Author's Note: Take one John tired of studying, add one movie showing in every other state in Australia except his, add a pinch of the fact that it is a movie he has been desperately hunting for for over six months, stir violently for twenty minutes and the send it riding up Mt Wellington. You end up with one batty person and:
A Man Called Johann
Miss Elizabeth Bennet sighed wearily. As far as sighs went Elizabeth knew it to be a weary sigh, and if anyone could judge a weary sigh it was Elizabeth. She'd made them and listened to them for 86 years now and this evening she was feeling every one of those 86 years.
"Aunt Liz!" It was little Sophie who looked inquisitively around the door, and little Sophie was her Great-great-niece. Elizabeth sighed again, to think that little Sophie was her Great-great-niece; she hadn't felt that old that morning.
"What is it Sophie?" Elizabeth straightened up on her chair and hoped she didn't look as decrepit as she felt.
"Grandpa's here," Sophie spoke importantly. Grandpa was Charles Bingley, and though he was known to everyone as Grandpa he was actually Sophie's Great-grandfather. Elizabeth still wondered that her apparently spineless brother-in-law could survive two major heart surgeries and an amputation, and not even have the decency to get arthritic.
"Is he indeed...? Well, has he come to see this old hag or has he come to see lovely you?"
"I don't know, he came with another man and they're arguing."
"What about?" Elizabeth's curiosity was sparked, mostly because in the sixty-some years she had known Charles Bingley he had never exchanged a cross word, not even with that tiresome milkman who invariably upset the milk when he turned to leave.
"I don't know." Little Sophie looked depressed. "They're arguing in German."
"How helpful of them." Elizabeth smiled faintly, with any luck she might be able to find the reason for the argument when Charles came in later.
"Will you read to me, Auntie Liz?"
"Certainly, choose a book and come settle down. I'm sure we'll get company when they're tired of arguing. For once I do not wish to have an argument in my living room."
"Arguments are permissible in the kitchen though," Sophie nodded importantly.
"Baggage!" Elizabeth couldn't help but smile for the child spoke truth, if you wanted a fight you had it in the kitchen.
It was nearly an hour later when Charles Bingley let himself into the living room where Elizabeth sat.
"Hah! I see you have finally succumbed to the indignity of a walking stick!" Elizabeth noted with glee the walking aid; she'd succumbed to one ten years early and it niggled that Charles Bingley did not require one when he was many years older than she was.
"Too true, Lizzie. How are you today?"
"Feeling very blue and annoyed."
"Why's that?" Charles settled himself in a nearby chair and carefully positioned his stick against the arm, but it promptly fell over with a soft thump.
"She was watching 'A Man Called Johann' on television and though she won't say why I know that that is what upset her." Sophie peeked out from behind the bookshelf.
"Baggage." Elizabeth gave a soft laugh. "Bed with you, Sophie...unless you actually have something to say to her, Charles?"
"No." Charles waved to Sophie as she slowly retreated from the room; his expression was positively morose.
"That expression would make Pollyanna cry, Charles. Why did you come? No problems at home?"
"None at all, Lizzie. An old friend of mine just turned up though. You wouldn't happen to have taped the last section of 'A Man Called Johann,' would you?"
"I did. You can have the tape with my blessing!"
"Why does it upset you?" Charles settled back into his seat having bagged the video cassette.
"Because it is monumentally untrue and foully inaccurate. Ach! This propaganda true press makes me sick! Anyone would think that after fifty years they could cease being so bloody stuffy about it all."
"Anyone would think you've met Johann, Lizzie."
"I did! The real Johann that is, not that horrible little...." Elizabeth waved her hands expressively, utterly at a loss in the descriptive front. "A more complete pack of lies would be impossible to produce. Ach! They might at least have tried to get them remotely similar in appearance. Johann was no SS uniformed swill-bucket smirking contentedly as he swept rats into a bucket. I hate the man, but I'll be damned if I watch that ill-conditioned trash again which positively glorifies the very worst part of our life. Johann was an utter basket case whenever anything happened. He didn't sit back when the SS swept out a nest he was in, he gibbered with the rest, and I know he did and I know why he did."
"Why?"
"Why not? All it would take was some trigger-happy guard and he would have died. Tried for war crimes and executed. Germany's master spy who spelt death for hundreds of Frenchmen. Ach, they make me sick. When will someone not stumble on the truth that Johann was English, born and bred. Did his schooling at Eton and Oxford. He furthered his schooling at Heidelburg University at the expense of our own Foreign Office. Do they mention any of that? No they do not! Do they mention that though he was convicted of war crimes he never stood sentence for them? No, of course they do not! Has anyone noticed that in the three months of his terribly public trial back in 1960 no one actually saw his face? No it would seem not. As a result they cast a blasted Blond giant to play the role of a man who was small, dark and looked terribly French. Johann was no ladies man, in fact he estranged 90% of the women he met. It was because he was so unpopular that he was so crashingly successful. Everyone suspects the sleek ladies-man, six-penny novelettes saw to that. Who suspects the arrogant, opinionated, and deadly tempered Frenchman who is said to have snubbed more women than any man known on earth? Johann was a rotten shot, he couldn't hit a house at one yard, let alone a playing card at twenty! Ach, this irritates me. Why did you want the tape?"
"My friend and I missed the episode and for some unfathomable reason he wants to see it."
"Probably has a morbid fascination like I did just to see how they'd decide to get rid of him. If it wasn't like Johann at all he could probably haul these people up for millions for misleading publicity... Tempting to take it on myself, just to see what would happen."
"You're not serious are you, Lizzie?" Charles had straightened slightly in his chair.
"No," Lizzie sighed. "I'm not serious about it, but I wish I could. Why must we get old, Charles? Why must we sit around and see old friends vilified and ruined?"
"Johann was a friend?" Charles looked exceedingly doubtful.
"Yes, Johann was a friend....in fact he was more than a friend. The only thing Johann wasn't was a husband." Elizabeth paused and then smiled abruptly. "Don't look like that Charles, I was 25 years old, unmarried and constantly in the company of this man I utterly despised. What else would possibly happen?"
"I'm not certain I follow....and I don't think I want to follow."
"Charles, you are a fool. Johann was a Double Agent."
"Yes, everyone knows that; his case more than proved that to the world."
"Sorry, he was a doubled double agent.....triple agent? He was an English Agent who was a German Agent who was posing as an English Agent."
"Lizzie, I think you should go to bed, next time we meet perhaps you might be able to explain this."
"So true. I am tired, Charles, and I should be in bed.....else that would never have got to me and I would never have offended your sensibilities by blabbing what's been secret for sixty years now."
"Sleep well, Lizzie." Charles smiled at his sister-in-law before letting himself out of the house. Much as Charles admired his bright, witty, and hot-tempered sister-in-law, he had to admit that her mind did tend to wander a bit when she was tired.
"You got the tape?....She had copied it?" The question was slightly nervously pitched. "I'd rather not have to ask the television people to lend me or sell me a copy, and I'd definitely prefer that I did not have to ask them to air it again."
"Yes. In fact she practically threw it at me. Said only morbid curiousity had made her watch it to the end and now she was utterly furious she had because that would make her one of the umpteen million viewers who watched it and made it the most watched TV show this week."
