Gordon Ferris - Truth Dare kill

However, unfortunate though this is, there is another matter which I must bring to your attention. A young female resistance fighter has been found murdered in one of our safe houses. She had been raped and stabbed in the head and body.

McRae was known to have consorted with the woman in question though she is believed to have spurned his advances. He had an assignation with her on the day of the murder and was seen to leave the safe house shortly before the woman’s body was found.

I was notified of this at midnight on the same evening by the Maquis member who found the girl and who claimed to have seen McRae slipping away. Understandably the Maquis member was outraged and demanded immediate action. I went to McRae’s lodgings and confronted him. I found him sitting in his room drinking brandy.

Clothes were drying in front of the fire. It had not been raining. I accused him of the murder and he denied it. He claimed he had fallen and got his clothes muddy. He had washed them off. I had no further proof against his denial and resolved to leave the matter till the morning when I could interrogate the witness again.

Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately in some respects – during the night, the Gestapo raided his house and McRae was rounded up. My suspicions are that the Maquis informed on McRae as an easy way of achieving swift justice. In subsequent days, though the anger among the Maquis has been considerable there is an acceptance that McRae has paid for his crimes. Given what we still have to achieve here, I am letting the matter rest.

In the circumstances I am recommending no further action from SOE in this matter. It could tarnish the image of SOE and divert us from the main job. We do not have conclusive proof, and the main suspect, Captain Daniel McRae is captive, presumed dead.

Signed

Major Philip Anthony Caldwell There was a scrawled note: Recommendation accepted. No further action. It was signed Colonel Gubbins.

I read and re-read the memo in a daze. Suddenly all my foul dreams crystallised into the one terrible truth. I had killed a woman. It was why I couldn’t remember, wouldn’t remember. It was why I was obsessed by the murders here in London. It was why they wouldn’t let me have Caldwell’s address. I wanted to scream. I toyed with my screwdriver and wondered if I could kill myself by driving it into my heart. Or open my veins and let them find me drained and dead clutching the evidence of my guilt. I switched off the torch and there, in the darkened filing room, I let great sobs shake me apart.

Slowly I got control. I dried my face on my shirtsleeve. I hadn’t realised I’d been keeping so much locked up inside. The image that haunted my worst nightmares – me standing with bloody hands and bloody weapon – must be a memory.

But why? What had brought out the beast in me? Anger, jealousy, betrayal? I tried to recapture the days running up to this dark one, but nothing came. Just some vague shots of leafy gardens and a path running through it, and drinking in a cafй with a round man called Gregor. I could see his beaming face and huge moustache. It was clear too that Caldwell had been in France with me, but I couldn’t “see” him. He must have been doing the rounds of his agents.

Tantalising shreds of memory floated by; was that his face?

I picked up the second envelope and hefted it. The news couldn’t get worse. I ripped it open. It was another memo from Caldwell, about a year further on:

MemorandumStaff in Confidence

To:Colonel Sir Collin Gubbins, Executive Head SOE From:Major PA Caldwell Date:14 July 1945 Subject:Captain Daniel McRae

Sir,

At your request, following the surprising news of the survival and return to England of Captain Daniel McRae, I have visited Moresley Hospital to establish his condition and to consider what action if any to take.

I saw both McRae and the senior psychiatrist, Doctor Richard Thompson. The latter’s report is attached separately but the gist of it is as follows.

First, McRae was in very poor health when he was brought to the hospital in May.

He was suffering from malnutrition and multiple injuries, the most significant of which was to his head. Either at the time of his capture or in subsequent captivity, McRae’s head was struck with great force. His skull was fractured in three places and a piece of bone was dislodged and penetrated his brain.

He has undergone various operations and now has a metal plate in his skull.

There is a large scar running across his head and down half his face. He is nevertheless in surprisingly good physical health. His body has healed and he is taking exercise.

However I found McRae in poor mental condition. He is undergoing Electro-convulsive Shock Therapy (EST), a ghastly business. He did not recognise me and it appears he has no recollection of events for most of the last year.

His last clear memories are just before being sent to France.

The prognosis from Doctor Thompson is poor. Such a major injury may have serious and long term personality effects. As well as memory lapses which may or may not be permanent, McRae is likely to suffer from personality disorders including delusions and paranoia. He is due to be released next month as there is little more that can be done physically. However Doctor Thompson will bring him in for monthly reviews and possible further EST to make sure McRae is coping with his infirmity.

Once more my recommendation is that we let lie the accusation of murder in Avignon. There is no evidence and it would only serve to rake matters up. It would only damage the fine record and high public regard for the SOE if this matter were made public.

There is however a possibility that McRae will come calling at SOE offices. He is already asking about his missing months. I would therefore further recommend that our stance should be to tell McRae nothing. We should not feed his delusions or paranoia. Specifically, there should be no information given out that enables him to pester former colleagues such as myself. There is every likelihood, according to his doctor, that McRae may blame me and his former colleagues for what happened to him.

Signed

Major PA Caldwell The memo had the Colonel’s signature and comments approving both recommendations.

Words blazed out at me; delusions, paranoia, infirmity! How would I know what was real and what wasn’t? How was I to live with myself knowing I was a murderer? I looked at my hands in the faint light from my torch. They were shaking. Were they capable of killing? What does it feel like to have innocent blood on them? I’ve always liked women: too much? Would I have killed one just to get my way? I’d given Sandra a slap but she’d deserved it; I think she even liked it. Some women do. Was it an accident, a bit of rough stuff that got out of hand? What would happen if I did remember the killing?

I was a wreck and the people who sent me down this path were treating me like a pariah, a mad dog. Or was this the paranoia talking? If you’re mad, how do you know? Caldwell seemed to have saved my skin, though. I could hardly blame him for wanting to steer clear of me.

I suddenly felt the walls of this cellar pressing in on me. I needed air, light.

I needed to run. Needed to talk to Valerie. Could I confess this to her? What the hell would she say? Should I go to the police and tell all? What should I do?!

I got to my feet, feeling hollow and sick. I put the file back. Should I take the reports out or leave them? Destroy the evidence? Who else would ever know?

Caldwell was dead and the Colonel would never talk. What about Major Cassells; did he read these, or stop at the warning note? I pulled the file out again and tore out the two envelopes and stuffed them in my pocket.

I began heading to the door when I passed the C files. A thought struck me. I looked for his file and found it. I held Major Tony Caldwell’s personal papers in my hands. I tucked it on to my left forearm, opened to the first page and shone my torch on it. I just had time to read the first few lines when the Registry door bashed open and lights flooded the basement.