The Aquila Project

by Norman Russell

  ‘Please. If you will. I’m infinitely obliged to you, Blythe.’

  I wonder what they’re talking about? thought Vanessa. Whatever it is, Jack and I are not to be privy to it. Well, that was how people worked in Colonel Kershaw’s organization. You were told only what you needed to know, and there was no point in going into tantrums about it.

  ‘Now,’ said Kershaw, turning towards Vanessa once again, ‘let me just conclude what I have to say about the other folk at Baron Augustyniak’s dinner party. The man called Gerdler is probably the quartermaster of The Aquila Project. I know about him, too. He is a brilliant organizer, and an arranger of comings and goings, with a whole coterie of people employed by him for various nefarious purposes. He keeps just within the law of whatever country he’s operating in, but is nonetheless a man of deep criminal tendencies. He’s also an expert in firearms, and keeps a gunsmith’s shop near Covent Garden. His political views are those of his friend and fellow conspirator, Kessler.

  ‘As for Eidenschenk, well, he sounds like another Gerdler, an organizer, with men of his own, but I’d say that he’s much more of a Polish patriot than the other Poles who were present at that dinner. He is also a liar. There is no “unidentified nation” paying Grunwalski ten thousand pounds. That money is probably coming from a cartel of European business interests, notably the armaments manufacturers of Bohemia and the Ruhr. If The Aquila Project succeeds, there will be plenty of work to keep the armaments factories busy. There are other conclusions that I can draw from Miss Drake’s intelligence report, but I need to keep them to myself for the moment.’

  Kershaw stood up, and looked gravely at Vanessa.

  ‘Miss Drake,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m concerned that Doctor Franz Kessler might want to finish his business with you. Although you were at White Eagle Lodge under an incognito, men like that have ways of finding things out. I want you to stay here, in Lipton’s Hotel for tonight. It’s nearly twelve, and I’m sure you’d appreciate a good night’s rest. Sergeant Knollys, would you care to remain here also, in order to keep watch over Miss Drake during the dark hours? Tomorrow, missy, we’ll arrange for you to be taken to a place of safety. It’s only for a little while, because, unless I’m very much mistaken, Doctor Kessler will have quit these shores before many days have elapsed.’

  Kershaw pulled the bell, and almost immediately a housekeeper knocked and entered the room. She was accompanied by the young man from the reception booth on the ground floor.

  ‘Miss Drake is ready to retire, Mrs Wade,’ he said. ‘Please show her to her room. Mr Davies, would you show Sergeant Knollys where he can camp for the night?’

  He took Vanessa gravely by the hand, and bowed briefly over it.

  ‘Good night, missy,’ he said, ‘we shall meet again before the month is out. And once again, well done!’

  ‘I didn’t expect her to remain undetected for more than a few days,’ said Kershaw when Vanessa and Jack Knollys had left the room. ‘It’s particularly difficult to sustain the fiction that you are a trained servant when, in fact, you’re something quite different. She’s a valiant girl…. Franz Kessler is a ruthless foe, and there are some people who think he’s slightly mad. It’s odd, you know, to find someone as German as Kessler – or Gerdler, for that matter – being so deeply involved in one of these Polish conspiracies. Still, we must face the fact that he is so involved, and act accordingly.

  ‘Box,’ Kershaw continued, ‘can you arrange a place of safety for Miss Drake? I don’t want to draw her into one of my secret places: that would be to continue the alarm and anxiety of her situation. It would have to be somewhere where she could stay while you and I are – er – otherwise engaged.’

  ‘I know just the place, sir,’ said Box. ‘I shall take her there first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Excellent. Now, I don’t want to detain Major Blythe much longer, as it’s getting very late. So can we just complete this piece of police business that we were discussing before Miss Drake arrived? Are you sure, Mr Box, that you can arrange the enquiry to take place where Major Blythe’s presence would seem quite natural?’

  ‘I see no problem at all, sir. The enquiry can be held in Albany Street Police Station, which is near Regent’s Park, and the headquarters of “S” Division. Superintendent Harris already knows about it, and has agreed to let Superintendent Keating chair the committee on his patch, as we say. He also knows that Major Blythe is something more than just a member of the Hampstead Watch Committee.’