"Morbid curiousity.....I must admit that I have a similar failing."
"Why do you want to see it?"
"Morbid curiousity, I've already said that."
"My sister-in-law wanted to see it because she knew Johann......or so she says, but her mind does occasionally wander so I'm not certain about the veracity of her claims."
"What did she do in the war?"
"She was buried away in the Oxfordshire mud and saw her family once in the entire duration of the war. I believe she was tangled up with MI5, but I could be wrong."
"Mmm."
"Why do you ask?"
"I met Johann many years ago just before he died. A very strange man Johann."
"You're not drifting too are you?" Charles looked doubtfully at his friend.
"No I am not....I've got his diaries if you'd like to read them."
"You've what?"
"I said I'd met him. He left his diaries to me; he wanted someday that the true story be told to the world."
"Then why didn't you tell it?"
"I haven't had the time....or the inclination particularly. People revolt enough at the fact that a person could be a double agent....they'd be utterly revolted by the reality."
"What is the reality?"
"He was a Triple Agent, one of those amazing stories from a thriller novel....try Alastair MacLean for shirtsize if you want the type. Johann did a Master's Degree at Heidelburg University and became one of Canaris' golden boys. Johann 'escaped' from Germany just after the Ankschuluss. He returned to England with a couple of fairly useful Poles in his wake....though admittedly they were Poles Germany could afford to lose to England. With his fluent German, his connections in Germany and France and his upbringing, MI6 pounced on him immediately and shunted him off to one of their various training camps. Having sailed through the various training camps, Johann was posted to Paris where he had impact on both sides. A terribly successful saboteur.... Only downside was that almost invariably the German facilities were deserted and stripped when he actually detonated a charge.....either that or for some reason it just could not be sabotaged. At the same time French resistance groups just kept being exposed, and sometimes in the most peculiar manner."
"How does that make him a triple agent? He sounds like the prince of all swine."
"What makes him a triple agent is that no matter how many Resistance groups were captured, no matter how many times the communication lines were uncovered, the important fish almost invariably escaped the net. Sometimes they just weren't in when the net closed, sometimes they 'escaped' from prison......a couple of them were even shot, and yet showed up less than a year later working on the Spanish Frontier....and the German facilities invariably met with accidents before they settled down again."
"I don't follow at all."
"He took his Master's at Heidelburg at the expense of the Foreign Office......The Foreign Office do not give free rides because they feel like it. Johann was an English Agent for years before the war even officially started. He was an English agent for the entirety of the war....though at times it became a bit murky as to which side he was actually on. It can be so difficult....." The voice trailed off into silence and then was followed by a soft sigh. "Well at least I now get to find out what happened to him......such an amazing man, with no reliably contacts back to England our hero still manages to get all important information back. Even though he's a German Agent he feeds his superior utter garbage and seems to invariably fail when someone needs to be caught and yet he is never suspected.....amazing man."
Charles Bingley sat upright in his bed and frowned heavily at the far wall. Something had disturbed his sleep. Some memory, some feeling, somewhere in his thoughts something had been unsettled. It can be so difficult.... The words echoed through Charles' head as he stared at the far wall. That remark had been in the personal, there had been too much detail for a diary..... Was it possible?
Charles pulled on his robe and slippers and shuffled out into the hall before tapping softly on the door next to his.
"Just a minute." There was a pause and then the door opened. "Come in Charles.....I must say I do like nice clean endings like that."
"Eh?" Charles blinked sleepily and uncertainly.
"I just finished the tape and I must admit that I like such nice clean endings."
"Darcy....." Charles was pottering uncertainly around the room.
"What's up?"
"You were at Eton and Oxford, weren't you?"
"Yes I was, to that I must admit."
"You did a Ph.D. and a Master's in Europe, didn't you?"
"Correct. In fact I did my Ph.D. at the Sorbonne."
"But you didn't do your Master's there?"
"No, that is quite correct, I did not do my Master's in France."
"Did you do it in Germany?"
"Yes, I believe I did....the Columns of Charlemagne if my memory still holds out....Heidelburg."
"Am I thinking truth or is it just my failing mind giving out?"
"How about I tell you a story, Charles? I want to tell you a story about a young man who would do anything for England. A young man who had been brought up to despise any German because 'they killed your daddy'. I want to tell you the story of one of the greatest murderers, one of the most skilled assassins, one of the most successful terrorists, and one of the greatest con men in history. This is the story of a man who is either a hero, or a man you would utterly despise and cross the world to avoid......it all depends on the angle the story is told from."
Fitzwilliam Darcy stood as he always stood, legs straddled, hands clasped behind his back, gazing up at the forbidding canvas. 'That is your father. He was a brave man, and an honest man.....A German killed him. A German deliberately murdered you father.' His mother had been dead for fifteen years now, but he could still hear it, as if she were standing just behind him.
"What would you have me do, Father? Should I take this offer and go to this land I abhor?" He had frequently consulted the picture before. His father had ordered his life from the very day he was born, and this was no different.
Ten minutes later Fitzwilliam Darcy wandered thoughtfully out of the Picture Gallery and slowly walked down the stairs.
"Fitzwilliam?" Darcy looked up to see his little sister peering through the bars from the level above.
"Georgiana!" He beckoned his sister down to join him. His heart still ached to see the shadows under her eyes, but he had done all he could on that matter. Georg no longer was a living member of the earth....but now they were asking him to take on the mantle of Georg, to pretend to espouse the beliefs and the mentality of the people he loathed most on the face of the earth.
"Who are these people, Fitzwilliam?"
"They used to be father's business partners.....they're here to discuss matters of business."
"They won't be here for long, will they?"
"No, I expect they'll leave within the next hour or so. How do your lessons go?"
"Not at all." Georgiana's expression was doleful. "Fitzwilliam, why must I do this stuff?"
"Because you are a Darcy, and Darcys cannot be ignorant fools. To be a Darcy means you must be able to hold conversation with the best in the world."
"You mean someday I'm going to have to preside over a table like Aunt Jennifer does?" Georgiana's eyes widened in alarm.
"Only if you wish to. But whether you do it or not, you must have the ability to do it and the confidence to do it."
"Did you have to study like this?"
"Much worse, Georgiana." He pulled a rueful face. "Much, much worse....and unfortunately I haven't even finished yet. Be thankful, you'll finish at 18. I'm 26 and I have at least another four years ahead of me."
"You're going away again?"
"I'm afraid so, Georgiana, I'm afraid so."
"I'm going to miss you, Fitzwilliam."
"I'll try to write....I promise." He gave his sister a hug and then continued his descent of the stairs.
"You've decided?" There were three of them in that room, none of them were young, and all of them were soft.
"I have decided." He took his seat behind the desk and laid a folder on top of it. "I'm going....but first we have some business to deal with. I will not go if there is any possibility that my family and my estates will suffer in my absence."
"Fair enough. Would you trust Danning to manage them in your absence?"
"Danning in party with my two cousins from my mother's side."
"The two Fitzwilliams?"
"Correct.....you'd hardly expect me to let my Aunt de Bourgh get hold of it, would you?"
"True."
"Very well then, gentlemen, I will see you in London the day after tomorrow.... Now you must excuse me, I have work to do."
