Where Death and Danger Go Read online

  Was it possible that an inquisitive boy with a liking for cigarettes was the only person who had witnessed Smith and the dark-haired man together? Clement sat upright in his seat. If Smith ever learnt that he and Morris were investigating him, the boy could be in danger.

  Three hours later Clement stepped from the train and hurried to the taxi rank outside King’s Cross Station. Opening the door, he got in and the cab entered the bustling streets around the large station. From what Clement could see, little had changed in the nation’s capital during the last few months. Sandbags were still stacked around doorways and windows were boarded up. Damaged buildings, rubble and debris were everywhere.

  He alighted at the corner of Whitehall Place. Crossing the road, he strode towards the large elaborate portico and went inside. Hurrying up the stairs, he walked along the corridor to Johnny’s office. The door was open but Miss Ballantyne was not at her desk. Clement knocked and a familiar voice responded.

  ‘Come in!’

  Clement pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  ‘Clement! What a surprise! Good to see you. What brings you to London?’

  Though it couldn’t have been more than four months since they had last met, his old friend Captain Johnny Winthorpe looked tired and his hair was decidedly greyer. Clement sat in the chair in front of Johnny’s desk and told him what had happened in Cambridgeshire.

  Johnny leaned back in his plush leather chair. ‘I’ve read the report on your visit to Corporal Hughes. But the recent developments are concerning.’

  Outside, Clement heard the click-clack of high heels on the tiles.

  ‘Would you come in please, Miss Ballantyne?’ Johnny called through the open door.

  Nora entered and closing the door behind her, flashed a smile at Clement.

  ‘Major Wisdom has some requests,’ Johnny said.

  ‘Three things, if you please, Miss Ballantyne,’ Clement began. ‘Could you make enquiries about unusual radio traffic in Cambridgeshire on the night of the thirty-first of January possibly early morning on the first of February this year? Also, would you please telephone Superintendent Morris of Cambridge Police and ask him to arrange for a boy who attends The Abbey School, Michael Hasluck to be sent home for the remainder of the term. Morris will know what it’s about. And thirdly, could you also ask Superintendent Morris to check the locations of all public telephone boxes in Ramsey especially any on the road out of Ramsey travelling east or near to the ruined gatehouse.’

  Nora made some notes then turned to leave.

  ‘What are your suspicions, Clement?’ Johnny asked.

  ‘It is possible that Jakobs was a decoy.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘I think two people jumped from that aeroplane: Jakobs and another. And I think the man who was murdered was the contact, not the jumper. Whoever this second jumper is, his identity has been safeguarded from all but a select few. He is important, Johnny. Important enough that the contact who could recognise him has been murdered.’

  ‘I understand you’re meeting Jakobs this afternoon.’

  Clement nodded.

  ‘Have you any hard proof about your suspicions?’

  ‘Not yet. What I don’t understand is why, if Smith was involved in the murder of that man, would he return to Ramsey and risk being seen, especially with a high profile passenger? Could it be that disposing of the suitcase in such a manner was a signal of some kind?’

  Johnny frowned as though deep in thought. ‘Perhaps. Your theory about Jakobs being a decoy is interesting. As is your theory about the car. I agree it would be stupidity to use such a memorable vehicle. So, either he wanted to be seen by someone or our Mr Smith has an enormous ego and the bravado to match.’ Johnny leaned back. ‘More often than not, there is a simple explanation for things. It could be that the passenger, this man with the dark hair, was tired and just wanted to get to wherever they were going. And as to the use of such a vehicle, if the dark-haired man was unknown to Smith, the car may have been his way of verifying his contact once the man sent to meet him was dead. I feel it is more likely that our Mr Smith is overly confident. Why else would he engage in conversation with the boy and toss him a packet of cigarettes? We have a pretty good success rate with capturing enemy spies. He won’t evade capture for long. Well done, Clement.’

  ‘There is something else.’ Clement took a deep breath. Even thinking about what had happened in Scotland four months ago made him shiver. ‘Do you remember earlier this year another man with Nazi leanings was hanged at Wandsworth?’

  Johnny frowned.

