step back.
Rossett thumbed the hammer on the Webley.
The bobby held up his hands.
“All right! Okay!”
It was only when the door was finally opened that Rossett lifted the pistol up off the back of the Bear’s head.
“Thank you,” he said quietly as he dragged the Bear back up to his feet and propelled him in through the door.
The police station was mostly in darkness. Rossett and the Bear had waited at the back of the enquiry office as the bobby relocked the door, then followed him down to the cells in the basement.
“I shouldn’t be doing this. We have procedures for prisoners, records, paperwork. I shouldn’t be just flinging someone in a cell without doing things properly.” The bobby pulled open a cell door and stepped back.
Rossett pushed the Bear through the doorway and shoved him face-first up against the nearest wall. He took out a handcuff key, slipped it into the lock, and paused.
“I can leave these on all night just as easily as I can take them off, do you understand?”
“Yes,” the Bear just about managed to answer.
“One move, one twitch, they stay on.”
“Okay.”
Rossett turned the key, released one cuff, and stepped back toward the door.
The Bear leaned back off the wall and then turned around. He finished uncuffing himself, and then held them up for Rossett to take back. “They’ll know you’ve brought me here.”
“Who will?” The bobby looked at Rossett.
“Dannecker probably already knows.” The Bear looked at the bobby. “I’ll wager he’s already on his way.”
“Who is?” The bobby started to feed his key chain through his fingers.
“You’re going to have one hundred guns trying to get to me.”
“How many?”
“Throw the cuffs and key over here.” Rossett took a step out of the cell.
“You should have run for the hills, Lion, while you could.”
“The cuffs.”
The Bear tossed them to Rossett, who let them land on the floor, then kicked them away from the door.
“Shut the door.” Rossett lowered the Webley and the bobby did as he was told.
“Too late now, Lion,” the Bear called through the crack in the door as it started to swing shut. “They are coming.”
The cell door slammed.
“Who is that?” The bobby leaned back against the door.
“Death,” said Rossett as he walked away.
The line was dead.
Rossett had guessed it would be, but he still felt a sting of disappointment. He put the phone down, placed the Webley on the desk next to it, and looked at the young bobby and the old police sergeant standing next to him.
“What’s your name?”
“Jimmy Warner,” the sergeant replied.
“How long have the phones been down, Jimmy?”
“Two hours or so.”
“Has it happened before?”
“It’s always happening, sir. We don’t know if it is the resistance or just that we don’t have anyone maintaining the system anymore.”
“Is there a call box around here?”
“Yes, but it’s knackered as well. When they go down, they go down far and wide.”
Rossett clicked on the green-shaded lamp next to his pistol and sank down onto the leather chair behind the desk. He ran his hand down his face, then pulled open a few of the drawers in a vain search for the policeman’s friend.
Scotch.
He came up empty and looked back at Jimmy.
“My name is Detective Inspector John Rossett. I’m from the Metropolitan Police.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You came to speak to my prisoner, sir, Captain Bauer.”
“You arrested Bauer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That was good work.”
“Thank you.” Jimmy was holding the police station keys, running the long chain they were attached to like worry beads through his fingers, then twisting it around his hand before repeating the process in the other direction. “People are trying to kill you, sir.”
“You know about that?” Rossett looked up from a fresh search for some Scotch.
“We hear everything, all the rumors.”
“But you don’t act on them?”
Jimmy shook his head. “It’s difficult to know who to trust, sir.”
“You can trust me, Sergeant. Downstairs is the man who killed my partner, and he is under arrest.”
“Your partner was a German.”
“He was a policeman, same as you and me. The Germans and the resistance want me the same way, and chances are they are coming here.”
Jimmy didn’t reply.
“I’m just trying to do my job,” Rossett said quietly.
“I know, sir; I’m just not used to people trying to act like police officers anymore. That’s all.”
Rossett smiled and closed the drawers in the desk. “Do you have a radio here, Jimmy?”
“We have a set for getting in touch with the patrol cars.”
“What’s the range?”
“I don’t know, maybe fifteen miles?” The key chain started to worry its way through his fingers again.
“How many cars do you have out tonight?”
“Just the one, it’s all we’ve got.”
“You’ve only got one patrol car?”
“We’ve only got one patrol car that’s working.”
“How many on board?”
“Two.”
“How many in the station?”
“Two, including me.” Jimmy looked at the young bobby. “And him.”
Rossett rubbed his eyes hard with his index finger and thumb. He sat, pressing his eyes shut, taking a moment to ease the dry sting from the fatigue he was drenched in.
Eventually he lifted his head and blinked a few times to clear his vision.
“Is there a way I can relay a message to somewhere? Via the radio room to the car, and then via the car to an outside force? Maybe Manchester?”
