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The Report A novella by Tim Diggles


This novella takes forward ideas in the novel “The Man in The High Castle “ by Philip K Dick

Visit Tim Diggles’ blog at http://timdiggles.wordpress.com/ The Report © 2013 by Tim Diggles. All rights reserved. Cover designed by Tim Diggles The Report is a work of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organisations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination. Previously published as The Report on Amazon Kindle in February 2013. This edition: October 2013


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The Report Wednesday 11:07 Clark pressed a well-worn pale blue intercom button. “Miss Podolski!” he barked into the machine. A tall young blonde woman entered and made the long walk towards his desk. She carried a shorthand notebook and pencils, she stood militarily in front of his desk. Clarks’ desk was neatly piled with files and printouts and he was busy marking pages and sifting papers taking no notice of Juliana Podolski. He looked up at her. “Fraulein Podolski, I have the Annual Report to complete. I need you to take down information accurately from my dictation. You can do this?” Podolski affirmed and sat down, preparing herself. She adjusted her ice white blouse, smoothed her grey skirt. She had been seconded to Clark because of her excellent results at the Munich College; it was expected she would eventually be placed at one of the vast 1


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Ministries in Berlin. Clark lifted his head and concentrated on Podolski, “I have to stress that the figures have to be accurate; Masterton will be checking them before the report goes forward…” Masterton was number two to Clark in the Northern Regional Department of Racial Purity, Great Britain. Clark continued, “…be aware that this document is highly secret; you will see and hear information that is considerably above your grade, you do not discuss this with anyone, even in this building, do you understand?” Podolski said she did. Clark handed Podolski a file in which had outlined in red some figures on printouts. “I want you to use these to highlight the information I have marked, they need to be made presentable and in a form even the District Leaders will understand”, Clark chuckled to himself, “I have seen your skills interpreting data, it is now time to use them seriously. You have computer skills which I don’t possess”, then sitting back in his chair he proudly stated, “…we are successful here Fraulein Podolski and I want to make sure they fully understand that.” Podolski nodded, took a quick look at the mass of figures and placed them in a box-file. Clark sat back in his huge leather chair; it was raised up so anyone in Podolski’s position had to look up to him. She got ready to write as she could sense he was about to begin. “2013 is the sixtieth anniversary since the glorious union of Britain to the Greater Reich…” he went on to outline the success of the Department, explained some figures and cross referenced them to graphs and diagrams. Clark with relish went into considerable detail about 2


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how the only ‘Jews and Blacks’ in his region were those who were sterilised and working in the State Brothels alongside convicted criminals. He noted some instances of incursions through illegal brothels and from the industrial zones, he believed these were under control and listed successful criminal convictions to prove his point. He then covered the ongoing success of the ruralisation programme, and how his department were meeting population targets well within the set limits. “Read that back to me Podolski.” As Juliana read aloud, Clark sought more blue covered files on his desk. As soon as she finished Clark continued dictating at a rate Juliana could only just keep up with. “The issue of infestation from the Industrial Zones is one we have to be aware of at all times and an overall plan for the whole of the Great British islands is required…” he continued with his suggestions for an agenda for a meeting of all Department Heads in Britain. After a short silence when Clark studied more files, he dealt with the Infant Sterilisation Programme for non-Aryan births. Then the past year’s figures for the Community Health Protection Termination Unit, which dealt with babies with physical and mental ‘abnormalities’, Clark was very proud of his work in this field and stated self-importantly how his decisions had been proved correct by the number of appeals which had failed. The telephone rang stopping Clark’s flow. He was annoyed and gestured to Podolski to answer. After standard replies and confirmations, she pressed the mute button. “It is District Leader Hammond sir, he wants to speak to you about the Coronation” “That’s not my department; he should know that…” 3


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“Shall I tell him you are in conference sir?” “No, no I’ll talk to him.” She gave the handset to Clark, then carefully put together printouts, files, notepad and pencils, and left the room. Clark pressed the ‘talk’ button. District Leader Hammond asked Clark why he wasn’t attending the upcoming Coronation of Edward The Eleventh, “… it could be seen as a slight and effect any future advancement. I had been planning that you take charge of the South East Region when the Channel Bridge opens, we will need a strong Racial Purity department in the area, and you Clark are the best and most thorough official, probably within the whole of the Greater Reich.” Clark thanked him and added “… and probably the most disliked.” “Well yours is a job where hard decisions have to be made. After all you even made that on yourself…” Hammond was alluding to the fact that Clark had been voluntarily sterilised in 1971 when he found that he was not sufficiently racially pure. “… I am much younger than you Clark, you seem to have little ambition and that is unusual in the Party, even threatening to some. You have been passed over many times for men less able, because of how you feel about our Royal Family.” “That they are not racially pure enough?” “Yes. However, the Saxe-Coburgs are very popular in the country. It did you no good at all to send that Memo out, that was before my time of course, I would never have allowed it to be published so widely, you 4


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would have been severely censured. You may have been technically correct that the American Associate States are not as thorough as we are, but it has not been good for your career.” “Yes sir, I realise it was not politic. You know my feelings, like his father Edward the Ninth was a loyal Party Member. He was my inspiration to denounce my parents, it was his leadership that defeated the counter-revolution. I lost many good friends, good Party Members during that time. I have dedicated my life to purifying our island not only from the Jew and the Black but also from the evil of Bolshevism…” “Yes, yes, Clark there’s no need for the history lesson, your dedication to the cause is appreciated at the highest levels. But your attendance at the ceremony is expected” with that Hammond put the phone down. “Bloody liberal Jew lover” Clark said as the phone went dead. He knew the racial history of Hammond’s Australian wife; he knew the genealogy of all the officials and their spouses in the islands and knew many were not to his liking. He pressed the blue button and told Podolski to return. She sat down ready to take further notes. “Fraulein Podolski we cannot work any further on The Report today, I have to travel to London for the Coronation, and there are other pressing matters to be dealt with before I go. Make travel arrangements for me, I need to be back here by six on Friday.” She wrote some notes, stood up and started towards the door to leave. “Podolski…” Clark mused aloud “Podolski, that is a 5


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Polish name?” Juliana Podolski stopped, turned, and stood to attention. “Many generations back Sir. My Father was born in Wisconsin, he joined the Südamerikanischen Armee. We moved to the Homeland when I was just a few months old. My mother died soon after we got there and he was killed in Serbia in our Nation’s defence…” she stopped speaking and saw Clark was nodding in acknowledgement then continued, “I can assure you I was racially cleared by the College, I am quite happy for you to confirm that Sir.” “I have already Podolski, as soon as the College contacted us about you. We have to be very careful, very careful indeed, things are slipping.” 13.45 Frank Bennett was hot and he felt no cooler sitting in the shade outside his shop. Heat increased the musty smell of his stock and odours wafted through the open door; however Frank was immune to them after so many years and smelt like his stock did. He’d done quite well over the past few weeks, books on the royal family and old children’s picture books seemed especially popular at the moment. The ramshackle nature of his secondhand bookshop encouraged people to search around and think they were getting a bargain. The shop was in Beasley Street, a narrow Victorian terrace that was gloomy all year round. There was a background smell of stale food and alcohol. Beasley Street had been due for demolition and redevelopment for more than twenty years, only one other shop in the street remained open, Martin’s, selling second hand 6


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furniture. Frank and Martin shared an old army van and when they went to clear houses, Frank took the books, Martin the furniture and bric-a-brac. Most of the houses in Beasley Street were squatted by unofficial workers, every now and then there would be a sweep by the Zone Militia and trucks removed people back to the Industrial Zones, then within a few weeks, the rooms would be full again. Frank liked the dynamism of the area, there was always a cheap girl available, music played most of the night, drinking went on all day. He stood up and wearily tidied the racks in front of the shop window; the books had cost him nothing so he didn’t really care if they were stolen. A smart expensive shining Mercedes pulled up, the driver was well dressed, and his Party badge glinted on the lapel of his black suit jacket. Frank welcomed him and followed him into the shop. The man stood near the door looking around at the dusty confusion of books on shelves, piled on the floor, filling boxes and bags. “Can you actually find anything in here?” “The good books, yes.” “Well I’m looking for this” and he handed Frank a piece of paper with the title of a history of a regiment. “Did you want the first edition or the revised 1902 edition?” The man looked blankly at Frank, who could tell he wasn’t a collector. There was a fashion for buying British military history books, and Frank knew he could ramp up the price. “I have the 1902 edition here”, and took down a thick black leather bound volume from a shelf well above head height. “This is a good one, but the true collector 7


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will wish for the 1887 first edition, the hand coloured plates are extremely fine, whereas in this edition they are monochrome, see…” he opened the book to show the man, “there is of course a considerable difference in price…” “It is to be given as a gift, I have an important guest arriving… he is a collector.” “Ah right. As long as cost is not a consideration I know where I can find a copy and can have it to you in say two days? I can deliver it myself…” “Yes, yes do that, cost is no consideration. Deliver it to my home…” the man wrote down his home address on the back of a ‘business’ card and handed it to Frank, “…do you require a deposit?” Frank turned it over, Jeffrey Brown, the Regional Party Director of Communications. “No, there is no need for a deposit. However I better write down my estimation of the cost. I will require full payment in cash on delivery as I will have to negotiate with another dealer”, he wrote it down and handed it to Brown, who when reading it raised his eyebrows and looked at Frank. “Ah well… that will be fine and I will arrange payment be available for you. It can be no more than this though, understand?” “Of course Director Brown.” Frank put the ‘Closed’ sign up and locked the door when Brown had left, he went to his office at the back of the shop and poured a large glass of gin, toasting a faded picture of King George V before drinking it. He got his stepladders and took down the 1887 edition from a high shelf. Frank knew it would need a bit of tidying up before delivery. Making the Director wait only 8


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increased its value. Frank poured another drink and pondered who the dignitary might be that the Director wanted to impress, and if when he knew he should let his ‘friends’ know. 14:39 Even though The Australian Vaults was in its afternoon quietness, it still had a stale smoky stiflingly hot atmosphere. Bright afternoon sun created a checked pattern through the window bars across a bare wooden floor. The landlord stood behind bulletproof glass counting bottles and cigarette packs and took little notice when Jack Louvin ordered a half litre of lager. A bored barmaid chewing gum got off her high stool and served him, saying nothing, then sat back down to read her TV Soaps magazine. Jack lit a cigarette and looked around, Lukas was waiting for him at a table by the window with two younger men and a girl. Jack sat down opposite Lukas. The girl was younger than he first thought, no more than 15 or 16, he could see she wore an ankle tag, her skirt was so short it was hardly worth wearing. The two men were probably brothers he thought, thin mean looking, around 20, wearing t-shirts and jeans, one wore a baseball cap, he couldn’t see if they were tagged, but it was likely. Lukas was in his forties, a big man, always wore a thick gold chain around his neck. Today it glinted against his peacock blue silk shirt. “So” asked Jack, “…when do you want it picking up? I’m not carrying girls again. You didn’t tell me last time.” “No girls” Lukas said in a soft voice that belied his size, “…but I need you to drop off a 9


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woman then deliver some crates.” “Blackpool again?” “The woman to Bolton, scotch to Chester, games consoles to Wolverhampton.” “Woman?” Jack queried. “I’m doing a favour.” “Tagged?” “No.” “Then why can’t she take the train?” Lukas shrugged. Jack took a drink of his lager. He didn’t like working for Lukas, there was always another agenda but he needed the cash, he’d lost his wages and more at one of Lukas’ clubs. “Does this wipe the debt off?” Jack asked. “Of course and there’ll be a wedge more.” “What about the kick? They’re getting greedy” “I’ll sort that.” Two Zone Militia entered the pub. Lukas whispered to the man wearing the baseball cap, handing him a thick brown envelope from his inside pocket, who went and gave it to one of the Militia men. There was no secrecy as he counted the notes. The other Militiaman looked over and nodded towards the girl, Lukas whispered to her, she went to them and they left the pub together. “So where were we Jack? Ah yes. Friday, as long as you’re not watching the Coronation” he chuckled at that. “And the money?” 10


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“You’ll have it Friday.” “I could do with a sub” Jack pitched with little hope. Lukas took some notes from his inside pocket and handed them to Jack. “If you don’t turn up I’ll rip your guts out”, then smiling like a wolf Lukas said “OK Jack?” Jack nodded in agreement. As he left the pub Jack took out his Party badge and pinned it back on the collar of his overalls. 17:52 Juliana Podolski checked with Clark if she was required that evening, she wasn’t, so logged off her computer and tidied her desk. In a small mirror on the door she checked her hair, pouted her lips. She was not allowed to wear make up for work, it was Party policy. She joined other workers making their way towards the security checks at the imposing entrance. The metal detectors were inefficient and would go off unnecessarily, so the guards just waved people through, stopping the odd one to check a bag or Identity Card. The women were uniformly dressed in grey jackets and skirts with cream or white blouses. Men wore grey lightweight suits, white shirts and regimental or club ties. All wore the Party pin badge, a Union Flag background with a black swastika inside a white circle. At the bottom of twenty-five broad white stone steps overseen by a huge bronze statue of Britannia pointing upwards with her trident, green buses waited to take workers home. There was a hum of voices pleased to be out of the office in the sunshine. Juliana’s bus took her past large neo classical Ministry buildings, neat parks filling the spaces in between. 11


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Grey clad police stood in pairs at most intersections looking into passing cars, saluting some, which held high-ranking officials. Blue overalled workers were putting up the last of the flags and bunting for the Coronation celebrations. On the front of the New Britain Newspaper and Television Company building, a huge screen broadcast pictures of the seventeen-yearold Prince Edward waving to crowds in Berlin. Beyond the administrative centre, the bus travelled past recently built blocks of flats. In parts there were still run down terraced streets, much of it boarded up awaiting demolition. Bomb damage and marks of the insurrection were almost non-existent; peace had reigned in Britain for twenty-five years. Juliana got off at Lord Halifax House in Chapeltown. At the main door there was another security check. Some of the women complained wanting to get to their flats in time for the soap operas, but the guards were boredly explaining that security had to be heightened during the Coronation period, it was for their own safety, but the women still complained. Juliana’s apartment was adequate, part of a block specifically built for Party workers in the Ministries. They were of a standard design found all over the Reich, built as units in the Industrial Zones and put together on site very quickly. She stood at her window and looked out over the evening landscape; they were on the edge of Bolton, which was the main administrative centre for the Northern District. As part of the ruralisation policy most of Manchester to the south was in the process of being turned into farmland. To the west, the area around the Mersey Estuary was designated a closed Industrial Zone. Before going into the kitchen she tidied around, carefully dusting some glass animals and figures which 12


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she had made, and admiring how the setting sun created rainbow colours on the wall through the crystal glass. 18:16 When a dusty hot dusk began descending on the town, Frank took a walk. Alongside the official bunting and flags, many houses and flats were decorated in red white and blue, a few incorporated Nazi symbols. Pubs were decked out ready for a good day’s trade; shops vied with each other in decorating their windows. Some of the trams had been repainted in celebration. On one side of Victory Square a huge sign went across the Britain First Party HQ, ‘Celebrate Britain! Celebrate your Race!’. His walk took him to a large working class council estate, rebuilt in the early 60’s. Even since his last visit a few years ago it looked more prosperous; there were more cars, more houses had extensions, new windows and sun lounges. Many people were sitting outside as the day cooled down; there was an overriding smell of barbecues, and the sound of radios and music. A group of men and women were setting up trestle tables on an open space, surrounded by flags, with a stage at one end. A grey police car ambled lazily through the estate, one of the two occupants eating a foil covered burger. Frank walked purposefully, taking no notice as they passed; they likewise took no notice of him. At the far end of the estate, next to woodland, there was a phone box. Frank dialled a number. It was dead, he tried another and that was dead too. ‘Damn’ he thought and left, taking a different route back towards town. He hadn’t contacted his ‘friends’ for two years, and thought they must have been caught or moved. He knew of a dead letter drop but wasn’t sure whether to 13


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use it, if they had been caught it was almost certain the drop would be known, possibly kept under surveillance. There was one more outlet for his information, Pastor Goodnow, but he lived the other side of town so decided to go the next day. 19:09 After eating, Juliana sat and watched the news channel of NBT. They highlighted the crowds gathering in London and reporters were gushing at how this was an opportunity for the British people to celebrate their heritage and their part in the greater Reich, this was followed by news of how well British troops were performing in defending the oil fields in the Middle East. As she sat watching, Juliana opened her workbox. She carefully removed two flat pieces of crystal glass and began working on them. The news pundits were discussing problems the great allies, Japan, were facing in China, ‘…same thing every night’ she thought and switched over to the jazz channel. 20:40 Back at the shop, Frank found two books of Victorian biblical textual analysis, good weighty stuff, and the sort of thing he would deliver in person. He tried to phone the Pastor to make an appointment but the lines were dead, they often were, there was talk of a digital system but there was talk of a great deal which didn’t actually happen.

