Cold Harbour (24 page)

Craig said, “Hello, Doctor.”

Baum looked up in surprise. His speech was slightly slurred. Obviously the drink had already taken effect. “Major Osbourne. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Craig leaned against the bar and the blonde lady came round the partition with the drinks.

“Ah, Lily, for me? How nice,” Baum said.

“You take it steady, Doctor,” she said and went back in the main bar.

“Jack Carter said he’d give you a ring. Arrange for me to call at the nursing home,” Craig told him. “I promised Genevieve Trevaunce I’d check on her sister.”

Baum ran a hand across his face, frowned and then nodded. “Yes, Captain Carter did phone me.”

“How is the sister?”

“Not too good, Major.” He shook his head and sighed. “Poor Anne-Marie.” He reached for the fresh glass of port. “And Miss Genevieve—have you heard from her yet?”

“Heard from her?” Craig asked.

“From over there. The other side.”

“You know about that then?”

Baum assumed an expression of cunning and put a finger to his nose. “Not much I don’t know. Fast boat, passage by night. She must be a wonderful actress that girl.”

Craig just let it flow, nice and easy. “Lily was telling me your daughter died six months ago.”

Baum nodded, maudlin now, his eyes filling with tears. “My lovely Rachel. A terrible thing.”

“But if she was in Austria, how could you find out?” Craig said gently. “The Red Cross?”

“No,” Baum answered automatically. “It was my own people. The Jewish underground. You know the one? Friends of Israel?”

“Of course,” Craig said.

And then Baum suddenly looked worried. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that I always understood your daughter died before the war when you fled to this country.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” Baum seemed to have sobered up and got to his feet. “I must go. I have work to do.”

“What about Anne-Marie? I’d like to see her.”

“Some other time perhaps. Goodnight, Major.”

Baum went into the bar, Craig followed. Lily said, “He went off like a rocket.”

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?”

“Another one, love?”

“No thanks. What I need is a nice long walk to clear my head. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

He smiled with total charm and went out. One of the air raid wardens come over. “Two pints, Lily. Gawd, did you see that Yank’s medals?”

“He certainly had a chestful.”

“Load of bull,” he said. “Give them away for anything, that lot.”

IT WAS HALF-NINE
when Craig went up the steps to thedoor of the Haston Place flat and rang the bell of the basement flat. “It’s Craig, Jack,” he said into the voice box.

When the door opened, he went in and walked along the
corridor to the basement stairs. Carter was standing at the bottom.

“How did you get on with OSS?”

“They kept me most of the day.”

“Come on.” Carter turned and went into the flat and Craig followed him.

“Drink?” Carter asked.

“No, thanks. I’ll just have a smoke if you don’t mind.” He lit a cigarette. “Thanks for phoning Baum for me.”

“You saw him then?” Carter poured himself a Scotch.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. Not at the nursing home. I found him at the local pub. He’s really pouring the stuff down these days.”

Carter said, “I didn’t know that.”

“It apparently started six months ago when he got word from Friends of Israel that his daughter had died in German hands.”

“Yes, well I think that would be enough to start me drinking.” Carter spoke without thinking.

“Only one thing wrong with all this, of course,” Craig said. “As I understood it, Baum got out of Austria by the skin of his teeth just before the war after the Nazis had killed his daughter. Munro told me that himself one night over a drink at Cold Harbour. I was interested in what went on at the Rosedene Nursing Home having been a patient there myself and then there was Anne-Marie.”

“So?” Carter said calmly.

“Munro told me Baum offered his services to Intelligence. He wanted revenge. They gave him a thorough vetting and decided he wasn’t suitable to use in the field.”

“Yes, I believe that’s true,” Carter said.

“What’s true—what’s false, Jack? Did his daughter die in ’39 or six months ago.”

“Look, Craig, there’s a lot you don’t know about this business.”

“Try me,” Craig said. “No, let me try you. How about this as a possibility. The Nazis hold Baum’s daughter and suggest that if he wants her to continue to exist, he flees to British Intelligence, continuing to work for them or else.”

“You’ve been reading too many spy stories,” Carter told him.

“And then something goes wrong. The girl dies in the camps. Baum’s masters don’t tell him, but the Jewish underground does. Baum, a decent man in the first place, only did what he did for his daughter’s sake and now he really wants revenge.”

