For the past five weeks, Brendan had been incarcerated in the baron’s cellar. Every day since he was taken from the baron’s office, he had been assaulted. The first weeks were the worst. His inquisitors wanted information.
“Why did you attack the baron?” The questioner was quietly spoken. He had a heavy accent.
“Sir, the baron had my wife, Mary-Jane, kidnapped. He also had her attacked.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Trying to control me.”
“I do not understand. Why would he want to control you? You are like a bug. He could squash you whenever he likes. Who paid you to attack the baron?”
“No one, I swear on Mary-Jane’s life.”
“Mary-Jane is tot, er, dead. She died under interrogation. She was braver than you, she did not say a word.”
Brendan began to sob quietly.
“Why are you working for Franz Mizel? We know you are spying for him. You must answer me, or you will end up next to Mary-Jane in the pig food.”
The interrogator nodded to his colleagues who rained blows over Brendan’s body. They followed up the punches with freezing cold water from the North Sea.
He told them everything he knew.
The questions went on and on. The questioners were particularly interested in what part Franz Mizel had played. They did not like it when he told them he had never met him. They described him. He had to admit meeting him once. They hit him again.
Over the weeks, the questions had dried up, but the assaults had continued. They then introduced psychological torture. Brendon was a strong man, but all the talk of Mary-Jane was getting to him. He was beginning to lose heart.
“You know, your wife was stronger than you, even when we hit her, she refused to talk. Not like you, coward.”
The image of Mary-Jane being tortured and knowing that she could not talk, nearly drove him mad. When the baron finally entered the cellar, he saw a broken man. No longer the straight-backed sergeant major, but a wreck of a man. Brendan had multiple bruises over his face and chest. The fingers on his left hand had been broken. The baron stared at Brendan. He smiled.
“So, Sergeant Major, you have survived this part of your interrogation. You will not survive the rest.”
Brendan looked at the baron. “It seems you have too, Herr Baron.”
At that moment, the leader of the interrogators, slapped Brendon hard across the face.
“You will be respectful to the Herr Baron.”
The baron smiled again.
“I have decided to have you shot. You will face the firing squad tomorrow at dawn. I do this out of respect for your service to your country.”
“Thank you, Herr Baron. Please, what has happened to my Mary-Jane? Please let her live.”
“I fear you have been misinformed. I, nor my men, did not abduct your wife. It’s true I know who did, and they will pay. I cannot guarantee her safety yet, for I do not know if she is alive or not.”
“But they said…”
“In war, one must use all weapons, to acquire the truth.”
Brendan began to cry. Quiet sobs at first and then heartrending cries. His body shook uncontrollably. The baron nodded to his men. They left the cellar.
“I suggest you make peace with your God; at dawn you die a soldier’s death. How I envy you.”
Detective Inspector Williams drafted a report about Holcombe’s behaviour. It landed on the desk of the special branch chief inspector. He read the report and knew the significance straight away. He passed it on to Arthur Middleton to deal with.
Arthur was in a quandary. He was under instructions not to allow the evidence of the conspiracy to get out. Should the FoH get to hear of his interest in Liam Cartney, there was a possibility that they would know that the authorities were aware of their plans.
Inspector Holcombe had not shown himself to be very bright. He was likely to blunder into his investigation and cause problems. Arthur drafted another report to the chief suggesting that Holcombe be moved away from HQ to ensure he did not interfere with the investigation. Holcombe found himself checking passenger details in Heysham Docks the very next week.
DI Smethwick and Arthur Middleton met at the pie shop in Shoreditch. It was not a happy meeting. Without Brendan’s intelligence, the case was stagnating.
They both assumed that Brendan and Mary-Jane were dead. Who had done it was still a mystery? Arthur related the information about Liam Cartney.
“We had him. Can you believe it? He was locked up. All Holcombe had to do was tell his boss. He would have had a commendation and I could have interrogated Cartney. We could have cracked the case open.”
“Where’s Holcombe now?” Jonas asked.
“Stuck in the country. Checking for illegal pig smuggling, for all I care.”
“Any information on the O’Carroll’s?” Arthur asked.
“Not a thing, how about on your side?”
“Not really.” He paused.
“Go on. What do you know?”
“Not know, suspect,” Jonas replied.
“My sources suggest that Brendan and the baron were taken to a German registered vessel the day after the attack. Both were stretchered onto the vessel.”
“Is your source dependable?”
“He has been good in the past, but he has a problem with the bottle. I have had him watch Brendan, quietly, since we recruited him. The problem is, when he runs out of grog, he makes things up. If it is true that they have gone to Germany, then we have reached a dead end.”
Jonas played with his pie. Finally, he put down his fork.
“You know what that could mean?” Arthur interrupted, “The attack is imminent.”
“Yes, I cannot bear to think about the consequences of such an attack.”
Guido brought the bill and looked at the uneaten pies. He saw the worried look on the two patrons and decided against saying anything.
As they waited for a cab, Arthur said, “Incidentally, I found out yesterday that the solicitor who represented Liam Cartney left for the USA. It seems he will be working for the FoH in Boston. And, of course, Cartney has disappeared again.”
“Rats leaving a sinking ship,” said Jonas.
“Looks that way,” Arthur replied.