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20:49 After finishing a repair to a telephone junction box Jack drove south west back towards the Mersey Industrial Zone, he lived in Huyton even though he didn’t need to and wasn’t tagged, it was where he’d been brought up, he was happy there. The radio ‘bleeped’ him. “Damn!” he exploded, and knew he had to take it, having been warned twice in the last six months for not answering and missing jobs. He answered, there was a phone line down near Southport and it was an emergency job. He looked at the map reference, close to one of Lukas’ illegals. When he arrived, there was a grey unmarked van parked nearby, two men got out. They handed Jack some orders, which lines to tap, one of the numbers was Lukas’. The grey van left. He knew he had no choice but complete the job and while working at the top of the pole wondered whether it would be best for him to get Lukas off the scene for a while. However, he also knew that if Lukas found out he was involved his life was worth nothing, he’d been called into court before to witness making a tap and had been threatened afterwards. So he rang Lukas. Jack warned him one of his clubs’ phone would be tapped and to be careful. They agreed to meet later at The Star to sort Friday out. Jack made the connection and informed Unit IV that it was ‘live’, then climbed down the pole. He drove home. 22:25 The boys were in bed, Jack’s wife Donna was asleep on the settee, the TV was on and music playing. There 15


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were pork chops, mashed potato and peas covered over in the oven, it was dried up Donna had forgotten to turn the oven down, the plate burned Jack and he dropped it, smashing all over the floor, the noise was tremendous. “Jack…” Donna was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking half asleep, “…what a bloody waste!” “You’d left the oven on 8!” She yawned “Did you get your wages sorted?” “Sort of”, he placed a couple of notes on the kitchen table, “…they’ll get the rest sorted tomorrow.” “Don’t talk shit Jack” she resignedly said picking up the cash, “bloody cards. Mean more to you than the kids those fucking cards. You are a piece of shit Jack and you know it, that’s the trouble, you know it.” Donna slunk back into the dark of the living room, highlighted by the glow of the TV. “I’ve got to go out again soon… work” he said raising his voice above the noise of contestants. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… always going out again soon, lose the rest of what you’ve got stuffed in your pocket.” The Star was a former pub on the road to Southport. The windows were bricked up, there was a light over a side door above a handmade sign, a cctv camera was aimed at the lit area. In the car park were a few cars, a smart black BMW that Jack guessed was Lukas’, inside an oversized driver sat reading a paper. There was also a Militia van and a grey police car. The younger of the thin mean brothers let him in and showed him through to the bar. The girl he’d seen at The Australian was sitting at a table talking with four other girls, she had bruises down one side of her face and on her arms, two uniformed men were standing 16


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near them drinking. He waited for a couple of minutes outside an office and when the door opened saw Lukas sitting behind a desk. On one wall the room was stacked high with boxes of spirits. Lukas was on his own, when Jack sat down he poured him a large scotch. “Friday” Lukas said quite abruptly “Friday… no mistakes on this Jack.” “Who’s the favour for?” “You don’t need to know, but she’s quite legal, her ID’s fine.” “The alcohol, computer games?” “Again you don’t need to know.” “Nothing hidden? I don’t want the Unit opening them up and finding shooters or drugs.” “No… just what it says on the boxes, good stuff, lot of investment.” “OK… so where do I pick up the woman? What’s she called?” “You don’t need to know, but she’s ok, 40ish, not one of these girls, as I said it’s a favour for some friends, good friends, important friends... so don’t mess it up, don’t question her. She has good reasons or I wouldn’t be helping out.” Lukas poured more scotch, Jack refused it was rough stuff and he wondered what was in it. Lukas shrugged and poured the one he’d given Jack into his own glass and silently toasted him. He laid a map out. “Come to the Waterloo warehouse at one, we’ll load the boxes, then pick her up… there” Lukas pointed to a side road near the tunnel, “…she’ll tell you where to drop her off, probably near a station. Go through there and down the Wirrel Autoway.” 17


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Jack looked at the map. “Why that way?” Jack queried. “I’ve got a tame one at exit fourteen, he’ll be in booth 9. I’ll give you his backy when you come, he knows what he’s getting, so no ideas, ok?” Jack nodded. There was a short silence “Thanks for the tip off by the way” Lukas said much more lightheartedly. “Well if I were you I’d carry on using the phone or else it looks dodgy.” “Of course. Are you here for a game or one of the girls? There’s a couple of new ones, very young just kids really, twelve, thirteen…” he shrugged his shoulders, “not my scene, look at my daughter sometimes and think how lucky I am… but it’s business and these Party buggers do like them young, especially the coloureds” he chuckled to himself. “You said there’s a game on?” “Yeah, you in, thought you lost enough the other night?” “I feel lucky.” 23:37 By the time she was ready for bed Juliana had prepared two wing shaped pieces of crystal about the size of her hand, their razor sharp edges glinting in the reading light.

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Thursday 08:02 Juliana’s bus was halted at a Zone Militia checkpoint. A group of men and women whose Identity Cards didn’t match the records were in the back of open truck, lounging in the hot morning sun to be returned to the Industrial Zones. If they told the authorities who was employing them, then those would be sent for two weeks re-education and fined heavily, most didn’t and were back working in a few days. The checks were a formality, a show, most Party members with a reasonable income employed illegals. A young Militia officer looked around the bus, got off and waved it through. Green buses carried Party members, the red and blue buses and trams were for the wider population and would have been emptied and searched. Juliana had been forewarned at The Department that this check would occur and ensured she carried her ID card, they happened about every other month. In Germany hardly anyone bothered to carry a card nowadays, but here she had noted how much stricter life was, as if the regime was still not totally secure with itself. She had also noted how she got poor service in cafes and shops when people heard her German accent, and they turned away or stopped talking. 19


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09:13 The light flashed on Juliana’s desk to go to Clark’s office. His voice barked for her to get in there. He stood before two open doors revealing a rack of formal uniforms. He had taken out a dark green tunic; it had an impressive row of medals attached. “I need a new dress shirt Podolski. Send down to Room 43 for one.” She phoned from his desk and demanded one. “It will be here before 3 o’clock Sir.” “Good. Have them prepare this tunic”, pointing to the medals he haughtily added, “at least it proves I’ve done something, more than most of those grovellers have.” “Yes Sir.” Juliana rang again and almost immediately a sand brown-jacketed assistant came and took the jacket away. “Do you mind sir if I look at those photographs, I’ve been fascinated by them ever since I started”, she walked behind Clark’s desk. “Ah, yes those are from the Second Insurrection, mainly Seventy-Six, Seventy-Seven.” She looked closely at the photographs, she knew the stories. Clark, much younger, stood with other uniformed men, beneath hanging men and women; in front of blown out houses; amongst the debris of a church. “You must be proud of your role in safeguarding Britain sir.” “Yes, Podolski and I still am. My work is as important now as it was then.” She took out a sheaf of official forms and placed them 20


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on his desk. “Ah yes, these need signing before I go to London. Are the Genealogy Papers with them? The blood tests? They are always late at those bloody labs… good… Are the Protection Forms there as well… ah good… yes.” Clark read through one form more carefully and smiled, “… so they didn’t get that decision cancelled, good… I was correct in my assessment then, I usually am. I don’t like borderline cases for Termination.” He silently leafed through the yellow Sterilisation Forms and saw all were correct, took a rubber stamp from a drawer, and one by one stamped and signed them, with a very satisfied air. “I could do that for you sir” “No, no Podolski. I made the decisions, I should finish them off” and he stamped harder and with greater glee. “Did you get the travel sorted for me?” he asked as he handed Juliana the forms, “…have these sent to the Population Department… they will need Infant Identity Cards, the new ones come into force soon, make sure these are part of the first tranche. Get those Protection Forms sent as soon as possible; they need to be speeded up before any more appeals come forward.” “Yes Sir”, Juliana placed them all back into their respective folders, “I have you on the Spear Train at 6am, you will arrive in London at 8.20; Party transport will take you to the Coronation. You wished to return as soon as possible, so I have booked you onto the Spear at 4pm and you will be back by 6.15pm. Your car will be at the station to take you home…” “Have him bring me here” Clark interrupted. “Do you require me to be here sir?” “No, no. You have the day off, all the rest of the staff 21


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are taking it off. I just need to deal with a pressing matter…” “Mrs Dalton at seven Sir?” Juliana said looking at her notebook. “Yes, yes a Mrs Dalton is booked in to meet me. You sorted her travel?” “Yes Sir, First Class as you asked.” “Good… I understand she has some news about an illegal factory, so she may find it easier the fewer people there are here. People are getting so touchy nowadays about denouncing others; they should remember it is their duty Podolski… their duty!” “Thank you sir, I will have a quiet day maybe go for a bike ride.” “Before you go tonight Podolski, get a map out for the Blackpool area and fix it to the boards there” he pointed to the left hand wall, “Room 433 I think, they have them, Mrs Dalton will need to show me where all this is happening. I need to get this sorted promptly if her information is correct.” 11:45 Frank parked the van outside the New Dawn Chapel. Pastor Goodnow came out to meet him. “Frank… it’s a long time… what on earth have you got for me there?” he said taking the weighty volumes from him and looking at the long titles. “I thought they may be of interest.” “Well it is good of you to think of me, thank you.” They went into the Victorian chapel. It was plain, white walled, clear windowed. There was a beautifully crafted oak cross on the altar and an electric organ to 22


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one side. They sat down on worn plastic chairs. Others were stacked up against the walls to make a space for the Mother and Toddler session that morning. Bright coloured plastic play furniture was spread around the nave. Frank looked around and up to the ceiling. Goodnow nodded to him to confirm it was clean of any microphones, and whispered “I sweep it each week, I don’t think I am seen as an enemy of the State, but it is always good to be careful.” “Does the Prayer Group still meet Pastor?” “Not the one you belonged to, they broke up years ago. However a new one has begun. I am quite sure they would be delighted to meet you, they always welcome new members.” “I’ve got a quote to discuss, it is important to me; I wrote it down, it’s inside the second volume, perhaps you would show it to them.” “Yes, yes of course it is so good to have you back in the fold. There is always room in God’s Church for all.” Goodnow opened the volume. There were two notes, one was a quote from the Gospel of Mark ‘And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins’, the other read ‘I understand there is an important person arriving soon who the Group should meet. Do you think the Prayer Group would be interested?’. Goodnow took a pencil out and wrote, ‘Yes’ on the note. “That is an interesting quote Frank, I’m sure we will have a good discussion on it, a favourite of mine too. Well it has been wonderful to see you again… oh and please 23


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one of our new Prayer Group is coming on Sunday, from the Mersey Zone to talk to the congregation about her work at the Women’s Centre. You may be interested, she is quite inspiring. I hope you can come, we can talk again then.�

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Friday 13:18 Jack saw the woman before she saw him, from a distance she looked younger than he’d expected however as he pulled up she looked middle aged as Lukas had described. Before getting in she took a glance round which seemed second nature to her. Jack checked his mirrors, he apologised to her for the mess in the van, she said she quite understood. He pulled out and headed towards the Birkenhead Tunnel. “I’m Jack” he introduced himself. “Pamela” she said. “Where in Bolton do you want me to drop you off?” “Just outside, Blackrod Station, do you know it?” “Yes.” They drove in silence, he didn’t ask why she was going there or why she hadn’t taken the train. At Exit 14 he joined a queue of vehicles waiting to go through the security check. The border officer waved him forward, took their papers into his booth checked them with a barcode reader. Jack put a thick brown envelope on his knee which the officer took it as he handed back the travel and identity papers. The officer then looked around the Telephone Authority van, opened the rear doors, put a mirror under the vehicle, as they did with all other vehicles. Then waved them through. 25


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Beyond the border was an empty landscape for the next five miles. There were some derelict crumbling houses, walls and trees had been cleared. Every now and then there was a guard post high above the ground with searchlights and cameras trained across the landscape. The road had a high mesh fence either side and the posts became hypnotic after a while. Pamela stayed silent and so did Jack as they drove on. In less than an hour he had dropped her off and headed towards Chester. 16:49 Director Brown’s house was on a gated estate to the east of the city, towards the hills. There were broad open vistas and it felt clean and ordered. The security guards stopped Frank, opened up the back of his van and looked around inside, they ordered him to park behind the guard post and to walk the rest of the way. Frank wasn’t happy and told them he was there on business; he showed them The Director’s card and the book he had ordered. However, there was no arguing with them, as they were ‘just doing their duty’. The estate was a collection of huge houses, each in its own grounds; these were Party Directors and business executives. Houses were well hidden behind trees some in mock Tudor style, some modernist houses and one that looked like a Highland castle. Director Brown’s was set at the end of a drive with well-manicured park-like gardens at the front and a huge sunroom on one side. He was met at the front door by a woman wearing pyjamas about the same age as Director Brown who introduced herself as Mrs Brown; she looked at Frank with a shudder as many did. He apologised for 26


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disturbing her on Coronation Day and told her he’d had to walk from the main gate. She told him they were little ‘Hitlers’ and laughed, Frank recognised a fellow drinker. She invited him inside explaining that Director Brown was in London at the Coronation, but he would be delighted that the book had arrived so soon. Frank replied that he had been lucky to find someone not too far away with a copy. She asked if he wanted a drink, he accepted a cold bottle of beer. She handed him some cash which he put in his pocket without counting it. Mrs Brown asked if that was enough, Frank told her it had been a little more than expected, however he was happy to help and hoped they would become customers in the future. Mrs Brown opened a handbag and without counting handed him a handful more notes and said she liked to be square with people; he thanked her and said that would cover it. As he was leaving he stopped and turned to her. “I’ve forgotten who this book was for? The Director told me when he came to my shop but I was too busy thinking where to get it? If he’s a collector perhaps I know him?” “Brigadier Jackson, he is coming on a visit, he’s my brother-in-law.” “Ah yes of course I remember now… then this will be perfect for him, his grandfather was in the regiment I think, during The Patriotic War?” “Yes, that is why Jeff bought it. He has a great interest in antiquarian books as well as military history. He’s only here for a couple of days, but perhaps if he has the time he may like to visit your shop; Jeff said it was a most interesting and characterful place…” “Well, others may call it a bit of a mess, but I have some 27


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good stock which the Brigadier may find of interest”, Frank handed her a crumpled dog-eared business card, “…please ask him to phone and I can make sure I am there, Mondays are often busy.” “Oh, he isn’t coming until Tuesday.” “Well I will endeavour to be there.” Frank left and as he walked took note of where cameras were placed, gaps in the hedge and alternate entrances. He waved to the watching Mrs Brown as she opened the electric gates. ‘So’ talking to himself when he was back in the van, ‘…the head of counter terrorism is coming to town, the Prayer Group will be interested’, and hummed an old patriotic song. 17:18 Pamela Dalton joined a throng of people making their way to the centre of the city from Bolton Central Station. She had deliberately arrived early to be part of the celebrations. In Victory Square there were huge screens on each corner replaying scenes from the events in London, whenever Edward waved from the Palace balcony a cheer went up from the crowd. It was a relaxed atmosphere; a few police were patrolling but weren’t stopping anyone. There were food and exhibition stalls and drinking areas. A wine stall extolled the new wines coming from Yorkshire and the North East of England, Pamela tasted a deep red, which she agreed was very good. She ordered a case to be delivered to her home near Blackpool. Along one side of the square, the Party had a row of stands and portable exhibitions, exalting the work they did for families, war veterans, the elderly; they promoted 28


