Scotch in the Library
New Year's Eve, 2007
In the end, despite the excitement on Christmas Eve, Christmas itself had gone very well, with the minimum of family arguments and a decent amount of good cheer. Tony had finally turned up at around six in the evening, bearing apologies and two cases of Dom Pérignon, which added to the generally festive air over the next couple of days.
Wolf, Armand, Artur and Michel had gone into Tenterden for the midnight service. Marina had pleaded tiredness and departed upstairs around ten, leaving me and Tony holding the fort. It was about the first occasion I'd spent any time with Michel's husband, but he was a surprisingly lively conversationalist on matters of economy and politics, as well as having an unexpected interest in history. It was also obvious to me that he was genuinely fond of Michel, although apparently not enough to work shorter hours. I wondered whether that would change once the baby was born.
By general agreement, Dieter's visit wasn't mentioned, and Artur was smart enough to explain his own presence by saying he was Armand's friend, who had come over from Germany with him. In answer to questions about Soren, he replied that he'd brought the boy with him as his mother had died and he needed somewhere to live. For all I knew, part of that might even have been true.
My main surprise over the next few days, however, was the realisation that the relationship between Armand and Artur was nothing like as straightforward as them being just friends. I first really noticed it at the Boxing Day Hunt. Wolf had said he'd take the girls and Soren in the car with the Hunt Followers, so I invited Armand to join me riding to hounds. As I said it, I saw a look as close to jealousy as anything I'd ever seen Artur's face. Thinking I'd offended him in some way - again - I offered to talk to one of my neighbours, to see if they had a spare horse that he could borrow so he could join us. But he had just turned away and said that he had to do some work on the briefing he was supposed to give us once Tony was safely out of the way. Armand had tried to cajole him into letting me see what I could arrange, but by then the damage was done, and after that, he'd been very expert at finding other things to do and avoiding me.
The reaction was so peculiar, that I found myself watching them together after that, and came to a surprising conclusion. From Armand's side the relationship was definitely a friendship: a close one, to be sure, but nothing more than that. However, from Artur's it was hero worship and, I suspected, something more. Like any good operative, he was careful... especially when he thought anyone was watching...but once I knew what to look for, I saw it. And of course, the discovery that Armand was his nephew, which meant that any ideas or dreams about the future he may have had had been forever denied to him, made things harder for him. He became quieter, more prone to snap - if that was possible - and in most of interactions - certainly with me, and often with the others - I detected constant, low-level anger.
In contrast, Soren had been fascinated by everything to do with the Hunt - the noises, the smells, the colours, the dogs and horses - and had given us a hairy moment, when he slipped out of Marina's hand, and ran headlong into the throng. But Armand had managed to sweep him up almost effortlessly, and deposit him safely on his saddle in front of him before any harm was done. After that, the only problem was persuading him to get back down. Wolf and I gave him a proper riding lesson on Ruairí the following day, watched by Michel, amid much hilarity by all concerned, especially Soren himself. I think that was the point Wolf and I decided that we would find a way to make his living on Tenterden work.
Johnny Rose had invited us to his New Year's Eve dinner and party when the Group had met at Winter Solstice, and seemed unfazed by the increased size of our party when I called to warn him. However, being black tie, we had something of a scrabble trying to find dinner jackets for the boys. Neither of them apparently owned such a thing, but there was no way I was going to turn up at the Group's other home with two uniformed SS officers in tow, despite Artur's protests about protocol. So I cheated, and decided that it was probable that we would find something for them, and we successfully acquired the necessaries in the post-Christmas sales.
And now it was 6pm on New Year's Eve. We were due to depart at seven, but I had got ready early, and headed downstairs to the library for a pre-evening drink and to clear my head. I was standing by the drinks cabinet, pouring myself a glass of Balvenie Double Wood, when Artur walked in. He was dressed in jeans and a dark cotton shirt, probably still sulking at the chosen attire for the evening, and he stopped dead as soon as he saw me.
"Sorry...I didn't mean to disturb you," he said, flatly, "I was looking for a book Armand recommended..."
"You're not disturbing me," I answered, "can I pour you a Scotch?"
"Can't bear the stuff."
"Then something else? G&T? Brandy? Wolf even has a stash of Schnapps in here, too."
He stood stock still, and I couldn't decide if his reaction was one of a rabbit in headlights; or equally, of plotting how to kill me where I stood. He was, after all, presumably a trained field operative, given his unit affiliation.
"Artur, you've been in my home now for a week, and we've barely spoken. Please...join me for a drink."
"Schnapps, then. Lemon if you have it."
