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Miller H Caldwell, click here
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Read on..............
5
‘Baruch ata adonai eloheinu melech haolam ...’ Jiri got up from the table and pulled a seat out for Fleur.
‘I’m sorry, I disturbed you,’ she apologised.
‘God knows we give thanks for our daily bread each day but he also expects us to show humility and service. And He lives and travels with us when we ask. No, you did not interrupt.’
‘You have heard the news about Sudetenland?’ asked Fleur.
‘Yes, it was no surprise. What will stop Hitler now?’ said Arella. The news made it a sombre breakfast with the Amachai family.
‘I cannot trust Hitler and I feel for all my brothers and sisters in the Sudetenland. The man must be mad. He is leading us into Armageddon,’ said Jiri
‘True. I believe you. But fortunately, like many others, you are being led away from the madness,’ said Fleur.
‘Yes it’s true. We are fortunate but we leave so many behind now in fear for their lives.’
‘ I do not trust him either. He has lied to the Prime Minister and the British people,’ said Fleur.
Fleur retired to her cabin and focussed on arriving in Scotland again. Perhaps a day walking in the hills with friends, a picnic by a loch, back to a good supper, and sitting with parents in the garden of the hotel in sunshine until 10pm. Seeing the flowers and vegetables that have been planted by her parents coming to their best and forgetting for a moment the sadness and awfulness that the news brought too frequently from Germany. Each thought was a moment of sheer tranquillity, moments to appreciate good fortune, moments to remember that even we are but a blink of nature''s eye on this planet.
During her afternoon deck stroll, Fleur focussed on a grey- blue ship in the distance, then another and another flanking the first. Puffs of steam rose from their funnels. They grew larger as the moments passed. Behind the ships was an even larger ship, a battleship most surely, like the ones Fleur had seen off shore at Cuxhaven. They passed by silently.
On the other side of the ship, Fleur could never tell which was ‘port’ and which was ‘starboard’, she strained her eyes to detect any land on the horizon. It was as if she wished land to appear. When it did, she was not so sure. She rubbed her eyes and refocused. Land indeed it was. Given docking was in two and a half hours, it must have been somewhere on the east coast of Scotland and that meant Aberdeen would soon arrive.
The Granite City shone like a palace of diamonds. The familiar spires of Marshall College seemed to recognise this graduate’s return to her alma mater. Fleur felt very much at home and only a train journey to Elgin would remain.
The Grampian Empress docked and the gangways were soon lowered. Fleur met with the liveried transport company which would deliver her larger trunks to the hotel. She bade her farewells to the Amachai family and Kivi encouraged Fleur to play her clarinet every day to keep happy just as she could do now she was in Britain.
Uniformed crew assisted in delivering passengers from the ship to the customs hall. Fleur smiled when she heard a familiar cry as she entered the hall.
‘Aberdeen Press and Journal, 3p a copy. Get your Press and Journal. Only 3 pence a copy,’ shouted the young boy. Fleur wondered if she’d increase his sales by playing her oboe beside him. But she kept the black box close to her side and she proceeded through the customs hall with it and her suitcase with a smile. There were many smiles as families greeted passengers and wives reunited with their oceangoing husbands.
Outside in Aberdeen again after all these years, she remembered the salty air and the freshness of the north-east. She looked for a cab to take her to the train station. As she kept a lookout for a cab, two men approached her. Both wore trilby hats and wore gloves.
‘Frau Richter?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she responded sensing all was not well. Perhaps they had brought bad news from Elgin.
‘Frau Fleur Richter?
‘Indeed.’
‘My name is William Dynes, British security services. Frau Richter you are being arrested on suspicion of being an agent of the German government.’
‘This is nonsense, utter nonsense,’ she protested.
‘Please come this way,’ said Mr. Dynes with Mr. Shadbolt leading the way.
Fleur was led into a rather small room sparsely furnished. An electric radiator faced the table at which she was asked to sit.
‘Were you expecting family to meet you?’ asked Mr. Dynes.
