Touching the Wire (29 page)

Gran’s lips made a taut
line, her eyes bright with tears. She nodded. ‘Did he tell you what happened to
her?’

‘What did happen to her?’
Robin’s voice held a note of impatience. ‘What’s all this about?’

Adam leaned forward. ‘Does
the diary tell us?’

‘Much of it’s in a foreign language...
and I didn’t read it all. Part of me didn’t want to know.’

Mum sighed and went to stand
behind Gran. She put her hands on Gran’s shoulders and bent to kiss her hair.
‘Mum, Dad loved you.’

Gran covered Mum’s right
hand with her own. ‘I know, Jennie.’

Mum’s voice was soft. ‘Dad
said the war had happened to them both. He wouldn’t explain what he meant.’

‘Listen to this.’ She moved
her finger along the row of copperplate, several pages in. ‘
May 15
^th
1944. Prisoners in the Gypsy camp learned they were to be liquidated. SS guards
with machine guns attempted to transport them to the gas chambers but they met
resistance. Armed with home-made weapons the Gypsies defended themselves. Many
were shot
.’

She turned
to another page. The handwriting was hurried, less neat than Grandpa’s usual
hand. ‘
It is dangerous to write but we must bear witness any way we are
able. We keep this book hidden and hope to survive. I have asked Miriam if she
will join us, a link in the chain smuggling packages from the Soviet guerrillas
in the hills to the Sonderkommando. Anything to stop the gassings. She’s
agreed, and she knows it will be death if we are caught but she lives each day
as if it is her last.
’

Grandpa and
Miriam had been part of the resistance… her pulse quickened as she read on.
She turned a couple of pages in a foreign hand and stopped
at Grandpa’s familiar writing. ‘
Today they found explosives in the men’s
camp. They hung a boy who passed a package to Miriam. Everywhere was searched.
We are all suspects. They found nothing in the infirmary but we were decimated.
I have never been so afraid.
’

Robin raised an eyebrow.
‘Decimated?’

Adam sighed. ‘The SS shot
one in ten of them.’

‘Dad was in an infirmary?’
Mum sat on the arm of Gran’s chair with a thump and clutched Gran’s hand.
‘They…
murdered
patients?’

She turned a number of
pages. ‘Oh God… listen…
July 10
^th
1944. They have liquidated the
family camp, the men, women and children from Theresienstadt.
’

‘They gassed the children.’
Mum’s voice was flat. ‘Oh, Dad…’

Gran’s fingers curled around
Mum’s hand. ‘He used to call out in his sleep. Sometimes he woke crying. He
would never talk about his nightmares. It wasn’t until after he died, when I
found the diary, that I realised what caused them. If he’d only talked to me.’

‘Mum, he wouldn’t talk about
it to any of us. How do you share something like this?’

She hardly heard Mum and
Gran, lost in the past. ‘
August 2
^nd
1944. They have liquidated
the gypsy camp. They came for them in the night. They were burned alive in pits
next to the crematorium.
’ She closed the book, trying to shut out the
screams and the stench of burning flesh, and passed it to Adam. ‘I can’t read
this.’

Adam flicked through it
slowly. ‘Most of the later entries are in an Eastern European language I’m not
very familiar with… and different handwriting. Mrs Blundell, may I take this to
a colleague? He may be able to translate it.’

Gran considered for a
moment. ‘Adam, this is a personal diary. It’s private, family… not the
possession of the public. I’m only showing it to you in case it helps
authenticate the documents. They’re different… evidence… they never belonged to
Walt. They belong to the world.’

‘I can depend on Roger not
to divulge anything he reads, if I ask him not to.’

Robin stepped forward. ‘But
why should we trust you?’

Gran smiled thinly. ‘Robin
has a point, Adam. Charlotte, I trust your judgement. If you feel it should be
kept private then Adam must promise to respect that.’

‘I respect Charlotte far too
much to even read the translation without her seeing it first. I promise I’ll
do nothing without her permission.’

Gran’s smile relaxed. ‘You
will take care of it, Adam? It was important to Walt.’

