Chapter 5

“Gosh, we never thought of that!” Frances blurted out.

“It is a common occurrence, Mrs Robertson. Only one needs to be agile and take the risk of climbing through, past broken glass.”

“Yes. That is so. Reg noticed a drop of blood on the carpet, so we kept away from the spot until the forensics people arrived.”

“A wise precaution, though not every blood spot leads to a culprit, if the lad had never been in the hands of the police before. You need a match, you see, and if he is not already in the police database, you can’t make a match.”

“You seem to know all about it, sir.”

“I started off in the police, before I found there was more money to be had by working for an insurance company. I had to retrain for an assessor’s post, but I enjoyed it, and I have never looked back.”

“So what do you think of our claim, over this break-in?” Frances wanted to know.

“One like yours is pretty straight-forward, as a rule. There are always variables in the assessment, but where a client insures a number of properties with one policy, we tend to be less officious, less going by the letter of the law. We try to treat our better clients with a more sympathetic approach. Your building is part of a blanket policy for over twenty buildings, so this makes your building one of those meriting a sympathetic approach.”

They continued walking round the house, visiting each floor in turn. Once the tour was finished, Seb Cornwall asked Frances, “Is that all the electrical items that were removed? I would have expected the thieves to have targeted mobile phones, portable radios, that sort of thing.”

“We all carry our mobiles with us, for we need them at the university, and none of us have portable radios. We use our phones to listen to music.”

“I must be getting old. You young folk use your mobile phones for everything, these days.”

“By the way,” said Frances, “We are getting enhanced security for the building as a result of this break-in; triple-glazing, alarms, and so forth.”

“Make a point of notifying the insurance company. They may be happy to lower the overall premium when that is done.”

Prudence Gower’s father was also busy, getting his own research done. He had staff checking facts in the original military award records of the period, including the report from the Squadron Leader and a couple of members of his team. The researcher noticed the vagueness of the man in the pit when the other man fell, a Richard Bell. Bell claimed they were working in semidarkness at the time, which might explain why his colleague tripped. There was no mention of the fallen man’s head hitting the bomb, just that he fell and landed on his head. It was only the Squadron Leader who referred to the exposed bomb in the pit. Another witness was actually reporting what he had seen come daylight. He described looking into the pit and seeing the bomb waiting to be defused. It was assumed that this confirmed evidence of the bomb situation of the night before.

The researcher took copies of all these reports, and added photocopies of newspaper reports of the bomb being defused, and the later award to the Squadron Leader. The news reports of the defusing were vague, as no-one was allowed to be close at the time, for safety reasons. The award announcement in the press was based primarily on the Squadron Leader’s testimony.

All the documentation went back to Mr Gower. He perused it attentively, then demanded a search for the man who had been in the hole, if he still lived. The RAF Benevolent Fund had records of his pension being paid to him at a retirement home in the Cotswolds, near the village of Painswick, so Mr Gower paid him a visit. He phoned the home in advance, explaining that he was researching heroes for a book, and wanted to get testimony from Mr Bell. The home’s administrator explained that Mr Bell’s short-term memory was a bit hazy, but otherwise he was generally healthy except for walking ability. “Don’t expect Mr. Bell to get up to meet you, Mr. Gower.”

“That is fine, sir. It is his mind I am seeking, not his legs.”

The meeting took place within Mr. Bell’s private room, with the Administrator standing near the door, observing events.

Mr. Gower spoke up. “Mr. Bell, I am researching the UXB event where Squadron Leader Aitchison won his DSO.”

Bell’s face turned into a scowl. “Won his DSO, eh? Damn fools at the War Office: believe anything an officer says.”

Gower allowed a look of surprise to come over his face. “You mean, it didn’t happen exactly as was described on the award documents?”

“Of course not. These records seldom do. They make the officer look good, that’s what was wanted. Most of these awards are dished out like sweets.”

“So what exactly happened, Mr. Bell? You were in the pit, were you not?”

“Sure, just waiting for my mate to come with the tools. I was in the hole with the detector, to find where the bomb was nearest the surface, and the idiot lost his footing on the excavated pile up on top, and then the tools pile down on me, don’t they? I was lucky not to be badly hit.”

“So the other guy fell on top of you, did he?”

“Nah. He missed me and landed on the spilled gear. Banged his head on a lump hammer, he did. Knocked him clean out. I used the walkie-talkie to tell the boss that Hawkins had fell into the hole and was unconscious. He rushes over with a torch, and between us we get Hawkins back to the ground level. The boss says, “I’ll get him back safe, Bell. You make sure that everything is okay here.”

