Dinner Menu
Mockturtle Soup
Fried Sole in butter
*Dutch steaks
Carrots, Castle Potatoes
Pears and Cream
Cheese & Biscuits, Coffee
Not a great deal of variety in the Mess Menus.
*Dutch Steak – find under Grilling although can be oven Roasted. Same general rules as Beef (see earlier recipe).
‘Heard you took a bit of a tumble. All right now, I hope?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ Edith looked at her bandaged ankle. ‘Getting better.’
‘Jolly good. The Mock Turtle wasn’t bad. Not that I’ve ever had real turtle. D’you have any idea what it’s made from? Nothing to do with turtles, I don’t suppose. I hear you take an interest in food.’
‘Where did you hear that?’
Adams didn’t answer. He kept his wide, blue-eyed gaze on her.
‘You suppose right,’ she replied lightly. ‘It’s made from a calf’s head. Rather a grisly and fiddly process.’
‘Really?’ Bill Adams frowned. ‘Doesn’t sound at all appetising. Dutch Steak was all right. A bit gristly.’ He searched with a toothpick for a morsel of meat. ‘Anything for me? Leo was wondering. Hmm, pears and cream. Both tinned, I’d imagine. Give that a miss. Let’s take our coffee and brandy in the sitting room, shall we? How’ve things been?’ he said as he ushered her out. ‘Busy by all accounts. Concerning yourself with our Baltic brethren?’
‘How do you know that?’ Edith looked at him, eyes wide, genuinely mystified.
‘Not for you to know.’ He tapped his nose and led her to the coveted wing chairs by the fire.
How did he know? Dori? Surely not. Harry Hirsch? Impossible. If not them, then whom? Molly. If you carry on with this, you’ll be sorry. If Harry was right and the British were actively looking for Val’s boss, Viktors Arājs, then that was not an empty warning.
‘I do counsel you to be careful,’ he went on. ‘They are volatile people. Likely to fly off the handle. Doesn’t do to go blundering about. How’s the leg?’ He helped her to her chair with unnecessary care. ‘Comfortable? Need a stool or anything?’
Edith stared at him. She was not taken in by his exaggerated solicitude. Not for one minute. Did he know about the attack on her? Did he approve, even order it?
Edith knew she was receiving another warning. Not in so many words. Bill Adams would never use so many words, to speak in plain terms would reveal too much, but the hint was pretty hefty. She could have been seriously hurt. If not for Luka, it could have been much worse. She felt a quick flare of anger. She wouldn’t be intimidated by Adams, or bested by Molly Slater, for that matter.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘What have you got?’
‘First,’ Edith looked at him, ‘tell me why I shouldn’t be taking an interest in the Baltic brethren, as you put it. Quid pro quo. Isn’t that how it works?’
He waited for the brandy and coffee then leaned forward.
‘Shouldn’t be telling you this. Strictly hush, hush, but if it means fewer cats released among the pigeons, it might be worth it. There’s a plan, well, it’s not even a plan yet, more an idea. The Baltic States are now in the hands of the Soviets, but we’re getting word of resistance from partisan groups. Nationalists. We’re looking for likely chaps to send in, help them organize and so on. If we can get them in there.’ He looked thoughtful, then his face cleared. ‘Shouldn’t be too difficult. Awfully long coastline. We’re looking to ex-Arājs Kommando to do the job. They did some pretty bloody things, of course, but they could be useful. Especially their boss, one Viktor Arājs. Can’t let the Russkies have it all their own way up there, can we? The game is changing, Edith. We have new enemies now.’
Adams talked on about priorities shifting and keeping ahead of things but behind his empty words, Edith could hear Harry Hirsch’s hollow, bitter laugh. You don’t understand, they don’t want to punish him, they want to use him! She could see the smug, grinning, brutal faces of Jansons and that other man as they posed for the camera, slung about with sten guns, binoculars, goodness knows what paraphernalia, shoulder to shoulder with an SS officer while behind them people stood naked on those bleak, cold dunes, waiting to be shot. Harry had been right. Adams and his kind had no intention of bringing Jansons and his cronies to justice. They just wanted to know what use they could be. She knew now exactly why Harry had told her not to mention the photographs. She certainly wouldn’t be doing so now Adams had so clearly explained the plans the British had to use Jansons and his kind.
‘So?’ he was saying. ‘What have you got?’
‘It could be something or nothing.’ Edith shrugged. ‘I was told to keep my eyes and ears open and that’s what I’ve done. The billet I’m in, the housekeeper, Frau Schmidt and her husband, Stephan, that’s if he is her husband, have a veritable trove of SS paraphernalia in the cellar—’
‘Is that all?’ Adams laughed. ‘Them and every other German—’
‘No, that’s not all,’ Edith said evenly. ‘There’s a hut in the garden. It shows signs of occupation. I suspect that Stephan and Frau Schmidt are keeping someone there. Hiding them. I have reason to believe that they form part of an active Nazi network, carrying on a campaign of intimidation, dealing extensively in the black market and helping war criminals.’
‘What’s your source?’
‘Not for you to know.’ She sat back. Tit for tat.
‘Ha!’ He laughed, a short, sharp bark. ‘Hoist on my own petard and all that. That is worth following. We’re picking up information about an underground organization made up of local cells of like-minded individuals, unrepentant Nazis, better-under-Hitler types, just as you describe. A lot of them women, helping their men on the run.’ Adams looked at her across the table. ‘We’ve heard different names: ODESSA – initials stand for Organization Der Ehemaligen SS-Angehörigen – Organization of Former SS Members. Hand it to Jerry, he likes an acronym. The other name we’ve heard is Die Spinne.’
‘The Spider?’
‘Exactly that!’ He nodded his satisfaction, as if conferring his approval on a particularly apt pupil. ‘More metaphorical, that one. We don’t know if they’re one and the same, or different. We don’t know much of anything. Devilishly difficult to penetrate so anything you can find out would be very valuable. Whatever the moniker, the objective is to shift die brüder out of Germany, help them on their way south, through Italy and onto a ship to somewhere more congenial. The Schmidts, Herr and Frau, might well be involved in this little enterprise. Well spotted, Edith. We’ll keep an eye on them, of course, but we’ll let them run. They might well lead us to others. Then we can scoop the whole network. That calls for another brandy.’ He signalled to the waiter. ‘Anything on von Stavenow?’
That wide-eyed stare was on her again with a slight twitch of the head, like a cat watching a mouse.
‘Not as such.’ She wasn’t ready to tell him about Elisabeth. She thought fast. He needed something to chase. ‘But I have information that the Americans might be looking for him. Or men like him. Men with a similar – history.’
‘Ha. Bound to be! Hardly news.’
‘I mean here. In the British Zone.’
‘Who told you that?’ For the first time, Adams looked disconcerted.
‘My journalist friend,’ Edith supplied. ‘She has it on very good authority.’
‘Hmm, yes, well,’ Adams crossed and recrossed his legs. ‘Good work, Edith. Keep it up. Ear to the ground and all that. But no private initiatives.’ He wagged a finger. ‘Pass it over and carry on caring for the Kinder. Sure you don’t want a nightcap?’
‘No thanks. My driver will be here in a minute. There he is now.’
‘Ah, Hunter. Good evening, sergeant.’
Jack saluted smartly. ‘Good evening, sir.’
Edith was drained by her encounter with Adams, though she thought that she’d won on points. By the time she got back to the billet, she was all but done in, but before she could get to bed, she had a card to write.