I got out the bottle and poured him a measure, then handed it to him, and he sat himself down in one of the armchairs by the fire, looking tense and uncomfortable. I took my place opposite him, and after taking a drink, I put my glass on the table beside me and sat back.
"I haven't seen that much of you since you've been here," I commented, trying to sound friendly.
"I didn't ask to come here," he answered, "but the Führer insisted. He said he was meeting with an ally in the fight against the Lynx, and wanted me along to help with the briefing. He didn't tell me that it was you."
"So you were brought here on false pretences?"
"It's as good a way of putting it as any."
"Well, I'm definitely an ally in the fight against the Lynx, and you've certainly briefed me on your current findings, so how exactly is that false pretences?"
"You can't be an ally. You are an unrepentant enemy of the GGR."
His answer caught me off guard. I'd expected him to come up with some reason for his anger, but it certainly hadn't been that.
"Okay, where did that come from?" I asked, genuinely puzzled, "Britain and Germany haven't been at war since 1942."
"But you never ceased hostilities, did you? Even as late as 1980, you were still happily murdering our troops."
I regarded him in silence, unsure how to answer.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?"
"Accusing your host of serious crimes isn't usually covered within the rules of Hospitality."
"You aren't my host by choice. You're my host because the Führer left me here."
"Has this stay really been as bad as all that? You got to visit Armand, who you obviously haven't seen in a while. You and Wolf have been getting on okay. I'd even say that once you got over the initial shock, you seemed pleased to see your mother - which is mutual, by the way. The only one you don't seem happy to see is me."
"Came up in the pillow talk did it?" he asked, with an undertone of disgust which caught me by surprise.
"I'm your father," I answered, surprised, "why are you surprised that I'd want to sleep with your mother?"
Silence.
"You've obviously come here with a lot of preconceptions about me, and it's apparent they aren't good ones. Which I suppose shouldn't be a surprise given my past history with Dieter. But I'm disappointed that you aren't willing to find out if they're true, especially given your chosen profession. I would have thought you'd want to draw your own conclusions... make your own assessment."
"Then start with the Lynx. Given that you and the Führer have a long history of enmity, why would he consider you to be an ally in that fight?"
"Because the Cult attacked my family. And as you are no doubt aware, my family is also his family. I don't take something like that lightly and neither does he, and that makes us natural allies."
"So what happened?"
Perhaps I should have been more gentle with my answer, but I was annoyed with his blinkered attitude, and I was still curious about his feelings for Armand and wanted to prompt a response, so I decided not to hold my punches.
"They kidnapped your brother and your nephew. They severely beat your brother and used him as the bait in a trap to capture myself and some of my friends. Then they beat, tortured and vivisected your nephew and locked him in a coffin, while doing their best to keep him awake so he knew exactly what they were doing to him. And once they were done with that, they staged a parody of a wedding service to try to marry him to their cause, literally and metaphorically. They left him so traumatised that even once we got him home, he woke up screaming every night as the nightmares hit him."
I watched him as I spoke, and saw the look of horror on his face as his obviously active imagination - after all, to be a good field agent, you need to be able to think outside the box - played that for him in his head.
"They did that to Armand?" he said, finally, utterly disbelieving, "he hasn't said anything..."
"That's because he doesn't want to remember."
"But he seems the same as he ever did...surely what you're describing would have changed him."
"He's lucky," I answered, "I have a very good friend, who has helped him blot out most of it, and work through the rest. But it's still scarred him mentally. I'm not sure he'll ever be willing to go into Shadow on his own, and if you know anything about the Family and what we have the potential to do, you'll realise just how crippling that is."
From his expression, he realised exactly what I meant, and it obviously distressed him.
"And he never, ever, goes out without a weapon."
"He's a soldier...that's natural," he answered, trying to get a grip on his feelings.
"Not really. You see I'm not sure whether, if he was attacked again, he would use it on his enemies, or on himself."
"No-one had the right to do that to him," he said, quietly.
"No, they didn't," I answered, "So Hell yes, I'm Dieter's ally in the war against the Lynx."
I watched him as he processed that, and once again I detected the feelings I'd seen before, when he thought about Armand. He downed his glass in one. I pushed the bottle over to him, and he poured a refill, then sat for a few moments, before speaking again.
"So the fight against the Lynx is a common cause between you and the Führer. But how does that reconcile with your historical attitudes towards him? Do you still want to kill him?"
