A Time To Every Purpose Read online

  A Time To Every Purpose

  By

  Ian Andrew

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Ranks

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Part Two

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Part Three

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  About the Author

  Extras

  Dedication

  10 July 1997

  &

  28 March 1998

  Two times that had purpose.

  Acknowledgements

  This is the bit most people don’t read but I think it’s important that I say thank you to those who provided their time to assist me.

  To the modest expert on lasers who answered my emails and reminded me that Science Fiction is indeed fiction and not to get too worked up about the science. I trust my readers will follow their advice.

  Rachel, for surviving your car crash and telling me what it’s like to recover from a serious head injury.

  Bernd, Uzy and Norm for your patience in translating my strange requests into your native tongues. All mistakes are mine.

  Aliya, for casting your eyes over the earliest version of the early chapters and Anne for taking the time to read and encourage as I progressed slowly.

  Phil, your attention to detail during your thorough and multilingual proofreading of the manuscript was much appreciated and Kristy, thanks for introducing me to Haiku.

  Finally, to Jacki. Thank you for… Well, everything really. You gave me the time to write and you give me the purpose in my life. Thanks honey.

  Ranks

  A full glossary of terms is included at the end, but the ranks used within the book are given below followed by their closest equivalent within current military structures, where applicable.

  SS Officer Grades

  SS Officers normally held Gestapo ranks as well but these are omitted for clarity.

  Reichsführer-SS, Empire-Leader of the SS, no equivalent.

  SS-Gruppenführer, Major General.

  SS-Standartenführer, Colonel.

  SS-Sturmbannführer, Major.

  SS-Hauptsturmführer, Captain.

  SS-Untersturmführer, 2nd Lieutenant.

  SS Non-Commissioned Officer Grades

  SS-Hauptscharführer, Battalion Sergeant Major.

  SS-Unterscharführer, Sergeant.

  SS Enlisted Grades

  SS-Sturmmann, Lance Corporal.

  SS-Oberschütze, SS-Head Private, no equivalent.

  SS-Schütze, Private.

  SS-Totenkopfverbände (SS-TV)

  Death’s Head Units responsible for administration of Concentration Camps (Female ranks and English translation only).

  Chef Oberaufseherin, Chief Senior Overseer.

  Oberaufseherin, Senior Overseer.

  Lagerführerin, Camp Leader.

  Erstaufseherin, First Guard.

  Rapportführerin, Report Leader.

  Wärterin, Female Guard.

  Kriegsmarine (Navy) Ranks

  Fregattenkapitän, Commander.

  Kapitänleutnant, Lieutenant.

  Wehrmacht (Army) Ranks

  Obergefreiter, Corporal.

  Schütze, Private.

  Part One

  A Time to Speak

  and

  A Time to Kill

  Chapter 1

  20:15 Sunday 17th May 2020 – London

  She stood on the Mall opposite the entrance to Horse Guards and gazed along the flag-lined boulevard towards the Palace. A soft spring breeze gently billowed and caressed its way down the two parallel lines of red, white and black. The folds of the nearest flag shook out and the Swastika unfurled against the turquoise blue of a London sky.

  As the ForeFone buzzed on her arm she looked away from the symbol of the Reich to check the screen. The unknown number icon flashed but she reached up to her earpiece and clicked the connect toggle anyway.

  “Leigh Wilson, hello.”

  “Doctor Wilson, it’s Heinrich Steinmann, I’m so sorry to disturb you on your weekend.” The language was English, the accent clipped, precise and stereotypical of an Ox-Bridge education. Yet just in his vowels there was the trace of mid-Germanic origins. Leigh’s senses sharpened. Mid-Germanic yet educated at the best universities in England normally indicated a particular type of Party operative. That alone would have made her cautious but the fact that she didn’t know who Heinrich Steinmann was added to her foreboding. As a Senior Government Science Officer her mobile number was not in any directory listing, yet here this stranger was calling her.

  Leigh responded cautiously, “Guten Tag Herr Steinmann, Wie geht es Ihnen?”

  “Thank you Doctor Wilson but English will be fine and yes, I’m fine too, thank you for asking. I was wondering where you were at present?”

  “I’m sorry, but would you mind telling me who you are before I tell you where I am?”

  “Ah, my apologies, I forgot. You’ve been on leave. I’m Sturmbannführer Lohse’s replacement.”

  “His replacement? I didn’t know he was leaving.”

  There was a momentary pause and when Steinmann spoke again his accent had softened, subtly. “No. That’s right. It was rather sudden. A family emergency in the Homeland. It would appear his eldest boy was involved in some... Mmm, unpleasantness, at the Munich Institute. We do all trust the Sturmbannführer will return to duty swiftly but,” he paused a beat before continuing, “as you can imagine, it will depend on the outcome of enquiries. Yes?”

  “Yes, I see,” and she did, clearly. Although she had no idea what the unpleasantness referred to was, it didn’t matter. A Sturmbannführer in the Reich Security Directorate did not, could not, have members of their family being anything less than model citizens. Depending on what young Lohse had gotten himself into, Lohse senior was facing a halt to his career, perhaps a demotion or two or... She didn’t finish the thought. “So is it Sturmbannführer Steinmann?” Leigh asked.

  “Well, no. Formally I suppose I am Standartenführer Steinmann of the Allgemeine-SS, Special Investigations and Security Directorate. But please call me Heinrich, as we shall be working together and I find formality so,
um, formal.” Heinrich laughed lightly at his own humour.