  ‘You told me then that when his body was being prepared for burial, a tattoo was found under his right arm. Did anyone photograph it?’

  ‘No need. We knew what it was. The emblem for the Hitler Youth movement. Why?’

  ‘The body in the mortuary in Cambridge has a burn mark under his upper right arm. Morris thinks it was deliberately done.’

  ‘To remove something, you mean?’

  Clement nodded.

  ‘Dear Lord! That could imply a network.’

  ‘One with a Scottish connection, Johnny.’

  ‘How sure are you about this?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Have you told anyone else your suspicions?’

  Clement shook his head.

  ‘I’ll requisition the trial transcripts and see if there’s anything there that could shed any light on a possible network. I think it unlikely, but it’s worth a look.’ Johnny pressed the button on his desk to summon Miss Ballantyne. The door opened within seconds.

  ‘Nora, please obtain the transcripts for the trial you attended on our behalf earlier this year?’

  Nora beamed her ever efficient smile. ‘I’ve already heard back from Station X concerning the radio transmissions. On the night of January thirty-first this year, two encrypted messages were overheard in quick succession at twenty-one hundred hours. The following morning at exactly five o’clock another two messages were picked up. All four messages were brief. Unfortunately as all were encrypted, and our friends in Buckinghamshire haven’t yet broken that code, we don’t know the content.’

  Chapter 7

  It was raining when Clement left Whitehall and walked to Waterloo Station. He took a train to Richmond, then a bus to Richmond Park. Both trips had been arduous and with the overcrowding, he’d had to stand for much of both journeys between people with wet umbrellas. By the time he alighted from the bus it was after two o’clock but at least it was no longer raining. He walked into the park, then took the path that led south. In the distance he could see the old Victorian building that was his destination. Surrounded by a solid wall, Latchmere House was where MI5 interrogated enemy agents and he wasn’t looking forward to what he may find there.

  He showed his pass to a guard at the gate and was then escorted to the main entrance.

  ‘Good afternoon. My name is Major Wisdom and I’m here to see Josef Jakobs,’ Clement said to a sergeant at the front door.

  The sergeant checked Clement’s name on the manifest then handed him a stamped card. Standing, the soldier pointed to a long, darkened corridor to the side of the entry. ‘Down there, sir. At the end you’ll find a door. Just knock and show the pass to the corporal there.’

  Clement took the card. Following the sergeant’s instruction, Clement walked along an elaborately panelled hall with old parquetry flooring. At the end he knocked and the corporal opened the door.

  ‘Are you carrying any weapons, Major?’ the corporal asked.

  Clement reached down and unbuckled the scabbard that held his knife. Removing his coat, he unfastened the Welrod from its holster around his chest and handed both to the corporal.

  ‘Please remember to collect them on leaving, sir. This way.’

  Clement followed the man down a flight of stairs to a basement corridor. Every door was closed. Unlocking one on the right, the corporal ushered Clement in. In the centre of the room was a table and three chai
rs grouped around it. The walls had been painted grey and other than the few items of furniture and a tiny window with bars and frosted glass at ground level, the room was empty.

  ‘Just wait here. The prisoner will be brought down to you.’

  The door slammed shut.

  Sitting, Clement breathed in the stale air. The room was cold and bleak. The small window provided the only natural light and no view of the outside world was visible. Ten minutes later he heard the door being opened and a tall man accompanied by a guard entered the room.

  Clement stood and held the man’s gaze. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected but before him was a man with a narrow face, a long nose and intense, deep-set eyes, a dimpled chin and a full head of hair. Clement thought Jakobs had a proud face and was not unhandsome.

  Jakobs waited while the guard locked the door, his intense gaze fastened on Clement.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ Clement said. ‘Do you understand English?’

  ‘Some. I don’t need a priest.’

  ‘Of course, but I’m not here to see you in that capacity. I would like to ask you some questions about the night you landed in England,’ Clement said, gesturing towards a chair.

  Jakobs sat in the chair with his back to the window. Pushing the chair away from the table, he then crossed his legs.

  Clement sat opposite. ‘You parachuted from a Heinkel 111 bomber aeroplane, I understand?’

  Jakobs nodded.

