Chapter 36

I went to my locker and sorted out my books for the afternoon lessons. I was on my way to the first classroom when there came an announcement over the school’s paging system: “Maria D’Angelou and Kevin Randell to the Vice Principal’s office. Maria D’Angelou and Kevin Randell to the Vice Principal’s office.”

I did an about-turn and headed to Vice Principal Hinterberry’s office. There was an assistant on duty outside. “The Vice Principal will be ready for you shortly,” she said.

Maria joined me moments later.

“What have we done wrong?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I admitted.

“Did you know there’s a rumour going around that the police are looking for Joanna Kafkasian and you were the last person to see her?”

I groaned. How did the Drama Club grapevine get such good intel? “The police came to my house last night,” I admitted. “I told them what I knew, that the last time I saw her was in the town centre. I hoped she would have turned up by now but she missed our Math class this morning.”

“What happened to you at lunch time? Several people were looking for you, including one of Cayenne Proctor’s minions.”

I felt mild relief that I had probably missed another undeclinable invitation to dine with Cayenne Proctor and Jaymon Solassie. “I had some personal business to take care of,” I said.

Before Maria could question me any further, the assistant cleared her throat to attract our attention. “The Vice Principal is ready for you now,” she said.

“Ready?” I asked Maria.

Maria nodded. She gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

I knocked on Vice Principal Hinterberry’s door and we entered when invited.

“Thanks for coming. Please take a seat,” said Vice Principal Hinterberry.

I heard a quiet woosh of released breath from Maria as she realised it wasn’t going to be bad after all.

“I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground and I’m impressed with your maturity,” said Vice Principal Hinterberry. “There hasn’t been the slightest hint around school of a link between Daisy Wilkins and Nazis. I’m putting a lot of trust in you by sharing what I’m about to show you, and I expect you to continue to the same standard of behaviour.”

Vice Principal Hinterberry turned her laptop screen round so that Maria and I could read it. It displayed a personal e-mail from FBI Senior Special Agent Daniel Hooper sent to Dr Langridge and subsequently forwarded to Mrs Hinterberry.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” I said. “Is there any news on Daisy Wilkins? Is she getting better?”

Vice Principal Hinterberry gave me an evaluating stare before replying. “Yes, I understand Miss Wilkins is doing much better. You didn’t hear it from me but I understand Dr Langridge doesn’t think her home environment is suitable for her to return to and, as a result, is likely to recommend that she goes into foster care until she’s eighteen.”

“Thank you Ma’am.”

I started reading the e-mail. It was a summary of SSA Hooper’s findings. I was surprised: I thought that war crimes investigations were very long, drawn-out affairs yet SSA Hooper had moved very quickly. And although it wasn’t explicitly admitted, it left me in little doubt that Dr Langridge had divulged some of Daisy Wilkins’s personal details to help with the investigation.

SSA Hooper had tracked down Daisy Wilkins’s great-grandfather to a nursing home, where he was living out his final days suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s Disease. Comparison with historic photographic records showed a near certainty that he was a wanted Nazi war criminal who had disappeared immediately after the Second World War. Franz Wilkensteiger had only been a lowly concentration camp guard, but he had a reputation for doing the dirty jobs that even most of the other Nazis couldn’t stomach, and was personally responsible for the torture and murder of dozens of Jews. His wife, Ilse Wilkensteiger, was also a wanted war criminal, having been a nurse at the same concentration camp. She had participated in the diabolical medical experiments on Jews that had got the camp’s doctor hanged for war crimes.

It was unusual, but not unheard of, for such lowly Nazis to be able to afford passage to South America, and that was SSA Hooper’s best guess at how they had managed to escape retribution. He surmised that the Wilkensteigers had learnt to speak English fluently there and reinvented themselves as Frank and Elsie Wilkins before making their way to the USA, where they escaped attention by living in relative isolation in a small town.

SSA Hooper had discovered that Elsie Wilkins had died from cancer some ten years ago. Daisy’s paternal grandfather, Frank Jnr, Frank and Elsie Wilkins’s only offspring, had died in a car accident around the same time. SSA Hooper had interviewed Daisy’s father and believed that Frank and Elsie Wilkins had kept their sordid past from their family, not even speaking German in their presence. However their hatred of Jews and contempt for those they considered inferior races had been passed down in the invective they used, including to Daisy herself.

SSA Hooper’s recommendation was that a warrant be obtained for samples from Frank Wilkins, to be flown to the Hague for comparison with known samples from Franz Wilkensteiger. Because of the state of his health, there was no realistic prospect of a trial for Frank Wilkins, even if he was proven beyond doubt to be Franz Wilkensteiger, but on his death he would be cremated then secretly disposed of so that his grave site couldn’t become a shrine for neo-Nazis or a target for relatives of his victims. If a positive identification was found, Elsie Wilkins should then be disinterred so samples from her corpse could also be compared with known samples. If Elsie Wilkins was proven to be Ilse Wilkensteiger, her remains would be also be cremated then disposed of secretly.

“Wow,” said Maria. “Poor Daisy never stood a chance.”

“Dr Langridge was right,” I admitted. “He reckoned that Daisy could also be considered a victim.”

“You’ve impressed me again with your maturity,” said Vice Principal Hinterberry. “I trust you won’t say a word of this to anyone. And in the event of Miss Wilkins returning to this school, she is going to need all the support she can get. I’m hoping that some of that support will come from you.”

“Ma’am, may I tell my sister Theresa about this?,” I asked. “She’s the same age as Daisy and used to be friends with her. She’ll be able to provide more support than I can.”

“I will leave that up to your discretion,” replied Vice Principal Hinterberry. “You know your sister better than I do. I suggest that you keep details to a minimum. Even divulging Franz and Ilse Wilkensteiger’s names would be enough for someone to look up the details of their crimes on the internet and I don’t think that would benefit anyone, certainly not Daisy.”