Tower Hamlets
Kirstin pulled up the blinds and peered out at a brick wall, lined with wheelie bins and sacks of rubbish. Life had returned to normal. They were staying in low-cost accommodation again. They weren’t being paid for their labours and their travel allowance had been cut to a minimum. Sir George said they wouldn’t be out-of-pocket but mustn’t expect to live in the luxurious style to which they had recently grown accustomed. She had not expected to go so far downmarket.
‘This place stinks, Humphrey.’
‘If you say so, Mother.’
He was lounging in an old armchair, tapping away at his computer.
‘The internet connection is good. That’s the main thing …’
‘No. It’s not the main thing Humphrey,’ Kirstin fumed. ‘This whole case is looking ridiculous. Two old men have a hunch and we’re going along with it.’
‘Which old men?’
‘Sir George and that fellow Steven Mason.’
‘I thought there were more.’
‘Charlie thinks it’s just the two of them. They’ve got a bee in their bonnets and George is paying for it.’
‘A bee?’
‘Humphrey … pay attention!’
‘I am, Mother. I’m researching the case we’re meant to be working on. I know you think it’s nonsense. I don’t. There were some immensely distinguished people on that plane.’
‘Distinguished idiots. That man, de Villiers, is a crank. No one in their right senses would have anything to do with him. He’s a conspiracy theorist gone mad. You only have to look at his website to know he is totally crazy. His latest outburst is on global warming. He thinks it’s a plot by the Russians to change the world’s climate in their favour. How dafter can you get than that?’
‘Richard de Villiers is a very rich man.’
‘That doesn’t make him any saner.’
‘He has mounted a damaging campaign against globalisation.’
‘Yes. He has been likened to the hooligans who try to disrupt Davos and the G-20 meetings.’
‘His people don’t go around breaking windows, Mother. They conduct research into the rising power of the multinationals and they have come up with some very disturbing findings.’
Kirstin reached for her coat.
‘Humphrey, I’m freezing. You could, at least, have found a place that is heated. I had forgotten how cold it can be in London at this time of year. I’m going for a walk. I need to get warm.’
‘I’ll join you, Mother.’
Humphrey shut down his computer.
‘I suggest we go down beside the river. We are in the ancient borough of Tower Hamlets. Dickens based a lot of his stories here. We can imagine ourselves walking in the footsteps of Oliver Twist. Then it will be time to visit Steven. We are invited for dinner. He lives just around the corner from here.’
Dinner was Madras curry served with appropriate accompaniments and delivered by a young man in a white van. The contrast between the Paget residence and Steven’s small apartment was striking. The old man was living in a high-rise block overlooking the River Thames. Kirstin remembered him from when she was in George’s Special Investigations Unit.
He used to visit them in Canberra when he and George were working on joint intelligence operations for the British and Australian governments. He looked much older now but his voice hadn’t changed. Steven had the distinctive London accent known as cockney.
Dinner ended and the plates were loaded into a dishwasher. The apartment was modest but tidy. Kirstin noted that there was a place for everything and everything was in its place. Steven was getting on in years but in command of all his senses. Her initial suspicions were dispelled … the man was far from gaga.
Humphrey wanted to see the view and they went out onto the balcony. A cold wind was blowing. Kirstin retreated back into the shelter of the doorway. In one direction they could see up the river towards Tower Bridge. In the other, they could make out the huge warehouses of the old docklands.
‘I’ve returned to my roots,’ Steven said.
‘Were you born here in the East End?’ Humphrey asked.
‘I lived here as a boy. Not in this building, of course. Tower Hamlets was flattened during the war. I was one of the wardens who helped save Saint Paul’s Cathedral. This whole area was ablaze. I was working as an interpreter then. That was before I was drafted to Bletchley Park. That’s where we cracked the German military codes ...’
Kirstin listened intently. Steven reminded her of George Paget. He never rushed into anything. If George wanted to tell you something he would get around to it with a seductive chatter that slowly zeroed in on its target. Humphrey was clearly impressed by the mention of Bletchley Park. She felt the cold.