"I hope you have your own answer to that, given that he was a guest in my house a few days ago. Much of what he believes and what he stands for are still diametrically opposed to my own beliefs. But recently, we've begun to talk to each other without wanting to kill each other. I'm still figuring that one out, because I think there's a distinct danger we might actually end up liking each other."
He didn't look convinced, but he let it pass.
"Next question?" I said, after a moment or two.
"Were you the SOE operative, codenamed Astor?"
"I think that's been an open secret in certain circles for a while."
"So you were involved in sabotage and guerrilla warfare against our troops in England, and carried that on with the French Resistance in the years after the Allies came back to the European mainland. Astor and his teams are generally credited with close to a thousand deaths among our soldiers, what with the acts of sabotage, the destruction of our ammo and fuel dumps, the Reims train crash in April 1941 and assorted other out and out running gunfights. And he is also believed to be the SOE agent who provided the means to assassinate the First Führer."
"And?"
"Do you deny any of it?"
"No. Why would I? I was serving my country, much as you serve yours, be it the GGR or now, Germania."
"Do you regret any of it?"
"We were at war. I had been at Dunkirk, and watched my comrades and friends die under German guns. I saw more of them slaughtered needlessly, when their boat was torpedoed as they tried to get home to England, unarmed and no longer a threat to anyone. Have you ever been in that situation?"
"There was a partisan attack on the convoy I was travelling in when I was in Russia. Five dead, nine wounded."
"And how did that make you feel?"
"Angry."
"It strikes me that you're angry a lot," I said, with a shrug, and wasn't even remotely surprised when he bristled at my comment, "Germany invaded my homeland. I was angry, too, and I wanted to fight back."
"What about Kirishi? That was nearly forty years after the end of the War, yet you were responsible for the deaths of over a hundred of our men. And you tried to assassinate the Führer."
I noticed that he didn't mention the fifteen hundred poor bloody Russians, who'd been caught in the crossfire, who I regretted the deaths of far more than I did the murdering bastards of Einsatzgruppe-4.
"I did that to stop him from murdering millions of innocent people. And moreover, as I'm sure you're aware, given that you appear to be quite familiar with both my Gestapo and SD files, Kirishi was my retirement from active work for the SIS. What I don't understand, though, is why you're bringing up all this now? It was a long time ago. Before you were born."
"About nine months before I was born."
"Is that what this is about?"
"You slept with my mother, then you persuaded her to help you in espionage against the GGR, and then you went and killed over a hundred of her countrymen."
"Killing those troops was never my intention, but operations can easily go awry, especially without solid planning. And that one was as seat of the pants as it comes."
"But everything you did with the SOE was intentional. And all my life I've had to deal with the fact that my father is a spy, a terrorist and a mass murderer, who was thrown out of Germany for plotting against the Fatherland."
"When did you find out? I thought Lebensborn birth records were sealed."
"It's mother's fault. When I stayed with her at the weekends, when I was growing up, she used to tell me adventure stories. However later, after we started studying GGR history, certain things she'd told me as stories fell into place with the histories of WWII and beyond. And in reality, the perpetrator was never the hero; he was the villain. On my fourteenth birthday, as soon as I legally could, I applied to see my birth certificate. And there it was in black and white. Mother, Marina Acker; nationality German; profession journalist. Father, Ian Michael Cushing; nationality English; profession spy; status, persona non gratia - life forfeit within the GGR."
"It actually said that on your birth certificate. Who registered it?"
"It was registered by Kasimir Ritter, SS-Ahnenerbe, and copies were lodged with the Ahnenerbe and the Berlin Provincial Government."
"Gods, he really was pissed off with us."
"That's all you have to say? What about me? When I was growing up, people around me knew that my mother had slept with the enemy, and I was half-spy. No wonder my life was a living Hell. For a long time, the only person who stood up for me was Armand, although things did eventually change, and my platoon mates helped."
I looked at him - hurt, and frustrated and angry - and for the first time I actually felt something for him.
"I'm sorry," I said, quietly, "however angry Dieter was with me and your mother, he didn't have the right to do that to you."
"Why do you call him that, goddammit?" he snapped, "Why don't you have any respect for him? For his position?"
"You would defend him after he played such a dirty trick on you?"
"He's my Führer."
"He's my cousin," I answered with a shrug, "he's not my Führer. And believe me, Dieter is an improvement on what I used to call him."
"Which was?"
"That evil Nazi bastard."
He glared at me.
"I assure you, the feeling was mutual. I was that bloody English Jew-lover."
"What gave you the right to screw my mother, get her pregnant, and then leave her to face the consequences?"