  ‘And you broke your ankle on landing.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘No?’

  ‘The hatch from the Heinkel is small. I caught my foot on something as I jumped out. Landing made it worse.’

  ‘Did anyone else jump from the aeroplane with you that night?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  Jakobs frowned. ‘No one else jumped.’

  ‘Other than the pilot and crew were you alone in the aeroplane?’

  Jakobs’s eyes shifted to the guard then back to Clement. He paused before answering. ‘There was a man with me. He did not jump.’

  ‘Why was he there, if he didn’t jump with you?’

  ‘To make sure I did.’

  ‘Do you know his name?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’

  ‘Enough. No more questions,’ Jakobs said, standing and sounding alarmed.

  Clement stood then made to leave. The guard held the key to the door and went to insert it in the lock.

  Clement paused and turned to face Jakobs. ‘Is your foot better now?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jakobs paused. ‘Thank you.’

  The barrel in the cell door lock rotated. ‘Why did you come?’ Clement said, genuinely concerned.

  ‘To check on the weather.’

  ‘So your mission was to check on British weather? Was there another reason?’

  ‘I have answered your questions,’ Jakobs said, looking at the guard. ‘No more questions now.’

  ‘Are you sure the other man in the aeroplane didn’t jump after you?’ Clement persisted, his gaze firmly on Jakobs.

  Jakobs sighed. ‘I have already told you, he was there to make sure I jumped. If he did, then I know nothing about it.’

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘I have nothing more to say. I leave now,’ Jakobs said to the guard. The guard opened the door and escorted Jakobs out of the room.

  Clement left the basement corridor and collecting his weapons from the corporal, returned to the sergeant on duty at the main entrance. Jakobs’s answer to his last question troubled Clement. He believed that Jakobs may have known the identity of the man on the aeroplane but wouldn’t say. Clement wanted to know why. ‘Could I see Colonel Stephens, please, Sergeant?’

  ‘I’ll see if the commandant is available, sir.’

  Twenty minutes later Clement sat in Colonel Stephens’s office on the first floor. ‘Thank you for allowing me to see Jakobs and for seeing me at such short notice.’

  ‘I can hardly refuse a directive from Sir Stewart Menzies, Major. Did you find out what you wanted?’

  ‘Not fully, thank you, Colonel,’ Clement said. ‘However, I have learned that there was another man on board the Heinkel the night Jakobs jumped. Jakobs has denied knowing this man’s identity but I’m not convinced. I’m wondering if he’s told you?’

  Stephens leaned back in his chair. ‘He did inform us of another man on board that night. It isn’t unusual for the Abwehr to send people with their agents. Just to make sure they do jump. It may surprise you to learn, Major, that Jakobs had never parachuted prior to his jump that night.’

  ‘What, no training?’

  ‘None at all. Surprising, isn’t it. You think he knew this other man?’

  ‘Not personally perhaps but he may have known his identity. Why did Jakobs come to England?’

  ‘In a word, weather. Reports for the Luftwaffe and information about our airfields.

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘Yes. While you may think this isn’t reason enough for a man to risk his life, daily reports about the weather, especially near bomber airfields, are highly prized by the Luftwaffe.’

  ‘Did Jakobs have someone detailed to meet him on landing, do you know, Colonel?’

  Stephens swallowed. He looked at the window before answering, his lips pursing. ‘I’ve been informed of your Top Secret security clearance, Major so I will answer your question. But I need to remind you that what you are about to hear is strictly top secret.’ Stephens stood and wandered over to the window and stared out. Clement could see Stephens’s apprehension. He waited.

  ‘The answer to your questions is, yes, and we knew who. A man who has been working for both us and the Abwehr.

  ‘A double agent?’

  ‘Yes. Snow, as he is called, has been giving the Abwehr fake identities including fake ration cards for some time now. The Germans give them to their agents who land in Britain. We have a list of these names and identities so it’s quite easy for us to pick them up. We would have captured Jakobs easily enough anyway through Snow, even if he hadn’t broken his ankle.’

  ‘Did Snow go to meet Jakobs?’

