Hammond Innes - Attack Alarm

I was just on the point of returning it to the wallet when something in my brain clicked. Quickly I turned it over and gazed once more at the photograph itself. And then I knew I was right. The girl was Elaine. She was a little thinner now, a little less round in the face. It was a younger, more naturally carefree Elaine — or else it was very like her. I turned it over again and looked at the stamp. The letters ‘1934’ were just visible above the Berlin. In 1934 Vayle was in Berlin with Elaine. It was an important link.

And at that moment I heard the jingle of a key in the front door. I looked wildly round. There was no possible place to hide. The door opened and shut and footsteps sounded in the passage whilst I stood there petrified. Then in frantic haste I slipped the photo into my trouser pocket. The next moment the door had opened and Vayle stood there gazing at me and at the wreckage of his sitting-room.

I must have looked a fool, standing there with my mouth agape in the midst of that litter. A sudden cloud of anger showed in his face, flushing his cheeks. But his eyes, grey eyes that matched his iron-grey hair, remained detached and alert. The storm of anger passed. He came forward into the room. ‘It appears I have a visitor,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you would introduce yourself.’ He went over to the mantelpiece and took a cigarette from a glass cigarette box. He lit it with a lighter.

My confusion subsided. But my fear mounted. His manner was so easy and pleasant, and his eyes, that watched me all the time, were so hard. I knew I was not equal to dealing with a man of this calibre. ‘I think you have heard of me,’ I said. ‘My name is Hanson.’ I tried desperately to match his ease of manner but I was conscious of the tremor in my voice as I spoke.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I remember now. A gunner.’ But there was no flicker of interest or recognition in his eyes. They remained unchanged — cold and watchful. Instinctively I felt that he had known who I was the moment he had opened the door. He drew slowly at his cigarette. He said nothing, but he watched me closely. I couldn’t help it — I lowered my eyes before his gaze. And as soon as I had done so I shifted my feet and did not know where to look or what to do with my hands. I felt such a fool caught there in the act of burgling his flat. I was worried, too, about what action he was going to take. Here was his chance to get me away from the ‘drome. My only hope was that he would consider this too great a risk. If he had me arrested it would mean a court-martial. And at a court-martial I would be able to press home my reasons for entering his flat. They would have no grounds for disbelieving me, since I could show that I was not short of money, and my editor would back me. And there was that business of framing me with the diagram and arranging for me to be searched. That could be used too. Pity I had burned the diagram. But Vayle didn’t know that.

I plucked up courage at the realisation that the position was not entirely to my disadvantage. Moreover, it seemed to offer the last final proof — for there was still a little bug of doubt lurking in the far corner of my mind. If Vayle had me arrested, that doubt would be very gravely strengthened. But if he didn’t, I should know for certain. It would mean that he dared not take the risk.

I looked at him. He was still watching me, leaning on his elbow against the mantelpiece. ‘Well?’ I said.

‘Well?’ he countered. And then added: ‘Suppose you explain what this is all about?’ A slight movement of the eyes indicated the litter of books and papers that covered the floor.

I said: ‘I think you know the explanation.’

He appeared to hesitate. Then he nodded slowly. ‘Yes, perhaps I do. I heard about the telegram you tried to send to your newspaper. I wanted to talk it over with you there and then. But Wing-Commander Winton wouldn’t hear of it. He said the matter must be left to your own officer. I see I should have insisted. It would have saved this — ‘ he paused to choose his word — ‘this sacking of my rooms.’

‘You didn’t by any chance ask for me to be transferred immediately to another unit?’ I suggested,

‘No,’ he said, and he sounded sincere. He indicated one of the big easy-chairs by the fire. ‘Sit down and we’ll talk this thing over.’ His voice was quiet, yet there was a firmness about it. It was a voice to be obeyed.

But I stood my ground. ‘I prefer to stand,’ I said. I was desperately in need of all the confidence I could muster, and I knew how small it would make me feel to sit here with his standing and talking down to me.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘As you please,’ he said. ‘First, perhaps, it would be as well for me to mention that it is in my power to have you arrested with very unpleasant results to yourself.’

‘I don’t think you will do that,’ I said. ‘You have too much at stake to take a risk of that sort.’