"It really wasn't like that. I didn't know she was pregnant...she never told me. He wouldn't let her. Likewise, after you were born, he forced her to keep me in the dark. I only found out you existed about three weeks ago."
"So she says."
"So he said...to me, in my office, when he brought you here. I think he decided to introduce us by way of apology to us both. I'm sorry the experience has been so unpleasant for you."
At least he had the decency to look sheepish, and at that moment, he reminded me distinctly of his mother, a week before. He did have the look of us both about him, however much he wouldn't appreciate it being pointed out to him.
"It wasn't like you hadn't committed a prior offence," he said, finally.
"Prior offence?"
"Slept with a good German girl and made her pregnant.."
"Which again, I didn't have the slightest idea about at the time. I only found out that Wolf was my son after he defected."
"You knew by the time you met my mother. Did it never occur to you that there might be consequences?"
"We took precautions."
"Which worked out so well."
"At least we tried."
"Was she ever any more than a good lay to you?"
"What we had suited us both. It was never meant to be more than that."
"And yet here I am."
"If I had known about you, I would have tried get in touch. And if I'd known what you were going through, I would have tried to take you away from that."
"Like you took Wolf away?"
"Hopefully with rather less bloodshed."
"You say you didn't know he was your son when you went to Russia for him. Why did you help him?"
"I was repaying a debt. I'm bloody certain he saved me from dying at Dieter's hands in Budapest. And while your brother and I have had our ups and downs over the years, I don't regret what I did."
"And what of those he left behind? His brother, his father..."
"His adoptive father, who he hated," I pointed out, "Alfred, I can't speak to, although Wolf tried to put things right for him when he went back in 1980, and from what I've heard, his brother's fortunes improved again after that."
"So you would have come for me, if you'd known?"
"I'd like to think so."
"What of the ones I would have left behind?"
As he spoke, our eyes met for the first time during our conversation, and again I felt that he was old beyond his years.
"Artur, is your problem that I'm your father? Or is it that I'm Armand's grandfather, and because of that, there's no chance you can ever be with the person you love?"
I saw the colour drain from his face, and he deliberately looked away.
"How long have you felt that way about him?" I asked, quietly.
"That's ridiculous," he protested, "he's my nephew, remember."
"But a week ago, he was just your friend, your protector."
And at that point, I watched his resistance, and his anger, and his hatred, break down. Moments later, all that was left was a tired, scared young man, who rather than looking old for his age, suddenly looked young and vulnerable as he tried to figure out his place in things, and had suddenly found the most unlikely person possible to confide in.
"How long?" I said, gently
"For as long as I can remember," he answered, and I got the impression that he was relieved to be able to say it aloud.
"Does he know?"
"No. And he never can," he answered, "he wouldn't understand. He's as straight as they come, and I'm...not sure what I am. I don't feel the way the same way towards anyone else, male or female, and never have. Yet it isn't really a physical thing. Sex doesn't even really interest me that much. It hurts, and it just causes harm."
There was a very odd expression on his face as he said that: a mixture of pain and old, deep-rooted shame. It was the shame that seemed out of place until suddenly, in my gut, I knew exactly why my grandson had killed Hölzer. How much did Dieter know or suspect about what had happened way back then?
"Artur, I'm so sorry."
"About what?" he asked, suspiciously, and I realised in time that I shouldn't reveal that I knew about the murder.
"That you've ended up in this position," I said, hurriedly changing tack, and we both fell quiet, as there wasn't really anything else either of could say. We sat there for a few moments, finishing our respective drinks, before I spoke again.
"I promise you, the pain of losing someone you love - however that happens - fades eventually. And if you're lucky, you find someone else in time. For us, time is something we have in abundance."
"Have you ever you loved someone and then lost them?"
"A long time ago."
"Wolf's mother?"
"No...she and I never had a chance. She was married, and her husband warned me off in no uncertain terms. But I met someone a few years later. She was my soul mate, and we were very happy together."
"What happened?"
"She was killed in a car accident. I felt like I'd been gutted. But in time I made my peace with what had happened, and she lives on as good memories. Those we love are never gone if we remember them."
"Do you love my mother?"
"There isn't anyone else in my life. There hasn't been for a long time."
"Understand this. There's no-one in my life. There can't be."
"Even spies needs someone to come home to. It gives us a reason to live to fight another day."
"Except when the only person you want to be with is so far off limits it isn't funny."
"Is that why you were so annoyed when Dieter said Armand was being posted to London?"
"I had hoped that he might eventually bring him to Germania. At least, then, I'd see him occasionally. Whatever other screwed up thoughts I have in my head, it doesn't change the fact that he's my best friend. And while that's all he'll ever be, I miss him. And I would do anything for him."