‘It’s a bit chilly out here, Steven.’
She retreated into the living room and the two men followed. Steven switched on a heater and they sat around it in easychairs. Humphrey was keen to get the conversation going again.
‘You mentioned Bletchley Park …’
‘Yes. I was one of those fellows who translated the coded messages transmitted by the Nazi high command. The work was very hush-hush and it is only recently that we have been able to talk about it. One might ask why it had to be kept secret for so long.’
‘We’ve heard a lot about Turing being the code breaker,’ Humphrey said. ‘He was the genius who designed a computer to handle the computations needed to break the codes. Others must have been involved.’
‘Most definitely,’ Steven nodded vigorously. ‘I would name three people as essential to the project. One was Bill Tutte who died recently. Bill used pure logic to discover how the German encrypting machine worked. The Germans called it Lorenz. We called it Tunny.’
‘How did it differ from Enigma?’
‘Enigma was invented in the 1920s and was on sale commercially. It used cogwheels that could be shuffled around to scramble messages. If you knew the settings, you could unscramble them using another Enigma machine. The German military used them and produced manuals which gave the settings for each day. The Poles devised a way of deducing the settings from the messages. Some commanders always ended their messages with Heil Hitler and that helped a lot.’
‘But how did Lorenz differ?’
‘More cogwheels and other complications. It says a lot for Bill Tutte’s perseverance that he was able to draw up plans for copies to be made. The next step was to design a computer to handle the computations needed to work out the settings.
That’s where Turing came in and the computer he designed was on a far grander scale than anything that had previously been built. The old way was to use cogwheels like those in Enigma. But the sheer number made that impossible. Another solution was required and it was provided by Tommie Flowers.’
‘He’s your third man?’
‘Yes. Tommie was a working-class lad like me. He had trained as a telephone engineer and he was brilliant. Tommie built Turing’s machine. It was the world’s first electronic computer and was huge by the standards of the day. Three thousand electronic valves were needed to make it work. We called it Colossus …’
Kirstin let the words flow over her. She knew it already and so did Humphrey. What made it all the more ridiculous was that Steven knew Humphrey knew. George had picked Humphrey for the case because he was an expert on encryption. The conversation was nonsense and a total waste of time.
The coffee percolator started to bubble. Steven went to it. Earlier in the evening, he had asked how they liked their coffee. Humphrey wanted black with sugar. Kirstin asked for cream. He returned with a tray. The cream was there in a small jug and there was brown sugar in a small bowl. He put down the tray and pretended to have lost track of the conversation.
‘Now, what was I saying?’
‘You were telling us about Bletchley Park,’ Humphrey said.
‘Ah, yes. I was telling you about the code breakers. None received the recognition they deserved until recently. Most were dead before that happened. Bill Tutte was one of the few who lived long enough to hear his praises sung. Our mouths were sealed. We had signed the Official Secrets Act. We could have gone to jail for breathing a word about Bletchley. You can imagine our indignation when Alan Turing was jailed for being a homosexual. The man was a great patriot. He should have been hailed as a national hero.’
Steven reached for his coffee.
‘Secrecy was essential at the time and rigorously applied. We were not allowed to talk to our colleagues about our work. Doing so could lead to immediate dismissal and worse. I had no trouble with that. But you have to ask why it went on for so long. Long-term secrecy only makes sense if it serves long-term interests.’
‘What was your role at Bletchley?’ Humphrey asked.
‘I was there because I spoke German. My mother was German. Fortunately, she was able to pass herself off as Jewish, otherwise we might have been interred. The British wartime authorities believed her even if a rabbinical council would have rejected her claim.’
‘And you worked at Bletchley as an interpreter?’
‘Turing’s machine churned out vast amounts of high-grade intelligence. The level of security was such that only a few of us were employed as translators. As far as I know, I am the last to survive. When I die, my secrets will die with me. The same goes for George Paget.’
He looked from one to the other.
‘The Lorenz transmissions weren’t just military. Certain individuals wanted detailed information on treasures looted from museums and bullion seized from banks. They used Lorenz for their own private ventures.’