"I'm sure you do, Mr. Darcy, I'm sure you do." The spokesman of the trio's parting words was not particularly comforting, but he shook the feeling off and bent his head to the work ahead. Every detail must be settled before his departure. If anything happened to him, there must be no loose ends or uncertainties. A Darcy did not die and leave doubt in the world behind him.
Fitzwilliam Darcy slumped spinelessly in his corner, but he did not feel at all spineless. The air in the prison was rancid. He was thirty years old and slumped in prison with rancid air. The only reason this was really degrading was that he had chosen the prison himself and he had even chosen his cellmates. The official reason behind his incarceration was that he was a foreigner from a hostile country. The reality was something that he wasn't even going to consider. For the third time he shot a cautious look at his cellmates. They had been jabbering softly between themselves almost since the moment they arrived and he was very tempted to roll his eyes, it was as if they assumed no one else in the world could speak Polish.... Time to burst their precious bubble.
"It might interest you to know, gentlemen, that escape is never effected by talking....only by acting." He addressed them in fluent Polish and he was quite willing to have suffered his fortnight's imprisonment for the expression on their faces.
"You speak Polish?" The one who finally responded had the palid look of a person who had long been indoors.
"No, I just addressed you in Arabic." Darcy tested the water for humour.
"Oh in that case....." The young man smiled faintly. "Why didn't you let us know earlier you spoke Polish?"
"I found your conversations interesting and it quite broke my heart to interrupt them."
"Then why did you?"
"Our guard changed.....and the new one is standing rather close to the door."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" The man wrinkled his nose slightly.
"I expect so."
"How depressing." The man pulled a somewhat wilting expression. "I'm Heinrich Szerbrzynsky."
"Fitzwilliam Darcy......Do you speak English?"
"Not so well."
"We'll stick with Polish for now then."
"I have good French though."
"Good, let's speak French then......I take it you do not speak Russian?"
"About even with my English."
"Ahh, good." Darcy switched to French with a slight smile. "In fifteen minutes we'll drop French for English, then we may as well try a bit of Russian.....then perhaps a bit of German just to amuse our guards."
"You have good humour, my friend."
"Better a good humour than no humour when in such a situation."
"True."
"Your friend is?"
"Stepan.....I am Stepan Prczynacz."
"A pleasure, gentlemen. And now we know each other let's bait the guards."
"That's hardly wise." It was Stepan who responded.
"Oh, but I want to irritate them."
"Why?"
"You'll see."
"You are mysterious....I'm not certain I trust you."
"May as well trust me as not, we'll die anyway."
"Fine company, aren't you?" Heinrich rolled his eyes.
"Maybe some German? I'm sure our guard would like to hear some nice juicy gossip." Darcy changed languages once more as he spoke.
"Certainly, nothing like some juicy gossip........I hope you know some for I most certainly do not."
"Well, that's a great help!" Darcy rolled his eyes and then abruptly smiled. "I predict one week."
"One week for what?" Heinrich looked at Darcy curiously.
"Probably our execution." Darcy gave a yawn and if possible slumped even lower in his corner.
"You are a charming companion."
It was precisely a fortnight after Darcy had so rudely interrupted his cellmate's conversation that Darcy and Heinrich were deposited, by means of a Hurricane, at Croyden International Airport.
"Ah! Darcy! I see you got out safely."
"What do you expect? No foreigner imprisons a Darcy.....for long." Darcy stared down at the man who met them and then grinned. "How are you, Hawkins?"
"As arrogant as ever, I see. Darcy, you are an infernal swine, you know that?"
"What else might I be?" Darcy's expression was slightly stunned. "Oh, before I forget. Heinrich Szerbrzynsky."
"Ah, the err......man with the bangs?" Hawkins nose wrinkled up slightly.
"Precisely."
"What does he mean by that?" Heinrich looked suspiciously at Hawkins.
"Don't worry, it's just his weird sense of humour. He's merely confirming that you are an explosives expert."
"Then he should say that."
"True, but as I said, his humour is weird."
"Very weird." Heinrich did not like this at all......in fact he liked it even less than when they'd had Germans gunning after them at the Station in Berlin.
"And even weirder is the fact that there's a gentleman from MI6 waiting outside. He wants to talk to both of you."
"Charming. Really quite charming."
"So this is Paris." They were only four words, but they hid a wealth of meaning.
"No, this is not Paris." Darcy's response was blunt. "This is a city held by the Nazi's."
"Fair enough," Heinrich nodded slowly. "I do not like it here."
"No one likes it here.....and we are meant to be speaking French!" Darcy finished in French.
"Sorry." Heinrich changed languages accordingly and then smiled, "Why did you get me into this?"
"I thought you got yourself into it."
"Ah, but I would not have got into this had you not already been in it."
"True, now be quiet. We make enough noise to wake the whole world and we are meant to be being quiet."
"But why should we be quiet?"
"Because there is a curfew in place and I do like my brains remaining inside my head."
"Heinrich died....of course. I was out of town and he couldn't say anything." Darcy had sunk back in his chair and he was looking curiously old and fragile.
"Couldn't say anything?"
"I was in Berlin at the time. How admirable it was, I was the second best intelligence agent on the English Front at the time and I couldn't even save my partner."
"You were in Berlin?" Charles' expression was doubtful.
"Are you surprised? I had to identify an Allied Intelligence Officer."
"I'm not certain....."
"Charles, Johann is not an English name, it is not a French name. I was officially a Nazi Agent. Officially, I was responsible to Admiral Canaris. The fact that I was an English Agent years before I ever became a member of the Nazi Regime has nothing to do with it."
"Sorry, please continue."
"I could have saved Heinrich with a single telephone call.....but he was dead before I even knew he was captured." There was a pause and Darcy was clearly thoroughly lost in his thoughts.
"What happened after Heinrich?"
"I spent about six months on my own and then pulled some strings to be paired up with 'JODIE'."
"Jodie?"
"Her operating name. Her real name was Elizabeth Bennet." Darcy paused and blinked slowly. "I last saw her in 1945 and sometimes I wonder if I ever want to see her again. Has she changed? Is she the same? Is she married? Is she even alive?"
"She is alive, she isn't married......but she has got old."
"I think I'm glad we haven't met again." Darcy paused. "Now, about JODIE.....I'll best tell it from her side.....from my side it's utterly ridiculous and makes both of us look very stupid."
"Whatever." Charles shrugged, he was perhaps a trifle uncertain as to whether he wanted to hear this.
JODIE hunched over her radio; her fingers flew as she kept up the continuous flow of codes. She had been in France for precisely two months and now she was going to die. JODIE had passed her Telegraph Course with flying colours and she had been impatient to try her skills.
"Why do you keep transmitting?" It was CHARLES who asked the question. CHARLES had been with the group two months longer than she had been there, and if JODIE remembered correctly he had been with another group before this one.
"It ensures that the message will get through that this group have gone under. My codes will never be used again so I need not fear of compromising the security for others."
"I would not be so certain." CHARLES response was damping.
"I made my own codes, thank you very much. There is no way I could compromise anyone else," JODIE snapped shortly, but never had she even paused in transmitting the ever-repeating message. The point that most assured her that she compromised no one was the fact that she was transmitting in plain morse, no coding to it at all.