“And how would he achieve that?”

“By going to Dougal Munro and confessing all. No question of punishment. He’s too valuable as a double agent.” Carter said nothing and Craig shook his head.

“But there’s more. Anne-Marie and Genevieve. There’s more to it than meets the eye. What is it, Jack?”

Carter sighed, went and opened the door. “My dear Craig, you’re overwrought. You’ve been through too much. Take the ground floor flat. Get yourself a decent night’s sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“You’re a good man, Jack, a decent man. Just like Baum.” Craig shook his head. “But that one upstairs worries me. He really does believe the end justifies the means.”

“Don’t you?” Carter asked.

“No way, because if it does, it makes us just as bad as the people we’re fighting. Night, Jack.”

He went upstairs and Carter immediately picked up the house phone by the door and rang Munro in his flat. “Brigadier, I’d better see you. Craig Osbourne is on to something. The Baum business. Right, I’ll come up.”

The door was slightly ajar. In the darkness of the passage above Craig had heard everything. Now, as Carter ascended the stairs, the American tiptoed to the front door and let himself out quietly.

IT WAS RAINING
hard and just after ten when Craig arrived back at the nursing home in Hampstead. He lurked at the other end of the street for a while under the shelter of sycamore trees, watching the gate. No point in trying that way. It made sense that Baum, frightened, would leave orders that he was not to be admitted.

He tried a lane at one side leading into a small mews of terraced cottages. There was a two-storeyed building at the end that looked like a workshop, an iron staircase going up one side. He went up quietly and stood on the platform at the top. The wall of the nursing home was no more than three feet away. It was ridiculously easy to climb over the rail, step across and drop down into the garden.

He moved cautiously towards the home, avoiding the front door. There were a couple of faint lights upstairs, but the ground floor was in darkness and then, when he moved round to the rear, light showed through a chink in the curtains of a room looking out over the terrace.

He went up the steps to the terrace and peered through the gap in the curtains. Inside was a book-lined study. Baum sat at a table, head in hands, a bottle of Scotch and a glass in front of him. Very gently, Craig tried the handle of the french window, but the catch was down. He thought about it for a moment and then knocked on the window smartly. Baum looked up in surprise.

Trying to sound as English as possible Craig called, “Dr. Baum. It’s the gate guard.”

He stepped back and waited. A moment later the french window opened and Baum peered out. “Johnson. Is that you?”

Craig moved in fast, had a hand round his throat in an instant and pushed him back into the room. Baum’s eyes were starting from his head as Craig ran him across to the chair.

“What is it?” he demanded hoarsely when Craig released him. “Are you crazy?”

“No.” Craig sat on the edge of the table and selected a cigarette. “But I think a few crazy things have been happening around here so it’s question and answer time for you and me.”

“I’ve nothing to say.” Baum quavered. “You’re mad. When the Brigadier hears about this it will mean your commission.”

“Fine,” Craig said. “It’ll leave me free to take up a more honest line of work.” He held up his left hand. “See how crooked they are? The Gestapo did that in Paris. They broke each finger in turn and pulled out the nails with pinchers. They also tried the water torture where they dump you in a bath until you actually drown then they bring you back to life and start again. They booted me in the crotch so much I ended up with a nine-inch rupture.

“My God!” Baum whispered.

“Unfortunately He must have been busy elsewhere at the time. I’m an expert, Baum. I’ve been there. I stopped caring a long time ago.” Craig grabbed Baum by the chin and squeezed painfully. “Genevieve Trevaunce is infinitely more important than you are, it’s as simple as that. I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to make you talk, so why not go easy on yourself and just answer the questions like a good boy.”

Baum was utterly terrified now. “Yes,” he gabbled. “Anything.”

“You didn’t escape from the Nazis. They held your daughter hostage and told you to claim political asylum, pretend she was dead and offer your services to British Intelligence.”

“Yes,” Baum moaned. “It’s true.”

“How did you communicate?”

“I had a contact at the Spanish Embassy. He sent out messages in the diplomatic pouch. Bomb damage, troop movements. That sort of thing. For emergencies there was another agent, a woman who lives in a village in Romney Marsh. She has a radio.”