  ‘Well done, Box. It’s essential that the matter is cleared up immediately, so that any steps that have to be taken can be made by Major Blythe, who has full powers in the matter. You and I can go about our particular business secure in the knowledge that all should be well at Albany Street Police Station.’

  ‘And when all the police business is over, Colonel,’ said Major Blythe, ‘I’ll be able to give my attention to that business of Herr Kessler’s private safe in Prussia House.’

  Major Blythe bade Kershaw and Box goodnight, and quietly left the room. Box saw how he drew himself briefly to attention on the threshold. Whatever else he was, Major Blythe was evidently still a serving officer.

  ‘Now, Box,’ said Kershaw, ‘Grunwalski and his associates left England on Monday, which was the ninth. You and I must set out for Poland on Thursday, the twelfth – just ten days before Project Aquila reaches its climax at Polanska Gory. We will travel by railway up to Scotland, and make our way to Sir Hamish Bull’s house, Craigarvon Tower—’

  ‘Ah! I see, sir!’

  ‘I thought you would, Box. It’s a short walk from there to the Northern Fleet headquarters at Dunnock Sound, where we will step aboard the light cruiser Albion, which is due to make a courtesy visit to the German Baltic Flotilla at Danzig. The Albion will raise anchor and steam out of Dunnock Sound at eight o’clock on Thursday evening. It’s a long haul – seventy-two hours – but it’s the safest way for us to get into Poland undetected. We should drop anchor in Danzig harbour on Sunday evening, the fifteenth of July.’

  ‘Will there just be the two of us, sir?’ asked Box. It was a deliberately naïve question, and Kershaw smiled in recognition of the fact.

  ‘No, Mr Box, there will be others. I’m taking a sergeant-armourer with me, a man called Morrison, and another man, Kolinsky, who is a Polish-speaking military interpreter. The four of us will travel together on HMS Albion. I have a few other people already on the alert in both Germany and the Polish lands of the Russian Empire – people who will be shadowing us, and who will come to our aid immediately if the need arises. I have passable papers for the four of us, though I’m hoping that we won’t need to make use of them. So prepare yourself, Mr Box! On Thursday, we go a-hunting, and our quarry is a gang of madmen who aim to take the life of an emperor, and throw the peace of Europe to the dogs of war.’

  Extract from The Daily Chronicle, Tuesday, 10 July 1894.

  St John’s Wood. Yesterday evening, the ninth inst., an attempted robbery took place at the residence of Baron and Baroness Augustyniak in Cavendish Gardens. It would seem that a female thief, alleged to be one Gertrude Miller, had gained fraudulent access to the house, White Eagle Lodge, by giving herself out to be a trained housemaid. Miller purported to have been on the books of Thompson’s Domestic Agency, in the name of Susan Moore, but the proprietor of that establishment denies all knowledge of any such person.

  Miller was apprehended by Baron Augustyniak himself, as he was entertaining a few friends to drinks in his study. We would commend this gentleman’s prompt and decisive action, and the subsequent actions of PC Williams and Detective Sergeant Knollys in securing the woman, and conveying her to the Bridewell. Miller will appear before one or other of the stipendiary magistrates this morning.

  Superintendent Keating of ‘J’ Division looked gravely at the man sitting before him on an upright chair. He had known him for over thirty years, but now, if the matter was not handled carefully and subtly, he would lo
se not only his pension, but almost certainly his liberty. Keating glanced at the four assessors whom he had chosen to help him judge the case. They sat with him in the upstairs office at Albany Street Police Station, two on either side of him, facing the man in the upright chair. Keating rather self-consciously cleared his throat.

  ‘Detective Inspector Robert Fitzgerald,’ he said, ‘after a long and distinguished career in the Metropolitan Police, you were detected in the instigation and committal of an illegal act, namely, breaking and entering. The officer who arrested you, Police Constable Thomas Philips of “W” Division, Brixton Road, reported the matter to me, and at my instigation delivered you into my custody.’

  Bobby Fitz thought to himself: if I go to gaol, Mother will be sent to the workhouse. If I’m spared gaol, but dismissed in disgrace, I will lose my pension, and I’ll be barred from working as a private detective. But whatever happens, I’ll find something to do.