"I'm sorry I interfered." CHARLES retreated to the window and looked out into the street. "They're in the house now."
"You seem mighty calm about the fact that you're going to die soon."
"You expect me to jump screaming around the room?"
"Well, you could have the decency to look nervous at least." JODIE wiped her forehead once more.
"Waste of time. They'll merely beat us and then shoot us. Nothing we can do about it.... If we're lucky they'll miss the beating and just shoot us." CHARLES smiled faintly and then abruptly turned his head. "They've cleared the landing?"
"Correct......but we got three of them."
"So Pierre is dead." There was a faint flicker of expression in CHARLES' eyes, but it was no more than a flicker and JODIE was completely unable to interpret it.
"Here they come." The dull detonation outside the room more than confirmed it.
"That's it. The lot of you get out." CHARLES was pulling up the hatch even as he spoke.
"Too late." Andre was half into the hole when he paused and stopped.
"What?" Henri frowned at Andre concernedly.
"They're in the sewerage system."
"Put the hatch back." Henri sank into a corner with a sigh. "How did they find out we even joined the sewer system.....this is supposedly an isolated house."
"I've got six shots left." JODIE proffered her revolver to the rest of the group.
"There are seven of us and the radio."
"So, JODIE and I remain, the rest of you take the shortcut and we dispose of the radio." It was CHARLES who finally spoke up.
"And you and JODIE?" Henri looked soberly at them.
"JODIE and I pay the price we have been trained to pay. We know nothing, the rest of you know too much."
"We don't know that much.....besides which it is hardly chivalrous to make JODIE fall into their hands."
"JODIE has been expecting to fall into the hands of the Gestapo since she landed here. JODIE's a damn sight more likely to be released because she is obviously a civilian who was in the wrong place at the wrong time than any of you are." CHARLES abruptly shook his head in disgust.
"We won't take it." Henri shook his head firmly.
"Very well, gentlemen." JODIE aimed carefully and fired three times in quick succession. When she was finished the radio set was destroyed beyond any possible repair or imitation. JODIE then took three quick steps to the window and pulled it open.
"No." It was a soft whisper and with it came an iron-like hand, which closed vice-like around her wrist. "It will do neither good nor harm to through it out the window." CHARLES gently removed the revolver from her grip and slid it into his pocket. Martial footsteps now sounded outside the door.
"Come out with your hands in the air." It came first in the English and was then repeated three times in French, German and Italian. There was a moment of pause and then Pierre Chauvier reluctantly lifted his hands into the air and paced slowly and steadily out into the hallway.
"M'sieur?"
"Come on, and the rest of you!" A revolver waved Pierre to step to one side.
"Go on, get moving." The icy snap had all eyes turning and the expression in them was that of ever growing amazement and horror. CHARLES was standing at the back of the room and if his stance said anything it said that he was very capable with a revolver. Brown, pitiless eyes watched the remaining four and JODIE. "I said get moving."
"Ah! Johann! As ever it is a pleasure to work with you. Makes our work so easy and bloodless." The Officer spoke as CHARLES followed the group out of the room.
"I'm sure." The response was chilly and sardonic and it was with obvious pleasure that Johann pocketed the revolver and accepted the lit cigarette. "Decent of you not to use a grenade this time." Johann clearly enjoyed the cigarette and he eyed the group appreciatively. "Pierre Chauvier, Henri Lapont, Jean Lapont, Andre Clavier and Armande de Maziac....all in all a lovely haul, they should sing well."
"The girl?" The officer looked at JODIE doubtfully.
"Pianist.....and rather a good one actually. Telegraphist, if you want the less colloquial name for her."
"Oh." The light of interest was marked. "First time you've managed to land a telegraphist, Johann."
"Mmm." Johann had stubbed out his cigarette and was now looking around uncomfortably.
"Something up?"
"Not precisely." Johann shook his head. "We've just been standing here for five minutes and frankly I have been led to believe that you chaps operate fast."
"In other words shut up and get out of here before your cover is blown to hell and breakfast."
"Something like that I must admit." Johann flicked the cigarette stub into the corner and then frowned.
JODIE yanked on her bonds as hard a she could, then glared across at Johann who was starting on his second cigarette.
"She doesn't look happy." The Officer smiled and then proceeded to gag Andre.
"Surprise, surprise.....this is ridiculous." Johann abruptly snapped as he stubbed out and pocketed his cigarette. "Will one of you fools tie me up?"
"Why?" The Officer looked up in puzzlement.
"Why do you think? These places have eyes and ears in every wall. It's going to somewhat blow my cover to hell if I stroll out smoking a cigarette when the rest of my fellow....cell mates are bound and gagged."
"Ahh. I had forgotten." The Officer had a small grin, by far the most genuine expression JODIE had seen on his face that day. "Allow me, Johann."
"Don't be TOO enthusiastic about it!" Johann grunted the comment out as simultaneously his face almost convulsed with pain.
"He must have a little enthusiasm or our eyes in the wall would see that your bonds are decidedly loose." Henri Lapont's tone was far from encouraging. "I now see why Johann has successfully broken three of our cells without being identified."
"You haven't seen all of it yet." The Officer smiled again, it was once again a genuine expression. "I think perhaps our friend CHARLES put up a bit of resistance to capture." As he finished speaking the Officer viciously backhanded Johann across the mouth. There was nothing gentle about the move, if anything JODIE gained satisfaction from it. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"I hardly think that sufficient to be plausible." Pierre had barely finished speaking when a savage backhand sent him staggering back against the wall.
"Get them downstairs....but hold them in the street....and gag them before you get down there."
"Yes sir."
JODIE wanted to jump and scream, she wanted to hit people, she wanted..... To be honest JODIE had no idea what she wanted, except she didn't want to be here. Even the thought of shopping with Lydia was preferable to this. JODIE had perhaps a touch of satisfaction when Johann was finally brought down. One eyes was swelling already and starting to blacken, blood was trickling from a his cheek and the gag in his mouth was bloodstained. JODIE knew a lot about falsification of injuries, and one thing she knew for certain was that this was not the work of a makeup kit and ketchup. Further consolation was to be found in the large bruise forming on the officer's cheekbone. But either way there was consolation that she had been captured by a man who had to be nearly the best if not the best in Germany. She had heard of realisticity carried to extremes, but actually getting yourself literally punched-up seemed to be carrying it to extremes.....but considering it all she had to admit that getting punched-up in that manner was the only possible way to continue ensuring his cover remained intact.
"Just to interrupt..." Charles frowned uncertainly as he spoke. "How do you know what she was even thinking?"
"She told me.....later."
"Are you going to tell me that you just waved your magic wand and poof, you were out of an SS prison?"
"We were in fact only in a minor wing of it.....and most peculiarly there was a raid by an English intelligence team that evening."
"You're telling me that you could pull things like that?" Charles looked doubtful.
"Why not? One agent wounded, six guards killed and five people England was more than happy to have in England came to England."
"And what happened to you?"
"I was damn nearly shot through the head by JODIE, but fortunately time was pressing so I was just left. I couldn't walk at the time anyway so they had to leave me."
"Why couldn't you walk?"