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the Party holiday camps on the coast. At the far end was a display of the highflying passenger planes, which had cut flight times by many hours and the super-fast trains, spreading like veins across the Reich. Pamela picked up some leaflets, she spoke to an official who took her name and information, about becoming a farmer in the Eastern Reich where huge tracts of land were still on offer. She looked at her watch, it was 5.35. She asked a policeman the directions to the Department for Racial Purity, he doubted that anyone would be there, but when she showed him the letter for her appointment, he accompanied her the few streets to the building. He saluted her as she climbed the steps; she wondered if he hoped for a mention to such a highlevel official she was meeting. There was only one of the many entrance doors open. As she entered two security guards were sitting watching football. One studied her letter, her Identity Card and asked her to walk through the metal detector. It buzzed; she took her keys from her handbag and walked through again, silently. The other security guard took her to a lift and explained to her where to go, then went back to the football. The lift went up four floors Pamela checked her hat, glasses and make up in the long mirror. She tidied her long black hair, brushed some breadcrumbs from her pale blue skirt and made sure her cream lightweight jacket was properly ‘fitted’. She found the room easily and sat on a chair waiting to be called; she still had ten minutes before the appointment. From where she sat, she could see the guards fuzzily reflected on the marble walls in the well of the building. She heard a man’s voice barking orders, telling the guards he may be some time before he went 29


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home he didn’t want any interruption, and to lock the front of the building when his appointment left. 17:55 Frank returned to his shop. As soon as he entered, he knew someone had been there. Stealthily he went to the table, opened the drawer and took out his pistol and made sure it was loaded. It was dark in the shop; he could see a line of light around the door to his office. With a hard kick, he slammed open the door. The room was empty. He wondered if anyone was upstairs in his rooms, but the connecting door was locked and there was no sign of it being tampered with. Frank relaxed and put the gun in his jacket pocket. He could see nothing obvious was missing, the moneybox was untouched, drawers tidy. He checked two high shelves where he kept his most valuable books, nothing missing. He sat down at his desk and noticed a folded note on his desk spike. It read ‘The Lever Bridge Inn – 10pm’. 18:05 Clark arrived in his office via his private lift. He was sweating from wearing his uniform all day and relieved to take his jacket off. He cursed himself for organising this meeting, but knew it had to be dealt with, then took a drink of cold water and felt better. After a long exhalation, he pressed a buzzer. He looked closely at Mrs Dalton as she entered the room, in the shadow she reminded him of someone and initially she looked a bit younger than he expected from reading her files. He told himself that he must be a bit exhausted. He stood up and went to greet her. 30


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“Thank you for coming Mrs Dalton, especially on such a day as this.” “Yes, it was a wonderful day. I watched it all from early this morning. Such crowds and such pride in being British.” “Yes, I was there, I only got back from London half an hour ago. It was a moving experience.” “I’m sure it was Director Clark, you are a very lucky man.” Clark noted her Lancashire accent, he was pleased to hear it, in his world it was the norm to lose accents. He offered her tea or coffee; she declined but accepted a glass of water. Clark commented on the heat and that younger people probably didn’t remember the cool wet Springs of the past. Pamela nodded in agreement. They sat down, Clark at his desk looking down at her. “Well Mrs Dalton” he began “… I understand you have some important information for me. If what you suspect in your letter is correct we need to deal with urgently.” “Yes. When my husband died for the Reich in the Middle East, I moved to a small house just outside Blackpool, in the country, it is very quiet, well it was Director”, she straightened herself, “…over the past few months there are vans and some trucks using my road through the night, which I felt was odd. At first I thought it may be something to do with the government or the army, but a couple of weeks ago some Party buses came past, late, after midnight, they had some difficulty passing along my lane, it woke me up. One had stopped right in front of my house” Clark gestured to her to ‘go on’, “… it was full of blacks …” Clark looked up. “Blacks? Are you sure they were Party buses?” 31


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“Yes quite sure. In the morning I walked down our lane and about half a mile away was stopped by guards with guns, they weren’t uniformed … they too were black.” Clark stood up and went to the large map Juliana had pinned up.. “Where exactly is this happening Mrs Dalton?” Pamela stood in front of the map for a few seconds, then with a map pin marked a spot near the bottom. She stood back and Clark on his haunches studied it. “But, there appears nothing there…” Clark felt a sharp pain in his neck, he put his hands up and there was blood gushing through his fingers, he looked round. Mrs Dalton had a piece of glass glinting in each hand. His head swam. He pushed on both sides of his neck to stop the blood flow, it was gushing like a fountain across the office walls. Clark felt a hard thump on his left leg and was unable to stop himself falling. There was another sharp pain in the back of his neck like a hammer blow and all went black. Pamela Dalton stood over Clark. Deep dark blood was pumping from his neck. She was well trained and stamped again on the top of his spine. She sliced his wrists with the razor sharp crystal glass. Blood flowed coagulating on the floor. Pamela sat down and watched Clark’s body jerk a few times until he went limp. Pamela tried to find a pulse, there was none. She went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and saw she was soaked in his blood. She’d planned for this. She removed the dark haired wig, stripped and saw Juliana staring back at her in the mirror, then showered. Carefully drying herself using large soft paper towels, which she screwed up and put in a brown waste bag 32


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along with the blood stained clothes. Juliana unscrewed the waste pipe and cleared out a few blonde hairs. Then pushed the waste bag down the cleaners service chute. Juliana knew it would be destroyed at 8pm when, like clockwork, rubbish was incinerated every day. She expected the body to be discovered around midnight when the guards changed duty roster. Juliana crossed the office and went to Clark’s uniform cupboard and from a box in the rear took out an identical set of clean clothes, wig and glasses to the ones she’d arrived in, got dressed and became Pamela Dalton again. 19:52 Pamela Dalton left Clark’s office. The security guards followed her on the monitors and were prepared for her exit. The football commentary was just below voice level. As she arrived at their desk a goal was scored and one of them swore under his breath for missing it. Pamela rolled her eyes to him in sympathy, he shrugged his shoulders. They put her bag through the metal detector and made a joke about the keys, which she held out. One of them unlocked the door and let her out into the stifling evening. Outside she sat for a few minutes looking back at the building. ‘Aunty would be proud of me’ she thought and smiled. At one minute past eight there was a puff of smoke coming from a chromed chimney, ‘that will be the rubbish’ she thought and she left. In Victory Square the crowds had thinned, the Party stalls were packing up and the screens were showing football. The police 33


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officer who’d escorted her saluted as she passed; she nodded, smiled and silently mouthed ‘thank you’ to him. The train to Blackpool wasn’t leaving for twenty minutes, so Pamela sat in the busy café, drank a coffee and ate a rather dry piece of cake. She took the slow stopping train, which was very full. When the train pulled into Blackrod, Pamela checked that the guard was busy, walked to the last door of the end coach and got off. The train pulled away without anyone noticing her leave. In the station toilet was another set of clothes in a cupboard, one of her keys opened it and Juliana put Mrs Dalton in a rucksack. Wearing a dark cycling top and black trousers, she left the station building, unlocked her bicycle and set off. Her flat was about 12 miles away, she knew the way well as she had often explored the woods and hills on her bike and on foot. It would not get properly dark until 10pm, so she didn’t rush. Only two cars passed her before she reached a track into some woodland. Juliana had prepared a hole near a dead tree and stuffed Mrs Dalton’s clothes, wig and glasses into a bag and buried them, she had left a glass bottle of strong bleach in the hole and poured it over the clothes, then smashed the bottle and covered over the shards. Juliana peeled off fake fingerprints and burned them. She then rode hard over the hills, through streams and mud. Juliana arrived at Lord Halifax House from the opposite direction; there was no security guard on duty and most of the occupants seemed to be out. She knew the security system and opened the lodge door with one of the other keys. After checking when the guard had left she electronically logged herself coming in at 6.55pm, 34


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swiping her Identity Card. Luckily they did not have CCTV, which was planned to be set up in the next few years. When she got to her room she took out the two glass ‘wings’ and after blunting the edges and cleaning them, returned them to her work box. She lay down and slept still wearing her cycling clothes. 21:58 The Lever Bridge Inn stood in the shadow of a magnificent Victorian iron railway bridge. As Frank parked the van a freight train ambled across, rattling the aging structure, he decided to leave his gun in the door compartment. When he opened the pub door he wished he’d brought it, though he wasn’t sure why. He sat at a round dark red Formica table. The football had finished on the TV, and experts were analysing Britain’s 3-0 win. The bar was about a quarter full, there had been an effort at decorating it in red white and blue streamers, but most had fallen down. The walls and ceilings were a deep yellow-brown from decades of smoke. Frank lit up a cigarette, an American one he’d bought from a man in his street, it tasted good. His back was to the wall and he had positioned himself close to the exit. At exactly 10pm a heavy looking man about his age entered, at the same time a woman about 40 stood up from a table in the far corner and a young man around 25 who had been standing at the bar watching the game ambled across to him. He’d hardly noticed them and knew he should have, he had become careless. They sat opposite him. The woman had a tatty prayer book that he could tell had come from his shop; she put it on the table. “I think this is yours Mr Bennett, I hope you don’t mind 35


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me borrowing it?” “No not at all”, he’d not noticed it having gone, it had no value, “you belong to the Prayer Group?” “Yes” the woman said, “I understand you asked to join us? I’ve left some information inside for you, just a few standard questions, perhaps you’d like to complete them?” Frank opened the book; a note read ‘Who is it? When? Where’. Frank wrote ‘Brigadier Philip Jackson, Tuesday/ Wednesday, my shop’. She showed it the others, who smiled and nodded approval. “I think it’s best Mr Bennett if one of our Members comes to your shop to discuss this further, we have to be absolutely sure. Perhaps tomorrow, we’ve got your phone number.” “I’ll be in all day.” After a few minutes the older man walked to the bar, bought some cigarettes, and left. Then the younger man took his glass to the bar thanked them and left. The woman asked Frank if he was going near Central Station and they left together. The journey was made in silence. There were a few people worse for wear near the town centre. Frank pulled the van up at the station, as she got out the woman said, “That was an interesting quote you gave The Pastor”, and before Frank could say anything she closed the door, but didn’t enter the station instead walked the opposite way towards the pedestrianised shopping area. Frank drove to Beasley Street and parked outside 36


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the shop, he sat in the van thinking about what had happened. He still had a pocket full of the money Mrs Brown had given him and Frank thought about driving to an unofficial brothel on the other side of town. As he was preparing to go, he noticed a girl who squatted next door standing on the corner at the end of the street. Whenever a car passed, she followed it with her body and eyes, then moved back into the shadows. She looked very young. He got out, walked to her and arranged some business.

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Saturday 02:17 Juliana was woken up by banging on her door. “Who is it?” she asked through the door. “Police!” Looking through the spy hole she saw two grey uniformed policemen; she unlocked the door and let them in. “You’re to come with us, get your things.” “Where? I need to change; I fell asleep after my bike ride.” The police looked at each other and agreed. “We’re to take you to the Department for Racial Purity.” “At this time, what’s wrong? You’re Civil Police aren’t you?” “Just get changed quickly… we’ve been ordered to make sure you bring your Identity Card and Logging-on Card.” As they left, they told her to leave the door unlocked as her flat would be searched. On the stairs they passed two men coming up, one carried a metal case and both wore plastic gloves. The Department building was brightly lit and alive 38


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with police. The regular security guards were sitting on the floor with their hands on their heads overseen by two officers holding machine guns. In the huge entrance hall a row of uniformed police were on their knees examining every inch of the floor. When they reached Juliana’s office it was being searched by a team of men, they asked her a number of questions about where things were kept. A short man was sitting at her computer and she was ordered to give him her Logging-on Card. She was told to leave and wait in the hallway. An armed officer stood opposite to her. “May I speak to Director Clark please, if there is any problem with my work I’m sure he can sort it out ….” “Please be quiet miss, just sit and wait. There’s been a serious incident; they need to question you.” 03:10 Juliana had dozed off and was shaken awake by a uniformed police officer. “Come” he ordered abruptly. She followed him past Clark’s office to the principal meeting room. An exhibition of Department sports clubs was still on show. In front of the volleyball stand, a table was set up. Three men, two in regulation dark suits and a large well-built man wearing brown tweed sat behind it. The man in tweeds smoked a black cigar, his ash falling to the floor, Director Clark would not have approved of that she thought. “Fraulein Podolski, please sit. I’m Detective General Hayes and I need to ask you some questions”, the large man said quite kindly in a deep voice with the local accent. “I am sorry to bring you in at such an unearthly hour, but there has been a serious incident…” he stopped 39


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and looked at her for a reaction, “… none of our staff have told you then?” She shook her head. Another man came into the room and sat to one side with a notebook. “Director Clark has been murdered …or perhaps I should say assassinated” he stopped again and looked at her, “… we have no idea of the motive yet.” “What did you say sir?” she asked quietly. “Assassinated Fraulein Podolski and we think by a woman” he stopped and looked at her, there was a moments silence. “I’m sorry sir, it’s hard to comprehend. Do you mean at the Coronation?” “No here; in his office”, he stopped again and watched her. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced my colleagues. This is Detective Bland”, the man on his left nodded to her, “and on my right Sergeant Bartholomew.” Hayes continued “…you are not at present under any suspicion or under arrest, but we need to place everyone and review events during the last few days, to see if it may lead us to find the culprit. I am sorry we’ve had to search your room, but as there has been an assassination of such a high-ranking officer it is standard procedure. I’m sure it will be just a formality, something to tick off.” “Yes I understand, of course. I will try to be as helpful as I can.” “You won’t try Miss Podolski - you will be as helpful as you can” he said looking down at some notes. Bartholomew asked her for her Identity Card and to confirm a list of personal information he had in front of him, which he ticked off after each answer, and sometimes made a short note. He asked when she last had sex. At that question all three watched her 40


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answering, she told him it was more than a year ago. He told her she may have to have an internal examination to confirm, she agreed, he told her she had no choice, then left the room with her ID Card. Hayes took a long drag on his cigar, to Juliana it smelt poor quality, she didn’t smoke and it made her cough a little which she tried to suppress, Hayes noticed and he stubbed it out with a silent apology. Hayes looked at her again. She guessed his technique was to keep one at ease, try to open you up without realising. His bulk would make him centre of attention in any room, his choice of clothes very different from the usual Party men; his fatherly manner put you off your guard. He took one of the files Clark had given her two days before and placed it on the table, opened it and took out some of the printouts, with a hand and shoulder gesture as if not knowing what they were. “They are statistics sir, for The Report.” “The Report? May I call you Juliana and there’s no need to call me sir.” “Yes of course, The Annual Report Director Clark is… sorry was dictating to me, I have some knowledge of presenting statistics and figures, he wanted me to include them, to prove how successful his Department is. I’m sure Deputy Director Masterson can give you more background, it is his job to confirm these.” “They are above your security level Fraulein, well above” he said looking closely at a page, “Director Clark had no right to show you these… even I probably shouldn’t be seeing these. Do you realise the impact these could make in the wrong hands?” Juliana didn’t answer. Hayes shut the file and sat back. “Did Director Clark ever ask you to have sex with 41


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him?” “Certainly not sir. He always behaved impeccably.” “Did you like him?” “There was no like or dislike sir. He was head of the Department and I was allocated to be his assistant… to learn from him. He was one of the most successful men in any Racial Purity Department in the Reich.” “That is not what I asked you Juliana.” Hayes made a note in a pad with a large black fountain pen that would have dwarfed Juliana’s hand. “What do you know about a Mrs Pamela Dalton?” “She was given an appointment for 7pm, yesterday evening. Mrs Dalton had written a letter to Director Clark, I think regarding an illegal establishment in the Blackpool area. I didn’t see it, but he mentioned it and asked me to put a large-scale map of the area on the wall… I organised her travel and wrote the letter to confirm the meeting.” “You organised her travel?” “Yes sir, it was unsual but Director Clark wished me to do it, he was worried about leaks in the Department, so I followed orders.” “We need to see those travel arrangements, I take it those are on your computer.” “No sir, they were in writing only, kept in Director Clark’s desk.” “Was it about an illegal brothel?” “I don’t know sir.” “Did the Director ever talk about his investigations into illegal brothels?” “Only in The Report. I typed a comprehensive list of 42