Steven took a sip from his cup.
‘We rarely saw whole documents. We were given snippets to translate. These were then assembled for analysis by intelligence officers. However, on occasions, we were so short-staffed that one person would receive work that was normally spread amongst a dozen people. During one particularly severe flu epidemic I found myself translating whole messages.
That was an eye-opener. I discovered that Goering was amassing a huge collection of stolen artworks. I learnt about the Nazi death camps and I discovered that companies, which I had always considered as American, were cooperating with the Nazis.’
‘Was this before or after America entered the war?’ Kirstin asked.
‘After. In late 1943, I read and reread a transmission. It was phrased in precise language and there could be no misunderstanding. Standard Oil of New Jersey was supplying fuel additives to the Luftwaffe. Germany didn’t manufacture them and Hitler’s planes couldn’t fly without them.
My immediate thoughts were that the Germans had discovered that we had cracked Lorenz and were sending out false reports to destabilize our relationship with the United States. I got the translation to my seniors and was immediately sworn to the utmost secrecy. Later, my security rating was jacked up and I was assigned to top secret work.
Other multinational firms came under deep suspicion. They included Ford Motors whose foreign subsidiaries built trucks for German troops and the Chase Bank which managed the international money transfers needed to pay Nazi money to the parent companies.’
‘And those parent companies weren’t always American ...’
‘That’s right,’ Steven agreed. ‘Some were British. The two governments launched enquiries after the war and much was revealed. But a lot did not come out. Governments are not all powerful. President Roosevelt knew what was going on and coped the best he could during the war with Germany. Unfortunately, his successors needed the cooperation of the same corrupt companies in the Cold War that followed with Russia …’
Kirstin felt herself dropping off to sleep. Humphrey could cope with jetlag. She couldn’t. Her eyes closed and the men’s voices grew fainter. She had heard it all before. There was nothing new. It was all well-known. Humphrey might find Steven interesting … she didn’t.
The gas fire flickered and went out. Kirstin went to the stove and saw that it had suffered the same fate. She was halfway through cooking breakfast.
‘Humphrey. The gas has gone out.’
‘That’s because you haven’t put any coins in the meter.’
‘What meter?’
‘The one that supplies the gas.’
‘You are saying that you have brought me to a place where I’m expected to pay for the gas. You will be telling me next that I have to pay for the electricity.’
‘That’s what the other meter is for.’
‘How could you do such a thing, Humphrey?’
‘London is one of the most expensive cities in the world.’
‘So is Sydney. I’m surprised you didn’t book us into a backpacker hostel.’
‘I tried, Mother. They are all full.’
He was standing beside the kitchen table, photographing pages in a cardboard folder. Kirstin was reminded of when she worked in George Paget’s Special Investigations Unit. The Australian government had inherited a lot of traditions from the British. One was an obsession for punching holes in the upper-left corners of documents and lacing them together.
‘What are you doing, Humphrey?’
‘Copying some papers that Steven lent me.’
‘They look old.’
‘They are, Mother. Steven rescued them from the shredder. He pulled them out and took them home before they were lost to history.’
‘Where were they going to be shredded?’
‘In the offices of MI5 and other places.’
‘I recall that Steven was an MI5 officer.’
‘Yes. He joined British Military Intelligence after he left Bletchley.’
‘And he keeps these secret documents at home?’
‘We removed a floorboard to retrieve them. You were asleep at the time. Otherwise, we would have asked you to help.’
Kirstin dumped a half-cooked rasher of bacon on a plate and placed a fried egg beside it. The electric toaster was still working but the butter was rock-solid. She pushed the plate towards Humphrey.
‘You sort it out.’
‘Thank you, Mother. It looks delicious.’
‘No, Humphrey. It’s not. I’ve had enough of this ridiculous charade. Steven didn’t say anything we don’t know already. He and George are trying to recreate the world of espionage they knew as young men. They are trying to relive their lives and I’m having no part in it.’
Humphrey reached for the tomato sauce.