"Have you ever tried walking within twenty hours of having a rifle butt slammed into your knee cap? Trust me, you wouldn't do it for long."
"Ah." Charles paused and wrinkled up his face. "I don't follow at all. Why did you get them caught at all if you actually wanted them in England?"
"Well they had to vanish from French society without everyone getting suspicious. I needed to move on without upsetting everyone. On top of which my boss was getting restless because I hadn't reeled in any resistance groups inside of a couple of months....and because I was supposedly reeling in resistance cells I couldn't do any sabotage in England. So by this I very nicely did a lot of things. I boosted my stock with my boss, I knocked off a couple of Nazi's, I set the groundwork for my new partner....she didn't know it, but she found out within four months. I also managed to get some Frenchmen who were wanted in England, out of France."
"But the possibility of it all going to hell......"
"Look, if you ever considered that, I would have died within two days of my initial arrival in France. Look, just assume it will work. As long as you don't consider the possibility of failure, you very rarely fail."
"But I interrupted you."
"So you did." Darcy sank back into his seat and blinked slowly. "I so hated that episode, I had to turn people who were supposedly my friends over to the Gestapo. Sometimes I even watched their execution....."
"How on earth did you do it?"
"Instinctive malice I assume...I still don't know. I think its like asking a bomber pilot how he could fly the whole way to Berlin with the sole intent of bombing some helpless civilian out of house and home. It's something we did, and since we did it we didn't consider it." Darcy paused.
JODIE had the revolver aimed and was about to fire, when for some reason she couldn't. The man standing by the door was possibly the opposite of the man who was still slumped in the corner.
"Come on, we don't have all day." The man cast another look out into the corridor.
"Coming." JODIE took one last look at the man. She so wanted to pull that trigger, to see him slump sideways, yet she couldn't. It wasn't his expression which caused this decision, it was definitely not a liking for this man. At best she could guess that it was his total lack of expression. It was the air which hung around him, JODIE decided as she was loaded onto the aeroplane. This was a man who couldn't bother with expressions, he expected in advance what was coming and as a result had no emotions on the matter. He had been expecting her to shoot him. Had he also expected her to not shoot?
"Did you expect her to not shoot?" Charles interrupted again and was profoundly startled when he received absolutely no response. "Darcy?"
"Sorry, you asked something?" Darcy blinked uncertainly for a moment and then focussed on Charles' face.
"I asked whether you actually expected her to not shoot?"
"No. No, I did not expect her to refrain from shooting." Darcy paused. "I was fortunate, she's not as vengeful as I am. Hans, Hans was the Gestapo Officer who nine times out of ten came when I blew the whistle on some resistance group. For two years Hans quite literally punched me up at regular intervals. Hans enjoyed hurting me. He hated me because he viewed me as a traitor to the cause because I dared to even pose as a Resistance. I killed Hans. I took great joy at killing him the first chance I had....and I've never regretted it."
"Was Hans just someone who came frequently or was he a person you knew before?"
"It was a bit of both. He was a leader at the 'Young Centre' in Heidelburg. Hans hated me then because I was an Englishman. He hated me later because he saw it as traitorous actions. We hid it well, but we hated each other. JODIE.....I knew if she had a chance that she'd kill me. When I saw her get the revolver I was positive my time had come. I had never been so stunned in my life as when she lowered that revolver. It was like hell actually..... Did she know who I really was? Was there some leak about me back in headquarters? I spent a month of near terror after that... When would the call come from Berlin? Or was I just going to be 'accidentally' shot in the street? I spent three months as a legitimate German Agent during the war. I spent two months right near the beginning being legitimate and I spent a month legit after JODIE didn't shoot me."
"Why do you persist in calling her Jodie when you know her real name?"
"Because she was JODIE. I think that is one of the main reasons why I never even attempted to find her after I retired. It was JODIE whom I worked with and JODIE.....I only found her real name out in 1960."
"Why 1960?"
"That's when I finally retired. I should have retired in 1950 but I couldn't then."
"Why couldn't you?" Charles was quite bluntly puzzled.
"When you retire you acquire the time to think....in 1950 I would have died if I had time to think, thinking was the last thing I wanted to do....It had been only five years since I had lost JODIE and JODIE had been with me for four years. I'd had three associates in those five years and only one actually retired....and he retired injured."
JODIE huddled deeper into her coat and glanced around herself nervously. We've an Agent out there who needs help. PSMITH. That was all they had told her, that someone needed help and here was the address. She was to go to the address and wait there.
The address was a dingy little apartment house on a back street. The room indicated by the address was just as dingy and grimy as the outside. Having laid her possessions on the floor JODIE immediately put her radio together and tapped out arrival confirmation codes. It took a great deal of resistance, for the last time she had been in France tapping out a message CHARLES had been there at her elbow. CHARLES.....he was not CHARLES and never had been, he was Johann. A man so arrogant he didn't need an operating name.
"JODIE?" The question came nearly four hours later and caught JODIE utterly by surprise and she turned sharply, biting her lip not to scream.
"Who are you?" She couldn't see who it was, he still stood in the shadows.
"PSMITH."
"Uh-huh." JODIE was waiting for him to step into the room where she might even be able to see his face.
"Glad you could make it." PSMITH finally walked into the room and after fiddling for a moment with the lamp the room was flooded with light.
"YOU!" JODIE doubted she would ever forget the face, it was not something you did casually, and that face was probably lodged permanently in her memory. It was the first time she had honestly wanted to kill someone, and even now she didn't know why she hadn't.
"As you so succinctly observed it is me, now do be kind, don't shoot me and tomorrow I'll tell you the truth."
"Truth, you know no such word." JODIE snapped her response tartly, she didn't want to think of the maybes that had so nearly happened last time she met this man.
"How accurate, I must admit I don't believe I've said a true word in just over two years now." Johann tilted his head slightly. "By the way, it is not the habit of Allied Commandoes to visit Gestapo prisons."
"And what precisely is that meant to mean?"
"Someday it may be explained to you.....but not by me." Johann paused. "Can you get this stuff off to HQ.....and do say you want a response 0800 THEIR time tomorrow."
"You expect me to send something off for you?"
"Look lady, I've got no codes. I don't know your codes. Why do you think they sent me a pianist? It's not like luggage makes my life easy, in fact it complicates it damnably."
"Well I'm not sending any lies back to England."
"Good. I always lie when I speak but listen and listen good lady, I NEVER LIE WHEN IT IS WRITTEN DOWN. If I tell you what to send then you can put a lie alert at the beginning for all I care, but if I hand you a page and tell you to send what's on it I want it sent......and if you don't send it I'll be sending your boss my condolences because you'll have accidentally died. And no, right now I am not lying, I'll start lying again any minute though. So send that off to England and I would probably guess that my bona fides are confirmed when you make audio contact.....and you damn well better have a radio, not just wireless or you can get the hell out of here immediately."
"Look I don't know what has got your goat, but don't take it out on me!" JODIE glared at him. "YES! I have a radio. Yes I understood what you said. Now stop yelling at me or I'll just yell louder back......and I hate yelling."
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow morning at 0600 and you had better be ready to leave then."
"I'll probably manage." JODIE glared at the retreating back and then glanced down at the page he had handed her before abruptly racing to the door. "HEY!" Her yell caught him at the bottom of the stairs and he promptly turned around and climbed back up again.
