Hidden In Plain Sight.
Chapter Seven.
When Dempsey and Harry arrived back at Winfield Hall, it was close to midnight, yet Freddy was still up and waiting for them.
Handing them both a glass of vintage brandy, he sat them down in his study and brought them up to date with the latest information.
"Simon has been back to me." he said, swilling his drink around in the large bowl of his brandy glass, before taking a sip. "Although he doesn't have conclusive proof - yet - his instincts tell him that Christopher Steele and Kurt Scheel are one of the same."
"How come?" asked Dempsey, taking a long slug of his liqueur. "I mean, if he ain't got no proof, what makes him so sure?"
"A lot of circumstantial evidence, James, I'll grant you." replied Freddy. "But, first of all, the surnames. It never fails to amaze me why anyone wanting to change their names, usually settle on ones that bear a resemblance to each other. I suppose it's similar to the thought processes that criminals go through - they almost always return to the scene of their crimes - some sort of morbid curiousity or testing their anonymity."
"Yeah, okay." agreed Dempsey. "I guess we've both come across those guys in our time. So - go on."
"The fact that Scheel arrived in the UK from Brazil." continued Freddy, warming to his argument. "The fact that there are no records of him ever having been in Brazil. The fact that he had enough money to start buying land and property - despite the deflated prices at the time, he would still have needed a substantial amount. Simon has seen this happen time and again. And it points to ODESSA, the clandestine organization specifically set up to provide new identities for SS officers and with a wealth fund behind them derived from stolen art, diamonds, jewels and cash from those millions of Jews murdered in the gas chambers. The Nazi's were a shrewd bunch though. Even though the Third Reich were convinced they would rule the world for a thousand years, they were still canny enough to prepare for the unthinkable. In other words, expect the best, but prepare for the worst. Hence ODESSA was formed, along with other similar organisations - just in case."
"But they couldn't have helped everybody!" exclaimed Harry.
"No, exactly Harry!" beamed Freddy, fully engaged now. "They only helped high ranking SS officers and those who had proven themselves amongst the psychopaths and thugs that the Gestapo were riven through with. The more sadistic you were, the more respected you became - you were the future. Able to rule with an iron fist, devoid of compassion - ruthless, arrogant and, if you were also blonde and blue eyed, destined for power, wealth and position. Kurt Scheel, a.k.a Christopher Steele, ticks all the boxes!"
"I guess it does all fit together." mused Dempsey. "So what about Hilda? Are you sayin' someone's gotten a hold of her who has a grudge against this creep Scheel?"
"I'm almost certain of it and so is Simon." replied Freddy. "And if we're right, I'll wager the Steele family won't be receiving a ransom demand either."
Harry and Dempsey exchanged glances before the penny dropped.
"Of course!" whispered Harry. "Exposure!"
"Yes Harry!" said Freddy. "Exposure! Admit who you really are and you'll have your granddaughter back. If you don't, you'll never see her again."
"Well, one thing's fo' sure." said Dempsey. "If this don' pan out like you say Freddy, we'll be back ta square one."
"And in the meantime, poor little Hilda's in the clutches of some deranged idiot intent on revenge." said Harry, quietly. "And we can't move until he's made his demands."
"Or she." said Freddy.
Harry stared at him.
"Good God, yes." she said. "We can't just assume it's a man behind all this, can we."
"No we can't." agreed Freddy. "Look, in the morning, I'm going to wade through all the names of my SOE agents. I'll need some help, so can you two assist me?"
"Sure we can." agreed Dempsey. "But Harry an' I are goin' down inta the woods first thing an' snoop aroun'. See if we can pick up a clue. We can give ya a hand when we get back."
"What will you need us to do, Daddy?" asked Harry.
"To help me in cross checking those who survived the Gestapo and those who didn't. Some are still living, who also made it through the death camps and imprisonment. We may find someone who recognises Kurt Scheel's description. From there, we may be able to put a timeline together and fill in some of the gaps, which could then lead us to whoever has taken Hilda. Meanwhile, although it won't be very pleasant for her being captive, at least she isn't in imminent danger. There's still time to find her."
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When Hilda finally awoke in the early hours of Sunday morning, she was disoriented and desperately thirsty, the latter, side effects from the chloroform. As she familiarised herself with her surroundings, fright took hold and she began to cry out for help, becoming hysterical when no-one came, finally curling herself up in a little ball on the small bed, whimpering, her tears unstoppable.
Eventually, she heard a key in the lock of the door and, wide eyed in alarm, watched as a figure, dressed from head to toe in black and wearing a balaclava, stepped into the room and approached her. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out, such was her terror. She cowered back against the wall to which her bed abutted.
Theresa Creighton put her forefinger to her lips while producing a sheet of paper from her pocket.
"Shhhh." she hushed and pointed to the paper held up in front of Hilda. On it were written some instructions.
