Missing Person (26 page)

Mr Finch replied that he would not concede that at all. German Intelligence made a mistake when they sent him to England many years ago, for he quickly found he identified more comfortably with the English than with Germans. To begin to feel more English than German was not a betrayal of Germany, it was an accident of nature. Further, he said, if my original file still exists, you will find I recorded my strong opposition to Germany going to war in support of Austria. There was no need for Austria to go to war herself. Serbia had accepted the Austrian ultimatum and its terms.

‘You put that forward as an excuse for playing the traitor?’ The question was a contemptuous denunciation.

‘I did not play the traitor, I remained faithful to my calling and to Germany right up to March, 1918, when I then decided I could no longer represent Germany. I changed sides, yes, but at a time when I could have contributed nothing that would have helped Germany avoid defeat.’ Mr Finch spoke with cool exactitude.

‘Your interpretation is not acceptable. However, modern Germany is prepared to forgive you. You are a man of great experience and accomplishments, and
modern
Germany is a State that has risen from the ashes of defeat and found itself with the potential to become the greatest in the world. Before very long we shall have a new Chancellor, a new leader. It will only be a matter of two or three years.’

‘You are speaking of Adolf Hitler,’ said Mr Finch, his German measured.

‘Our future Fuehrer. Your experience is needed, so is all the information you can give us concerning British Intelligence. You will go to Germany freely in three days time, stay there for a week, during which time you will be interrogated, and then return to become a double agent.’

‘Excuse me?’ said Mr Finch.

‘You will work for British Intelligence in your usual way while acting for Germany.’

Mr Finch said that was impossible and absurd. British Intelligence would be highly suspicous of any agent who vanished for ten days. The second German said he must simply advise his superiors that in a dispirited mood he had left England to return to his native country with the intention of making amends by serving German Intelligence again. However, after only a week he realized he had planted his roots too deeply in England, and another change of heart brought him back again. At least, that was what he would tell his superiors.

Mr Finch said he was inclined to laugh at that because of its absurdity. The senior German said to laugh would cause them intolerable offence. You will go to Germany, in any event, he said. If not freely, then aboard a small German merchant ship at present in London Docks. But when you reach Berlin you will be tried and shot. However, Intelligence, knowing of you and your excellence, would rather you cooperated.

Mr Finch pointed out that by now the British police would be looking for him, that Whitehall would be supervizing the hunt.

They have only three days, said the senior German, the chopper, and that will not be long enough to find you. You were once involved with a lady called Elsie Chivers, a lady who worked for the British Admiralty and helped you with information concerning Lord Kitchener’s sea voyage to Russia. We sank the
Hampshire
, and Lord Kitchener was lost to the British war effort. That put you in high esteem with German Intelligence. Unfortunately, you had previously helped Fraulein Chivers to murder her mother.

Mr Finch said absurdity was having a field day.

‘You think so?’ said the second man.

‘I am certain,’ said Mr Finch.

‘We have seen Fraulein Chivers and interviewed her.’

‘The lady is in a home for patients with mind disorders,’ said Mr Finch.

‘But she has very lucid moments, when truth pours from her lips.’

‘It’s a peculiar kind of truth if it points a finger at me,’ said Mr Finch. He was free to shout if he decided to disregard unspoken threats. But they would smother his mouth immediately, and since he knew where he was, in the heart of Walworth, what good would a single shout do, whoever heard it? Some Walworth people revelled in bawling and shouting, and others got into the habit of taking no notice.

‘I think it could be said you were an accessory after the fact.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Mr Finch.

‘Not at all,’ said the senior man. ‘Fraulein Chivers was acquitted of the murder, but we have enough
information
to give the police food for thought. Enough, I should say, for them to arrest you and get you committed for trial.’

‘More absurdity,’ said Mr Finch.

‘Not as we see it. Further, Herr Strasser, there’s your wife and her family. Would you like us to convey to them the information that you and Fraulein Chivers helped the Germans to drown Lord Kitchener, that you were a German spy throughout the war, and that you were implicated in the murder of Frau Chivers?’

Mr Finch’s mouth tightened.

‘If I agree to work for you as a double agent,’ he said, ‘you have no guarantee I will do that. You can’t force me to give you the kind of information you want. It might very well be the wrong kind, without you realizing it.’

‘Our Intelligence is no more staffed by idiots than the British, Herr Strasser. It would pay you unpleasant dividends if we suspected you of fooling us or double-crossing us. The moment that happened, your wife would receive a detailed account of all that we know about you, and so would the police and your national newspapers.’