‘I’ll guard it with my
life.’

‘Gran…’ Would this upset her
further? ‘Gran, Adam needs to know how Grandpa came by the documents. We’ve
found a friend of Grandpa’s, Albert Carr. Grandpa may have talked to him about
his time in Poland. He’s involved with the documents, somehow. He’s in Barton
Leys Care Home, near Barton Seagrave.’

‘Albert Carr.’ Gran shook
her head. ‘Doesn’t ring any bells. Mind you, Walt had a lot of mates up the
allotment I never met.’

Robin gripped Adam’s arm.
‘These documents are valuable aren’t they?’

Adam removed Robin’s hand,
his face a mask of calm. ‘Yes, they’re valuable, to the right people. They
could be vital evidence of war crimes. That’s all I’m prepared to say until I
know how Walt came by them.’

‘And you think by seducing
my wife she’ll talk Jane into giving them to you?’

Adam’s grey eyes turned
hard. ‘You think so little of Charlotte?’

Robin’s mouth twisted in a
sneer. ‘They could be worth a fortune. What’s to stop you selling them to a
newspaper, or the highest bidder?’

‘Robin…’ Gran’s voice was stern.
‘I’m quite capable of making a decision about what should happen to the
documents. If they are genuine evidence of the things Walt describes in the
diary, then they must go to the proper authorities. If Charlotte trusts Adam to
advise me about them, then so do I. Now, you two have some talking to do. You
can use my bedroom. You won’t be disturbed.’

Adam squeezed her hand.
‘I’ll be here if you need me, Charlotte.’

She had no intention of
being alone with Robin. ‘I have nothing to say to Robin. I’m sorry, Gran. You
meant well, but he’s a bully and I’m well rid of him.’

‘That’s rich.’ Robin’s voice
was angry. ‘Did she tell you she tricked me into marriage, and then committed
adultery with this jumped-up apology for a man? No, I thought not.’

Adam moved to her defence.
‘That’s enough, Robin.’

‘Enough? You think she’s so
perfect?’

She grabbed Robin’s arm.
‘Robin, please.’

‘What precisely did I bully
you into doing, Charlotte? Come on, why don’t you tell everyone?’

She swallowed: if Adam had
to learn about her sleeping with Robin she didn’t want it to be like this. Gran
was staring at her, her expression shocked. She’d disappointed her, and Mum.
‘Just go, Robin, or I swear I’ll tell your father what you’re really like.’ She
lowered her voice. ‘I could have you charged with assault. You’ll be hearing
from my solicitors.’

Adam took a half step
forward.

‘Leave it, Adam. Robin’s
going.’

Robin spat the words. ‘Nice
to meet you, Adam. You’re welcome to the lying, cheating cow. Don’t say I
didn’t warn you.’

Adam drew himself up. ‘You
won’t bully her again. Now, why don’t you do as Charlotte asks, and go?’

‘I still haven’t finished
with you, Charlotte.’ Robin swung round and slammed his fist into Adam’s jaw,
hurling him back onto the settee.

She jabbed her hands into Robin’s
chest, pushing him away. Adam put himself between them. ‘If you want a fight,
Robin, why don’t we take it outside?’

‘Adam, no… are you hurt?’

He rubbed his jaw. ‘I’m
okay.’

 She turned on Robin.
‘Get out. I never want to see you again.’

‘Don’t think you’ll walk
away from this unscathed.’ He spun on his heel. The front door crashed shut
behind him leaving only the threat to linger.

‘Gran, Mum… I’m sorry.’

Mum stepped to her aid.
‘Robin never appreciated you, love.’

Gran looked flustered. ‘I
don’t understand what’s happened between you two, but I’m sorry I interfered,
Charlotte. I should know better at my age.’

‘It’s not your fault, Gran.
Robin hit me, too. It’s why I left him.’ She squeezed Adam’s hand. ‘You sure
you’re okay?’

He waggled his jaw from side
to side and winced. ‘No real harm done. Now, what about this lunch? I’m
starving.’