'If you stay quiet I will not hurt you. Scream and I will beat you. Nod that you understand'
Hilda nodded and, although her entire body was shaking with fear, she managed to speak.
"I...I'm thirsty an..and I w..want the l...loo." she stammered.
Theresa sighed and reached into a pocket, drawing out a strip of black cloth. Once more, she put her finger to her lips and quickly wound the blindfold across Hilda's eyes, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She led her out to a bank of latrines and waited while Hilda completed her business, ignoring her pleas for help when it was obvious the little girl was struggling with the most intimate part of her toilet. Hilda did as best she could, hampered by the blindfold but aware that to take it off would result in a beating.
A few minutes after having been returned to her prison, the door opened again and a bottle of water, the top unscrewed and missing, together with a plate of jam sandwiches were placed on the floor, the door slamming shut and then locked.
Theresa retreated to her study and, with several Sunday newspapers spread out in front of her, went to work with her scissors and glue. Satisfied with her work and dressed in the same attire she had on when she kidnapped Hilda, she jumped in her car and drove over to an office block overlooking Hyde Park.
Having located the appropriate postbox for the Steele Property Development Company, she dropped a large, buff coloured envelope into it, marked 'Private and Strictly Confidential' and addressed to C Steele Esq, Chairman with the added message 'For your eyes only.'
Smirking, she went home to change and shower, before returning to the school to check on Hilda.
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At the Steele mansion, Christopher Steele was pacing the lounge, a permanent scowl across his face. Arthur had called him earlier and told him of Hilda's disappearance, Madeleine running to him when she'd heard his gutteral roar. She had insisted on going over to the house with him and was now comforting Georgina, both of them red eyed and sobbing.
"Will you two shut the hell up!" shouted Steele, glaring at them both. "Go somewhere else for God's sake!"
"Come on dear." said Madeleine, ignoring her husbands mood and taking Georgina's hand. "We'll go down to the summerhouse. The fresh air and walk will do us both good."
After they had left, Steele glowered at Arthur.
"You bloody fool!" he snarled. "How could you let her go away without you. From what I know, she's only known that girl Alex for five minutes!"
"I'm sorry father." replied Arthur. "I saw an opportunity for Georgina and I to spend some time alone together."
"If that bitch of yours had behaved like a proper wife, you wouldn't need to spend time alone together!" snapped Steele. "This is all her fault. I'll never forgive her if anything happens to my little Hilda."
"I'm sure we'll hear something soon, father." offered Arthur. "At least we're in a position to meet any ransom demand."
"I intend to get Hilda back without losing any money." he scowled. "Whoever's taken her will wish they were dead when I get my hands on them, make no mistake! They will be begging me to kill them by the time I'm finished!"
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If either Dempsey or Harry had been familiar with all the names of teachers and staff at the Richmond Collegiate, they would have immediately been alerted when Jonny Creighton's name came up during the cross referencing of Freddy's SOE operatives.
Having taken Abbott with them to the spot in the woods where Hilda and Alex had stopped to play hide and seek, they had thoroughly searched the area for any clues, but had drawn a blank. Returning to help Freddy, by Sunday lunchtime, they had been through his entire list but were no further forward with that either. Freddy's notes didn't go so far as detailing who had interrogated his captured agents, just that they had died at the hands of the SS, so Kurt Scheel's name was not listed as the Gestapo officer who had tortured, then murdered Jonny.
"I guess we'll jus' have ta wait 'til the kidnapper, or kidnappers, contact the Steele family." said Dempsey, accepting a large scotch on the rocks from Freddy and downing a sizeable draught.
"Yes, I'm afraid so." agreed Freddy, as he topped his glass back up, then turned his attention to a bottle of chilled champagne. "I'm sorry James, I was really sure we'd find something. but it wasn't to be."
He grabbed the bottle of Krug from the ice bucket and popped the cork, just as Harry and Alex joined them.
"Champagne Harry?" he asked, as he handed her a flute.
"Mmmm, yes please." she replied, Alex watching as he poured, momentarily mesmerized by the fine drizzle of spray and the bubbles bouncing around in the glass.
"Can I have some trampain, Gramps?" asked Alex, when he'd finished.
"Some trampain? Oooh no darling. When you're older, perhaps." grinned Freddy. "I do have some fizzy apple juice though. Would you like to try some in a - er - trampain glass?"
"Yes please." she replied and stood very still as Freddy handed her a champagne flute and poured her a drink.
"Cheers!" she said, after he'd finished, Harry giggling as Alex insisted on clinking her glass with everyone else's.
"Every inch the Lady already." chuckled Dempsey, as Harry slipped her arm through his and kissed his cheek.
At that point Abbott knocked on the door and entered the room.
"Excuse me, my Lord." he said.
"Yes Abbott, what is it?" asked Freddy.
"A telephone call for you." replied Abbott. "He didn't give his name but said it was rather urgent he speak to you."
"I see. Put him through to my study would you." instructed Freddy.