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establishments and their involvement with local Party officials and police departments.” Hayes looked up, lit his cigar again and took a long drag. “Were names involved?” “Yes sir.” “… and you can find these names and lists for me?” “Yes sir on my computer in my office, they have a specific password due to the sensitivity.” “I would like to see that list. Are you sure you are a senior enough grade to see such information… I doubt it.” Hayes sat back and thought a minute, then wrote a note and gave it to Bland, who stood and left the room. There was a period of silence. “You know that sort of information could be very dangerous to know. Do you have protection?” She shook her head. “Perhaps you ought to. Would you care for coffee or tea Miss Podolski?” She asked for coffee. They sat in silence until the man making notes brought in a tray with a large silver pot and cups. Hayes poured two cups. “This Mrs Dalton, why was she asked to come on Coronation Day, it must have been inconvenient for her and for The Director who was in London?” “Director Clark had mentioned that people had become wary of being seen to denounce others and she may be at greater ease with fewer people in the building.” “That’s why he was worried about leaks. Do you know who the people were he didn’t trust?” 43


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“No sir. He felt standards were slipping and few could be trusted with truly valuable information.” “But you were?” “I suppose so, I am an outsider.” Hayes drank his coffee. Bland re-entered the room and sat down, he whispered in Hayes ear and Hayes nodded. “As The Director’s valued assistant why were you not present at that meeting?” “I offered to attend, as a Homeland Citizen the Coronation has little meaning for me, but he told me to take the day off, to enjoy the long weekend.” “And did you?” “I watched some of it on television then went for a long bicycle ride, there are some beautiful woodland paths and hills near me…” “You didn’t meet anyone, no friends or a boyfriend maybe?” “I’ve had very little time since I came here to make friends, I don’t think you British, even Party Members like Germans. The Director has kept me very busy and it has been quite exhausting at times so I usually just go home and rest. I am here to learn Detective General, to improve my skills for the Party. As I told you before I have no boyfriend.” Hayes breathed in deeply and looked at Juliana directly. The other man returned with some papers and handed them to Hayes, he read them closely, looked at the man quizzically. “It appears Fraulein Podolski that Director Clark has been assassinated by a ghost. A ghost who can badly damage an ankle with one kick…” 44


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“I’m sorry…?” “Yes, the fingerprints we found are those of a woman who died seven years ago” he looked at a note “…one Elizabeth Jardine, does the name ring any bells?” “I don’t know that name sir.” They sat. Juliana drank her coffee. She could see it was becoming light outside. “Miss Podolski I think we better take a break, you look tired and I am sure you need some sleep. I believe they have organised a room here where you can sleep and freshen up.” With that, Hayes stood up towering over the others and marched out of the room. A police officer escorted Juliana through echoing empty corridors to a room which had a bed with a small bathroom off. He closed, but did not lock the door behind him. Juliana looked through the spy hole and saw he was standing guard outside. 05:36 George Hayes sat at Clark’s desk. He noted how he was able to look down on anyone sitting in front of it. The body of Clark had been removed, but there was a pool of deep red-black blood on the floor and blood splashed around the walls and ceiling. The room stank of blood, of death. It quite surprised Hayes how outdated everything was in the office. The telephone on the desk was the type they had got rid of years before at the Station, the computer terminal obsolete. The room although large was dark, airless, there were no windows, ‘a lair’ he thought. He looked around for signs of microphones and cameras, he could see none, ‘things could happen here’ Hayes thought ‘and no-one else would know, and 45


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the killer knew it’. Opening the desk drawers it was obvious was nothing had been removed, they were ordered and tidy. Things useful to the BFA such as rubber stamps, official seals and passes, which Hayes reckoned could have got you anywhere in the Reich and beyond with no questions asked, were untouched. One drawer was locked. Hayes took a key from a brown envelope and opened it. At the front was a loaded high-powered automatic pistol, highly polished chrome with an inscription in German and a diamond swastika. A folder of recently completed pale blue Termination forms, all had ‘YES’ boldly written on them. Each had either a photograph of the baby involved indicating its disabilities, or a history of the mental illnesses in its genealogy. Hayes made a note to check into their family’s movements. An old green file held more photographs of Clark as a younger man during the Insurrection, even more graphic than those on the wall, he made another note to check the whereabouts of victims’ families and of his ‘comrades’. At the back hidden behind a drawer partition was a leather wallet on top of six thick rolls of 100 ReichDollar notes. The shiny black wallet held a current Party travel card and a Premium Membership card for an official Party run brothel. He removed the cards, put them in an envelope and wrote ‘check usage’ on it. He looked around and placed the ReichDollars in his briefcase, from Hayes guess it was at least six-month’s worth of his salary. Hayes took a stroll around the room, followed the bloody footprints; opened the private bathroom door smelt the soap, felt the soft towels; looked through the uniform cupboard and examined the citations on some 46


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of Clark’s medals. He opened the door into Juliana’s office where a team of men were trawling through files, then the door into the hallway, pacing out the short distance and calculating what Clark and his assassin would have seen of each other. He sat and studied the map; noting the area where the pin had been stuck. Hayes stood in the centre of the dimly lit room smoking another cigar thinking it made no sense; and why had they brought him in to investigate from the Civil Police, and not someone from Unit IV. 08:46 Frank Bennett was waiting for his visitor from the Prayer Group. A phone call had come from the woman, asking if he had a Bible in German. He was sweeping the street outside his shop door in the early morning heat, his muscles ached a bit from his exertions the night before, he was getting a bit old he told himself, but smirked at the memory of getting his money’s worth, things he could never do in a brothel even an illegal one. His knuckles were bruised and he rubbed them as he noticed a man turning the corner into the street, another was walking from the other direction. The one on his side crossed the road and went to look at Martins shop, there was a setee outside and he stood examining it. The man coming down the other side crossed and came towards the shop. “My wife rang about a bible, I’ve come to look at it”, it was the older heavy man from the evening before, “…and have a look at your stock.” “Yes she said you were coming.” They went inside. The man wandered around the shop, went up the 47


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stepladders, went to the back of the shop. He asked if when lying down below the window he could be seen from outside. Frank went outside and tidied the bookshelves; he noted the other man was still examining furniture. Back inside he told the man he couldn’t be seen, but he would put another stack of books along the front just to make sure. “When you know when our friend is coming give this number a ring” he wrote it down on a pad, “… we’ll need at least an hours notice to give him a proper greeting. You’ll need to tidy up a bit, we need a clear path through for two people”, looking at the connecting door he asked “where does that lead?” “To my rooms.” “Is there another way out?” “I’ll show you.” Frank took the man through his equally messy rooms, dirty plates and mugs lay around, his bed a mess, books and old newspapers covered most surfaces. For some reason he apologised for the smell. Frank showed the man to a door which opened onto a flat roof, there was a rusty ladder leading to a walled piece of rough ground that had once been a vegetable garden, glass from a greenhouse lay broken on the ground. The man asked how high the walls were. “I couldn’t climb them, but that young man with you last night could easily.” “He won’t be here. Have you a spare set of step ladders?” Frank had and the man told him to drop them down there, as they may be needed. “On the other side of the wall, is that Auckland 48


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Street?” “No, it’s a back way behind the houses on Auckland Street.” “Good, just right… could be tricky you know that. We may have to destroy the shop.” “What will I do?” “You’ll have to come with us.” He took one more look around the shop, and then turned left up the street; the man opposite walked hurriedly the other way. 08:58 “I’ve just come back to get changed dear!” Hayes called upstairs. He could hear the shower and music from a radio. Morning sun streamed through coloured glass into his hallway. In the kitchen Hayes made a pot of tea, pouring three mugs, he took one to his driver and told him he’d only be about half an hour, then went upstairs. “I’ll be late for school”, his wife Margaret said as she rubbed the last of the damp from her hair, “your jacket’s back from the cleaner, there… no, no not there, in the wardrobe… got to go… suppose you’ll be late?” “Probably they’ve got me on a political case”, then remembering “… school? It’s Saturday?!” “Special fund raising event, you remember? You organised the police dog team. Ah well…” she said resignedly and picked up her briefcase, “I’m off.” Hayes laid a pale olive jacket on the bed; they’d cleaned the blood off it, and done a good job he thought. He chose grey trousers, an immaculately ironed white shirt and his old cricket club tie. With some spit on his finger 49


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he rubbed a mark off. After a quick shower and letting the cat out, he picked up a book and returned to the car. “I just have to drop this off, it’s on the way.” Hayes told the driver to pull up at a chapel. He went in and after carefully looking around, stuffed the ReichDollars into a polished wood donation box. “Ah, George!” a familiar voice said from the far end of the chapel, which made him jump. “Pastor Goodnow, I’m returning this book.” “What a surprise. I was just coming in to get things ready for tomorrow. You’ll be here won’t you?” The Pastor looked quizzically at the book, “… that’s not mine George. Anyway, our speaker, she runs a women’s welfare centre in the Mersey Industrial Zone. Inspirational, the Gospel in action.” “Ah yes, I’ll try. Margaret said something about it, she’ll be here… of course.” “How is Margaret?” “Oh well, always well you know. She has a fund raising event on at school. Got to go, got a lot of work on.” He left the chapel quickly before Goodnow noticed the ‘donation’. 09:50 Sitting in his office Bennett took a large drink of gin. ‘Shit’ he thought, ‘I’m going to lose all I’ve got, and what for? Redemption?’ He looked up at his most valued volumes then lit a cigarette, muttering to himself, “If they find out who I am I’m a dead man. If they kill the Brigadier, I’m a dead man. Shit. David you’re a stupid bastard and you’ve 50


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learnt nothing in thirty years.” The shop bell tinkled, a customer came in looked around and bought a pre-war railway guidebook of France. He locked the door and turned the sign to ‘closed’. He smoked another cigarette, then going along the shelves removed books that held any real value, there were more than he realised. He separated some military histories and a fine book of hand coloured plates of Prussian army uniforms. He would show those to the Brigadier if he came, if he got time to look. That left about 600 volumes worth keeping; he separated about 50 more, a mix of all types and sizes. Then went across the road to Martins and borrowed some boxes. For the next few hours, he wrapped the books in paper, making them waterproof in thick plastic bags. The boxes were heavy. He went to the back of the shop and found an old station trolley; it needed a bit of oil to get the wheels to turn properly and began loading the van, it was heavy work and he sweated profusely. 11:12 “I hope you got some sleep Fraulein Podolski? They gave you breakfast?” “They did, thank you.” They were back in the meeting room, the exhibition had been cleared away and the sun was streaming in. Hayes looked down at a file then up to Juliana. “As a formality I’ve been reading about you… very impressive. With your qualifications, you could have gone anywhere in the Reich. What made you choose Bolton?” “To work with Director Clark” she answered very 51


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quickly. Hayes gestured for her to expand on her answer. “When I was nearing the end of my course I researched who was the most effective person working in Racial Purification, and the Director was by far the best.” “Racial Purification is not the most highly regarded of departments nowadays, someone of your skills and abilities could be a high flyer in for instance an Economics or Banking Department.” “I believe that the purity of our race is central to the future of the Party and the improvement of the World. Like Director Clark I feel things are slipping, becoming more liberal…” “So you talked of these things with the Director.” “No, no, not directly, but I could tell from the rigour of his work and what I learnt during the writing of The Report that he believed that.” “Do you think that is why he was assassinated?” “I couldn’t say Detective General. I cannot understand how people can object to a better future.” Hayes lit a cigar. Bland pushed a piece of paper into Hayes’ view. “Ah, right… when your flat was searched there were some interesting and quite surprising things found”, there was a ‘dramatic’ pause by Hayes, “… You appear to have a very interesting hobby, making glass figurines, and we found a banned book on your bookshelf, namely The Grasshopper Lies Heavy. We haven’t seen that one for many years. Perhaps you would like to expand on these?” “The book is a comedy. At college, we studied works that were on the Banned List and why they were there. 52


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It’s badly written and shows a total lack of understanding of the power of National Socialism. I still have it because it is Maria Bormann’s copy and I need to return it, I brought it with me from Germany by mistake. If you look inside the cover you will see it was a gift to her late father from the person who eliminated the writer.” “You are friends with some influential people, Party ‘royalty’ in fact. I’m surprised you didn’t use their influence to find a better position.” “I do not agree with that sort of thing sir. I wish to rise to the top because of my ability, not who I know.” “Few of your colleagues think that alas Fraulein, most others would have taken advantage, I applaud you for it. And the glass?” “Crystal glass Detective General. At College, some of us were allotted leading families to live with in Munich and use them as an example for our future life. I was privileged to stay with the Bormanns. They had a collection of glass figurines that fascinated me. One of their staff, an Austrian I believe, created pieces in his spare time and taught me some of the skills. It gives me great relaxation and pleasure. I have also sold a few pieces which helps, I am not from a rich family… you can see my sales on my tax forms which I presume you have.” Bland passed a sheet of paper to Hayes, which he scanned. “A very impressive list of buyers. Did Director Clark buy one?” “No. I’m sure he knew I made them, he was very thorough, but we never discussed anything outside work.” Hayes sat silently nodding. He passed a cup of coffee 53


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to Juliana. “How many people in The Department are able to change a person’s racial profile?” “They are created at birth, some background genealogical information may be added if necessary, but those files have a complex pass on them, only available to people at a much higher security level than I. To my knowledge, any change of that sort would have to be through a Regional Director or maybe even a National Director. I’m sure Deputy Director Masterson can tell you more.” “We will be asking him.” “As you know,” she continued, “there were some terrorist bombings during the Insurrection and many thousands of files were lost. It took ten years to get back up to date, that is when Director Clark came to the fore, and his work during that time was inspirational.” Hayes smiled to himself, it being the second time that day that something was inspirational. “Yes Fraulein, I was a much younger policeman at that time, we spent considerable time helping the Department with its updating.” “Then you know.” “Yes. Have you ever changed a profile?” Juliana straightened herself and looked straight into Hayes’ eyes. “Certainly not.” “Not even on the order of Director Clark?” “No never, I was never ordered to” she answered sharply. “Would you have questioned him why if he had? Or even refused?” 54


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“I was never asked to sir.” Hayes turned to Bland and Bartholomew, they nodded assent. “I think Fraulein you may leave us now. We will have many more questions for you, so please be prepared to return at a moments’ notice. If you need to leave Bolton, we need to know.” “May I go home?” Bartholomew answered, “The Department have arranged another apartment for you, your clothes and belongings have been moved there.” “And my bicycle?” Bland and Bartholomew looked at each other questioningly. “We’ll organise that.” She left. “She’s too perfect” Hayes said. “You mean she’s not human?” Bland pitched in. “You’ve been reading too many American science fiction comics Bland, grow up.” “But sir, the Japanese, they are decades further on in electronics, robotics, computerisation…” “I said grow up Bland. You know I could have you arrested for those statements” he tapped his ears and pointed upwards. “No, she is no robot, well not as you think. Fraulein Podolski is a product of the finest college in the Reich. She’s the perfect blond specimen, the zenith of her race…” “...and American sir” Bland interrupted. “…they teach them how to be questioned and tell us everything that can be verified but hide the meaning 55


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from us …” “But the book?” Bartholomew butted in. “Do you want to phone the Bormann residence and ask eh? You would be directing traffic in Archangel in mid winter… Didn’t you notice how she didn’t brag about who she knew, but let us find out? Did you see the list of who buys those cute little glass statuettes she makes?” Hayes poured more coffee for himself, re-lit his cigar. “Right Bland what did you find out about this Mrs Dalton or Elizabeth Jardine or whoever she is?” They watched CCTV footage of her enter the building, wait, go into the office, then nearly an hour later leave and exit the building. Hayes stopped the video a few times to look for any blood on her clothes, to look for facial details, physical movements, then he said “…she knows where the cameras are. Look… look at the angle of her face whenever she’s close to one… she knows this building intimately. Find out why Director Clark had no camera in his office, every other room has one.” Bland got a street map out and related Dalton’s movements through the town, he had the form she filled in, the order for wine and a statement from the police officer who guided her to the Department. There was more video of her in the station and getting on the train. “…she showed her pass, and then we know nothing. There is no record in Blackpool of her swiping her card, but then there was no one to check at that end at that time of night.” “So she could have got off at any one of the eight stops, or Blackpool. Clever, the earlier train only stops once. Podolski booked the journey; we’ll have to ask her why she chose that particular train. Is there tape from any of 56