Mr Finch sighed.

‘You’re making things very difficult for me,’ he said.

‘But of course. We need you, we need your experience and all that you know of British Intelligence, and if you refuse to cooperate, then regretfully we shall destroy your life here.’

‘It’s a singularly unpleasant form of blackmail,’ said Mr Finch.

‘Ah, well, you know yourself that Intelligence is not the profession of gentlemen.’

‘Do you know where you are?’ asked the second German.

‘Yes, I know,’ said Mr Finch. The room, so like the one that had been his when he lodged with the Adams family, had been used by Elsie Chivers as a place where she used her sewing-machine and kept herself out of the way of her spiteful and embittered mother. He had only been in it once, but that was enough for him to identify it. There was a crack in one of the door panels and another crack in the stone hearth. He knew why these men had brought him here. To remind him of the murder of Elsie’s mother, and to let that reminder weaken his resilience. If possible.

‘An appropriate choice of ours, would you say?’ said the senior man.

‘Childish,’ said Mr Finch, ‘and handcuffs and chains are equally so.’

‘Does he think that witty? asked the second man.

‘No, it’s consistent with his character. He’s not a mouse.’

The door opened and the woman looked in.

‘Does he want some coffee?’ she asked in German.

‘Do you?’ asked the senior man.

‘Thank you, yes,’ said Mr Finch.

‘Coffee for all of us, fraulein, and prepare lunch for one o’clock.’

‘If you say so,’ said the woman, and disappeared.

‘Well, what is your answer, Herr Strasser?’

‘I’m expected to go to Germany to ostensibly redeem myself, and then to change my mind?’ said Mr Finch.

‘It’s expected of you to do what is good for your health.’

‘Then I need time to think,’ said Mr Finch.

The senior man said they’d give him until tomorrow,
and
that it would be as well for him not to misjudge the situation. In the event of a failure to cooperate, information would be laid with his wife and her family to the effect that he was German by birth, that there was a birth certificate to prove it, that he had worked for German Intelligence, with documents and a photograph as further proof, been indirectly responsible for the sinking of the
Hampshire
, and an accessory to the murder of Frau Chivers. The police would also be given information concerning the latter, and that, of course, would make it very uncomfortable for him to remain in England.

‘You’re very thorough,’ said Mr Finch, ‘but thoroughness, of course, is a notable German characteristic. I repeat, I need time to think.’

‘What you mean, my friend,’ said the senior man, ‘is that the British authorities need time to find you. It won’t happen. There’s nothing for them to work on. As you say, we have been very thorough. However, there it is, you have until tomorrow to decide. Note that you will not be left alone, one of us will always be with you. My colleague will sleep this afternoon and keep an eye on you all through the night. We will be rough with you if you cause any trouble. Do you understand?’

‘Perfectly,’ said Mr Finch.

‘He’s a cool character,’ said the second man.

‘That is why the new Germany will need him,’ said the senior man.

Tilly did some shopping in East Street Market, and while there she ran into Cassie and the girls. The girls were each munching an apple.

‘Apples, eh?’ said Tilly. ‘Bought or pinched, Cassie?’

‘Oh, I’ve smacked pinchin’ out of them,’ said
Cassie
, ‘and treated them. They’ve been real little angels this mornin’, except when they tried to open me parrot’s cage and give ’im to me cat. I might ’ave to sell me cat. D’you want to buy ’im for sixpence, Tilly?’

‘Not this week, Cassie,’ smiled Tilly. ‘You’re doin’ a good job lookin’ after Bubbles and Penny-Farvin’.’

‘I’m tryin’ me best,’ said Cassie, ‘even if I do feel a bit worn out by the end of a mornin’.’

‘They need a mother,’ said Tilly.

‘Don’t want our muvver,’ said Penny-Farving, ‘she frows fings.’

‘It’s a shame Mr Rogers is married to a difficult woman,’ said Cassie.

‘I think they’re divorced,’ said Tilly, feeling that was the best thing to say.

‘That’s not very nice for the girls,’ said Cassie, keeping an eye on them as they inspected a heap of cardboard boxes under a stall. ‘And Mr Rogers is such a nice man. I think ’e’d look nice on a horse.’

‘On a horse?’ said Tilly.