"Of course, sir." said Abbott and left the room.
Freddy excused himself and went through to his study, closing the door then lifting his telephone receiver.
"Hello. Winfield speaking. Who is this?"
"Hello sir. This is Raif Fitzallan."
"Good lord above." replied Freddy. "Raif my boy, how are you?"
"I'm well thank you, sir." said Raif. "Retired now and enjoying life."
"We must get together." said Freddy. "Where are you living now?"
"In Deddington, a few miles from Banbury." replied Raif. "I have a rather nice little cottage. Look sir, the reason I'm calling you is because I've recently been speaking to Simon Wiesenthal."
"Oh really?" said Freddy. "And who are you trying to track down?"
"Need I say sir?" said Raif. "You remember Helen? Helen Barnes my fiance. She died in Ravensbruk."
"Yes, Raif, yes I do. How could I forget her." replied Freddy. "But Raif, as you've said, she hasn't been with us for fifty years."
"No I know sir." said Raif. "But the monster who tortured her is still alive I believe and I'll never rest until I find him. That bastard is Kurt Scheel and according to Simon, you may well have found him."
"Yes that's true. I think I have." confirmed Freddy. "Look Raif, I think it would be better if we met. There's a specific reason behind my interest in finding Herr Scheel. If you're free tomorrow, come to my house in London and I'll explain what's going on."
"Yes sir, that would be fine." replied Raif. Freddy gave him his address and agreed that they meet at eleven o' clock. He was deep in his memories as he wandered back to rejoin the others.
Upon seeing him, Harry went to his side when he entered the room.
"Who was that, Daddy?" she asked.
"Er, what?" replied Freddy, still buried in his thoughts. "Oh, Raif Fitzallan. An old acquaintance from the war years. He was my second-in-command."
"What did he want after all this time?" asked Harry.
"He wants to find our mutual friend Kurt Scheel." replied Freddy and went on to explain what had happened to Helen.
"Oh the poor chap." murmured Harry. "He's been haunted by that for most of his life. No wonder he wants to find the man."
"Who's Girt Sheel?" asked Alex, her inquisitive mind on full alert.
"No-one you know, Miss Big Ears." chuckled Harry. "Now are you hungry? It's almost dinner time."
"Mmm, yes I am." confirmed Alex, then looking her mother straight in the eye. "Mummy, when will Hilda be back?"
"I honestly don't know, darling." replied Harry. "But we'll find her, I promise."
"Yes, you will." sighed Alex, but matter of factly so. "I prayed to Jesus last night to keep her safe and to help you and Daddy and Gramps find out where she is."
Harry felt her throat tighten at the thought of Alex kneeling by her bed, her hands pressed together in front of her face as she prayed for her best friend.
"Come on sweet pea." said Dempsey, scooping Alex up in his arms and giving Harry a few moments to gather her composure. "Let's go get somethin' ta eat, huh?"
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At 6 am the next morning, the curtains were pulled open on Nightingale ward in the Royal Free Hospital, Hampstead and Paul Lewis groaned.
'Bloody unholy hour to have to wake up!' he thought, then winced at the pain in various parts of his body, all of it as a result of the severe beating he'd taken at the hands of Christopher Steele's goons.
Nurse Jenny Sanders had just come on duty and noticing his discomfort, went to his bedside.
"Ah, Jenny." said Paul. "Any chance of some painkillers?"
She unhooked the clipboard hanging from the base of his bed and glanced over his notes.
"Yes I can give you some more." she confirmed. "You last had one six hours ago. Have you heard from your girlfriend, by the way?"
"No, not a word." replied Paul. "I hope she's okay."
"Really? Why wouldn't she be?" asked Jenny, noting the cloud that had passed across his features.
"Oh, er nothing." replied Paul. "I've bigger things to worry about right now. My showroom was broken into and all my cars trashed."
"Dear God, Mr Lewis." said Jenny. "Someone's really had it in for you, haven't they? Haven't you spoken to the police, yet?"
"No, no I haven't." he replied.
"Well don't you think it's about time you did?" suggested Jenny, glancing coyly at him. "Seems to me you know exactly who was responsible."
"Yes, perhaps you're right, Jenny." agreed Paul. "Can you bring me a 'phone a little later?"
"I can." she confirmed. "Now, your breakfast will be here soon. I'll be back to help you eat it."
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When Christopher Steele marched into his office that Monday morning, he was still in a savage mood and snapped at his secretary to bring him some coffee and his post. She silently did as she was told, knowing to give him a wide berth when he was in this frame of mind.
The large buff coloured envelope stood out amongst the pile of standard sized post and, curious, Steele opened it first.
His face drained of blood when he drew out the one A4 sized sheet of paper and read the message, made up of various fonts from several newspapers.
"YOU ARE A NAZI WAR CRIMINAL. GO PUBLIC AND TURN YOURSELF IN. I HAVE HILDA. DISOBEY ME AND SHE WILL DIE'