  ‘I’ve summoned you here today, Fitzgerald, to tell you the decision of this panel concerning your future. On my left, are Chief Superintendent Slessor, and Detective Chief Inspector Langham. On my right is Major Ronald Blythe, of the Hampstead Watch Committee, and Mr Creighton Carr, a stipendiary magistrate. You know none of these gentleman either personally or professionally, which is why I invited them to consider your case, and to advise me as to an appropriate course of action. They have done so, and have communicated their recommendation to me this morning, Thursday, 12 July, 1894. They have seen all the papers in the case, and also written pleas in mitigation from Superintendent Radcliffe of the Home Office, Superintendent Lucas of “W” Division, and Detective Inspector Box, of Scotland Yard, currently based at King James’s Rents, Whitehall Place. Those pleas in mitigation have also been taken into account.’

  Superintendent Keating paused, and began to speak in low tones to the men on his right and left. Bobby Fitz could hear nothing of what they were saying, and the faces of the five men remained inscrutable. Thirty years of dedicated policing, and it had all come to this!

  ‘Detective Inspector Fitzgerald,’ the superintendent continued, ‘it is clear that you cannot remain as a member of the Metropolitan Police, and that you will be barred from joining any other police force in England, Scotland, and the Principality of Wales. However, in consideration of your many years of dedicated service, we have decided not to institute a prosecution against you, but instead, to demand your immediate resignation, on the grounds of ill health. It is understood that you have an aged mother to support, and that the loss of your police pension would have a grave effect upon your wellbeing. That is our decision. You must come up here at once, and sign the letter of resignation that I have written on your behalf.’

  Bobby Fitz rose from his chair. He walked stiffly, as though in a trance, and stood before his superintendent’s table. He glanced briefly at the letter, which said that, on the advice of Doctor E.A. Thompson, police surgeon, he offered his resignation, owing to chronic congestion of the lungs. His hand trembled with relief as he signed the letter.

  The committee rose noisily from their chairs, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the man whom they had judged unfit for public service. All but Superintendent Keating quickly left the room.

  ‘Sir, how can I thank you enough—’

  ‘You damned fool, Bobby,’ Keating interrupted. ‘You went too far, didn’t you? You thought you were impregnable. Well, nobody is. I’ll miss you back in “J” – you’re a good man gone to seed. We’ve all taken risks here today to find a way out for you. Did you know that Inspector Box has volunteered to deal with the press if any inconvenient questions are asked? Well, it’s true. Now, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll see if one of the detective agencies will take me on. It’s something that I could do to earn enough to keep Mother and me.’

  Superintendent Keating gathered up the papers from the table where he had sat.

  ‘Listen, Bobby,’ he said. ‘When I go out of this room, you’ll find that Major Ronald Blythe will come in to see you. He wants to talk to you, and I’d advise you to gather your wits together and listen to him very carefully. That’s all. When all this has blown over, we’ll hope to see you from time to time in Bethnal Green Road.’

  Keating shook hands briefly with his former inspector, turned abruptly to the door, and went out into the corridor.

  Before Bobby Fitz had had time to recover from the enervating interview that had effectively handed him back his life, Major Ronald Blythe came into the room, closing the door behind him. Until that moment, he had been nothing more to Bobby Fitzgerald than the vague shape of a man sitting in judgement upon him behind the table. Now he saw him as he was, a man in his late thirties, fresh-faced and with a military moustache, and shrewd but good-humoured eyes. He was informally dressed in a light tweed hacking jacket and dark trousers.

  Blythe drew two chairs out from a row arranged along one of the walls of the room, and motioned to Bobby Fitz to sit down beside him. There was to be no hint of the tribunal about this meeting.

  ‘Mr Fitzgerald,’ said Blythe, ‘I have read about your exploits, and your use of a group of criminal experts, called by you the “light fantastic boys”. I’ve also heard that you are a very loyal and patriotic man, devoted to Queen and country. Now, I can here and now enlist you into another branch of the public service which owes direct and personal allegiance to Her Majesty, an organization in which a man of your particular abilities would be a valued asset.’

  ‘My particular abilities, sir?’