‘Yes, ’e’s got a sort of cowboy look,’ said Cassie. ‘Well, I’ll take Bubbles and Penny-Farvin’ back to their home, then see if Mrs ’Arper will let them meet ’er parrot again.’ She pulled the girls out of the cardboard boxes.

‘So long, Cassie,’ said Tilly, ‘and behave yerselves, you gels.’

‘Oh, you lookin’ after them this afternoon?’ asked Cassie.

‘Seems like it,’ said Tilly, keeping to herself her intention to break their father’s leg, whether he had a cowboy look or not.

‘’Ello, what’s all this?’ asked Mrs Harper, having
answered
Cassie’s knock to find the girl had those two noisy brats with her.

‘Oh, how’d you do, Mrs ’Arper,’ said Cassie, ‘I wondered if Bubbles and Penny-Farvin’ could come in and talk to Percy again.’

‘Well, dearie, I’d be pleasured to ’ave you all come in,’ said Mrs Harper, floridly expansive in her neighbourliness, ‘but I’ve got me old man Wally ill in bed, and ’is brother ’ome with ’im, ’aving just got the sack from ’is job. ’E’s talkin’ about us goin’ back to ’Oxton, which ain’t very agreeable, not when Wally and me is settlin’ down nice ’ere. Anyway, ducks, I ain’t able to entertain visitors just now. Some other time, p’raps.’

‘Oh, all right,’ said Cassie, ‘and we ’ope Mr ’Arper’ll soon be better. Oh, I was goin’ to ask if parrots fight when you put two in a cage together.’

‘Yes, course they would,’ said Mrs Harper, ‘there’s only room for one parrot in one cage.’

‘But suppose one was a lady parrot?’ said Cassie.

‘She’d soon kick ’er old man out,’ said Mrs Harper. ‘Well, I must get on, dearie. Toodle-oo for now.’

‘Goodbye,’ said Cassie, and the door closed on her.

‘MUST I?’ASKED
Polly.

‘I’ll hold the fort,’ said Boots.

‘You mean you’ll just sit here in the car,’ said Polly. She had asked three traffic-duty policemen one after the other if they had noticed a wine-coloured Austin Cambridge saloon car yesterday afternoon. None of them could recollect seeing it. Now a fourth officer was visible at a junction. There was a fair amount of traffic in Guildford, including a good percentage of vehicles that were still horse-drawn. These included old-fashioned traps that probably belonged to people from the outlying countryside.

Boots had been driving around side streets, hoping to spot the car while trying to convince himself it was reasonable to assume the people he was looking for had his stepfather somewhere in Guildford. Chinese Lady was very dubious about that. Rosie, a staunch ally of her father, went along with all his assumptions and suggestions. Polly, while high on adrenalin at simply being in company with Boots, felt they were chasing a needle in a haystack.

Boots had passed the junction and pulled up close to the kerb. Polly sighed.

‘All right, I’ll take a turn, I’ll go,’ said Boots.

‘No, I will, let me,’ said Rosie, and was quickly out of the back seat she was sharing with Chinese Lady.

‘Mind how you go, Rosie,’ called Chinese Lady.

Rosie dashed across to the policeman on point duty. She waited until he indicated she could address him.

‘Oh, sorry to bother you, Mister Police Officer,’ she said, giving him the smile of a young lady who’d been waiting all her life to talk to a traffic cop, ‘but did you happen to see a – yes, a wine-coloured Austin saloon car in yesterday’s traffic?’

The policeman, holding up two facing lines of vehicles, while motioning other lines through, cocked a paternal eye at the engagingly attractive schoolgirl.

‘Well, now I come to think of it,’ he said, ‘I noted an over-loaded brown lorry and a Green Line bus, and I’ve got an idea I also saw a dustcart.’

‘Oh, that’s no good,’ said Rosie, ‘my father won’t thank you for that.’

‘I’m ’eart-broken,’ said the bobby. He brought the moving flow of traffic to a halt and released the stationary vehicles. Rosie, on the little island with him, waited just in case he had real information up his sleeve. ‘What’s this partic’lar car done, miss? Robbed your dad’s bank?’

‘Daddy doesn’t have a bank of his own,’ said Rosie, ‘he uses Lloyds.’

‘Well, you can tell him I now recollect some such car as mentioned,’ said the amiable bobby. ‘I recollect it tried to slip through as if it was in a hurry, but I waved it down, made it stop and pointed a reprovin’ finger at it.’ He used a hand to keep the moving traffic on the go. ‘Why’s your dad interested?’