In the study, the middle-aged German war criminal, opened the safe again. Extracting the trinket Holz had given to him, he held it in his hand, admiring the way the sun shining through the window, reflected its rays around the object’s shimmering border of white gold and glinted on the shaped black stone core.
Striding excitedly over to a glass display cabinet, he opened it and very carefully placed the item next to an almost identical one, resting on a cloth of recessed red velvet. Kemmler closed the cabinet, and exhaled an elated gasp, as he caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. His reflection had cast a surreal impression. The Technician, was now wearing not one, but two onyx German crosses.
Epilogue
The sunbeams shone through the grey clouds of a typical November morning, beating down over the home of the Royal Artillery at Woolwich Barracks. On the parade ground, Alex Swan stood amongst the other spectators as they watched the ceremony of remembrance; the soldiers all neatly turned out in their Number One dress, regimentally formed into rows ready for the two minutes of silence.
To the right of the formation, a bugler took up position, and away to the left of the proceedings, gun crews stood ready to fire a salvo of blank shells in a six-gun salute to the fallen.
Swan’s eyes surveyed the people around him in the procession, and suddenly heard the call from the Duty Regimental Sergeant Major, to stand to attention. Following the clap of soles on the tarmac, the bugler began his rendition of The Last Post. In precision timing, he finished the first call to the first chime of the clock, situated at the top of the main gate of the building spanning the entire length of the parade ground.
The air was now still, even the local Starling population, as if in mutual respect, were temporarily dormant during these silent proceedings. After two minutes, the bugler began the indicative fanfare, and Swan braced himself for what was coming next.
Beside him, Janet Ross stood wearing a black coat and fur-lined mittens. The invitation received from an old friend from his wartime Signal Corps days, stated to bring a guest. It had taken a few events to realise how he felt about Janet, and his recent trip to the United States had helped him to decide it was the right time in his life to think about the future. SID was all he had, and there were times when he thought an escape from this, would be a good way to look at things with more of a perspective view. He turned to her. ‘I think you better cover your ears, for this sweetheart,’ he advised.
The duty RSM shouted the order to the gun crews and seconds later, the first Howitzer spoke out, followed in order by the other five.
Swan turned to Ross during the firing, relieved to see she had taken his advice. He smiled in appreciation, as her mitten covered hands resembled a pair of elongated earmuffs.
The smoke from the last shot levitated into the sky, signalling the end of the ceremony.
Janet looked up at her companion. ‘Are you ready for this, Alex?’
Swan looked into her eyes ‘Do you know, Janet, I think I finally am.’
They followed everyone else back through the main gate, out into the car park. Standing by his car, Swan introduced Janet to some old acquaintances, one of which gave him a look that said: Could this really be the great Alex Swan, settling down at long last?
A few minutes later, Swan’s sports car exited the main gate. Ross’s eyes were on the black and white Thunderbird surface to air missile, recently erected as the Barracks gate guardian. He navigated the small roads around the barracks, turning the small Triumph right into Academy Road. After a small hill climb, he came to a cross junction, stopping at the traffic lights.
Janet Ross clutched a bouquet of pink and white carnations firmly in her lap; a written card hung down from their wrapping.
The traffic light turned green. Swan shifted the gear lever, jerking the car forward. He turned the steering wheel bringing the vehicle into Shooter’s Hill Road, by the Royal Herbert Military Hospital. They drove down the hill. As they passed, Janet stared at the tall red brick water tower, a local landmark of the area.
‘This is it,’ said Swan, pulling down the indicator lever, turning the car into the entrance of the Brook Hotel.
They got out of the car, and walked side by side towards the exit. As she carried the bouquet of carnations, Janet looked at Swan, and suddenly she began to feel his anxiety, in herself. She took his hand, encasing it within her mitten. He looked at her, then smiled. ‘Thank you for talking me into this, Janet.’
‘If I didn’t, you would never have done it,’ she quickly replied, and at the same time squeezed tighter around his hand, to reassure him.
They stopped outside the hotel entrance, at the kerb. Swan paused to look over to the other side of the road. There was a small patch of grass, and in the centre, was a raised flower bed. After waiting awhile for the busy traffic to pass, they crossed together, then stepped over a low concrete border to stand in front of the flowers.
A short distance away, in front of them, an elderly woman in a blue coat, was walking down the path leading from Woolwich Common, holding the end of a lead attached to her white wire-haired, Jack Russell Terrier.
Swan observed her briefly, then lowered his head to survey a small copper plaque situated to the right of the flower bed. Pulling Ross with him, he took a few deep breaths, then moved himself over to get a better view.
Janet read out the inscription written upon it, ‘In loving memory of the passengers of the Number 89 bus from Blackheath Standard to Welling Station, who were killed by a V2 rocket that exploded here, on 11th November 1944. Long may their eternal journey continue.’ Ross looked up at Swan and noticing tears forming in his eyes, took a tissue from her pocket and wiped them.
‘What a nice sentiment,’ he remarked, still looking at the plaque.
Ross handed Swan the bouquet. ‘Here you are, Alex,’ She gripped his wrist as he looked at the flowers for a few seconds then kneeling, placed them in front of the plaque. He stood up and bowed his head. ‘For you, dear mother. Rest in peace and eternity,’ he said, quoting the message on the attached card.
Janet took his arm and drew herself closer to him. ‘Well done, and no more bad dreams,’ she praised, softly kissing him on the cheek.
He turned to her and took her face between his hands, then lowered his towards her. ‘Thank you, Darling,’ he said smiling at her, and kissed her lips.
They remained like this for a few seconds.
Swan then took Janet’s hand. ‘Janet, my darling? There’s something I would like to ask you, and I feel the time for it is here, and now.’ Glancing at the elderly woman, he noticed her dog had decided to investigate a small shrub. Slightly annoyed at this, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small green box. He was hoping the woman would have passed by, so that they were alone, when he did what he was about to do. However, the Jack Russell had now disappeared somewhere inside the shrub, so until he emerged, she was going nowhere. Swan sighed. Well, I suppose I better do this properly, despite where we are.’ He crouched down on one knee, and Ross’s eyes suddenly lit up like fireworks, realising what was about to happen. Swan gestured down at the ring. ‘This was my mother’s. I would very much like you to have it, and…,’ he paused teasingly. ‘Oh yes, now I remember,’ he swallowed. ‘Janet Ross… Will you marry me?’
Ross gave a nervous giggle. She removed her mitten and held out her hand. ‘Of course, I will, Mr Swan. Now get up and kiss me you romantic fool.’
Swan rose in front of her, took out the ring from the box and placed it on her finger.
The elderly woman was suddenly attracted by the ceremony, taking place fifty feet in front of her, and seeing how happy the couple were, smiled, then clapped excitedly. The happy couple waved at her in appreciation, waiting for her to reach them.