‘Oh!’ His thick eyebrows went up. For a second I sensed that I had him at a disadvantage. He wasn’t sure of something. ‘That brings us to the point I want to discuss with you. Perhaps you would explain just why you suspect me of being a Nazi agent?’

‘How did you know I suspected you of being a Nazi agent?’ The question came pat from my lips almost before I knew I had spoken. ‘In my wire I only asked for information about you.’

‘My dear boy, the C.O. told me all about the whole wretched business.’ His voice sounded patient.

‘Then you know why I suspect you.’

‘I know what you told Wing-Commander Winton. I want you to tell me, so that we can discuss the points at issue. It seems to me,’ he added, ‘that it is much better to thrash this matter out. Having met you and knowing something of your background, I am not fool enough to doubt the integrity of your actions. It wouldn’t give me any satisfaction to have you arrested, knowing the reason you have broken into my rooms.’ He sank down into the armchair behind him and waved me to the one on the other side of the hearth. ‘Now,’ he said, as I sat down, ‘What exactly is the trouble?’

I hesitated. I couldn’t very well sit there dumb and say, ‘I won’t tell you.’ It would be too childish. Besides, the man had a right to know why I suspected him and I couldn’t see that it would do him any harm. So I told him about the way in which the Jerry pilot had dried up and about the plan to immobilise the fighter ‘dromes of which he had spoken. ‘If there is a plan,’ I said, ‘and it’s my belief the fellow spoke the truth, it could only succeed with inside help. That help would presumably have been planted some time back, and would have achieved a sufficiently strong position to be a decisive factor.’ I stopped. There seemed nothing more to say.

‘And you think I am at Thorby for that purpose?’ he said.

I nodded, uncomfortably aware of the persistence of his gaze.

He heaved himself up a little in his chair and threw his cigarette end into the fire. ‘The point for me to make is that you are suspecting me on what appear to be the most trivial grounds. I won’t press that point, however, because obviously you believe those grounds to be sufficient. No doubt your suspicions are supported in your own view by the fact that — and I presume you know this — I spent many years in Germany teaching at the Berlin University and that I came to this country in 1934.’

He paused, and since he seemed to expect it of me, I nodded.

‘I think the best thing for me to do is to give you a short resume of my life and leave you to think it over. Perhaps you don’t believe it at the moment, but we’re both aiming at the same thing. I, with my knowledge of tactics, am trying to help the staff here to carry out their duties in defending this country whilst at the same time doing what I can to help the men in their studies. My object is the same as yours in standing to your gun. And because we’re both working to one end, I’d prefer to settle this matter amicably. But, understand this,’ he added, ‘I think my work here, which is partly in the nature of research, is important. And I don’t intend to have it nullified because of the sudden panic-prejudice against anyone with any connections with Germany. If I had you arrested now, I don’t doubt you would press your accusations. You would probably be severely dealt with, but at the same time the authorities might consider it advisable at the present time to relieve me of my duties. I am too interested in my work not to fight like hell to prevent any risk of that happening.’ His gaze was fixed intently on me. Faintly in the quiet of the room I heard the sirens go. He took no notice. ‘As a newspaper man, I am presuming that you are intelligent,’ he said. ‘I hope you understand my position. Now for the background. I was born in this country. My father was a naturalised German, my mother was half Irish, half Scotch. I was educated at Repton and Cambridge, and when I left the university my father, who was a business man of many interests connected with the foreign fruit trade, sent me abroad to learn the business from his various branches. Oh, I should say that in the last war he continued his business. I was still at school then. I just missed it, though I tried to volunteer. In 1927 I settled in Germany. I had found I wasn’t interested in business as such, and when a job at the Berlin University came my way I took it. I remained there over the difficult period of the slump and the Nazi landslide. I stuck it for a time, but when the pogroms started, I decided it was time to get out.’ He shifted in his chair and lit another cigarette. As an afterthought, it seemed, he said, ‘Perhaps I should mention that my father was a Jew. Originally the name was Veilstein. But when he became naturalised he changed it to Vayle.’ He blew a cloud of spoke ceiling-wards. ‘Now, is there anything you would like to ask me? I think you’ll find little difficulty in checking-up on what I’ve just told you when you have the opportunity.’