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the stations?” asked Hayes. “The cameras were sequested for the Coronation and taken to London” Bartholomew stated. Hayes rolled his eyes, “What?” “There were not enough cameras; it appears it’s a secret, the security men on the door told me. There are not enough cameras in Britain and they were needed in London, so three weeks ago thousands got moved.” “…and Dalton must have known this. But then so must, well hundreds if not thousands in the various administrations. I know it’s a long shot but have a root around Bland and see who’s been asking about security cameras. So about Mrs Dalton what do we know?” Bland laid a file out on the table. “The ID picture is nine years old, it is due for renewal next year. Her original file was one of those that were destroyed and replaced. Lives on her own, we’ve gone to the address given, it’s an empty shed down a lane, however there is evidence that a row of houses were once there, knocked down about 8 years ago. The work, tax and fingerprint files have not appeared yet. What we have tells us her husband was killed on active duty, I have checked and there are no army records of him, but they too may have been destroyed, remember the bomb in Aldershot, it was before that. An army pension is paid into an account in Blackpool, drawn on at banks all over the North West…” “OK, ok that’s enough, it sounds like a front, remember the Robert Summers Preston shootings? Same set up. Check out the bank account and any CCTV they may have. What about Elizabeth Jardine, is she Mrs Dalton?” Bartholomew opened another file, “…well she could be 57


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if she wasn’t dead.” “Do we know for certain she died” Hayes intervened. “She was executed. Our lords and masters keep excellent records of that sort of thing, you know that.” Hayes looked daggers at him and again tapped his ear, mouthing ‘careful’. “You said in the Mersey Zone. Check if Mrs Dalton has ever been to the Mersey Zone.” “I already have, she was there yesterday. Interestingly Jardine was sent there by Director Clark after she caused some trouble.” Hayes looked interested, “Go on.” “She had two children born with some minor physical disabilities and the Director insisted they be terminated. Then when she had a third child he decided there was the probability of mental health problems. She put in an appeal but Director Clark won the day. She made threats to him”, he fumbled through some papers, “… caused some trouble here at this building, arrested and was sent to the Zone. There she caused more trouble and damaged machinery, the factory militia court sentenced her for sedition and she was shot as an example.” “Right, and was the woman shot Jardine?” “The records say so, the blood matched.” “So why are her fingerprints all over the office, and presumably deliberately so to put us off. Nothing in this case is there by chance. Whoever has planned this is either making a point or using these as deceptions to divert our eyes and minds from the real truth.” Hayes looked at his two colleagues. “That’s why they bring us in rather than the Unit, in their eyes we are just Mr Plod and this case will grind 58


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to nothing and we will be to blame for not finding an assassin”, Hayes lit his cigar again, “… we’re in the shit and swimming to the sewage farm..” 13:15 Frank Bennett drove eastwards out of the town, towards the Pennines. He kept to the old lanes, which wound up and down valleys, through farmyards and deep into an empty landscape. Bennett knew of an unused dry stone farm building, he’d already ensured the roof at one end was waterproof as he often brought girls there for business and he had some shackles fixed to the wall, which he didn’t want to get rusty. There was a sort of stage at one end where many years before hay was kept for the cattle and sheep who used to winter in the building. It was a perfect place to store the boxes for a while. At the top end of the valley he stopped, switched the engine off, got out and looked back, it was silent except for a light breeze and sheep bleating in the distance. Nothing and no-one was following him. Another halfmile and he was there. The van bounced on a rough track and he was afraid the axle may go under the weight, but he arrived and backed up to the door. 14:24 Juliana paced around her new apartment. It was bigger and smarter than Lord Halifax House, the bathroom luxurious, the furniture expensive. She had a balcony overlooking a park with hills in the distance. Four floors below was a car park filled with shiny expensive cars. And it was quiet. In her old flat she could hear neighbours’ TVs and music, the woman above her had had regular visits from at least one man and she often 59


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felt she could have been in the same bed as them as they hammered away. This was wonderfully peaceful. She hoped she would be able to stay here after the investigation was over and knew it would only take a phone call to arrange it. There was a phone. She picked it up and it was connected. Juliana decided to phone her mother in Germany later, but now she phoned the Department and asked to speak to Deputy Director Masterson. Someone she did not recognise replied and was informed he was not available but a message would be left that she had rung. The kitchen was well stocked, food and bread obviously freshly bought. She made a salad with smoked salmon and camembert cheese, with a crusty roll and butter. There was a good selection of wine and Juliana chose a dry Danish Pinot Grigio. She poured a glass and switched on the news channel. It was still going on about the celebrations for the Coronation around the country; the near completion of the Channel Bridge; a new ship launched on the Tyne being named after the new King. There was nothing about The Directors death, she hadn’t expected it but it was worth checking. The main foreign news was how the Japanese with its mainly Australian and Indian manned army was bogged down in Afghanistan; a spokesman for the Party seemed to relish the problems they had got into. Juliana switched off. It was a hot humid day as every day was and she sat on a steamer chair on the balcony. She was still tired and slept. A helicopter landing in the park woke her, three people one in army uniform strode away from it towards the car park, a man in Unit IV uniform followed them carrying 60


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bags, the helicopter flew off. As they drew closer, she recognised Jeffrey Brown as one of the group. Juliana decided to ring her mother and put in a request for a call to Germany, she was told by the operator it would be five minutes to be connected. She still could not understand why they didn’t have mobile phones in Britain. Although not as efficient as the Japanese territories’, in Germany they at least had coverage in all the cities. While she was waiting, she searched around the apartment, trying to work out where the microphones would be, the phone was almost certainly tapped. A single ring denoted her call had come through. They spoke in German. Her mother asked how she was and Juliana gave nonspecific answers, told her how well work was going but how the English didn’t really seem to like the Germans. Her mother then went into a rapturous description about how the Bormann’s had invited her to their country home for a weekend in the Alps, they’d sent a car and made her so welcome, it was not just a home but a castle with everything one ever desired. Oh and the people she had met there! She reeled off names of industrialists, politicians, film stars. They kept telling her how much they’d enjoyed having Juliana stay with them in Munich, and what great friends she and their daughter Bruni had become, and that when she came back they both must come and stay for at least a month in the Summer, when their son Martin Junior would be home and how much he liked Juliana. Such a great future she could have. Juliana made a face and remembered Martin who she thought was an oafish prig with little imagination, but because of his family would probably become Reichkanzler, but didn’t say it out loud. Her mother 61


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continued at full throttle, about how she was lucky to have such connections and must use them to get herself a good position, somewhere nearer home and more pleasant than England. She then realised she had to go somewhere and urged Juliana to phone soon and make sure she kept in regular touch with the Bormanns. She ended that she felt Art would be so proud of what she has achieved and burst into tears. The phone went dead. Juliana wondered what the Detective General would think of that conversation and that certainly the two B’s would be scared stiff by her connections, but not she thought Hayes, he would not be star-struck. She decided she liked Hayes; he was what was good about Great Britain. 18:55 It had taken some time for Bennett to unload and stack the boxes; he’d piled wood on top and placed some old drums in front. Then shovelled some dust and dirt to cover his tracks, and before returning sat in the shade drinking about half a bottle of gin and chain-smoking five foul tasting cigarettes. Frank was relieved he had something to rely on in the future and had only just arrived back at the shop when a grey police car pulled up outside, from the corner of his eye he noticed some of the streets’ residents stealthily disappearing into their houses. A large man got out of the passenger side, he told the uniformed driver to wait, and Frank took a short sigh of relief. They were Civil Police. The man wasn’t fat but large, he looked like a former rugby player who had remained fit, his clothes were reasonably smart, lived in and comfortable, not like Unit IV, but then they looked unreal. 62


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Hayes knocked on the shop door. Bennett mouthed ‘closed’, Hayes flashed his police badge and Bennett let him in. Hayes introduced himself. Frank moved behind the table in the middle of the shop, close to the drawer with the pistol in it, which he hoped was loaded, he couldn’t remember. He noticed Hayes didn’t wear a Party badge in his lapel and he was carrying a book. Hayes saw a man probably the same age as himself, he had scars and burn marks down the left side of his face and from what he could see had scars and burn marks on his left arm and hand. He looked worn out and even over the musty stink of the shop Hayes could smell alcohol on him. “Frank Bennett isn’t it?” “Yes, can I help? I notice you have a copy of ‘The Grasshopper Lies Heavy’.” “Yes, do you have other copies here?” “I have a number, it is of course nominally banned, but no one seems to bother. In fact it is quite fashionable for Party Members to buy books from the old Banned List; it creates a good income for me.” “I could of course arrest you for selling it.” “But you won’t.” “No” said Hayes, “no, unless we have other reasons. I’ve brought this copy to get your opinion about it; something has come up in a case I’m working on…” “Let me have a look.” Hayes handed the book over; Bennett flicked it open, put a page to the light, put his fingers over the text, and took a long look at the inscription. “Is this or more correctly was this really the owner?” Hayes didn’t answer. “Well it’s certainly not a first 63


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edition, even though it purports to be. The initial run of 2,000 was printed using moveable type at a small jobbing printer in Denver, there were quite a lot of typos.” Bennett went to a shelf and took down a scruffy looking book. “Put your finger across the text on this page Detective General.” Hayes did so. “Now, on the copy of Grasshopper you brought in” Hayes did so, “…what was the difference?” “The book you gave me was slightly bumpy, this is smooth.” “Exactly Detective General, exactly! If your Grasshopper was a first edition it would feel bumpy and worth a small fortune, even more so with the inscription.” “Right, so the one I have here?” “Well the book became hugely popular in all three parts of the States in the early 60’s, for some even a rallying call”, Bennett spoke enthusiastically, “… many thousands of copies were burnt by the authorities. The author Hawthorne Abendsen was assassinated in ’65 by order I believe of the person in the inscription”, Hayes looked at Bennett sternly as if to reproach him for mentioning such things, “…well that is what is said anyway. However, this edition, it’s one of many copies, probably late 60’s, no errors. It’s not just the printing; the cover is nothing like the original. The first edition was plain with only the book title and authors name on the front, this looks like something from a war comic. The paper is also cheap stuff, look at the yellowing. Many short run books, and there are lots here, use very good quality paper, look”, he took another book off 64


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the shelves, it was a book of First World War poetry, “…printed and published in 1957, just four years after the war ended at the height of the shortages, and still glowing white.” Hayes agreed. “Thank you Mr Bennett, that was very useful.” “You haven’t told me why you are asking? Is someone trying to sell it as an original? Is it some sort con trick?” “I can’t say”, Hayes was about to leave, stopped and turned round, “Bennett is not your real name, I know that. David Armitage isn’t it?” Bennett went pale and put his hand towards the drawer. “Oh don’t worry no one else knows” Hayes continued, “…my position you see, I have access to files. You can forget about that gun, I am better trained than you and anyway you have to take it out of the drawer, you’d be dead before you cocked it”. There was a short silence. “Do you still have any contacts in the BFA? I’d be surprised if they know who you really are if you do, and if they did you wouldn’t be safe, you are certainly on their hit list… I know that, I’ve interviewed enough who have named you, none of your comrades of course, they are all gone, as you know. The star witness weren’t you. What was it? Ah yes you blew up the wrong train, 266 women and children… How does it feel Armitage? Hard to live with?” Hayes made a drinking gesture. Bennett was rigid and silent. “I’m not here for that, don’t worry. It’s just that there has been an incident, a very serious incident, soon Unit 65


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IV will be all over it. If you know anything about it come to me first, you well know what they’re like. I don’t think you or the movement were involved, but I would appreciate it if you hear anything, after all you are good at collaborating.” Hayes placed his contact card on the table. “Call me if you hear anything” then stopping again before leaving said, “… you know it would be very easy to pin this on you.” ‘Pin what?’ Bennett thought and went to his office, poured a large glass of gin.

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Sunday 10:55 Margaret passed George a cup of tea with two biscuits on the saucer. The chapel was buzzing with discussion. “It is good to see you here George” enthused Pastor Goodnow, Hayes slopped some tea on his biscuits, “and Margaret… good morning.” “Was that a new prayer of yours Paul? You write so well, can you make me a copy?” Margaret said smilingly. “Yes, I wrote it especially for this occasion.” Goodnow tapped a woman on the arm who was talking to some of the congregation, she turned toward him. “George, Margaret,, this is Angela Scott, I hope you found her talk stimulating?” “Oh so much, such dedication, I feel so humble” Margaret enthusiastically replied. Angela thanked her. “George? How did you find it?” “Angela and I know each other”, then concentrating on her, “…yes it’s good to meet, unofficially.” “Yes Pastor Goodnow, the Detective General has had to come to our Project in the Zone a few times on business.” Margaret sensed that George wanted to talk with Angela alone and realised that was why he had 67


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accompanied her to Chapel today. She put her arm in Pastor Goodnows’ and led him away to discuss the development of the community library. “You don’t wear a tag Miss Scott?” “No, I am free to come and go; I choose to live in the Zone. This sort of visit is important to raise funds.” “I trust you have been successful?” “Oh yes very. Pastor Goodnow said they had a surprise anonymous donation, a considerable sum which he has handed to me, he thinks you had something to do with it?” Hayes shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I didn’t put you down as a Christian Detective General.” “I don’t believe in the fairy stories, but the moral teachings are very close to my heart. One doesn’t have to be a believer to appreciate and live by those.” “There are aspects I also appreciate and the members of churches are very supportive of our work, we depend on their generosity.” “Some would see it as illegal. I could probably arrest you now and gain great kudos from certain quarters.” “But you don’t?” “I am here privately.” “Are you, are you really? You are not a Party member.” “If I was I could probably be head of a huge department, have a large house by the sea and have sent my children to private academies. Some say I am stupid not to be.” “But you do their dirty work; and in some people’s eyes, you are equally guilty. It could be argued your hand is on the termination syringes alongside the Health 68


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Protection officers.” “I am aware of that, but it is the law and laws can change in time. I am a policeman; the law is the law whoever writes it, I just enforce it.” “Without question?” “Some people think so. I hope I am fair to all.” “I have heard you are on an interesting case at present?” Angela quizzed. “I may have to come and interview you…” Angela straightened, “Is that why you came today?” “It spurred me on to attend, I can’t go into any detail here but do you remember an Elizabeth Jardine?” “Betty, yes of course. She came to the Project after her children were murdered…” Hayes made a gesture to check her language. “No murdered Detective General, then the Militia unjustly executed her, it was quite a while ago. She was another tragic case, we have so many. Why?” “Were you there at the execution?” “No, why would I be?” “Did she die?” “Of course she did, the militia shot her. Why?” “Oh, her name cropped up in an investigation. I think we may have to talk officially soon, I’ll come to the Zone and talk to you properly.” Angela started to turn away to talk to others, Hayes put his hand on her arm to stop her. “The case involves The Department for Racial Purity.” Angela turned round again and looked at him interested. “Yes, I have seen documents way above my security 69


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level. I brought copies home by mistake, that’s why I am carrying this briefcase, I better not lose it, don’t want it to get in the wrong hands.” Angela looked at him at first not quite understanding what he was trying to imply, then smiled. George continued, “What does that Psalm say? Ah yes ‘…children are a gift of the Lord; the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children on one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; they shall not be ashamed, when they speak with their enemies in the gate’. Not quite sure what the gate bit means…” “Well done George, we’ll have you a regular yet!” Pastor Goodnow enthused as he and Margaret rejoined them. “For indeed, the days are coming when people will say, ‘blessed are the barren, the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed’” Angela quoted. “Luke isn’t it?” the Pastor said looking serious, “…let’s pray it never comes to that. We should wonder, would this be acceptable to God, for us to reject His gift?” For a second they were all silent. Angela broke it “Well it’s been good to meet again Detective General Hayes and you too Margaret, you make him seem almost human! I wish we’d had more time, but I better talk to some others; they seem to be queuing up to meet me! I’m sure we will meet again, on your next visit to the Zone” she moved towards another group, “Pastor Goodnow perhaps you would introduce me…” Hayes noticed Frank Bennett enter the chapel, which he thought was strange. He was carrying a book, which wasn’t. Bennett butted in to a conversation Angela Scott was having, she didn’t look pleased to see him, but 70


