Hidden In Plain Sight.
Chapter Four.
After having settled into the morning routine and while Harry took the minutes of a meeting between the Commissioner and Commander Spikings, Dempsey began accessing the police database and researching the Steele family.
By the time she returned to her desk opposite him, he was looking puzzled.
"What's the matter?" she asked, as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him.
"Well, details of Hilda's parents Georgina and Arthur are all here, but her grandfather's don't go back further than 1947." he said, scratching his chin.
"Which grandfather?" asked Harry. "Mother's father or father's father?"
"Er, sorry, Georgina's parents are dead. I'm talkin' 'bout Arthur Steele's father, Christopher." replied Dempsey, picking up the cup and taking a sip of coffee. "It's a total blank."
"Hmmm, that is strange." agreed Harry. "What do we have on him."
"He started the Steele Property Development Company in 1948." replied Dempsey, reading from the screen in front of him. "Perfect timin' too, jus' as land was cheap and housing stock at it's lowest. Made a killin'. He's a multi-millionaire now, retired, although still listed as Chairman. Wife's Madeleine, born in Lyons, France. Their only son, Arthur, is MD. No other kids."
"And that's it!?" asked Harry, bemused. "I wonder what he's got to hide."
"Yeah, jus' what I was thinkin' honey." replied Dempsey, still staring at the screen. "Accordin' to their passports and marriage certificate, they arrived in the UK in forty-eight from Brazil - Sao Paulo. Got married there in forty-seven. Nothin' before that, 'cept Madeleine was employed as a dancer. He was unemployed and of no fixed address."
"Do we have contacts in Sao Paulo?" asked Harry. "Public Records or similar?"
"Dunno, I guess we must have." replied Dempsey. "I'll do some more diggin' an' let ya know, hon."
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When Georgina Steele returned home from having taken Hilda to school, she'd just made herself a cup of tea and was sitting down to drink it, when her mobile telephone rang.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Hiya sexy lady." said Paul Lewis. "Hilda get into school okay?"
"Yes thanks." replied Georgina. "And you? Melissa and Julian okay?"
"Yes, their mother took them in." he replied. "She picked them up last night, got them until Monday. You on your own now?"
"Yes. Nice quiet empty house." she answered.
"Want some company?"
"Would love some." she replied, holding the phone close to her ear as if it would bring the caller closer to her. "But don't you have to be in the office?"
"I'm out with a Rolls today." said Paul. "My partner, Dave can cover for me. Got a test drive organized. I can detour to yours for an hour or so afterwards."
"That would be lovely." said Georgina, adding seductively. "I'll be ready and waiting."
"Give me a couple of hours and I'm all yours."
Georgina had been having an affair with Paul Lewis, Melissa and Julian's father, for three months now. She'd met him when they'd both been visiting the school, initially to check it out, becoming mutually aware of an instant attraction between them.
Agreeing to meet for a daytime coffee, it wasn't long before they were back at Paul's luxury apartment and in bed with each other. Although she had come to loathe sex with Arthur, Paul had set her libido alight again and seeing as he had undergone a vasectomy two years previously, she knew she'd never fall pregnant by him.
He ran a successful used car business, dealing in high end luxury marques and had been divorced from his wife, the mother of his children, for eighteen months. The two lovers both knew their relationship was purely physical, there being no deep seated affection for each other at all, so feasted on one another for pure pleasure.
Christopher Steele had purchased the land, including planning permission, on the outskirts of Richmond and where the house now stood, in 1983, as a wedding gift to his newly married son. Arthur then tore down the bungalow already there and employed a firm of architects to design a mansion, which, following ratification of the plans, was built complete with indoor swimming pool, gymnasium, study, six en-suite bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room and lounge large enough to get lost in and all set in five acres, boasting an in-out driveway with electronically operated wrought iron gates at either end.
The company had financed the whole thing.
Parked outside one of those gates now was a dark green Vauxhall Carlton. The private detective sitting inside filmed the two-tone grey Rolls Royce Silver Cloud draw up, toot its horn, wait for the gate to swing open, then glide majestically out of sight, his cine camera recording the whole thing, the date and time clearly displayed in the bottom left hand corner of the screen. An hour later, it also recorded the Rolls leaving, it's number plate clearly visible.
By early afternoon, the film had been transferred to a VHS cassette and delivered to Christopher Steele personally, the private investigator receiving one thousand pounds in cash for his morning's work.