“Maybe, but Manchester isn’t any better than Liverpool. The North is falling apart, sir. To be honest, Manchester is in worse shape than we are. At least we have a decent-sized garrison of SS here to protect the docks and the railways. Manchester is pretty much abandoned now that the industry and most of the young lads have gone to the Continent.”
“Call the car back into the station. I’m going to need it.”
“If you’re thinking of making a run for it, sir, I’d suggest you go careful. The lads have been reporting roadblocks springing up on the routes out of the city center.”
Rossett started to rub his eyes again, then dipped his head into the palm of his hand.
“Call the car in,” he said without looking up.
“Yes, sir.”
Jimmy and the bobby made for the door, but Jimmy stopped and turned.
“Sir?”
“What?” Rossett looked up.
“We might not have much of a police force here, but I still remember what it is to be a decent copper.”
Rossett looked up. “I’ll remember that.”
Jimmy nodded his head to the far corner of the office.
“The Scotch is in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, sir. You look like you could do with one.”
Chapter 21
“Hello?” Dannecker didn’t bother lifting his forehead out of his hand as he spoke into the telephone.
“Hello, sir. This is Leutnant Brecht from Liverpool Aerodrome Luftwaffe Station.”
“What do you want?”
“This is rather delicate, sir.”
“What is?”
“We’ve received a message from London, sir.”
“And?” Dannecker picked up an enamel mug of cold coffee.
“They were trying to contact you, so they asked me to check everything was all right.”
“We’re having some problems with the long-distance lines, that’s all.”
“They mentioned that they’d been trying to get you on the wireless as well.”
“Like I said, we’ve been having problems with communication. We’re down to field telephones at the moment, as you can see.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I understand. I told them that, but . . . well, since they called—”
“What?” Dannecker put the mug down, and a little coffee made a break for it and splashed onto his desk.
“They’ve had a report of an explosion.”
“Like I said, everything is okay here. There’s nothing out of the ordinary.” Dannecker wiped up the spill with his thumb.
“It’s just that . . .”
“What?” Dannecker wiped his thumb on his leg.
“This is embarrassing, sir.”
“Speak.”
“Well, one of my men, a solid chap, he’s engaged to the sister-in-law of one of your Home Defense Troops. He said this girl was injured in an explosion yesterday, quite badly apparently. It took a while for her family to get in touch to let him know. Apparently some of them don’t approve of the relationship. You’d think they’d be grateful for it; with her German connections she was able to get treatment at the Royal Hospital. Her family didn’t complain about that—”
“Leutnant, just fucking tell me what you called to tell me.”
“I’m sorry, sir. My man spoke to her family, and they told him there were lots of German soldiers killed and injured in the explosion.”
&nbs
p; “There was no explosion.”
“He said—” Brecht cleared his throat again. “There were at least eighteen bodies, sir, maybe more.”
“Nonsense.”
“He’s seen them, sir.”
Dannecker lifted his head and looked across the table to where Becker was slumped in the chair opposite him. The staff sergeant’s face still had traces of the dust and dirt cragged in the wrinkles around his eyes. A thick black smudge of blood peeked out from his hairline and dodged down his right temple an inch. Just above his collar, a pure-white dressing seemed to light his corner of the room and it looked out of place, a little sign of weakness.
Becker seemed to read his boss’s mind. He reached up and dabbed at the dressing with a dirty fingertip.
Dannecker leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. He’d forgotten that the garrison didn’t have a morgue, or for that matter, much of a medical facility at all. The injured would have been transferred to the Royal Hospital along with the dead.
“Like I said,”—Dannecker continued staring at the ceiling—“it is business as usual here. Your man must be mistaken. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“He’s very experienced, sir. He came straight back here and told me himself.”
“Well, I’m telling you, it never happened.”
“I had to inform London about the casualties.”
“What?” Dannecker closed his eyes.
“I had to, sir, and they’ve given me instructions.”
“About what?”
“Well, sir, in view of the problems you’ve been having with Major Bauer, and your not notifying London of the casualties . . . London have told me that if you are uncooperative, or if I have any doubts about your command, I’m to relieve you of it.”
“Relieve me of my command?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you mad? Every city in Britain is falling apart outside of London.” Dannecker picked up the coffee mug, remembered what it was filled with, put it down again, and shoved it away. “You tell those bastards everything is in order, and to leave me to get on with my job.”
“This is embarrassing for me, sir, and you are making it very difficult—”
“Brecht, I swear to God.” Dannecker leaned forward in his chair and dropped his voice to a growl. “If you don’t get to the point I am going to come over there and kick seven shades of shit out of you.”
An Army of One: A John Rossett Novel Page 28