‘No. My parents are old. I was trying to find a cab to the railway station to get a train to Elgin.’
‘You won’t be going to Elgin tonight. That I can assure you,’ said Mr Shadbolt.
‘I have been instructed by the security service MI5, to detain you and to ascertain your real purpose of leaving Germany,’ said Dynes.
‘To think a homecoming would end like this!’ replied Fleur.
‘A German surname, a son in the German army and as tensions arise, you suddenly come to Scotland. Well, these facts I cannot overlook, can I?’
‘That is one interpretation. I offer another. I am Scottish and I was under house arrest during the First World War. I have aging parents in Elgin and I am heading there to stay. I have no connections with political forces in Germany or Britain,’ said Fleur in defiance and added, ‘I think your case must be weak.’
‘We think we have a rather stronger case than you might think Frau Richter. Your spirited defence has a crack. You cannot deny being under the instruction of one Gestapo Police chief in Hamburg. I refer to Herr Gerhard Eicke.’
On conclusion to his coup de grace, Dynes sat back to study Frau Richter’s face. Fleur realised these men knew much more than she had given them credit. She would have to be as open as possible with them now.
‘Yes, I do not deny I know of Herr Eicke. He was my son’s Youth leader.’
‘Come come Frau Richter, Herr Eicke is not a youth leader. He’s a senior Gestapo man in Hamburg and you know that. He is also a clever and deceitful man. Ideal for the German secret police I would say,’ said Dynes.
‘Yes I do not deny that I know him. He came to my husband’s funeral, but to say I work for him or that he sent me here is quite outrageous,’ she said.
Mr Shadbolt took over the questioning. He had a Northern Irish lilt to his voice. It was tuneful but equally incisive.
Your son, Otto. He must put you in a difficult position,’ he said.
Fleur’s head was reeling. She could not fathom how they well so well informed. It would be impertinent to ask.
‘You are extremely well informed.’
‘Our Consul in Hamburg runs a very busy office. But Otto, Frau Richter....?’
‘If he had been much younger when my husband died, I would have returned to Scotland. But Otto had friends at school and when the church groups and youth groups were banned, all children were enrolled in the Hitler Youth. What was Otto to do? Dropping out is not an option do you realise? But he is a man of 18 years now and he must make his way in life. He will always be my son.’
‘Indeed as you say, making his own way in life. Choosing to serve the German Army in the Hamburg motorised unit. Not the proud profession of your late husband,’ said Dynes.
Tears welled up in Fleur’s eyes. She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. Her voice had a pained tone to it.
‘And I thought this was a new start to my life. Perhaps I could teach in a local school. Returning to my roots as it were. The only difficulty I foresaw was my German name. Dr Willy Richter was a fine man, a peace loving man and a quiet opponent of Germany’s military development.’
‘So how did you really get mixed up with Eicke?’ asked Shadbolt.
‘As I told you I first met him at the funeral. Perhaps that was when he realised my value as an alien in his midst. I shunned him at first as did my brother and sister in law.’
‘Karl and Renate?’
‘You know them too? My, you are thorough.’
Mr Dynes nods as Fleur looks up to him. He opens a pouch of rough tobacco and breaks it down into a pipe receptacle size. A bluebird box of matches appeared and he slowly took one match to light his pipe. The match did not ignite at first. He gave the sandpaper on the box another strike. The phosphorus spark it sweet smelling tobacco and he drew from the stalk to waft clouds of smoke into the room. Fleur observed his ritual while thinking what more to say to convince them that she had no malice to offer her countrymen.
‘I did not see much of him after the funeral. I heard about him of course through Otto but it was when I was preparing to return here that he took a greater interest in me.’
Fleur raised her oboe case from the floor and placed it on the table. She lay her hands on top of the box and gently caressed it. She continued to feel information to the men.
‘He told me that there were German agents in Britain. Even up here in the north near Lossiemouth and Fort George. That shook me I can tell you. Then he asked me to act as a resource to them, a confidante, someone to offer advice and keep their spirits up.’