"What?"
"Two questions, the first is what do I call you? The second is what am I meant to do with this page once I have sent it?"
"Answer one is Johann......unless I tell you otherwise. Answer two is use the lamp....and not to read it."
"I'm not a peahen so stop treating me like one." JODIE banged the door in his face and glanced at the page once more. The page read like utter garbage just groups of numbers....and she didn't even know if the spaces were relevant.
"If there is anything JODIE had a remarkable talent for it was banging doors. Before I met her I thought you merely shut a door or you slammed it. With JODIE I learnt that you can shut a door quietly because you don't want people to know you are moving. You can pull it firmly too because you don't want it to open again. You can close it loudly and then very softly reopen it, otherwise saying you're annoyed that you've been kicked out of the room but you'll be damned if you don't hear what is being talked about. You can slam a door because you are in a hurry. You can slam a door because you're annoyed at the person on the other side. You can also slam a door because you either don't want someone getting in, or getting out." Darcy paused. "It took a month before I could open my mouth without starting a fight. It didn't matter what I was saying she immediately took the other point of view. I had her arguing in favour of Hitler a few times. Then after a month....well I started having to take her with me. The house on Rue de Ameque was under suspicion and some of my messages were taking too long to get back to England, the information in them was invalid by the time it was used." Darcy paused for a minute. "Then came the day when I had to send her on a job but could not go myself....I had never realised before how fortunate I was in my pianist. That day I more than learnt my lesson."
JODIE moved restlessly around the room. From here she picked up a book, only to lay it down seconds later and pick something else up. A sock without a partner was pushed into one pocket and a coat was retrieved from behind one table and hung over the foot of the bed. JODIE straightened the blind for nearly the millionth time before she sank down onto the bed and stared sightlessly at the far wall.
"JODIE!" Though the words penetrated they did not register and JODIE continued to stare at the wall. A hand shook her shoulder, at first it was gentle, but it got progressively rougher. "JODIE!" This time the words penetrated and registered. JODIE turned her head slowly, she looked at him for perhaps a minute and then blinked slowly.
"You have blood on your face and have lost the top of one finger."
"I know." Johann's expression abruptly hardened. "Do you think I didn't know?"
"I didn't." They were two simple words and they caused Johann to blink uncertainly. "Sit down while I get some water ready." JODIE pushed Johann gently onto the bed then turned and put the water on the heater before finally glancing at the clock on the wall.
"What's the matter?" Johann watched these slow and silent perambulations in bewilderment. Johann had left this room four days previously to the eternally banged door and the firm statement that he would be unable to do the job. JODIE's statement had been right, he had been unable to do the job and he'd very nearly paid with his life for the assumption that he might be able to. Johann was mostly puzzled because there was absolutely no response from JODIE. She had to know he had failed because he had not handed her pages of paper when he came in the door. She had to know because he was two days late in returning. She had to know because she had known since before he had left that it was not a job a man could do. Which immediately produced the question of why she was saying nothing about it. Johann would have thought it perfectly in character for her to delight over his failure....but she wasn't, and she hadn't. In fact she hadn't even mentioned it.
"What does it look like?" JODIE was gently cleaning his face as she spoke. Johann lifted his eyes, unwilling to move his head....it hurt enough already.
"No." Johann had been looking into her face for close on a minute before he finally spoke.
"It needs to be done?"
"Y-e-s." Johann's confirmation was reluctant.
"And you're going to try again?" JODIE gently touched the edge of the valley a bullet had carved through his scalp.
"No."
"Then who else can do it?"
"Damn you, damn you, damn you." There was no rancour in the response, there was no anger. It was in fact very nearly admiration.
"What does it look like?" JODIE repeated her first question.
"Well...." Johann had hesitated briefly and then he gently pushed aside her hand and pulled a small table across to where he sat. From the table Johann carefully withdrew a large map, a revolver and a small capsule. Johann held up the capsule. "Do you recognise this?"
"L Pill." JODIE nodded expressionlessly from where she had settled herself on a small stool.
"Good." Johann flicked it across to her. "Don't lose it......or eat it....unless you must."
"Quack." JODIE carefully tucked the capsule away in her cheek where she was trained to keep it.
"Peahen's do not quack." Johann spoke absent-mindedly as he studied the map which lay in front of him. His remark earned him a startled look from JODIE, it was a look which slowly twisted into amusement.
"This one does."
"I'll remember that." Johann's tone was still distracted, and he quite suddenly flicked the revolver across to her. It was a very small revolver indeed. "Inside your clothes, though they invariably check your handbag bag it is fairly rare for them to check your clothes.....unless they have a lady specialist......in which case just bite the pill and let go."
"Quack." JODIE quacked a second time as she tucked the revolver away into a pocket of her trousers.
"I said inside."
"Oh so I'm meant to strip in front of you......that will make you feel good. Trust me Johann, they will not find a gun on me."
"Quack." Johann finally glanced up briefly from the map. "Sorry JODIE, I......I've just got back and I'm tired."
"That is not what you were going to say......but since I really doubt you'll ever tell me what you were going to say I'll accept it."
"These are the grounds.....and yes you're going to have a worse time getting in then I did."
"Probably." JODIE blinked slowly and then studied the map for a few moments before looking away. "How long do I have?"
"You've got the map remembered?" Johann had no surprise in his tone at all.
"Yes.....how long do I have?"
"Three days."
"I'll see you in three days then." JODIE nodded softly and then quietly slid out of the room, leaving Johann to stare blindly at the wall. It was the same wall JODIE had been staring at only forty minutes earlier.
"Johann." It seemed like it was only a minute later, and yet it was an eternity later when the voice spoke softly. Johann turned his head and saw JODIE standing at the doorway. Very gravely Johann lifted his watch and studied it for a moment.
"Two days, fourteen hours and five minutes....did you get what was needed?"
"Yes." JODIE nodded slowly and cautiously pulled a sheathe of papers from her pocket.
"Are you hurt at all?" Johann took the pages and glanced at them briefly. The pages were covered with small and concise hand-writing, it all appeared as expected.
"No." JODIE shook her head and carefully detached the pages from Johann's hand, turning towards the radio as she spoke.
"JODIE...." Johann's voice stopped her and then trailed off. JODIE turned back, puzzled, her puzzlement increased even more when she saw Johann staring blindly into the middle-distance.
"Johann?" JODIE crossed back to stand beside him and gently touched one sleeve.
"Are you real or is this just another dream?" Johann turned slowly to look at her, then quite abruptly he caught her above the wrist and pinched hard.
"Ouch." JODIE yanked her hand back, biting her lip to hold back tears. It had been a hard pinch and even without looking JODIE knew it was going to be a bad bruise.
"Oh darling I'm so sorry." Johann quite abruptly pulled JODIE in and hugged her close. "Honest I didn't mean to hurt you. But I can't differentiate the dreams any more. Sometimes you returned with everything, other times you returned with nothing, and far too many times you just never returned at all...." Johann trailed off, his voice lost and helpless.
"Johann." JODIE gently pulled his face around so he faced her. "Now is not the time, we need to get those pages coded up and sent."