She smiled in gratitude at
the change of subject. ‘Can I do anything to help, Mum?’ She looked back to see
Adam and Gran huddled over the diary.

Mum opened the fridge door.
‘Adultery, Charlotte?’

‘Don’t judge me, Mum,
please. I’m not proud of myself.’

Mum turned and hugged her.
‘I just want you to be happy, love. If Robin was a mistake… Well, anyway… Adam
seems like a good man.’

She hugged Mum back, unable
to speak.

The double doors of Barton Leys opened onto a
heat wave of disinfectant and something less savoury. Charlotte approached a
uniformed nurse: her name badge read
Sister Thompson
. ‘We’ve come to
visit Mr Carr.’

Sister Thompson smiled.
‘I’ll show you the way. You’re not related to Albert?’

‘He was a friend of my
grandfather.’

‘Ah, that’s nice. He’s
almost a hundred. He’s been here longer than most of the staff. He doesn’t get
visitors so he’ll be pleased to see you, but I should warn you he doesn’t
always know who he is.’

A wizened little man with a
shock of white hair, his bony arms protruding from a short-sleeved shirt, dozed
in a chair.

Sister shook his arm.
‘Albert… Albert, you have visitors.’

He opened his eyes and fixed
them with a hawk-like stare. ‘Who are you?’ His voice was thin and reedy.

‘I’m Charlotte Cummings.’
She spoke clearly, in case he was deaf. ‘I’m Walt Blundell’s granddaughter.’

The hawk eyes shot wide
open. He recovered slowly and shrank into his chair. ‘Cummings? Who is this?’

‘This is Adam… a friend.’

‘How come your name’s
Cummings? You should be Masters, shouldn’t you? What was his name? Vince,
wasn’t it?’

Robin had dragged her mind
back to being a Cummings. ‘You knew my father?’

He produced a handkerchief
from his pocket and wiped a watering eye. He patted the chair beside him. His
hand shook. ‘Yes… I knew your father, and your mother, though I haven’t seen
her for many, many years. Is she well?’

‘Yes, she’s very well, thank
you.’ She perched on the edge of the chair, uncomfortably aware of the damp
patch. ‘She and Gran have just moved to a bungalow. Gran couldn’t manage the
stairs anymore.’

‘Jane… she’s still alive?’

‘Yes. She’s almost ninety
and as fit as a fiddle.’

He rubbed a palm slowly
across his chest. ‘Ninety… yes, I suppose she must be.’

‘How did you know Gran and
Grandpa?’

A bony hand reached out and
held hers. ‘You don’t remember me, do you, Charlotte?’ He paused, his eyes
seeming to focus on something long ago and far away.  He shook his head.
‘I remember you when you were so little a puff of wind would have blown you
away like a dandelion clock.’

‘You do? I’m sorry. I was
only eleven when Grandpa died. I don’t remember his friends, except Ted.’

‘I moved away… but Kettering
was always home… Ted, now. Is he still alive?’

‘He died about eight years
ago. Ted would have drowned but for Grandpa.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

Adam’s quiet voice
interrupted the far-away stare. ‘We’re here about some papers we’ve found.’

‘Papers? What papers?’

‘Some carvings Walt made led
us to a safety-deposit box in Newcastle.’

The old man blanched and
pressed a hand against his chest. ‘No…’

‘I’ve read the papers,
Albert.’ Adam’s voice was even. ‘I know what they are.’

He’d told her he still
wasn’t sure of the facts. What wasn’t he telling her? ‘We know who Hans
Wolfgang Schmitt is, Albert. I swore an oath to expose the truth Grandpa wanted
known. I think he meant the truth about Schmitt.’

The ancient voice cracked,
tremulous. ‘Jane, Jennie…’

 Adam sat on the chair
next to her and leaned closer. ‘I understand the possible media attention,
Albert.’

‘Adam?’ She glanced at him
but he ignored her.

‘We need to know how you
came by the papers and how Walt was involved. I have to be certain they’re
authentic. We can hand them over to the authorities anonymously if need be.’

The creased face relaxed
slightly. ‘You must promise to protect Walt’s family.’