‘Steven’s arguments were highly plausible. He saw how President Roosevelt had to battle the multinationals like Ford and Chase Bank. After the war, President Eisenhower had the same problem. He talked about the power of the military-industrial complex. Eisenhower had been Allied Supreme Commander in World War II. He saw the Western Allies to victory. As president of the United States he was unable to control the big multinationals.’
‘Yes, Humphrey. I’m well aware of that and I didn’t cross the world to hear it again.’
‘You failed to hear all of it, Mother. You were asleep at the time. If you had been awake and paying attention you would have heard something new. Steven told me he learnt things that never came out in the enquiries conducted by the American and British governments after the war.’
‘Such as?’
‘The names of American and British nationals who were sympathetic to the Nazi cause.’
‘I’ve seen the list, Humphrey. As you have just remarked, Henry Ford was one of them.’
‘Yes. His Nazi sympathies are well-known. Henry made no secret of them. Others were equally sympathetic and their contribution to the Nazi war effort was hushed up. That’s why people like Steven were sworn to secrecy and forced to remain silent long after the war ended. He rescued those papers from the shredder so that the truth would not be lost. Some very important people are named in them.’
‘And they are still alive?’
‘No. Mother. They are dead but their empires live on and the people who run them are as vicious as ever. Steven believes that his life would be in danger if they found out that he has those papers in his possession.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well. I don’t care what you believe, Humphrey. I’m going back to Canberra. And, when I get there, I’m going to hand in my resignation to George Paget. We are meant to be investigating the disappearance of an airliner. I have seen nothing to indicate that it was converted into a drone and flown to some secret destination. That is pure speculation and I’m having no part in it.’
‘Very well, Mother.’ Humphrey reached for a slice of bread. ‘You can make up your own mind. I ask only one thing. Please accompany me back to Steven’s apartment and thank him for last night’s hospitality. I have promised to return these folders to him.’
A police car drove past as they approached the high-rise block where Steven lived. Kirstin thought nothing of it until they turned a corner and were confronted by a crowd. She tapped Humphrey’s arm.
‘Something has happened.’
‘I can see that, Mother.’
‘It looks as if the police have declared a crime scene.’
‘It does.’ Humphrey slowed his pace. ‘I suggest we hang back. They will probably want to question people entering the area. I don’t relish the thought of having to explain why I have top-secret government papers in my possession … even if they are thirty years old.’
Kirstin glanced back and forth. Most of the people in the crowd were female and wore saris. They were speaking in a language she couldn’t understand. She kept going and heard English. A black woman with a Caribbean accent was talking to a white man.
‘They’ve taken him away. It was awful seeing him like that. You would have thought they would have put him in the ambulance. But they left him there and put that plastic tape up …’
Kirstin saw the shape of a fallen figure on the ground. It had been marked out with chalk and told an obvious tale. Someone had fallen from one of the floors above.
‘Steven was a nice old man,’ the woman continued. ‘He once told me he had been born here. That was before the war and this place was bombed. It was interesting to hear his stories of how it was then …’
Kirstin felt Humphrey’s hand on her arm.
‘Time to go, Mother.’
He kept his voice down and spoke in Danish. When things got difficult there was advantage in using a language that few understood.
‘The police are treating it as suspicious.’
‘Yes, Humphrey.’ Kirstin moved away. ‘They’ve got a full team of forensic investigators up there. I’ve rarely seen so many people in white coats. Did you see those cardboard boxes they’re taking away?’
‘I did, Mother. They are like those that Steven had under his floorboards. They contained documents with a high security classification.’
‘What do you intend to do?’
‘Get rid of this incriminating material.’
Humphrey grasped the bag with Steven’s documents.
‘As soon as I can find a suitable place to dispose of them I shall do so. I have made copies and they are stored in cyberspace.’
He took Kirstin’s arm and walked slowly away.
‘Do you still intend to return to Canberra?’
‘I shall stay on.’ Kirstin squeezed his hand. ‘You are right and I was wrong. There is far more to this case than two old men trying to relive their past.’