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appeared to Hayes to know him. Bennett handed her the book, and turning, acknowledged Hayes presence, Hayes acknowledged in return, and then Bennett began talking to Pastor Goodnow. Margaret was ready to drive away, when Hayes stopped her, he got out as quickly as his large frame could get out from the Morris. Bending back into the open door he muttered, “I forgot my briefcase”, and headed back into the chapel. 11:42 Angela and Frank sat in the van; it was parked behind the chapel, away from view. Angela was angry that Frank had come to see her. Frank expressed surprise Hayes was there. “When you saw him didn’t you have the sense to ignore me? Or better still leave!” she demanded, “Hayes is clever, he looks a big bumbling fool, but he isn’t he’s far sharper than anyone in Unit IV, thank God for us he’s not a Party Member. Seeing us talking and then what we are planning? Don’t you see? It won’t take a genius to piece things together, the whole of the North West could go down like a pack of cards”, she fumed. “I don’t want to have to kill him as well, we’ve hardly any support anyway, too many errors, too many innocent people… children, elderly have got in the way. People don’t like the Nazi’s but they sure as hell don’t want to die, people have peace, jobs, and a quiet life. There is a lot of money about, the majority are content. It’s up to us to offer a better life, freedom of thought and action, not have people scared they’re going to be blown up or shot any minute. Hayes is the sort of person the public feel is on their side, and yes, he’s a copper, but he is theirs, not the Governments. Don’t you see?” 71


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“Yes… so what are we going to do?” Frank asked. “Is the Brigadier worth it?” “He’s the best target that has been this way for a long time, and we can get him on his own. Look at what he symbolises, look at the message we can send out.” “Yes but would anyone hear? I don’t know. I’m now implicated, the cover will be blown, and they’ll be on the Project like rats.” “Hayes came to visit me, at the shop yesterday. Brought a copy of a book to check out.” “And?” Angela asked. “I gave him my expert advice.” “What was the book?” “An old banned one from America, said it was something to do with a case. It seems important.” “Something’s already happened, Hayes is involved, told me so in there, but no one’s talking. It’s nothing to do with the Army. I haven’t a clue what it is. Security is on a higher level. We need to find out what’s going on”, Angela said, “do you have any contacts, we’ve heard nothing?” “I can ask around, but police aren’t too welcome in my street. But there are others, I’ll ask.” “Drive me to the centre, we’re going to have to discuss this before we go ahead.” Frank dropped Angela near the station and like before she walked away through the shopping area. She went and sat in a café, opened her bag and pulled out the copies that Hayes had left ‘by mistake’. From just the first page she could see they were gold-dust, publish these and people would flock to the BFA, many thought they knew rumours about what went on but didn’t want 72


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to hear the details. Even Angela had no idea to the extent of the mass murder this data showed. ‘Thanks Hayes’ she said to herself, ‘now what to do about Armitage?’ 14:15 “Bartholomew has requested to be assigned to another case” Bland replied when Hayes asked why he wasn’t in the Meeting Room. Hayes sucked on his cigar and nodded silently. “Have we a replacement?” “Not yet sir. I’ve assigned some uniforms to do some of the leg work.” The door opened and two Zone Militia accompanied Jack Louvin into the room who was told to sit opposite Hayes and Bland, the Militiamen left. Bland did the formalities whilst Hayes read through some notes and Louvin’s file. He was told he wasn’t under arrest but they needed information. “Mr Louvin, is it the policy of The Telephone Authority to give people lifts?” Hayes asked. “No, I don’t think so sir?” Jack made a quite audible sigh of relief. “Well on Friday morning you appear to have given a lift to a woman, Pamela Dalton, someone we need to talk to,” Hayes looked at his notes, “from the Mersey Industrial Zone to Blackpool.” “Blackrod” Jack almost inadvertently interjected. Hayes and Bland looked at each other, both made notes, stood up and looked at a map, Bland moving a map pin. 73


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“You came out of the Zone through Exit 14, surely one of the northern exits would have been easier to get to Blackrod?” “I had some parts to drop off in Chester first, you will see from the records…” Jack’s voice trailed off as Bland handed Hayes a pale green striped printout. “Or the guard got a backy?” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Pamela Dalton, do you know her?” “No, I was doing a favour.” “A favour?” Hayes queried. “Yes, I am a bad gambler and I owe a lot of cash. I was asked to pick up a woman and drop her off.” “Isn’t that misuse of Government property? This woman could have been anyone, and you may be implicated in a serious crime Mr Louvin.” “I didn’t ask.” “Have you done this before?” “A couple of times.” “The same woman?” “No… no I’d never met her before. She wasn’t tagged.” “Are you sure?” asked Hayes “Absolutely. The van cuts out if it senses a tag, I couldn’t have gone anywhere. She was just… well just an ordinary middle aged woman.” “Why Blackrod and not Blackpool?” “She asked me to drop her there, said she’d take the train the rest of the way.” “And after you dropped her?” “I carried on with my schedule, it was busy as there a lot of men off for the holiday. You can look at my log, 74


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it’s all there, I worked till well after midnight.” Bland showed Hayes the printout again. Hayes nodding, thinking to himself. “Do you know why you are here Mr Louvin?” “Misuse of Government time and property I suppose.” Hayes sat back, sucked his cigar, stood up, looked out of the window, then looked at the map again, and sat down. “Did you talk?” “To the woman?” Hayes nodded. “No. No, not much.” “Did she tell you her name?” “She just told me her name was Pamela.” “Didn’t tell you her surname.” “No, I didn’t ask. It was Coronation Day, there were hardly any trains running out of The Zone.” “Pamela or Betty?” “Pamela, I’m sure it was Pamela” Hayes searched through a pale brown file, taking out two photographs and placed them in front of Jack. “Do you recognise either of these women Mr Louvin?” Bland asked. Jack picked up the identity card sized photographs and looked carefully at them. He placed the picture of Elizabeth Jardine back on the table. “That is not her, not who I gave a lift to, but I do remember the face, a long time ago, somewhere. I meet so many people, mending phone lines, fitting cables…” “Making wire taps?” Hayes intervened. “Yes sir, and making wire taps. That is part of my job, perfectly legal. Unit IV send an order, I do it, a bit like 75


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you I suppose.” Jack smiled. “What about the other woman?” “That’s who I gave a lift to, but…” “But Mr Louvin?” “…it’s probably just it being an Identity Card photo, but she looked younger.” “Younger? This is almost out of date Mr Louvin, it was taken nine years ago.” Jack looked again and nodded, “…yes that’s her, but as I said she looked younger, maybe the lighting, I don’t know.” There was a knock on the door. Bland answered and brought a sheet of paper back to the desk which he put in front of Hayes, it told him that the freshest finger prints on the passenger side of the Telephone Authority van were those of Elizabeth Jardine, identical to those found in Clark’s office. “Do you believe in ghosts Mr Louvin?” Hayes quipped. Jack didn’t answer and looked quizzically at Hayes who waved away the quip. “It appears you gave a lift to a dead woman. Who told you to give Pamela Dalton a lift?” “Lukas” “Lukas?” Hayes asked, knowing full well who Heinrich Lukas was. “I went to him to ask for some extra credit and time to pay him off. I’d lost a lot of money again at one of his clubs.” “One of his illegal clubs” Hayes interjected, “Tell us about Lukas?” 76


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“He said he was doing someone a favour and would I give a woman a lift. He said she was legit.” “And you believed him?” “I don’t know.” “You were willing to break the law though. A very serious law, of transporting people out of a Zone, someone who could have been a terrorist, so he must have made it worth your while.” “I owed him, owe him money, a lot of money… if my wife knew how much she’d be gone, take the kids. You know Lukas, he’s one of the people who run’s things in the Zone, it’s not like out here.” Jack looked pleadingly at Hayes shaking his head. “Yet you choose to live there Mr Louvin, you’re not tagged, and you’re a member of the Party.” “My roots are there Detective Hayes, my wife’s are too, it’s hard to move away.” “From the Zone!” Hayes exclaimed, “most people are desperate to leave.” There was a short period of silence. “If this Pamela was just an ordinary woman why was Lukas doing a favour for her, probably a very expensive favour?” “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask Lukas.” “We will. Why are you a member of the Party Mr Louvin?” “I believe it is my patriotic duty, what the Party offers is the only secure future for my children. We are a superior race, I don’t want my children to share the fruits of our hard work with inferior members of our species.” “And yet Mr Louvin you are willing to break laws and live in a Zone… it makes no sense, you could get 77


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preferential treatment, live in a safe community, that’s why most people join the Party. It really makes no sense.” “Detective General Hayes, why am I here? This questioning is not just about misusing a Telephone Authority vehicle. I don’t think you have any right to ask me why I am a member of The Party, when I leave here I will report this to my District Organiser. You are not a member, I see you wear no badge, I’m proud of this badge Detective General, proud of what it stands for. I could turn this whole conversation around and ask you why in your position you are not a member of the Party.” Hayes ignored this. “Are you a member of The British Freedom Army?” Jack Louvin straightened himself in his seat. “No I certainly am not. They are traitors, they are murderers, they care nothing about who they kill. They want a world in which we would all become mongrels, they want anarchy.” “And you have never been?” “No.” “Your father was.” “Yes, and I denounced him and my mother.” “Don’t you feel guilt? They were both imprisoned then executed, your older brother is still at a work camp, yet you live free. Are their deaths on your conscience Mr Louvin? Is that why you gamble? Is that why you are still living in The Zone? So someone can put you out of your misery?” “You don’t understand Detective General.” “Well tell me, tell me what I don’t understand?” 78


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Jack Louvin was silent. “Do you refuse to answer?” Hayes knew this was not going anywhere, he whispered to Bland “…I think he’s just a driver, but I’ll ask him something we can verify, then I want you to look into Heinrich Lukas, bring him here, though you may need a small army to do it!” “Mr Louvin” Hayes said, “you were in the Army. Not just for the National Service but for some years beyond?” “Yes, I’m sure you have the records. After training I was stationed the Urals for a couple of years, the Buffer Zone.” “Did you see action, kill anyone?” “Yes, most weeks.” “How did it feel?” “It was my duty. Infestation from the East, it was like hunting, some men enjoyed it, I did at times, there’s an adrenalin excitement, you must know.” “Women and children?” “It was often whole families, yes. They were trying to cross over. I was following orders.” “I see you chose to be assigned there. So killing is just one of those things that happens, could you kill now?” “If it saved our nation from racial infestation, yes.” “Then you were reassigned, was that by choice?” “I asked to be trained in communications, I realised I only had a few years left in the service so needed a trade. I was sent to the middle east defending the oil fields from Muslim uprisings.” “Did you kill there?” “We were often ambushed so yes, they were scum, 79


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lower levels of humanity. I was decorated, and proud of my time in the army.” “I’m sure you are and in doing your patriotic duty.” Hayes looked at Bland who nodded at him. “Thank you Mr Louvin.” Bland said, “You have been most helpful, we won’t detain you any longer, but we will need to question you again, I think you need to think carefully who you are covering for, they will not be as accommodating to you Mr Louvin, I can assure you of that.” Jack Louvin left the room. “Make sure he is followed Bland and don’t mess it up. Oh and find out if Elizabeth Jardine has a daughter still living.”

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Monday 09:00 A Department man came to the door and was shown in to Hayes. He handed him a brown sealed envelope from Masterson’s office. “This is some information you requested Detective General, you can read it then I have to witness it being destroyed”, he pointed to a large shredding machine, “no other person may see it and the contents cannot be used in any report or as evidence. You have to sign this form.” Hayes signed and the man stood back, hands clasped in front of him while Hayes read it. It was the list of dates from Clark’s brothel membership card record. There was just one name, Lawrence Walsh who he had visited twice sometimes three times a week for the past six years, Hayes knew that that was how long homosexual sex had been legal in state run brothels, outside those institutions it was still illegal, punishable by hanging for persistent offenders. Clark always arrived just after 10pm, and left around 1am. The travel card was unused. He returned the envelope and printout back to the Department man, who destroyed them. “I need to interview someone named in those records, will that be possible.” 81


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Hayes wrote Walsh’s name down with the note ‘To be interviewed as soon as possible’ and handed it to the official. “I will put your requests to the Acting Director” and left. “Bland, have you found any information about the people in the photographs or the families of the terminated babies?” “I am starting on that today sir.” “Do you know if Fraulein Podolski has come into work today?” “Yes, she arrived at 8.30, her usual starting time. The Acting Director has her sitting in his private room.” “Find out when The Acting Director can come to talk to us and get me a blackboard and some chalk.” 11.14 A handcuffed man arrived with uniformed police either side, he was tagged. He had long well coiffered hair in the 40’s American film star style which was very fashionable, his make up was a bit worn away. “Lawrence Walsh Sir.” “Undo his cuffs” Hayes ordered, “then everyone out of the room”, then pointing at the note taker, “that includes you.” Walsh sat down, Hayes poured him coffee. “You came a bit sooner than I expected” Hayes said after introducing himself. “I had no choice. You’re Civil aren’t you, not Unit?” “Yes. Has anyone told you why you are here?” “No. I thought it may be something to do with a punters complaint, but I know you wouldn’t be doing 82


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that.” Walsh had a strong London accent. “When I tell you what this is about you will have to be put into solitary confinement until things are completed, we will clear that with your employers.” “Ha, employers? Fuckin slave drivers you mean. It was either be sent there or work on the Channel land bridge; there’s times I wish I’d chosen the latter.” Bland knocked then came in with a file, it was Walsh’s records. Hayes quickly scanned them. “Right, I see why you were sent there. You have a long history with us don’t you, nothing big but the points built up and now well.” “So why am I here Detective General?” “A man has been assassinated, here, in this building on Friday night. We believe it was by a woman but it could have been someone dressed as a woman, some of the injuries took either great strength or great skill. You are what is known in your trade as a she-male…” “Men and some women like it, in an illegal I could make some fabulous money.” “Yes and as such you could have easily passed for a woman and committed murder?” Hayes looked at him penetratively. Walsh straightened. “Now come on, you can’t just go accusing me of anything. Who’s said something? Who’s dead anyway, this is a Department isn’t it?” “Yes, of Racial Purity.” “You mean Department of Racial Murder.” “I could put you in a camp for that and you’d never get out. It’s a legal method of controlling and improving for the nations’ future.” 83


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“You believe that Detective General? Then where’s your little badge eh? No, it just keeps the listeners sweet. I know all about the bloody listeners, the brothels are covered with mikes, and those dirty little weasels listening to me being fucked are wanking their balls off. Hear that you perverts eh” raising his voice to a shout. “You do nothing to help yourself do you Walsh?” They sat a few seconds in silence. Hayes lit a cigar. “Where were you on Friday evening?” “Working, it was busy, I must have had ten cocks up me by the end of the night.” “Between 6 and 8pm?” “Things don’t get really going until 9, a few in the day, sad buggers usually. But it was busy all day Friday with the Coronation.” “So did anyone see you between those times?” “I was at the Brothel, I told you, they don’t let us out, we sit waiting to be called or parading in front of some wanker. Anyway, I got this thing on.” Walsh pointed to the tag on his ankle, if I tried to get out an alarm goes off. They have orders to shoot, no questions. No one would give a shit, we’re just dirt. It’s good business for the government though, make millions from us.” “No one took the tag off and let you out, to do a job. Did a deal?” “Fuck off. Why are you trying to pin this on me?” Hayes showed a photograph of Clark to Walsh. “Do you know him?” Walsh looked up at Hayes and sat back. “Well?” “Is he the one, is he the one who’s dead?” 84


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“I asked you if you knew him.” “Yes, yes course I do and you know I do, his card would show you I do, so why the fuck ask? Regular, twice a week usually. Likes reverse anal.” Hayes looked questioningly. “I have to fuck him. Gives a good tip. Sometimes arrived with another man who watched wanking himself off, but he’s not been for a long time.” “Do you know that man’s name?” “No they never used names, the guy in the photo’s been coming for six years, never used his name. Is he the dead one?” “This other man can you describe him?” “Shorter, little cock,” Walsh sniggered. “About 50ish, dark straight hair drawn across his forehead, little moustache, think he said his name was Adolf!” He burst out laughing. “Don’t talk shit Walsh.” “Oh you have to laugh Detective General! Look I can’t remember what dirty bastard I blowed last night never mind 3 years ago, the only ones I remember are the good tippers, they get special treatment.” “So the other man hasn’t been for three years?” Walsh nodded and Hayes made a note and poured another coffee. “Have you ever had combat training Walsh?” “What with these tits”, he juggled them and went into ‘little girl’ voice, “…Ooooh sir please don’t punish me too hard just be careful where you put that great long truncheon!” Then in a gruff voice “What the fuck do you think eh? You’ve got the records, it’s in there. Course I have, every man has to even those with tits and a great 85