‘We promise.’ She smiled.
‘After all, we are Walt’s family.’

‘Ah, yes, of course you are.
You had a sister…’

‘Lucy. She has five children
now. Twins run in the family it seems.’

‘Twins…’ His voice faltered.
‘Little Lucy. And you? How many do you have?’

‘None.’

‘You’re still young.’

She looked at her hands.
‘Where did you get the documents, Albert?’

‘Walt and I were in a German
concentration camp, in Poland.’ His blue eyes misted over with pain and his
voice creaked. ‘If you’ve read the documents you know which one. We survived,
which is more than most did… starvation, disease.’

‘It must have been a terrible
experience.’

He raised an eyebrow as if
questioning their understanding of the word terrible. ‘They said, when the
Soviet forces liberated the survivors, some prisoners died of joy. Their hearts
couldn’t stand it. To survive so much…’

Adam nodded. ‘You weren’t
there at liberation?’

He appeared not to hear.
‘There were men and women so thin if they’d taken their coats off they wouldn’t
have cast a shadow. And the children…’ He shook his head, his lips making a
taut line of denial.

She put a hand on his arm,
puzzled. ‘But you weren’t there when the Soviets came?’

‘All but the sick were
evacuated before liberation. Walt and I met up on the road, a few days later.’

‘You survived the March of
Death?’

‘Walt escaped from it. I’d
run from Buna-Monowitz when they evacuated.’

Adam raised both eyebrows.
‘You risked being shot.’

‘Many were. It was a chaotic
time. Walt carried that old tin box all the way.’

‘The box containing the
documents?’ Adam pressed.

‘Yes.’

‘Where did he get them?’

‘Walt did a bit of liberating
of his own. Got hold of a bundle of papers that had been stacked ready for
destruction. Just sitting there for the taking, he said. If they’d known what
he’d taken… ’

Adam nodded again. She sat
silent
,,
waiting for the old man to get his breath
back. He didn’t need her asking questions, as well as Adam.

Albert’s hand made a
horizontal arc as if describing a vast distance. His voice quavered. ‘It took
us months to reach the coast.’

Adam’s face was sombre.
‘I’ve read it took some prisoners a year to get home.’

‘And thousands didn’t make
it at all.’ Albert sighed. ‘We made… detours… took ship at Gdansk. Jumped
ashore at Copenhagen. Got work on a cargo ship bound for Newcastle. Hitler had
pounded the city with bombs… the shipyards, everything… a real mess.’

She fetched him a glass of
water from the small bar in the corner and waited patiently for him to resume
his tale.

‘Thank you.’ He sipped the
water shakily, and cleared his throat. ‘We managed to find beds in a seamen’s
mission.’ He paused, appearing lost in thought.

‘Go on,’ Adam said after a
silence.

‘Walt told me what was in
the box. He was sick, so I took it to the bank for safekeeping. It wasn’t safe
to produce the documents at that time. We could have incriminated a lot of
Nazis but they had powerful friends in England and a network set up to help
them.’ He glanced around as if German spies lurked behind every chair. ‘They
survive still, in this country, living ordinary lives.’

She couldn’t help putting
voice to a question. ‘Why is it good men like Grandpa die and the evil
survive?’

Carr’s face relaxed into
sorrowful folds. ‘While there are people who allow themselves to be victims
there will be those who persecute them. A simplistic view but…’ He avoided her
stare and took another sip of water. His voice cracked. ‘Yes, good men died. We
were yellow-bellied cowards, scared to death. Irene, my wife, lived in
Kettering, so we headed here. Walt even changed his name to throw the Nazis off
our scent. I could hardly change mine and come home. Walt met Jane and, for the
safety of our families, the papers stayed hidden… until now.’

‘Grandpa changed his name?’

‘It wasn’t hard to get a
copy of a birth certificate in those days, or a ration book on the black market.
Someone who’d been born around the same time and died young.’