  ‘Yes. The kind of talent for detection that revealed the existence of the assassin Grunwalski to the security services, and thus averted what could have been an embarrassing incident on Tower Bridge. Not only you, but your boys would have a role to play. Are you interested in my proposition? I would have immediate work for you, if you accept my offer of membership.’ He added, in a more confiding tone, ‘The position is salaried, and totally secure. In all that you do, you have the Queen and the State behind you.’

  ‘I should very much like to join your organization, sir. You’ll find that I’ll not let you down.’

  ‘Very well. You’ll understand that I am only the agent of another. In a few weeks’ time, I’ll take you to meet the head of our organization. Now, listen very carefully while I tell you about the little enterprise in which you will play the major part. Write nothing down, but try to commit everything I tell you to memory. There is a German diplomat who came very recently to England, a man called Franz Kessler….’

  The former Detective Inspector Fitzgerald leaned forward in his chair, and gave his full attention to the man who had just given him back his future.

  11

  From Berlin to Danzig

  IN HIS OFFICE in the house of the Prussian Landtag in the Albrechtstrasse, Count von Donath sat at his desk and stared into vacancy, envisioning his own desired version of the future. In his mind’s eye he saw the great and gracious city of Berlin spread out as in a map, its palaces, its churches, its museums, and its thronging thoroughfares. It was here, in the capital of the Second Reich, that a new world was being fashioned.

  Beyond and around the great city stretched the mighty land of the German Nation, straining at its borders with France and the vast territory of the Austrian Empire. Germany was hemmed in, choking, constrained like a great stallion longing to gallop in open terrain, but champing at the bit, and held in check by a bridle fashioned from the fossilized conventions of diplomacy.

  But in the coming month of July, 1894, and upon the 21st day of the month, an event would occur that would cause the greatest convulsion seen in Europe since the demise of Napoleon….

  ‘Excellency, you are due at the Prussian Chamber of Deputies in half an hour.’

  One of his secretaries had entered the room without his being aware of it. Von Donath pulled himself back into the present long enough to thank the man curtly, and dismiss him. He glanced out of the high window at the buildings of the Prussian Chamber ac
ross the street. It would take him only minutes to get there.

  Above the fireplace hung two portraits, the likenesses of a father and his son. Frederick I, Emperor of Germany, had been a humane and kindly man, modest in peacetime and a lion in war. To many he was known by his second title, Frederick III, King of Prussia, and that was how he, von Donath, thought of him. Frederick had fought in person at Sadowa, Wörth, and Sedan, and he had taken part in the Siege of Paris. He had come to the imperial throne in March, 1888, and was dead of throat cancer by June: King and Emperor for ninety-nine days.

  There was a finely carved ivory chess set on von Donath’s desk. He picked up the black king, examined it thoughtfully, and then placed it carefully back on its square. As in human life, each chess piece had its rank and its ordered place in the scheme of things.

  Next to the portrait of Emperor Frederick was that of the current occupant of the throne, William II. It was he who had dismissed Bismarck, giving the signal to men like von Donath that the old order of things was about to change. Young, and headstrong, he was both loved and revered by the German people and nation.

  All was going well. The Thirty were little more than a rumour to most people. Some members of the Imperial Chancellery regarded it as a fictional bogey, thought up by foreign rivals to create instability in the Reich. Well, let them go on thinking so, until the 21st.

  He had introduced the 2 zloty coins as a kind of identity token at Augustyniak’s instigation. That kind of romantic nonsense appealed to his Polish nature. Well, it was harmless enough. Augustyniak had proved to be a first-rate organizer, although he could have no idea that he was being used for a secret nefarious purpose. When the map of Europe was reshaped, he would receive his just reward.

  Yes, Augustyniak had done well, and so had devoted, deadly Franz Kessler. He had received Kessler’s long telegram from London only the day before. Kessler had minor worries, but then, he was a worrier by nature. He feared that Sir Charles Napier had seen through Augustyniak, and had insinuated a Foreign Office agent into the Baron’s household in the guise of a servant – a housemaid, so Kessler said, and a clumsy one at that. This was highly unlikely: Napier employed couriers to do his bidding. Sending out young girls dressed up as housemaids was hardly his modus operandi.