  ‘Yes. He said he’d intended to be there earlier but he was delayed. When he saw the Home Guard and police in attendance, he left the area.’

  ‘Could this Snow have been there to meet someone else besides Jakobs?’

  ‘Who, exactly?’

  ‘The Abwehr man on the Heinkel. I believe he jumped after Jakobs.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘The body of a man has been found in an adjacent field to where Jakobs landed. It’s possible he is either this Abwehr man or someone who came to meet him. I am, however, almost sure Jakobs knows nothing about it.’

  ‘It’s possible Snow knew about him. I’ll make some enquiries and have another chat with Jakobs.’

  ‘He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with me but perhaps he will be with you.’ Clement paused. ‘I did believe Jakobs, Colonel, when he said the other man didn’t jump. It could be that only now Jakobs is having doubts about it. It’s also possible that Jakobs recognised this Abwehr man but is too afraid to say anything.’

  ‘I’ll let you know once I’ve spoken to him. Jakobs has been quite helpful to us, you know. He assisted us in getting another enemy spy to talk. That man, Karel Richter, who Jakobs knew in Germany, came to England a few days ago. Along with the usual spying paraphernalia found in his possession were a few Dutch notes and coins, five hundred and fifty-one pounds ten shillings and fourteen hundred American dollars.’

  Clement’s eyebrows rose involuntarily. ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘Not so much why, Major, as who. Last September we caught another German spy and he was given a choice; either work for us, or face the hangman’s noose. He’s been working for us for a while now. The money was for him. Richter knew him from Hamburg. As far as the Germans are concerned, this man is one of their most valuable assets and in their o
pinion, remains loyal to the Führer.

  ‘Why would he need it, especially the American dollars?’

  ‘Spying is an expensive business, Major, and Tate, has expensive tastes. He is a good spy, Major. One we wouldn’t want to lose. It could well be that the Germans intend for him to visit our cousins across the pond at some time.’

  ‘Do you know where he is currently?’

  ‘He’s in London.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Why do you ask, Major?’

  ‘There is a man in Cambridgeshire with expensive habits who we’re very interested to speak to.’

  ‘Not the same man, Major.’

  ‘Can you describe this Tate for me, Colonel, just to be sure.’

  ‘I can show you a photo, if that would convince you.’ Stephens went to a drawer and removed a file, taking a small photograph from it. The photo showed a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and smoking a cigarette. He had a thin, delicate appearance, almost effete with flowing brown hair swept over his forehead.

  ‘Is this your man?’ Stephens asked.

  Clement studied the photo. The man pictured wasn’t smiling so his teeth were not visible. But the hollowness of the man’s cheeks and the small jaw didn’t fit with the boy’s description. Besides, this man wore glasses and young Hasluck, Clement believed, would have mentioned that. ‘No. Thank you, Colonel…’ Clement paused. ‘Would it be possible for you to speak with Jakobs soon? It would be most helpful to know the identity of the Abwehr man on board the Heinkel.’

  Stephens nodded. ‘Where can I reach you?’

  ‘Cambridge Police Station.’

  When Clement left Latchmere House it was nearly five o’clock. The trains from Richmond into London had been delayed and it was late evening when he boarded the train for Cambridge. He had considered staying in London overnight but the crowds, the congestion of the capital and the threat of bombing raids had convinced him to leave.

  As the train rattled north, he glanced around his fellow passengers. Most were airmen returning from leave. They laughed loudly and smoked heavily. But the others, the civilians, sat mute or spoke in whispers. Clement studied their faces. There was a vacancy in their expressions, a sense of almost palpable resignation to events around them. Clement knew the war wasn’t going well for the allies. It bred a mood of helplessness, even hopelessness, perhaps even defeat. The bombing had been relentless although, since the tenth when the bombing in London had been most severe, the raids appeared to have abated. Clement pondered the date; the tenth of May. A year to the day since Churchill had become Prime Minister and, more recently there had been another extraordinary event he’d read about in the newspapers. Rudolf Hess, the Deputy Führer had landed in a field in Scotland. Why had Hess done that? Clement pushed it from his mind. He had enough to think about without speculating on why the Deputy Führer flew to Scotland.