Steele had never liked Georgina and it wasn't lost on him that the feeling was mutual. When his son had broken down in the office one day, revealing that his marriage was fast becoming a sham, especially as Georgina had lost all interest in sex and now merely obliged him, Steele suspected she may be having an affair, so set out to get proof.
That proof now sat in his video player.
Picking up his mobile telephone he made one call, speaking in German, then, with that vicious looking smile of his, laid the phone back on his desktop.
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Back at SI-10, Dempsey had drawn another blank.
He'd been in touch with the Sao Paulo police department, the Immigration office and Public Records, all of whom had nothing on a Christopher Steele before 1947, yet several details on Madeleine, who, of course, had entered the country legitimately on a temporary work permit that same year.
His last conversation had been with Sao Paulo's police Commissioner, who'd suggested that it looked as though this so called Christopher Steele may well have been a Nazi criminal fleeing capture just after the war.
"This city was rife with them after World War Two, Chief Inspector." said the Commissioner. "We were a haven for the Nazi's. Some nine thousand fled to South America, nearly two thousand to Brazil alone. Your man could well have been one and would have been swiftly shielded by ODESSA, the organization set up to protect former SS men and given a completely new identity. Remember, President Peron of Argentina sold ten thousand blank passports to them."
"Yeah, I guess it's gonna be a while before I track down who this Christopher Steele really is. But, much obliged anyway." said Dempsey as he replaced his phone and looked up at Harry who'd been listening intently.
"Well?" she asked.
Dempsey repeated the salient point of the conversation.
"Hmmm." she mused. "I wonder if Freddy can throw some light on it."
"Yeah, it'd be worth askin' him." agreed Dempsey. "I guess until we do, I don' wan' Alex anywhere near that family, honey."
"No, I agree." said Harry. "It's just as well we're up at Winfield Hall this weekend. We can delay Alex's tea party with Hilda Steele until next week sometime, when we know more. I dread to think how she'll react if we end up having to forbid her."
"Listen angel." said Dempsey, as he formed his right hand into that of a pistol. "We don' have to forbid anythin'. Jus' switch it aroun' meanin' Hilda comes to ta us instead of Alex goin' there, okay?"
"Smarty pants!" giggled Harry, watching as he fired his forefinger at her, before blowing on its tip, grinning widely.
"Okay. An' Freddy'll know where to get in touch with those guys huntin' Nazi war criminals." said Dempsey. "In the meantime, I'm gonna see whether the Krauts know anythin'."
"My God, to think Hilda's grandfather might be ex Gestapo!" murmured Harry, shuddering at the thought.
"Harry, I dunno 'bout that." replied Dempsey. "But ya gotta admit, it looks hellish suspicious that this guy didn't exist before forty-seven an' came inta this country from Brazil, huh?"
Despite contacting the German authorities in Berlin, Dempsey was still no further forward by the time he and Harry left for the Richmond Collegiate.
"Goddamn Krauts were pretty useless." he moaned. "All they got are records of those who were indicted and a few details of the most notorious Nazi's who escaped, some of who were found and sentenced."
"I read somewhere the Nazi's destroyed an awul lot of detailed information before the Allies could get hold of it." said Harry. "Our only hope is Freddy now."
When they met Alex from school, she came bounding up to them both, dragging Hilda by the hand.
"Mummy!" she said excitedly, as Georgina joined them. "Hilda's asked if I'd like to go to tea! I can go can't I? Please say I can."
"Er, yes you can have tea with Hilda." replied Harry, smiling at Georgina. "Sometime next week. We'll let her know on Monday."
"Oh, can't I go now? Today?" asked Alex, hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation.
"No, not today Alex." said Harry. "It's too short notice."
"Yes Alex, it is short notice." confirmed Georgina. "I'm sure your Mummy and I can agree on a day next week."
Hilda and Alex exchanged glances, both looking disappointed. They'd been chattering away excitedly for most of the day about sharing teatime with each other that afternoon after school.
"Come on little lady." said Dempsey, picking Alex up. "Time to go home, honey. Say 'bye to Hilda. You'll see her again tomorrow."
Alex looked down at her and waved goodbye, Hilda taking Georgina's hand and returning the wave, while Georgina formed her free hand into a pretend phone, put it to her ear, looked at Harry and mouthed "call me".
Harry nodded, smiling.