“And it worked? You got away with it until the Jewish underground told you six months ago that your daughter really was dead?”

“That’s right.” Baum mopped sweat from his face.

“So you went to Munro of your own accord and spilled the beans?”

“Yes.” Baum nodded. “He ordered me to carry on as if nothing had happened. They even left the woman in Romney Marsh in place.”

“Her name?”

“Fitzgerald. Ruth Fitzgerald. She’s a widow. Married to an Irish doctor, but originally a South African. Hates the English.”

Craig stood up and walked to the other side of the table. “And Anne-Marie Trevaunce? What’s the truth there?” Baum looked wildly from side to side and Craig picked up an old-fashioned mahogany ruler from the desk and turned. “The fingers of your right hand for starters, Baum. One at a time. Very inconvenient.”

“For God’s sake, it wasn’t my fault,” Baum said. “I just
gave her the injection. I was doing what Munro told me.”

Craig went very still. “And what injection would that be?”

“A kind of truth drug. A new idea they decided to try on every agent who came in from the field, just in case. You understand. Excellent when it works.”

“And for her it didn’t?” Craig said grimly.

Baum’s voice was almost a whisper. “An unfortunate side effect. The damage to the brain is irreversible. The only good thing is that she could die at any time.”

“Is there more?”

“Yes,” Baum said wildly. “I was ordered to blow the Trevaunce girls’ cover.”

Craig stared at him. “Munro told you to do that?”

“Yes, I passed a message to the Fitzgerald woman at Romney Marsh three nights ago to transmit on the radio, letting them know about Genevieve.” Behind Craig the door opened quietly, but Baum didn’t see. “He wants her caught, Major. I don’t know why, but he wants them to take her.”

“Oh, dear me, what a loose tongue we have,” Dougal Munro said.

Craig turned and found the Brigadier standing there, hands in the pockets of his old cavalry coat. Jack Carter stood beside him, leaning on his stick, a Browning in the other hand.

“You bastard,” Craig said.

“A sacrificial lamb is required occasionally, dear boy. A bad fortune of war that on this occasion it has to be Genevieve Trevaunce.”

“But why?” Craig said. “The Atlantic Wall conference. Rommel. Was it all lies?”

“Not at all, but you don’t really think an amateur like our Genevieve would stand an earthly of getting hold of that information. No, Craig, Overlord is coming soon. D-Day
and deception is the name of the game. It is essential that the Germans think we’re invading where we’re not. Patton is head of a non-existent army in East Anglia whose apparent task will be to invade the Pas de Calais area. Various other little projects will reinforce the suggestion.”

“So?” Craig said.

“And then I had a rather bright thought which was the real reason I sent for Anne-Marie. When Genevieve had to take over, we kept to the same plan. I allowed her to see, by accident, a plan on my desk at Cold Harbour. It was of the Pas de Calais area and it was headed Preliminary Targets—D-Day. The brilliance of that little stroke is that she doesn’t appreciate the importance of that information. It will make it seem all the more genuine when they sweat it out of her which they will. She’ll be all right for the time being, of course. This chap Priem will do nothing yet. Just to see what she gets up to. That’s what I’d do. After all, she’s nowhere to run.”

Craig said, “You intended the same thing with Anne-Marie? You’d have sold her out too?”

Craig’s face was terrible to see. He took a step towards him and Carter raised the Browning. “Stay where you are, Craig.”

Craig said to Munro, “You’d do anything, wouldn’t you? You and the Gestapo have a lot in common.”

“We’ve a war on. Sacrifices are sometimes necessary. You assassinated General Dietrich the other week. You knew before you did it that it would cost innocent lives yet you went ahead. What was the body count? Twenty hostages shot?”

“To save even more lives,” Craig said.

“Exactly, dear boy, so why are we arguing.” Craig stood there, fists clenched and Munro sighed. “Put him in the
cellar, Jack. Lock him up tight and tell Arthur to take extra care. We’ll have words in the morning.”

He turned and went out. Craig said, “How do you like working for him now, Jack?”

Carter’s face was troubled. “Come on, old son, don’t give me any fuss.”

Craig walked ahead of him and down the back stairs to the basement. It was very quiet, no sound from Anne-Marie, but deaf Arthur in his white coat sat on his chair reading a book as if nothing had happened in between.