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arse. I did my two years same as the rest, and weren’t those pretty young boys pleased I was in the barracks!” Hayes sat back and gave an exasperated exhale. He pressed a buzzer and the two policemen returned, handcuffed Walsh and marched him out. Bland rejoined Hayes at the table. “Did you hear any of that Bland?” “No, you told me not to, I went to the canteen.” “I thought you might have listened through the door. Still best you didn’t for your own safety I suppose.” Bland looked a bit perturbed. They went through everything again, looked at tapes, and followed movements on the map. Hayes, thinking aloud pondered, “Bland this goes much further back in time than we’ve been looking, there is someone we need to find who may be behind it, and we have no name, no sensible description and no dates. I can’t see Walsh making any credible descriptions, he knows if he told me what I now want to know he wouldn’t survive ten minutes. We are not on home ground here, a very sticky wicket. Keep looking through records anything you can find. I’m going on a little visit.” 12.56 A grey police car took him westwards through sunlit Bolton to State Brothel 84 in Harwood. The building looked like a small hotel, about 30 rooms Hayes guessed. A high green steel fence surrounded the site, cameras covered every angle. The gate could only be opened with a specific pass card. “You have no jurisdiction here Detective General, you can of course visit to use our services if you have the correct pass and fund stream, I’m surprised you’ve 86


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never been, many people of your rank are our regulars. But you cannot to question the staff or workers.” The Manager, Mrs Taylor told him sitting at a glass desk, she continued, “as you know the workers are sent here by the courts, only those appointed by the courts can have access to them other than for working purposes.” She was cold and matter of fact. Hayes knew she was probably stating the obvious for the listeners and covering herself. “Yes, I do know this Mrs Taylor. Please contact your line manager at The Department, I have already explained I am working on a case that may or may not involve users and possibly staff and workers from this establishment, I need to talk to you, who I know has been here for eight years and look at some records of clients.” “And you Detective General despite your elevated position in the Civil Police are not of sufficient level…” “Yes I am well aware of that. This morning I have been interviewing Lawrence Walsh and he has talked about certain people who we wish to eliminate from our investigations.” “I would not take anything Walsh says with any credence. He or should I say she for the purposes of work is one of our most popular assets, but totally unreliable.” “He brought up the possibility that a third person was in a room watching a person who has been a victim of an assassination. If I knew who that person was it may be very useful in finding the assassin, and you would gain from helping in our enquiries. This investigation is being monitored at the highest levels so I would not like them to think that you Mrs Taylor had hindered it.” “I will do what I can, I will send in some coffee while I 87


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get permissions.” About 15 minutes later she returned, carrying two thick files dated three and four years ago. “I have been told these cannot leave the building and no information may be written down. I am not permitted to ask for the names you are looking for. All appointments with Walsh are numbered 77901Z. I will trust you to only look at what is necessary for your enquiries. When you leave an officer from Unit IV will search you.” “Thank you Mrs Taylor.” From records he had already seen, Wednesday was Clarks’ most regular day to visit. The files were impeccable, easy to find information. He found Clarks visits easily, there was a reference number to take his payments directly from his salary, the sums were large. It took some time to find a double booking. There was no name of the other person, just Guest 2, but the fees were paid from Clarks account, and even larger. The last reference made to Guest 2 was three and a half years ago, just as Walsh indicated, after that Clark only visited on his own. He opened some pages for other workers and clients to see if anything similar had occurred, there were some similar blanks, and names he knew well but knew he had to forget even though it was legal. There was an appendix of complaints by the workers and clients, with the decisions by staff and of appeals. 99.9% seemed to find for the client; most were for violence, refusal to comply with visitor’s wishes, or going beyond agreed boundaries. Extra days were added to sentences for failed appeals, he noted that Walsh had more than two years added to his time, but also had one appeal approved. Hayes checked the date and it matched the last visit of Guest 2. There were no details. Hayes pressed an intercom and Mrs Taylor returned 88


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to the office. “Is it possible to have a transcript of one of the appeals?” “You will have to apply to Director Clark directly for that.” “Who gave permission for me to read these files?” “That was Deputy Director Masterson.” So, she doesn’t know about Clark thought Hayes, he thanked her and left. A uniformed Unit IV Officer searched him, not very thoroughly, and apologised saying it had to be done.

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Tuesday 06.20 Frank Bennett did not sleep well on Monday night. He was up, drinking gin and chain smoking. He went down to the shop, there was a haze of dust in the morning sun, the only time of day light reached the front. He went to the back of the shop to his ‘office’, filled in some forms for the tax authorities and city waste disposal charges. Time was stretching itself to the limit. He looked at some French pornographic postcards from the 1920’s, they didn’t help, so he walked across the street and sat and chatted to Martin, who needed the van all day. On his way back to the shop, the girl he had seen a few nights back came to him and asked if he wanted more business, she still had some bruises on her arms and on her neck. He refused, but gave her a very small amount of cash, ‘on account’. Then the phone rang. “Mr Bennett?” a very smart voice asked, Frank affirmed. “Brigadier Jackson wishes to visit your shop, he was delighted with the gift The Director of Communications gave him and understands you have some very interesting stock.” “I would be most honoured.” “Well we’ll say around 11.30.” Frank dialled the number he’d been left, he had just 90


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one line of message to give, “Can you bring the gas bottle at 12.30.” They had agreed he add an hour as his phone was probably tapped for the visit. He checked his gun was loaded and made sure the drawer opened smoothly. Frank took the old stepladders from under a pile of other rubbish, carried them upstairs and carefully dropped them into the garden. Then sat and waited. A man came to the shop and looked through some old dictionaries, he bought three. Frank wondered if this was someone checking the shop out, as he was not a regular. The members of The Prayer Group should be arriving at least 20 minutes before the Brigadier. Frank sat outside on his old chair, it was 11.15 and no one had come, he took a walk along the street to the main roads at either end, no one was in sight. It felt even hotter than usual, but Frank thought perhaps that was his nervousness, he took a big drink of Gin, it didn’t really help, but he knew he couldn’t show his nervousness to the Brigadier. At 11.25, a large Mercedes with blacked out windows turned into the street and parked in front of the shop. Frank furtively took one more look up and down the street. Three large men in dark suits got out of the car. Two stood ‘point’ observing the street, the other next to the shop door and frisked Frank then went directly to the table drawer, took out the gun, emptied out the ammunition and pocketed it. He didn’t say anything. A man got out of the car and walked into the shop, he was not in uniform, but was an impressive person, over 6ft tall, dark greying hair. “Thank you for letting me come to your shop Mr Bennett, I’m Brigadier Jackson. Sorry about all this,” the Brigadier said gesturing to the security, “but in my 91


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position, well I’m sure you understand.” “Of course, it’s no problem; I thought there’d be more!” Frank nervously said with a laugh, expecting at any moment a burst of machine gun or a bomb blast. “You had a gun. I don’t blame you.” “I have it legally, but then you have probably seen my file.” “Yes of course, but I’m not here to talk business. I was so pleased with the book you found for Jeff. I was hoping you may have more such gems.” He turned towards the dusty stock, he took out a gleaming white handkerchief and wiped his nose, perhaps Frank thought because of the dust and musty smell. “I got these down for you,” Frank said laying out 10 books on the table, “I realised you may not have much time so I took the liberty.” “Of course, I am actually supposed to be in a meeting, but ‘the roads were very busy’”, the Brigadier winked at Frank, and Frank took a liking to the man. He showed him the book of Prussian uniforms, some very rare copies of First World War diaries, a couple of regimental histories, an eighteenth century Homer in parallel Greek/English text, two albums of plates of British game birds and a highly illustrated late Victorian history of Roman pornographic sculptures. These delighted the Brigadier who Frank could tell knew his stuff. He spent quite some time looking at them, and kept muttering, “I must get going.” He decided to buy the regimental histories, game birds and the Homer. There was no haggle over the prices, which Frank had inordinately inflated; they were to be charged to the Brigadiers’ Department. He wrote out an official order 92


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for the sum, and Frank signed it. The security man at the door came in and took the books, was gruffly charged by the Brigadier to carefully place them in the boot of the car, who then handed the order to the driver, who counted out a very large sum of cash, which was handed to Frank. Frank and the Brigadier shook hands, the Brigadier assuring him he would be back when he next visited, and as he left handed over his card telling him that he would be in touch about other books he was looking for. The man at the door brought the gun and bullets back and handed them to Frank. The black car left in a cloud of dust. ‘Good Business’ Frank thought but not what he expected, relieved to have his shop still intact. He dialled the Prayer Group number, the line was dead, then went to find the girl for some business. 12:48 Hayes clapped chalk off his hands. He’d written a list of names of all the people and places involved to the left of the blackboard, then a series of arrows. He put a line through Lukas’ name as Bland had reported that he’d died in a traffic accident the night before. Hayes picked up his coffee and cigar and walked to one of the large windows. He noted how the heat discoloured the grass just like his garden was. He pondered on when it would next rain, it had been dry for four months and soon there would be a water shortage. It happened every year, it was hard to remember the old ‘British weather’. Bland showed Masterson into the room and left. Hayes walked across to him and shook hands, thanking him for coming and giving his time. 93


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“Good morning. Do I call you Director Masterson yet?” “I am Temporary Acting Director, Detective General, thank you.” They sat opposite each other. Hayes could tell Masterson was reading the black board behind him. “Miss Podolski was in your office yesterday is she there today?” “Not today, I told her to take today off. Of course if you need to talk to her?” “Maybe later” Hayes said. “Yes, it has been quite a strain for her, I doubt if this was on the curriculum in Munich. I trust she has been useful to your investigations?” “Yes, most useful. Has she talked to you about it, I hope we have not been too hard on her?” “No, I think she appreciates the situation and certainly appreciates the new apartment. We haven’t talked; only on the level of showing our regret and shock at the death of such an important and inspirational man. There are few of his strength and character in the Party nowadays.” “Do you have that?” “I hope I can say that I have some of his character.” Hayes looked down at some paperwork. “My records show you have been Deputy to Director Clark for eighteen years.” Masterson acknowledged this. “That is a long time to be his number two. hasn’t the opportunity arisen to become a number one elsewhere?” 94


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“I haven’t looked Detective General; I have been very honoured to work here.” “In a classic analysis of this case, you have the most to gain and therefore should be our chief suspect.” “I will not be offered the post of Director.” Hayes looked at first surprised then questioningly at Masterson. “No Detective General. It was not yet common knowledge. The District Leader himself told me that Director Clark was offered the post of Director in the South East Division. There is a need to be most watchful with the completion of the Channel Road Bridge. The way is open to considerable infestation from the mainland. He told me that they would want me as his number 2” “Ah, but won’t they offer it you now?” “No, you probably don’t fully understand the politics at present in the Party. Throughout the Reich, there is movement towards liberality, the influence of our American Party and the economic reality that Japan and its sphere of influence is technologically a long way ahead of us. If there was conflict then however fervent we are in our fighting, our weapons and communications would be no match for theirs. Their science has moved forward because, and I hate to say this, because of the influence of Jewish and non-Aryian scientists, designers and researchers. Although there can never be any Jew influence in Germany or I trust here, there are areas in the Reich, which have been allocated to much less stringent Purity Laws. Both I and The Director were vehemently against this; it probably hasn’t done our careers any good.” He took a breath. Hayes remained silent. 95


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“It is likely that I will be offered a job in a much smaller region after this.” “Thank you for explaining the situation. On Friday you were in London for the Coronation” Masterson nodded, “…were you with Director Clark all day?” “Only during the ceremony, the Director had people to meet and was anxious to return here, he said he had a pressing matter to deal with that evening.” “And you? Did you return with The Director?” “No, I stayed in London visiting friends. My wife and children had seats in one of the stands near the Palace, and we walked around to look at the decorations and join in the celebrations. We arrived at our friends houseat around 7pm.” Hayes asked him to write their name and address down, he assured Masterson this was just a formality. Masterson quite understood. “It is obvious you didn’t do the killing, but were you behind it?” “No I was not. As I said I have nothing to gain and had no wish for Director Clark to be removed, we were close associates.” “After all these years were you not friends?” “Director Clark did not have many friends, we worked together and often attended events and conferences together, he visited my family a few times of particular celebration.” “I asked if you were friends.” “We were colleagues.” “Did you ever go to his home?” “No.” Hayes looked questioningly at Masterson. 96


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“No Acting Director? In eighteen years you never once visited him?” “No Detective General he lived a very private and dedicated life. May I just ask you a question?” “Of course.” “You are a fine policeman, and if you were a Member of The Party you would probably have a leading national role. But why are you investigating this matter and not Unit IV? They would have access to files and perhaps people that I certainly cannot allow you to have.” “I was going to ask you that same question. I had, I see wrongly, assumed Acting Director that you had given that order being the most senior official.” They looked at each other and were silent for a few seconds. “What do you know about Fraulein Podolski?” asked Hayes. “Only what is in the file. She is excellent in her work, very dedicated. I know Director Clark felt he had never had such a good placement, and wished she could have a permanent position. About her life outside the Department I know little. My wife invited her to our home for a meal one Sunday; she played with the children who seemed to like her. She gave us a gift of a glass butterfly she had made, she was very polite, could talk about books and music. We both liked her. I think she will go very far, she has a very sharp mind.” “Has she friends, a boyfriend?” “I haven’t heard and this place is full of gosip.” “Have you ever slept with her?” “Certainly not.” “Ever wished to? She is a very beautiful young 97


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woman?” “No Detective General, I love my wife very much, I believe that faithfulness is the strength of a family.” Hayes looked at some notes. “I asked if I could read some documents about Lawrence Walsh.” “I am unable to release them.” “But you know of them?” “Of course. In The Department I am responsible for overseeing all the establishments.” “So you would have considerable knowledge about many members of other Departments, police, public figures, which some may find useful or incriminating?” “Yes. However, I am bound to silence. As long as things occur within the law and in lawful establishments, well I am sure you understand.” “Some may think that you and the late Director are in a too powerful and to some a threatening position?” “Only if they are breaking the law, and only if we abused our power. We are also responsible for seeking out and dealing with illegal establishments, because of the threat to Racial Purity they pose.” “Yes, I see, and there are some powerful people and interests involved in those, a great deal of money is involved.” “Unfortunately yes Detective General.” “You know their names?” “I do, some of them.” “And The Director?” “Certainly many more than I, he kept The District Leader regularly briefed.” 98


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“In your opinion would that knowledge have been a threat to The Director’s life; and possibly your own and even maybe that of your family?” “You are the detective I would have thought the answer was obvious.” Hayes acknowledged his answer with a hand movement. “It would be very useful for this investigation if I could see information about who is involved in these illegal establishments, and who the third person was in the room watching Director Clark and Walsh.” “That is not possible, it is outside my level to authorise that”, Masterson answered sharply, Hayes thought for the listeners ears as much as his. “Perhaps you would write down who I have to make my request to.” “Of course I am happy to.” Masterson wrote and passed the note to Hayes, it read ‘Fuck off’, they both smiled and nodded in mutual understanding. “Did you and Director Clark ever discuss his private life?” “No, not at any time.” “He must have known you had knowledge of his, shall we say… foibles?” “Of course”, Masterson answered, “he would have seen it as my job to know, however as long as things happened within the legal limitations I had no right to pry into his privatelife.” Masterson stopped, pondered then began again in a schoolmasterly manner. “I remember Detective General reading a book many years ago, it was a sort of farce, about two French 99


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Catholic priests living in neighbouring villages, both regularly slept with their house keepers, and each went to the other to give confession and gain absolution. In some ways you could see our relationship in those terms.” “And your sin Acting Director?” “I am very happily married with a family I am very proud of, if I have a sin it is probably pride.” “Were you the third man in the room?” “As I said those files are closed and I cannot answer. Not even to remove a name from your list of possibilities.” “Did you know if Director Clark participated in his ‘foibles’ before the law changed?” “I did not,” Masterson stated forthrightly, “but knowing the man I would think not.” “Has anything come to light since, for instance has anyone come forward threatening to expose The Director for things that happened before the law changed? Perhaps demanding money or favours from him? I just ask because I am searching for a motive for such a well planned and executed killing.” “Not to my knowledge. I know a search of his home is taking place, I would have thought if there were anything of that sort it would be found there. There were no indications in my dealings with him which made me think that.” Hayes thanked Masterson for his help and they shook hands. As Masterson was leaving he turned. “I forgot to tell you, Miss Podolski has been recalled to Germany, she is going within the month.” Hayes thanked him again. 100