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At two am in the morning, a Landrover coasted silently up to the premises of PL Motors, it's smart showroom in semi-darkness, the half light glinting on the gleaming paintwork of two Ferrari's, three Porsche's, a Bentley, two 'E' Type Jaguars, two Mercedes SL sports cars and a Rolls Royce Silver Cloud in two-tone grey.
Located in a narrow side street in Hampstead, everywhere was quiet and sleeping.
Three men alighted from the Landrover, one immediately taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, trying each one in the lock of the entrance door, the other two keeping watch, while he went swiftly and methodically about his business.
Seconds later he swung the door open, the other two having retrieved sledge hammers from the Landrover, all three then quickly entering the showroom, the alarm bleeping in warning.
They had thirty seconds to disarm it.
Flicking on their torches, they ran silently to the main office, one punching the alarm code into the pad on a wall, another going to the junction box controlling the electrics, smashing it open and throwing the main switch, thus plunging the building into total darkness.
No alarms had sounded, courtesy of the code having been eventually disclosed by Paul Lewis, who was now lying semi-conscious in his luxury apartment, four fingers of his right hand having been systematically broken, the fingernails having been previously torn out. His face was swollen and bleeding from the savage beating he'd taken prior to having been held down while his attackers went to work on his fingers.
The once immaculate, beautiful cars were soon reduced to a mass of broken glass, each panel of each car severely dented, their interiors ripped to shreds with knives. It would be touch and go as to whether the insurance company would sanction repairs or write them off.
Across the road from the showroom were shops, above which were one room bedsits and single and two bedroom apartments, all double glazed to reduce the noise, both from the busy street during the day and late night shoppers. Coupled with the same double glazing for the showroom, the carnage that went on that night was decidedly muffled.
However, a young batchelor living opposite and busy in his bed entertaining a girl he'd picked up in the pub that night, had heard the silence outside interrupted by a diesel engine starting up. Peering through his curtains, he witnessed the Landrover leaving hurriedly and noted the showroom opposite, one in which he would gaze into from his window and dream, was now in darkness.
Suspicious, he quickly pulled on a T shirt and jeans, much to the amusement of the girl in his bed, and, barefooted, slipped outside, running across to the showroom window and peering in.
Despite the darkness, he could see enough to almost weep at the sight that greeted him.
Hurrying back to his bedsit, he dialled 999.
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Paul, in the meantime, had managed to crawl to the sideboard and pull his telephone down onto the floor beside him. Summoning as much concentration as he could muster, he focussed on the key pad, eventually punching a speed dial button, which connected him to his partner Dave, and mumbled incoherently into the mouthpiece lying next to him.
It was enough to alert Dave to the fact that something was seriously wrong and he dashed over to Paul's apartment, finding the front door still open and horrified to see him in such an appalling state. Having called the Emergency Services, he waited until they had whisked him away in an ambulance, then rushed over to the showroom, having taken a call from the police informing him of the break-in.
Later that morning, after Georgina had returned home again after taking Hilda to school, she found Christopher Steele's Mercedes, sitting on the drive. It was unsurprisingly empty, Steele having his own key to the house.
She found him sitting in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, his pale blue eyes staring menacingly at her.
"Sit down Georgina." he commanded.
She did as she was told.
"What do you want Christopher?" she asked, trying to stop herself trembling under his scrutiny.
"You will find that your lover is currently enjoying the services of our National Health Service." said Steele, noting her sharp intake of breath. "Yes, my dear, I know all about your sordid little trysts with Mr Paul Lewis."
"Wh..what's happened to him?" she asked, knowing it was pointless to pretend ignorance.
"He's met with an unfortunate accident." continued Steele, pursing his lips in mockery. "And so have all those flashy cars of his."
"Wh...what d..do you mean?" she stammered.
"You will find out, I'm in no doubt." replied Steele. "Now, you will, from here on in, be a proper wife to my son. You will not seek out other lovers, you will give yourself to him willingly whenever he demands it, you will enjoy it and you will make him a very happy man. Do I make myself clear?"
"And if I don't?" she asked, knowing not from where she'd found the strength to defy him.
"You will not see your next birthday." he replied, his eyes ice cold.
"What!?" she cried. "Are you threatening my life!?"
"No, not threatening, Georgina." he replied, smoothly. "You will not say anything about this little chat between us, otherwise your daughter will lose her mother."
"Dear God!" she cried again. "You are threatening me!"
"No, it's not a threat, Georgina! It's a promise!"