"You're right, I'm sorry." Johann abruptly released her, and it was with a cold feeling that JODIE turned towards the radio. It wasn't that she hadn't liked being held like that, in fact the truth was the utter opposite, but the door was now closed. JODIE had seen the shutters snapping closed in that face as she had spoken. Johann was already bent over the pages as he quickly reduced the pages into the form they usually went in. JODIE bit her lip and turned back to the radio. JODIE had known for months that she was in love with this man, but there were too many uncertainties. It was not Johann that JODIE loved, it was the boy who sometimes crept out from behind that icy exterior. The boy had a dry sense of humour and was not entirely certain about anything, he was in fact nearly the antithesis of Johann. This boy tended to appear at the most unexpected times, and he invariably appeared when JODIE wanted Johann at his worst so she could scream and shout at him and slam doors.
"Here you go. Sorry about that." The pages settled down in front of her, his voice devoid of anything.
"Thank you." JODIE had no idea what she was saying thank you for, and while she cranked up the call signal she heard the door close softly as Johann left the room.
"JODIE calling Dannyboy." JODIE had barely made the first call when a response came in, the radio was being watched closely.
"Dannyboy responds. Go ahead JODIE."
"MA, code follows."
"Ready." With the preparedness of Dannyboy JODIE calmly read off the pages of code. There was a moment's silence when she finished. "Is that all?"
"Correct Dannyboy. Anything for MERLIN?" JODIE found Johann's official Operating name amusingly apt, whoever had named him had chosen it carefully and well.
"No. Will contact in two days unless an emergency arises. Do not call us unless under dire emergency." There was a click and then the wash of static took over again. JODIE carefully put her radio away and then stretched cautiously and inspected her wrist thoughtfully. It was going to be a very big bruise indeed.
"Johann?" JODIE had been carefully looking for him for nearly five minutes before she finally spoke.
"Up here." The response was slightly hollow and quite disembodied. It took JODIE a startled minute before she realised that he was on the roof. JODIE climbed cautiously out and joined him where he sat just below the window. The breeze was cool and fresh and whipped a few strands of hair which had escaped.
"What does Dannyboy want now?"
"Nothing, he'll contact in two days unless an emergency arises."
"An emergency will arise......they always do." Johann's voice was still tonally dull. The Rhine glittered in the moonlight below them, and above the stars almost seemed to dance.
"I don't think they will." JODIE finally reached over and touched one rough sleeve. "Come inside."
"No thanks."
"Johann, I don't want to talk to you.......I want to talk to the man who met me earlier."
"Ehh?" It was startled and JODIE felt him shift uncomfortably.
"I want to speak to the man who met me downstairs Johann. I don't know his name because I've never really been able to speak to him. I must speak to him."
"What if he doesn't want to speak to you?"
"Then I'll bite on this L-pill which is still in my mouth. A situation has arisen which will make continued co-operation utterly impossible unless it is ironed out. It is not his fault, but I must speak to him."
"JODIE...." The uncertainty was back.
"I'm not JODIE right now. I don't know who I am but I'm not JODIE and until this gets sorted out I can't be JODIE......can't you understand that? I'm not like Johann, I can't utterly divorce my mind from half a second ago and continue to work. I can't do it and I won't do it. Please let me speak to him.....I only want a few minutes." JODIE could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she could feel the pressure building in her throat. It was her only chance, if it didn't work she'd have to go.....and JODIE did not wish to go.
"Let's go inside." It was Johann who spoke, and JODIE could only hope. Johann dropped onto the bed and leant back against the wall. "You're going to have to set me straight, I've got no idea what is going on here."
"That's why I want to speak to him. He knows what is going on....or he thinks he does and he doesn't. He thinks I don't care because I pushed away....but I do." JODIE angrily dashed aside the tears which were flowing down her cheeks. "Ach! This is terrible, I shouldn't have started this. I should have just said I'd had enough and gone home." JODIE turned, her shoulders slumping.
"No Jo, you were right. It did need talking, it did need explaining and he was confused." An arm caught JODIE and pulled her in before another joined it. In near proximity to her ear JODIE could hear a loud thumping noise, it was a regular, soothing noise and slowly JODIE relaxed against it.
"Jack.....Jack and Jo.....Johann and JODIE. Soppy romance would at this point have announced the fact that we lived happily ever after, called it a day and stopped boring everybody nearly to tears."
"Jack and Jo?"
"Johann and JODIE were fully trained espionage agents. We were trained to kill, to steal, to con, and to murder. We were trained to be without a better self. We were trained to have no feelings and a very controlled imaginations. Some people live like that forever. Some people crack under the strain and go crazy mad. Other people merely develop a second persona. Johann could kill without a second thought......Jack would have been hard-pressed to swat a fly, let alone actually hit someone. Jack got very little look-in before 1960, the occasional surfacing and usually at inconvenient moments towards the end. After 1960 Johann finally started to back out and Jack came more and more predominant. I don't think I've actually seen Johann in four years now." Darcy's voice was reflective and thoughtful.
"Why didn't you marry her?" Charles frowned in puzzlement.
"Ehh?"
"JODIE....or Jo. Why didn't you marry her?"
"She didn't want to marry me......Oh yes she would have been more than willing to marry Jack, possibly she may have even managed to marry Johann. It was Fitzwilliam Darcy who she would not marry. We came from very different classes and have very different calls of duty. And yes I'm more than familiar with the equality gabble and frankly it reminds me of the French Revolution. I don't care how many times I'm told it, I still do not believe that a guttersnipe can be truly made into a society dame. Yes a good imitation might be achieved, but she'd never fit. No JODIE wasn't a guttersnipe, but neither was she aristocracy, and I can tell you it's a hardened soul who lives in aristocratic circles. Image is everything and you don't give a damn about anyone. She couldn't take the pressure of society and dinners and dances and charity balls and all the rest of that garbage. We both knew it. I wanted to chuck being Fitzwilliam Darcy but she was having none of it. I was meant to retire at the end of the war, but because she was having none of it I didn't. I wasn't ready to return to my previous life in 1945 anymore than I was ready to return to it in 1950."
"You were in 1960?"
"No, but I received a polite letter which somewhat bluntly told me that the writer was very disappointed in me, and that it was time that I grew up and realised that I was needed again. AND NOT NEEDED WHERE I CURRENTLY WAS......which was chasing after Chemical Smugglers at the time. The letter wasn't signed or anything, but I knew where it came from, I'd seen that handwriting too often not to know it. I knew it almost better than I knew my own.....and I hadn't seen it in fifteen years."
"JODIE wrote and said she was disappointed in you? How did she know where you were? I didn't know where you were, Georgiana didn't know where you were.....that wretched military cousin of yours didn't know.....or if he did he wasn't telling."
"No, Richard did not know where I was. In fact there were only ever two men who knew where I was. I wasn't called MERLIN for no reason at all."
"How many....false operative names did you have?"
"That is one hell of a question to ask you realise....I think I had about thirty at one stage or another. Most of them I bestowed on myself, some I was given by one of my many chiefs. But MERLIN and JOHANN were my only constant ones....though many people would probably say that JOHANN was a false name."
"PSMITH?"
"Self-appointed. CHARLES was actually one given to me. HAMISH and PETER I also used because I received an Allied assignment."