“‘Yes, sir. Will do.’ and he goes off with Hawkins over his shoulder. I gets back down, and pulls the tools to one side. Then I excavate further, to get a look at the bomb. You have to see it to work out its size and type of munition; and whether it was correctly fused. That gives you some clues for the defusing operation. Some of these fuses had been sabotaged by slave workers, and that is why the bomb failed to go off. I needed to find if that was the case here.

After a while, the Boss comes back with his torch, and shines it down on me and the bomb. “Ah, you have the beastie identified, have you?”

“500-pounder sir. I haven’t managed to locate the fuse details yet. I think we’ll need daylight for that job.”

“Very well. Have you got the drill and saltwater pump for disabling the fuse? Did Hawkins deliver them?”

“No, sir. I expect he was going to go back to do a second run and deliver them safely. You know how delicate these items are.”

“Indeed, Bell. By the way, Hawkins must have landed on the bomb when he fell in. I presume I am right, Bell; eh, Bell?”

“Of course, sir, if you say so, sir.”

“Excellent. I had meant to say that you deserve more than a medal for your stalwart work, Bell. How about I arrange a donation towards your retirement; a sum of 500 pounds sterling? It might seem appropriate, eh, being a 500-pounder?”

“That would be most generous of you, sir.”

“Don’t rock the boat, Bell. That is all I shall expect; understood?”

“Yes sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

“Good man.”

Bell looked into Mr Gower’s eyes. “500 pounds was a lot of money to a squaddie back then, sir, as I am sure you know. So I didn’t rock the boat, and he got his DSO. Job done. That money came in handy, sir, I can tell you, but I won’t talk about it in public.”

“I can understand that, Mr. Bell. You secret is safe with me.” Gower was satisfied. He made his excuses and left Mr. Bell in his comfortable armchair.

Moving outside with the Administrator, Mr. Gower commented quietly, “For a man with a bad memory, he did very well, I think? Reliable, would you say?”

“Quite so. For such an old memory to remain so clear, it must have made a tremendous impact on him. I never knew he was a bomb disposal man. A brave man indeed. I think I shall inform the staff that our Mr. Bell is a hero; but quietly.” He smiled almost shyly. “Mr. Bell is not a man to brag, so we shall not brag, either.”

Gower responded, “And as I said to him, his secret is safe with me. Thank you for your help. I suggest you write down what you have heard, for future reminiscences shall we say?. I can do my story as a tale of an unidentified hero, and leave it at that. It will still have an impact, showing one of the many pressures on the UXB men. You will possess the full tale, young man; an honour, I think.”

They parted with a handshake, both happy with the outcome.

Prudence got a call from her father, during one of her lectures. She had her phone on mute, so all she felt was the vibration, and she sidled out of her seat and out to the hallway. There she took the call.

“Daddy? What’s up?”

“Nothing to worry about, my pet. I have been visiting one of Aitchison’s disposal team, and he tells a different story. There was no heroic action.” He related the story, and added, “Unfortunately, the guy was bribed at the time, and is not prepared to go public, but at least we know that Aitchison was a fraud, and the home’s administrator heard the full story at the same time. We can do whatever we like to bring him down, knowing what he is really like.”

“Thanks, Daddy. Please don’t do anything immediately, until we can talk it over: me, Reg and the others. There are other factors at play here. But, Daddy? I think you are wonderful!”

“Thank you, my dear daughter. Anything I can do to help, let me know.”

Prudence called the family together, and informed them that the Squadron Leader was not the hero he purported to be. “Daddy found a team member who was bribed to stay quiet about what actually happened. The bomb was still covered by soil at the time of the accident, so there was no real danger involved, thus no justification for the DSO. The man is a fraudster, so it is not surprising he is trying to cover up for his grandson’s criminal activities. The point is, do we do anything about it?”

Reg looked around for opinions, but no-one seemed to be willing to step forward. He offered his own view. “We have two distinct options: take his money or refuse his money. If we refuse his money, we can still get our insurance money to reinstate the house. That means we get less than he is willing to pay. Of course, he is again offering a bribe to stay silent, just as he did with his bomb disposal man. Any comment?”

Freda said, “My Dad would not like us to do anything illegal, and taking a bribe is illegal.”

Reg pursed his lips. “In this case we can view it simply as a recompense for the distress caused to family members. That need not be a bribe. In fact, if we don’t sign anything, we can still assist the police to indict the grandson.”