‘And did Eicke mention their names?’ asked Shadbolt as he poised his pen over his notebook.
‘No, but he said they would contact me.’
‘So Eicke knows you will be staying in Elgin?’ asked Dynes.
‘Yes at the hotel. Otto told him his next of kin were to be Karl and Renate on my departure. So that was how he found out I’d be returning home. That was my fault, my weakness, I suppose.’
‘Why, in what way?’ asked Shadbolt.
‘Herr Eicke is using Karl and Renate’s weakness in support of Hitler to frighten me. Eicke threatens me because he suspects I am not a true German sympathiser and you interrogate me thinking me I am Eicke’s spy! I think you and Eicke ought to sit round a table and sort the whole unsavoury mess out!’ said a frustrated Fleur.
Dyne stands up and sits on the edge of the table to get nearer to Fleur.
‘I like your humour. Maybe I might meet Herr Eicke one day,’ he says. But Fleur is frustrated by their questioning and fearing what might happen to her.
‘Look, you can search my bags if you wish. I assure you won’t find papers from Herr Eicke. I have no address for him other than Gestapo HQ in Hamburg although he has promised to contact me. I have no equipment which could possibly make you think I am a spy. And if he does contact me, I can keep you informed. I’d also inform you of the agents in Britain who are acting for him as soon as I know who they are.’
‘You mentioned your two trunks. We have already checked your goods in the hold of the Grampian Empress...and found nothing incriminating,’ said Shadbolt.
‘I’m not surprised. You might as well investigate my suitcase here. Be as thorough as you like, I’ve nothing to hide.’
Mr Shadbold opened her suitcase and placed his hand in her handbag. His hand fiddled about then he shook his head. ‘Nothing sir.’
Fleur noted his deference. He must be the junior partner.
Mr. Dynes then points to the black box on the table. Mr Shadbold opens it and sees the oboe in two pieces. In a compartment are the double reeds. He carefully examines the instrumnent by looking down its barrel. He then felt the lining but was satisfied there had been no tampering and the box was passed back to her.
‘Over to you Mr Shadbolt. It’s your turn now. Let MI 6 take over.’
Fleur made no sense of the interchange. Mr. Dynes left the room as if he had no more questions to ask. He returned a few minutes later with a tray of tea and some Glengarry biscuits. Fleur was glad to accept some nourishment after the nerve wracking questions which showed no sign of diminishing. And she was not prepared for the next round of questioning as she sipped her hot tea.
Mr Anthony Shadbolt pulled up a chair to sit opposite Fleur.
‘Frau Richter, your father. He spent some time in West Africa. The Gold Coast wasn’t it?’
Fleur’s eyes narrowed and an expression of bewilderment crossed her face. ‘That was some time ago but once more your facts are impressively accurate. But why so much interest in my family?’
‘Major James Bruce. Kumasi Garrison 1896-1902,’ said Mr Shadbold.
‘That’s right the Ashanti Wars. But this is quite disconcerting. Whatever next will you be telling me?’
‘We’d like you to work for us rather than against us. We’d also like you to get out of Eick’s radar. To begin with you will have to act as a double agent but then we’ll give you a posting away from Eick’s influence. What do you say?’
Fleur took a breath. Was this a trick question? Had the volte-face always been always on the cards? Would this lead to her getting home or imprisonment?
‘I’d not accept a posting back to Germany. I’d never survive. You cannot imagine how everyone is suspicious of everyone else. I’d make little progress and Eicke would be on my tail as soon as I returned.’
‘That’s very true. That’s why I was thinking you should be sent elsewhere. But we’re not ready for that.’
‘So what happens now, may I ask?’ she enquired.
‘Here’s my card. You can get me on that number at any time. Let me know if the German contacts get in touch with you and especially if Eicke makes contact. You understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘If you are selected for training, we’ll let you know,’ said Dynes.
‘Just before you go, that oboe you have. Does it make a fine sound?’
‘Depends how you play it Mr. Dynes. Doesn’t it?’
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Web Site:
The Solo Oboe
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