‘Karl and Renate?’
She gasped. ‘You know them too? My, you are very well informed indeed.’
Mr Thornton nodded. He opened a tobacco pouch, broke down a rough leaf in the palm of his hand and placed his pipe between his teeth. It was a pipe with character. A bend in the stem that made it droop towards his chin. Hilda noticed he smoked St Bruno tobacco. He opened his bluebird box of matches and struck one. It failed to light, and so did a second.
‘Blasted dampness up here in this darn city drizzle,’ he said.
He took another match out. This time it sparked, and clouds of sweet-smelling tobacco smoke wafted into the room. Hilda realised why it was familiar; St Bruno was the tobacco her father smoked.
She watched Thornton continue his ritual, asking herself how she could convince them that she had no wish to hurt her compatriots. All she could do was go on co-operating with them.
‘I did not see much of Eicke after the funeral. I heard about him of course, through Otto. It was when I was preparing to return here that he took a greater interest in me.’
She raised her oboe case from the floor and placed it on the table. She laid her hands on top of the box and gently caressed it. She continued to feed information to the men in the hope they would see how she was trapped, and not a shark in their midst.
Dynes told her that there were German agents in Britain. Even up here in the north. That shook her; it was exactly what Eicke had said. Dynes gave her a penetrating look and glanced towards his colleague, who took up the questioning.
‘Did Eicke mention the names of his agents?’ asked Thornton, pen poised over his notebook.
‘No, he said they would contact me.’
‘So Eicke knows you will be staying in Forres?’
‘Yes, at the hotel, my parents’ home. Otto told Eicke his next of kin were to be Karl and Renate on my departure. That was how he found out I would be returning home. That was my fault, my weakness, I suppose.’
‘In what way?’ asked Thornton.
‘Herr Eicke is using Karl and Renate’s lukewarm support for Hitler to frighten me. He threatened me because he suspected I am not an enthusiastic sympathizer either, and you’re interrogating me thinking I am his spy. I think you and Herr Eicke ought to sit round a table and sort the whole unsavoury mess out,’ she said, frustrated and close to tears.
Dynes leaned towards her, half-smiling.
‘I like your humour. Maybe I might meet Herr Eicke one day,’ he said.
Hilda shook her head, still frustrated and a little afraid of what might happen next. A court appearance? Detention? Imprisonment? She was all too well aware that the stakes were very high.
‘Look, you can search my bags if you wish. I assure you, you will not find papers from Herr Eicke. I have no address for him other than knowing he works at Gestapo HQ in Hamburg. It is Eicke who promised to contact me. Moreover, if he does contact me, I can keep you informed. I’d also inform you of the agents in Britain who are acting for him as soon as I know who they are.’
Dynes sat back, clasping his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. Hilda was cautiously relieved; she had now nailed her colours to their mast, and they seemed to have accepted it. Now she was back in Scotland she knew where her loyalties lay, especially here in Aberdeen, in the great city, which she loved so much.
‘You mentioned your two trunks. We have already checked your goods in the hold of the Grampian Empress and found nothing incriminating,’ said Thornton.
She gave a light gasp. ‘You are thorough, but I’m not surprised. You might as well investigate my suitcase here too. I’ve nothing to hide.’
Mr Dynes opened her suitcase. His hands fiddled around in the case and he shook his head.
‘Nothing, sir.’
Hilda noted his deference. Thornton was the one in charge.
Clearly, she came with no spy paraphernalia, but they probably knew there was more information to be extracted from her. She was determined to be completely honest with them. Spying was not her forte.
‘Eicke requested only two things.’ They each looked at her expectantly, and she did not disappoint them. ‘That I report on troop movements in the north of Scotland, and also note how many new or existing air bases we have in the north.’
She gave an audible sigh, relieved that her German orders were now out in the open, divulged not under pressure but freely and voluntarily shared.
Dynes made a note of what she had said, and he and Thornton exchanged smiles. She found it awkward that neither responded immediately to her statement. Instead, Thornton pointed to the black box on the table. He opened it and revealed the oboe resting in three pieces. The instrument’s make shone emblazoned in gold leaf beneath the case handle.
‘Rudall Carte, is that German?’ he asked.
‘No, they are English makers of oboes and flutes since 1822. They are very well established, everywhere. Even German orchestras play them.’
In a compartment were the double reeds. Thornton turned them over, and then carefully examined the instrument by looking down its barrel. He felt the velvet lining inch by inch and was satisfied there had been no tampering with the box.
‘Over to you Mr Dynes.’
Hilda was puzzled. Mr Dynes left the room as if he had no more questions to ask. He returned a few minutes later with a tray of tea and some Glengarry biscuits. She was glad to accept some nourishment after the nerve-racking questions, which still showed no sign of ending. The tea refreshed her as it slid over her tight throat, but there was more to be said. Mr Thornton pulled up a chair.
‘Frau Richter, we have to make sure who we are interviewing. That means uncovering any obscure areas. Your background gave us some challenges. However, we are satisfied with your explanation, and with your Scottish background.’
Hilda’s heart leapt and she made to stand up. ‘Does that mean I can leave?’
‘Wait a moment. Don’t jump the gun. We understand your loyalty to Otto and your extended family in Germany, but we would like you to work for us rather than against us. We need to track Eicke’s demands. You are well placed to help us do so.’ Thornton stood up and sat at the corner of the table to concentrate on Hilda’s responses. Hilda, we want you to act as a double agent. Do you understand?’
She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Was this a trick question? Had this volte-face always been on the cards? Moreover, his use of her first name, for the first time, was that to persuade her? It had certainly disarmed her. Most important of all, if she agreed, would it mean she could go home? Nevertheless, the world of espionage terrified her. She was not suited to it. She felt trapped in its intricate web. Her worry was that it was too late to break out.
‘I’d not accept a posting back to Germany. I would never survive. You cannot imagine how suspicious everyone is of everyone else. I would make little progress and Eicke would be on my tail as soon as I returned. He might even send me back here, with more instructions.’
‘That’s very true. That’s why I was thinking you should be sent back. However, we’re not ready for that,’ said Dynes.
Hilda had a sense of chickens coming home to roost. Nevertheless, a double agent? Surely, that was far beyond her capabilities. ‘So what happens now? Am I allowed to ask?’
Dynes fumbled in his suit pocket. ‘Here’s my card. You can call me on that number at any time. Let me know when the German contacts get in touch with you, and especially if Eicke makes contact. You understand?’
‘Yes. I will. I promise.’
They were leaving her with no choice, but as soon as she had agreed, she felt calmer. The rules were straight in everyone’s minds, and they all looked at each other, satisfied.
‘Just before you go,’ said Dynes. ‘Just out of interest. Does that oboe you have make a fine sound?’