“Won’t he want us to sign a promise not to testify against his grandson?” Erika posited.

Freda laughed. “Us signing such a document is tantamount to him admitting to a crime. He wouldn’t dare put anything in writing!”

Frances interposed, “I see what you mean, Freda. Your father’s law knowledge is rubbing off on you.”

Prudence said softy, “So, we could take his money, and still stick it to him?”

Reg agreed with this interpretation. “Yes, that is correct, but whether we think it is right, ethically, is another matter. For a start, if the insurance company pays out, should we expect him to pay us the same again?

Freda was not impressed. “We should be ethical with a man who got a medal by fraudulent means, and is now trying to cover up a crime by his grandson? Give us a break!”

Reg did not agree. “The way I look at it, Freda, is that we have consciences, even if he doesn’t. I would feel bad about not acting ethically, for MY conscience, and nothing to do with his lack of ethics. He didn’t do anything directly against us. He is trying to protect his grandson for some unknown reason. If the lad was my grandson, I would want him to take his punishment as a deterrence against doing such a thing again.”

Prudence asked him, “Then why DOES he want to do such a stupid thing? Do we know anything about the lad?”

Reg was thoughtful. “You raise an interesting point, darling. I wonder if the police have information about him? Could we ask our friendly Sergeant Phillips?”

“We can but try,” exclaimed Prudence. As we have the phone number on his card, let me ask him.”

She swiftly got her phone out and dialed the policeman’s number.

“Sergeant Philips? Mrs Prudence Robertson here. We are puzzled about why the boy needs to be protected from the consequences of his actions. Do you know anything about him?”

“He is still at Secondary School, Mrs Robertson. We asked about him and the headmaster reported that the lad is a bit of a tearaway but within limits, good at maths, languages, and one or two of the sciences. He attends school scrupulously well, and has no demerits on his record. The Head thought the boy’s father was grooming him for a career as a stockbroker, or in banking: he was not sure which.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Nothing else?”

“Nothing noteworthy. The family has money, but you knew that! I think it is Old Money, inherited for generations.”

“Thanks again, Sergeant. You do you best for everyone, don’t you? Goodbye.”

Reg had been listening closely. Now he remarked, “Earmarked for a career in finance, eh? I do believe that a criminal record is a deal-breaker for such a career. I read somewhere that sensitive jobs to do with finance are among ones where government regulations bar people with convictions for theft and other financial crimes. I wonder if that is why they don’t want him to be convicted?”

Frances offered, “So, such a conviction merely deters him from a career in finance?”

“I expect so,” Reg declared as his opinion. “Does that change our attitude, ladies?”

Erika was forthright. “Reg, I think we treat that family as a bunch of criminals, and deal with them accordingly; primarily, steer clear of them. If we get decent recompense from the Insurance Company, I would be happy to leave it at that. We do nothing to make things easy for the boy.”

“Thank you, Erika my love. What do the rest of you think?”

Grudgingly, they followed Erika’s example, and opted for the law to take its course.

Reg declared, “I am proud of you girls for taking a principled stance once we knew the full story. I agree with you, so we can tell the Sergeant we want to leave the charges to be pursued with full vigour. But first, we need to send a message to the Squadron Leader that conveys our decision in a friendly fashion.”

Frances told him, “You had best draft out what we should say, Reg. You are more conciliatory than we are.”

He worked on that for a while, and came up with this message, to be handwritten for delivery to the man.

“Dear Squadron Leader Aitchison, we understand that you have offered reparations for the break-in at our home recently. While we admire your generosity, we feel that we should pursue recompense through our insurance policy. Thank you for that offer, which we have thus to refuse with regret. We have noted that you were awarded a DSO some time ago, and feel that it might be for the best if you resigned from the Police Committee on grounds of ill-health, rather than discuss publicly your relationship with Mr Bell, who now regrets his time on your team.”

From: The Robertson family.

Freda was not so sure. “Reg, I like your wording, but I think it is too forgiving of the Aitchisons. I would like to see a bigger threat hanging over them, should they not mend their ways.”

“What would you like it to say, Freda?”

“I want it to be clear that we know what their intentions were. Something like, ‘While we welcome your apparent generosity, it has been revealed by our own investigations that the intention is to allow your grandson, Eric, to become a career financier. This must not happen, for the benefit of the general community. In addition, your DSO award has now been revealed to us as suspect, and we have witness corroboration for that claim. Your position on the police committee is therefore untenable, if you wish to retain your DSO.”