He stopped for a moment, embarrassed and then angry with himself for letting so much spill.
"Please, you mustn't tell him."
"One thing I've got good at over the years is keeping secrets. I swear to you that this conversation won't go any further than the two of us."
"Thank you."
"What will you do if he realises?"
"I don't think it would occur to him. But maybe the separate postings is for the best."
"Does Dieter know?"
"I hope not. I'm a serving SS officer. Dishonourable discharge would be the least he'd do to me if he found out."
"You're Shadow-capable. You must be or you couldn't have collected as much intel on the Lynx."
"The Führer arranged for me to walk the Brandenburg Pattern."
"There's nothing stopping you coming here to visit."
"This is your world. He made that very clear."
"And you're my son, whether you're willing to accept that or not. You have as much right to be here as me, or Wolf, or Armand. And if you were to call in on your parents occasionally, I'm sure they wouldn't mind."
"Are you going to marry her?"
"We're still trying to figure that out. It isn't as easy a question as it sounds."
"Because of your father?"
"And hers. But either way, I'm pretty sure we'll be living together. At least once the baby's born."
"Baby?"
"She's pregnant again. And this time I have no intention of not being there for her."
"I don't understand you. I really don't."
"Why in particular?"
"All of your family are German. Why do you hate us so much?"
"I don't hate you, or even the German people. I hate the system you live by."
"And yet you let the Führer into your home."
"I let my cousin into my home. My son's grandfather...both my sons' grandfather...and Hell, my prospective father-in-law, gods help me. That's a very different thing."
"But you've visited him in Germania as well, on more than one occasion, and worked in his tradition. I learned about the Army Working after it had happened. Despite saying you hate our system, you are an initiate of the Thule Gesellschaft, and you hold honorary rank in the SS."
"It's complicated. Dieter and I were enemies for a very long time, but now...everything evolves, eventually."
"Do you have other children?"
"Three sons. One doesn't know. The other two do, but we've agreed that it's safest for me to stay out of their lives, except on a professional basis. And for the record, none of them are German."
"Perhaps there is more to you than a terrorist and a spy."
"As I said, everything evolves eventually...especially if you know that you aren't going to die of old age. It has to."
He looked as if he was going to say something, but before he could, the door opened and Armand walked in, fully decked out in his dinner suit and looking as elegant as James Bond ordering a vodka-martini. I glanced over at Artur, and just for a second, I saw his eyes light up, as if even being in the same room as my grandson was enough to brighten his life. Then he consciously masked his emotions, and settled for a friendly smile, as guarded as ever about his true feelings when his friend was present.
"There are you are," Armand said, as he saw us both, "Tuur, you need to get ready. We'll be late."
"We were just talking," I answered, then glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece, "but you're right. I've diverted Artur's attention for too long."
"Thank you, Ian," Artur said, quietly, as he got to his feet, "this has been...educational."
"Yes it has," I answered, with a smile, and as I did, I saw Armand's eyes flick between me and his friend, obviously trying to read the undercurrents. But he was up against two trained covert operatives, and in the end he just shrugged.
"I'll see you both down here at seven," Artur commented, and then headed upstairs to get ready, leaving Armand and I alone. Armand poured himself a Scotch and then sat down in the chair Artur had just vacated.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
"We were just talking," I repeated.
"I know things have been strained between you since he got here. I'm sorry about that."
"Let's say, we were overdue for a chat, and I think we've cleared some air."
"I'm glad. You have to forgive him. He can be a bit...socially awkward with people he doesn't know. He's a very bright guy - the smartest person I know - and he sometimes gets frustrated when people don't keep up. But he's a good person underneath. You just have to be careful with him at times. He can be rather...intense."
It was an interesting description, and as I watching him speaking, I realised that he wasn't anything like as oblivious to his friend's true feelings as Artur thought he was.
"Discovering that he's your son was important to me," he continued, "When you grow up in the Lebensborn System, you make your own family, and we were like brothers. But learning that he really is my kin, my close kin...I didn't see it coming, but I'm very glad it did. I hope you can come to like him."
"I hope Dieter lets him travel freely between Germania and Tenterden. You, Marina and my cousin have all said he's worth getting to know over the last few days. I'd like the opportunity to do that, if he's willing to do the same."
"He seemed better just now, after you'd talked."
"As I said, we cleared some air."
"You've probably taken the first step, then. That's always the hardest one with him."
"Then to first steps," I said, with a smile, and we raised our glasses to each other.