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19:16 An evening watching Shakespeare was not George Hayes’ idea of fun. Margaret had been delighted when he rang to tell her he had been given four tickets to Julius Caesar, especially as it was The Royal Shakespeare Company, and such good seats. Pastor Goodnow and his wife Mary had joined them at short notice. As Hayes looked around him, he could see they sat in the midst of regional Party dignitaries. The tickets had come from Masterson and been delivered about two hours after the interview, with a note reading; ‘Unable to attend tonight, I have a great deal to sort out. Enjoy the play, Masterson’, then in smaller letters written in pencil ‘Scene 3 verse 3 lines 188-190’. Hayes had not had time to look up the reference, as they sat waiting for the play to start he asked Margaret, she knew the play but not that well, she asked Pastor Goodnow, who hadn’t a clue. Hayes hoped no one would notice if he went to sleep. Margaret had to nudge him twice to awaken him. The lights went up for the interval. “George there’s a very beautiful young blonde woman waving to you from that box”, she chuckled as she pointed, “do I have to be jealous?” Unfolding his big frame from the seat, Hayes looked where Margaret indicated and it was Juliana Podolski, he waved back. As she waved a uniformed man brought a note to Hayes, which read ‘Please join us for a drink’ he nodded but by then she was in conversation with a woman, it was obvious she was amongst a party of dignitaries. They were shown into a plush private bar with two large security men guarding the door, one of whom 101


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spoke into his shoulder as they passed. Juliana in a figure hugging black evening dress with a single diamond pendant welcomed them. Hayes introduced her to Margaret, Pastor Goodnow and Mary. A white jacketed waiter quickly brought them a tray of champagne, another, a tray of canapés. “Are you enjoying the play Fraulein Podolski?” Margaret asked. “Yes, but I have to translate all the time for my friend Bruni” she laughed, “she hardly speaks any English, let me introduce you.” Juliana brought over a very unremarkable diminutive young woman in a very expensive ill fitting petrol blue gown and more diamonds than anyone should normally wear, and introduced her as “My good friend Brunhilde Bormann.” Juliana towered over her and Bruni politely nodded to them and in very faltering English said “Good evening I am please to greet you”, she then walked away with a huge bodyguard about a metre away from her at all times. “Please Fraulein, it is very kind of you to invite us”, Hayes very politely said, “but I am sure you would prefer to be with your friends.” “Oh no Detective General, I just wanted to see you as I may be returning to Germany very soon, it has been an honour to meet you”, then in a quieter voice, “…I was expecting to see Acting Director Masterson in those seats. Has anything untoward happened?” “Not that I know of. He kindly sent me the tickets; he was unable to attend. Margaret was delighted.” “I’m sure your friends were too”, she smiled at Pastor Goodnow then turning to him she said, “I have heard 102


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about the great support you give to the work with unfortunate women in the Industrial Zones, it is very important work, I admire you.” Pastor Goodnow rather taken aback thanked her. She smiled at Hayes and left them to join the rest of the party. Margaret looked at George Hayes questioningly “What was that all about George, or are you not allowed to say?” “No”, he bluntly said, “Fraulein Podolski has a mind like a razor. If policy ever changes, as I am sure it will, and like America women are allowed to take the higher offices, Juliana Podolski will surely become Reichskanzler.” They left and were escorted back to their seats. Hayes noticed that as they took their seats some of the audience turned to them and whispered to each other. When Caesar had been dealt with and the fates of Brutus and Cassius unfolded, Juliana stood to leave with the other dignitaries in the box, as she did, she turned towards Hayes and nodded her head in a bow. Hayes ‘bowed’ back and with the others left for the exit, as they did some of the audience acknowledged Hayes and bid them good evening. “And are you ‘the noblest Roman of them all’ George?” Margaret whispered to Hayes, “They’re treating you like that. I hope they haven’t got a surprise like Caesar received in mind! People are taking notice of you and more importantly want you to take notice of them”. They both chuckled. They dropped Pastor Goodnow and his wife off, who had been effusive in their thanks. “It’s amazing how people are drawn into this folly,” 103


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Margaret said as she changed gear, “even those who don’t believe.” Hayes said nothing in reply. “I can see why so many become part of this madness, are you George? Have you succumbed yet?” Hayes took a long drag of his cigar; Margaret pointedly opened her window, the car wobbled a bit. “I hope not Maggie.” “I’ll look up that quote when we get back, who gave it you?” “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to say.” Margaret looked at him a little annoyed. “I’ve told you, I’m on a case, it’s sensitive. Party stuff, we shouldn’t even be dealing with it. To be honest it is best you don’t know anything, I wish I’d not seen some of the things I’ve seen.” “So you’re going to be the fall guy.” They were silent the rest of the way home. In their rather old-fashioned lounge George poured two whiskies, he opened the French windows to the garden, letting in hot evening air, he muttered to himself about making some more flowerbeds. Margaret took her old Oxford Complete Shakespeare she’d had at university from the bookshelves, and showed George the quote. ‘O! what a fall was there, my countrymen; /Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, / Whilst bloody treason flourished over us’.

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Wednesday 09.09 When Hayes arrived The Meeting Room was unlocked, he entered and saw a short, grey haired, sharp faced man about the same age as himself sitting behind an imposing desk, which had not previously been in the room. He recognised him, District Leader Alfred Thomas, who stood and welcomed him, shook hands and showed him to a seat opposite him, offering him coffee and a cigar from a brightly coloured box, Hayes accepted both. Coffee was delivered. “The microphones have been switched off so we are free to talk Detective General”, Thomas said in a very friendly manner. Hayes made an expression as if to question what he’d just said. “Yes Detective General, I can assure you they have.” “Thank you sir. May I clear something up; did you make the order for me to investigate this matter, rather than the Unit IV?” “Yes. I have to say you are far more able than any member of Unit IV. They are efficient and have much more access to records, but their thinking is not, how can I say… all-encompassing.” “Thank you, but I do feel that my investigations 105


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have been hampered by being unable to see records and reports, even if just to remove people from our enquiries.” “I realise that Detective General, but this is a very delicate matter, and I must say you have dealt with it very well and led us I am sure to our assassin.” “I am nowhere near Sir, there are lines of enquiry I have to make, I had planned to go to the Mersey Industrial Zone tomorrow to follow a lead and I certainly need to talk to Louvin, Walsh, Podolski and Masterson again. Lukas could have given us considerable information, it was unfortunate he died in a car accident.” “Yes”, said Thomas, “I heard about that, it was unfortunate I hope none of our officers were hurt in the incident, but he was so involved in illegal activities it it was only a matter of time.” “There are elements that seem to be deliberately planned to take our eye off the reality of the situation sir.” Thomas put his hand up to silence Hayes. “Please Detective General, please” he sat silent gathering his thoughts, “I trust what we talk about goes no further than this room, I may have to get you to sign as such.” Hayes agreed. “Good, it would be in both our interests. In your discussion with Masterson he alluded to a change in the political direction of The National Socialist Party, he is one of the old school like Clark. Over the last few years, there has been great discussion, and some pamphlets published, about the unease with the strict adherence to the aims of our founding members. Science and our understanding of communications, atoms, plastics in 106


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fact almost everything was very different in the 1930’s, which is now three or four generations ago. Working practices depended on large numbers of manual workers; wars were fought by armies in columns of barely trained men; society on rigidly pure racial and financial divisions. It is natural for things and ideas to develop with time. It can be argued that National Socialism is stuck in time. “You will remember the huge scientific projects of the 1960’s, the rockets first to the Moon then to Mars; the genetic experiments in Africa to improve their racial development; the massive Mediterranean Project that was to offer so much land to make us totally selfsufficient. As an intelligent man you know they were all catastrophic failures, the draining just created more land for the Sahara to move into, we had no idea then about the climactic changes we would initiate. The loss of all those men and investment on the Mars mission, simply because we were unable to create good communications and powerful enough computers. The total wasteland that is now central Africa where there are so many much needed natural resources, all locked in for maybe hundreds of years because of what Hayes?” Hayes shrugged, “because Hayes the Party would not accept science from Jewish, homosexual or non Aryan sources, and worse still, they were telling us Hayes, warning us even of the outcomes. Their work has created Japan into a power, which I think Masterson said to you, is twenty maybe thirty years ahead of us.” “I hate to interrupt Sir, but what exactly has this to do with this case?” “Oh I think you know Detective General.” “You mean that conservatives in The Party like Director Clark have been holding back progress through his 107


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strict adherence to the Racial Purity laws.” Thomas nodded in agreement. “So District Leader, did you order his assassination?” “Certainly not Detective General, Director Clark was most useful to us, most useful and a huge loss. But there are forces at work throughout the Reich to take National Socialism a great step forward. And no, we don’t want Jews, Blacks, Indians, Chinese and all that scum running round our communities. And yes, we need to retain the physical, moral and mental welfare of The Reich. However, we need to utilise the massive pool of skills and knowledge that is there to ensure our futures. If we don’t tap into that resource, what we know and love will disappear. People like The British Freedom Army will rise again, seeing our weakness, the massive populations held behind The Urals will break through, and you have no idea how weak we are in the East.” “Are you one of those ‘forces’?” asked Hayes. “I observe where the winds are blowing Detective General. I see, however unfortunate, Director Clark’s death as an opportunity.” “I see it as a crime. I didn’t like his policies and probably wouldn’t have liked the man, but he is a victim of a shocking crime, and as a policeman I was brought in to find the killer.” “Well said Detective General, you are a good policeman for whom politics, race, religion make no difference, that is why I brought you in. Unit IV would have looked for a political motive and that is all, the outcome may not have been easy to contain.” “So, can I see the documents I have requested?” Hayes asked quite impishly. “No Detective General and we have decided to take 108


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over the case, with a commendation for your excellent work. As I said we have a good idea who it was and with some minor investigations will have our man before the end of the day, proving just how efficient our legal processes are.” “Who is it Sir?” “Walsh.” “Walsh? But he has an alibi, no real motive and I honestly don’t think he would be capable of organising such a complex operation or undertaking it. I beg to differ with you but…” Thomas put his hand up again to quieten Hayes. “It was Walsh using a cut throat razor.” “But we have some evidence from Crime Scene that glass was probably used to cut his arteries, there were microscopic traces.” Thomas wrote a note. “Thank you Detective General. Walsh using broken glass then”, Thomas smiled at Hayes, “we also have some statements from staff and workers at Harwood which can place him at this building at the time, they are solid and will stand up in court, and they corroborate each other. Walsh with a little gentle persuasion will I am sure own up to doing it and the court will just be a formality, if it gets there, you know many who wish to change sex have can become highly depressive.” “And after a while you will be able to publish an article which will totally undermine the life and work of Director Clark, so opening an opportunity for a liberal Director to take over, it’s very good sir. But you will be letting a murderer off the hook.” “Walsh is a nasty little man; a pervert the Reich can 109


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happily do without, he still has two years to go at Harwood and would probably be back in prison or at a work camp within weeks of getting out.” “He is your sacrificial lamb.” “I don’t like the Jewish connotations, but we can prove that in all probability he did it.” “Sir, I hate to differ, but probability isn’t my thing.” They sat silent a while, Hayes had more coffee and smoked his excellent cigar. “Sir, what has happened to Masterson is he taking over?” “He has been assigned an emergency role in Aberdeen, that’s probably why you got the tickets to the play last night. I saw you, your lovely wife, and the Pastor. Not the best company to keep Detective General, Pastor Goodnow has affiliations well beyond the church, his chapel has a State Licence but it has come into question a few times, because of his extra-religious activities, it may be worth warning him, I would not want your wife to come under any suspicion.” “And will I be shipped off to Aberdeen, is that what will happen to me?” “No! Oh no Detective General, absolutely not, you are the hero in this!” Thomas took out a large file from a drawer, opened it, and regularly referring to it continued in a friendly voice. “Detective General, you have had a long and highly distinguished career. Let me look; you have six years to go before retirement,” he lifted out a smaller file, “ your wife has nine years to go, she is a grade 7 teacher.” Hayes nodded in agreement. 110


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“I would think she probably complains about never seeing you and I can see from your travel movements holidays are infrequent.” “I like gardening, my holidays are timed for the best time to work in the garden and usually when the test matches are taking place.” “I fully understand. My wife and family hardly see me either, it creates, shall we say difficulties at times, I’m sure you agree.” Hayes nodded in agreement. “So Detective General I am going to make you this offer. I am not trying to buy you I know you are a principled man and greatly admire you for that. As an appreciation for your dedication and service to your Nation, we will offer you a retirement package, forthwith, at the pension rate of Regional Police Commander, a position you should have been given, but you were never a ‘yes man’. I admire you for that too. That is three times your current potential pension. For your wife we offer, if she wishes, immediate retirement with the pension of a City Superintendant of Education, five time her potential pension, again a post I understand she would have been excellent at and offered if she were not a practicing Christian.” “All of that to keep me quiet Sir.” “No, no not at all Detective General. Peaceful opposition is a part of our Constitution and one I would fight for. No. It is in appreciation of your valued service to your King and Country; you have done more than enough in your distinguished career.” “I will have to talk to Margaret.” “I wouldn’t expect anything else Detective General, I would do exactly the same.” 111


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“And if I don’t accept the offer?” “Then we will have to talk again” he said very bluntly. With that, Thomas got up and showed Hayes out. “Oh, one more thing sir” Hayes asked, “Fraulein Podolski, you think she had no part in this matter?” “Absolutely not Detective General, I’m surprised you ask. Fraulein Podolski is going on to greater things, she could not possibly be a part of anything like that. She returns to Germany tomorrow I believe with her friend Brunhilde Bormann. She is beyond our reach now.” With that, they shook hands and Thomas, handing him his card, told him to contact his office when he had made his decision. Hayes left the room. “Did you get all that?” Thomas barked to the empty room. A green light flashed on his desk.

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...Six months later on a Wednesday... 14.23 Frank Bennett sat on his old wooden chair in front of his shop snoozing in the heat. The shop doorbell ringing made him jump, but before he had time to look around a cable was tied around him, strapping him to the chair. A rag stuffed in his mouth. A black cloth bag shoved over his head. He heard Angela’s very business-like voice cite “David Armitage you have been found guilty by The British Freedom Army Council of treason to the peoples of Great Britain; collaboration with the enemy; supplying information to the enemy for monetary gain, leading to the deaths of 384 fellow army members. The death through negligence of 284 women and children. Stealing funds from the British Freedom Army. For this you will forfeit your life.” Frank struggled to no avail. “Louvin, now!” Angela ordered. Frank felt cold steel on the right side of his head, heard the cocking of a pistol, a deafening noise, then nothing. The blast of the shot echoed up and down Beasley Street. 113


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The door of the shop slammed and smoke billowed from under it. Passers-by walked quickly around Frank to get away from the scene. A deep red black pool of blood was spreading over the pavement. There was a crudely written sign hung around Frank’s neck. It read: ‘Traitor’. 15:30 George Hayes cut two white rose heads; they were ‘blowing’ in the heat almost as soon as they flowered. He leaned against the garden fence and for a few minutes watched some soldiers playing cricket in the park next to his house. Margaret called to him to come inside and look at the news. “Isn’t that the beautiful girl we met at the theatre George?” He stood at the living room door in his gardening clothes. “Yes it is, well I never. Yes that’s her, Fraulein Podolski.” The TV was showing a wedding ceremony at the November 9th Memorial Temple in Munich, the commentator was describing the dress worn by Frau Bormann and the stunning lace wedding dress worn by Fraulein Juliana Podolski who was marrying Martin Bormann Jr, the great grandson of the former Supreme Leader of the Reich. She noted some of the guests who included Edward 11th and hoped he too would soon find a wife as beautiful as Fraulein Podolski, with glee she explained how she had spent time in Britain as part of her education and how much she loved the country and its people. 114


The doorbell rang. A courier handed George a brown paper package, it was from Germany, addressed to Detective General Hayes (Retired). He carried it into the kitchen and opened it. Inside was a white box; inside that was a crystal glass angel with wings about the size of his palm. George Hayes lifted it out of the box and a handwritten note fluttered down onto the counter. He read it... Be careful of the wings Detective General, the edges are razor sharp. I’m making another as a surprise for my new husband. Best wishes, Juliana. ...and smiled End


Tim Diggles has been working in the arts since the mid 1970’s. He has worked in and organised many forms of both visual, written and performing arts. He has written two other novels and has had some of his poetry published. To find out more go to his blog http://timdiggles.wordpress.com/


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