"You never had any German ones assigned to you?"
"Johann was official. They just sent out a call for Johann and I'd come." Darcy gave a slight shrug. "As MERLIN things were different......and mostly because only two men even knew that MERLIN existed and only one knew how to find me. I officially joined MI6 as CHARLES. Then CHARLES died and PSMITH surfaced somewhat abruptly in official folders. No one remembered a PSMITH in training or anything, but when it's in a file you're reluctant to discredit it. PSMITH somehow managed to last for a year and then he was shot in Germany.....most distressing..."
"Who was it?" Charles frowned warily.
"No one. PSMITH was becoming a bit too popular to the allies so I had him caught and executed by JOHANN."
"Did you execute yourself often?"
"Twice. It was actually quite convenient." Darcy smiled quietly.
"Why don't you go see her?" Charles scratched his head in bewilderment.
"Sixty-five years ago a man went to Germany and before he ever went home he met a girl and fell in love with her. For four years he knew that girl and then as suddenly as she entered his life she left it. In a way the war is a dream....some bits of it are even a very pleasant dream......other bits I'd nearly sell my soul to forget. But either way it is still a dream. I remember JODIE as a fiery 25 year-old woman. JODIE was quick to anger, but she was also quick to forgive. One banged door and then the sun would shine again. For all her fire she was slow to friendship and trust. But once you earned that trust you had to be a true scum of the earth to lose it." Darcy shrugged helplessly. "Elizabeth Bennet is not JODIE any more than JODIE was Jo. Elizabeth Bennet is not Jo. I loved Jo in wartime Europe, I loved her for her fire, for her stubbornness, and for her ability to outstare any man. To take on Jo in an argument was a major undertaking. Jo had no formal education, but an education is not needed to make intelligence. JODIE was relatively similar, but there was no softness in her. To earn the true hatred of JODIE was to earn hatred for life. Life is as it comes to us, it is big and beautiful. Life is to be lived with all its pain and joy. But one thing I do know is that the past is the past and nothing can be done about it. The future is yet to come so there is little you can do about it. Today is today and it is neither the past nor the future. Like Winston Churchill before the war, some characters are disliked until war comes and then only a reputation can save them when war leaves. Jo had no tact.....she probably still doesn't have much. Jo didn't like dinner dresses at any time, though she did like to dress neatly. In 1960 I was sent a letter, it had no name, it had no address. When Jo wants me back she will let me know.....and until then I will respect her privacy and her life. I have a feeling that this is all badly explained, but I barely understand it myself. To quote Georgiana's favourite movie....for the moment. 'It wasn't meant to be'. So I have a trace of her, an official trace of her. Much as Georgiana would love to see her 94 year-old brother married, it won't happen. Many people say that clearly my heart must have been broken. I've been hooked up with many girls who died all manner of painful deaths to explain why I never married. I've spent ten years with reporters trying to persuade me that I'm gay. I've heard that I actually have a wife, but she's been insane for years and is now locked up. I've had reporters camped on my lawns trying to ascertain who my mistress is. I've been linked up with the Queen and I have been linked up with Movie Stars. I've been told that I'm commitment shy by more people than I care to count......but clearly I'm more commitment shy then most because I don't even have the girls to start with, let alone living with them and not marrying them. I was nearly sixty when I retired, I found I just wanted to read my books and to remember. Between the ages of twelve and thirty-two I was rarely to be found outside the walls of a....an educational institution. Between the age of thirty-two and nearly sixty, I lived peacefully in the shadows. After that I dutifully chaired a few boards, went to a few formal dinner parties, met a few of the men I was meant to meet. At sixty-five I retired completely and for the past thirty years I have...err......reaped the rewards of a life that is too long." Darcy paused. "I have more then enough women in my life. But I only ever wanted to live with Jo.....and fortunately Jo realised that that was a stagnant wish. I wanted to live with Jo during the war, I couldn't see old age or anything in the equation. Fortunately Jo did see these things and she was strong enough to realise that it would destroy both of us. Better to have remained somewhat distant friends than to become enemies. I might have married for the family's sake if I had retired directly after the war. But I didn't......and I don't regret it. I've found that life isn't a fairy story.....and I must admit that if it was I would have found it incredibly dull. Everyone has their dreamland, some people it is a magic land, others it is some book or series of books they have read. Dreamlands change throughout our lives. Dreamlands of our youths are not the Dreamlands of our adult lives. As I said, Jack and Jo, Johann and JODIE. A romance novel would declare a happily ever after at that point. But this isn't a romance novel, it's life and life hurts. In many ways no pain, no gain is a very apt remark, a person who suffers not at all doesn't develop, they happily live in their rut for their whole life. The three years which follow what I have told you were far from smooth. We had out fights, we had our frights and we made up. By the laws of the church we were not married, but by our personalities we were. I may not have seen JODIE in nearly 50 years, but there is very little which happened to her that I do not know of."
"Then why didn't you show up when she was attacked ten years ago?" Charles looked puzzled.
"You ask her that question. I would say that she will tell you that such is not Johann's way. Jack might have come and sat by her hospital bedside and talked to her. But there was you, there were innumerable other relatives and friends doing that job. She had no need of another sympathetic ear or another friendly face. Instead I sent her Mickey Mouse and gave her the present of the capture of her attackers."
"You sent her that ridiculous Mickey Mouse mug?" Charles blinked.
"Why not? She laughed didn't she?"
"She still laughs."
"Of course she does, it's a daft thing. But trust me, when you get banged on the head the most important thing to do is learn how to laugh again. World's a terribly painful place if you can't laugh at it. My face wouldn't make her laugh, it's more likely to make her swear because she knows I use everybody. I use people shockingly in order to gain my own ends. That is what I was trained to do. I was trained to manipulate people from the day I was born, it is the way of the aristocracy. I later learned how to do it with extreme finesse over any matter. Terribly corrupt world this is and it's not improving. Good-night." The dismissal was clear and it was in slight bewilderment that Charles rose to his feet and slowly went to the door. Charles had the feeling it would be days before he fully assimilated what he had been told, then, maybe, he might be able to ask a real question instead of just groping around in bewilderment. Maybe he'd ask a real question tomorrow. Maybe the day after he might begin to understand this anomaly which he had called a friend for so many years. Jack and Jo.....Johann and JODIE. Tonight it was beyond him, but maybe tomorrow he might understand. Charles paused at the door and looked back. Darcy had not moved, he still had the curious air of frailty and fragility about him. Charles turned the handle to leave and as he pulled the door behind him he realised that there would be no tomorrow. For Johann there would be no tomorrow, for Jack there was no tomorrow and for Fitzwilliam Darcy there was no tomorrow. Tomorrow he would not walk into that room and find his friend consuming eggs on toast with a gusto which would put most men to shame. Tomorrow he would not be able to ask Darcy for further enlightenment as to this strange situation which had been placed in his lap. Tomorrow Charles knew he would be driving his car around to Elizabeth's little house and delivering, for the last time, some gaudy little decoration.
"Jack doesn't like loose ends." It had been nearly fifty years ago when Elizabeth had spoken those words. Charles looked thoughtfully at the door behind him. Was this a loose end, or was it a freshly tied knot?
The End