‘What was Grandpa’s name,
before
…’

His mouth formed an angry
slit that spat words. ‘Prisoners were numbers… not names. Mine is tattooed on
my soul: two, zero, two, five, zero, zero.’ His jaw worked before he broke the
moment of silence. ‘I only knew him as Chuck, then. What are you going to do
with the papers?’

‘I swore an oath.’

The old man closed his eyes
and she got up, ready to leave: she’d tired him. His eyes shot open. ‘Candles…
It’s a thingamabob… when the letters stand for something.’

‘An acronym?’ Adam
suggested.

‘Yes, an acronym. It was the
children who suffered the worst atrocities… the survivors should have the gold.
They’ll do what’s right.’

Adam nodded, his brow
creased. She still didn’t understand but now wasn’t the time for long
explanations.

‘Will you come and see me
again?’ The old man’s eyes shone. ‘Bring little Lucy?’

‘I hope so, Albert. It’s
good to find someone who knew Grandpa.’ On impulse she bent and kissed his cheek.
He tasted of salt. She wiped away a tear of her own.

‘Remember, bring Lucy.’

As they drove away she
realised she hadn’t asked Albert about Miriam. She would come again with Lucy,
and show him the diary and photographs. She glanced at Adam, who was deep in
his own thoughts. ‘Tell me, how does all this tie in with what we know about
Hans Wolfgang Schmitt?’

‘Schmitt has been hunted by
the Israelis and the U.S. Department of Justice for seventy years. If these
documents had been presented at the Nuremberg trials they’d have looked harder
for Schmitt and Mengele.’

‘Mengele, the Angel of
Death… Wasn’t his trial re-opened some years ago?’

‘Several investigations are
still ongoing.  Hans Muench was declared unfit to stand trial quite
recently. Alzheimer’s.’

‘Convenient.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Who was this Muench?’

‘An accomplice of Mengele…
totally unrepentant. He boasted he could conduct medical experiments on
internees that one could usually only conduct on rabbits.’

‘How can people do such
things?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Albert said there are war
criminals living in Britain. How have they got away undetected?’

‘Our government abandoned
the attempt to bring them to justice. Most have died of old age or are too sick
to be tried now, anyway.’

‘Is that any excuse? Grandpa
had nightmares for
years
.’ She’d pulled the bedclothes over her head to
shut out the whimpers and muffled screams.

‘Nazi-hunting is still a
popular sport.’

‘Sport!’

‘Sorry, poor choice of
words. There are those who will never stop looking.’ He drummed his fingers on
the steering wheel. ‘There’s something bothering me about Albert’s story, but
I’m damned if I know what.’

‘Sister did say he was
confused. He’s probably embroidered the truth over the years.’

‘Could be.’

‘What did Albert mean about
candles? Why should we give away the gold?’

‘Candles stands for Children
of Auschwitz Nazi Deadly Lab Experiment Survivors.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I found
the site on the internet while researching what was in the box. A group of
survivors founded a holocaust museum in Terre Haute, Indiana. The records, the
documents Albert and Walt brought into Britain, are records of experiments
performed on the children they called Mengele’s children.’

A tremble began deep inside
her: was this the wolf Grandpa had by the ears? ‘Mengele was a geneticist. He
used twins for experiments… something to do with creating a master race.
Schmitt was one of his assistants.’

 Adam nodded. ‘It was
thought the evidence was destroyed. As far as I can discover, no
contemporaneous records have ever been found, until now. There were people who
would have killed to keep these secret. And Robin’s right, there are people who
would pay a fortune for it now.’

‘And these are the documents
we have? You’re absolutely sure?

‘Yes. They give the names of
the Nazi doctors who conducted the experiments. As you say, Doctor Hans
Wolfgang Schmitt was one of Mengele’s assistants.’

‘Mengele was at Auschwitz.’

‘He was in charge of the
medical facility.’

‘And sent hundreds of
thousands to the gas chambers. So, Grandpa was at Auschwitz…’

Adam nodded. ‘The gold…’ He
stared straight ahead as if mesmerised by the white line. ‘When the adults
deemed
useless mouths
had been gassed, and before they were cremated,
their rings and precious jewellery were removed.’

‘I’ve read that.’