  Leigh felt a stab of adrenaline in her stomach. Her breathing had quickened and she could feel sweat running down the back of her neck. The temperature was a seasonal fifteen degrees Celsius, the normal average for London in May, yet her whole body convulsed in small shakes more associated with a freezing winter wind. She struggled for control of her voice.

  “Oh!” she was high by an octave. She covered her mouth and coughed. Her mind screamed at her to get a grip on herself. She coughed again. “Excuse me Heinrich, my apologies. So, what can I do for you?” she knew he would have expected his title to get a reaction and she was annoyed at herself for allowing it to show so obviously. She imagined him smirking as he spoke again.

  “As I said, I was just wondering where you were?” he asked plainly and without offering any explanation as to why he wished to know.

  “In the Mall, opposite Horse Guards, I was going for a walk,” she answered quickly. Her mind shouted so loudly to calm down she almost flinched from the noise in her head. “Why do you ask?” she managed to say a little slower and a lot more calmly than she felt.

  “Excellent, I’m so pleased to have caught you nearby. My apologies for interrupting your walk, but I was wondering if you could come into work? Just for a short while. We have a little query with regard to the experiment Professor Faber has left running and I’m afraid he isn’t available. I realise my request is terribly inconvenient on a Sunday evening but I would appreciate your input.” Heinrich spoke in such a non-confrontational, pleasant and almost charming way, that anyone with no knowledge of his professional specialisation would have felt flattered to be asked.

  Leigh knew it was all just for effect. She knew from his title exactly what Heinrich Steinmann was and no one, not even the Chiefs of Staff of the Reich forces, would have turned down his ‘request’ for ‘input’.

  “Of course,” she heard herself say. “I can be there in half an hour.”

  “Oh no, please. Please allow me to have a car pick you up. Just stay where you are and we’ll save you the walk. I’ll see you shortly Doctor Wilson,” and with that he hung up.

  The call had already disconnected but she distractedly pressed the end call button on the wireless earpiece. Continuing to stare at the Fone’s blank screen she played out the scenarios in her head. There was nowhere to run to and nothing to do but wait for the car. If, at last, they had finally caught up to her then the best she could hope for was a swift processing. At worst, if they thought she had information on others, then her next seventy-two hours would not be so pleasant. She reached inside the concealed double lined pocket in her light jacket and fingered the small gelatine capsule that nestled there. She would wait for the car. It wouldn’t take long to figure out what was going to happen.

  If they travelled east to her work in the Todt Laboratories then maybe things were not as bad as she feared. Although there was a newly built detention facility in the compound she would know straight away if they headed for it. She would stay alert to the possibilities that Standartenführer Steinmann was playing a game with her, but she would wait. However, if they took her north-west to the Harrow Holding Centre, then there would be nothing to wait for.

  Leigh smiled. For her thirty-five years of life she had worked her way through the system, gained academic honours and achieved a senior government role. She was a leading scientist on the most far-reaching scientific experiment ever undertaken in the eighty years of the Greater Germanic Reich, or arguably in the whole history of humanity. She had run a good race. If it ended now, well that was what God intended. If not, she would continue her work to undo everything; in His name.

  Chapter 2

  It was a 1930s built, three-bedroom, detached property. Solid, reliable and thoroughly updated to include what were once luxuries but now were essentials for a man of his social position. Advanced solar-panel central heating, fully automated water management, acoustic and thermal triple-glazing and a multipoint recycling station. Aside from the energy improvements he had overseen the installation of an en-suite bathroom to the master bedroom, a fully fitted kitchen with the latest gadgetry, separate laundry annex and an extension of two rooms into the large rear garden to house the domestic help. Finally, he had designed and installed a bespoke audio-visual entertainment system that was truly state-of-the-art. The furniture and décor that dressed the property reflected money and excellent taste. The former quite common but the latter sadly in short supply in the leafy suburbs of North London.

  The house was situated near to the end of a quiet, tree-lined street that was home to a few doctors, a pharmacist, some military officers, a professional singer and a scattering of City business types. The predominant cars in the driveways were high-end BMW, Porsche or Mercedes fleet cars. The majority of residents were native English but there were one or two Homelanders in the bigger houses at the far end of the road. A Dutch family lived next door but one and the singer, who lived opposite, was originally from Paris. As the street was not a thoroughfare or cut through from anywhere to anywhere, the traffic was never heavy. The only sounds to accompany the sun as it dipped into the serrated hues of a yellow, orange and red setting were muted squeals of pleasure from children in the nearby park, a hungry dog barking in anticipation of its teatime and the evening chorus of shrieking Swifts, fresh in from their migratory flights from Sub-Saharan Africa.

  Thomas Dunhill couldn’t hear any of the sounds behind his triple-glazing and neither could he see the setting sun. His lounge room was cloistered by heavy drapes across the bay windows to his back and the only illumination came from a soft glow up-lighter in the corner of the room. The designer furniture had been moved against the walls and he stood in the central cleared area with five others.

  All six stood in a loose circle facing toward a small table that had been covered with a white linen cloth. To his left were Amanda and Terrance. To his right Liza and Ben. Opposite him at the far side of the table and in front of the entrance door to the lounge, was Christine. He had been friends with these good people since their university days in Newcastle and the decade and a half since then hadn’t changed their mutual bonds. They had lived apart from each other, they had lived in the same house as each other, they had loved one another and fallen out with one another. But their friendship remained.

  As the years had passed he had watched as Amanda and Terrance found that their university fling grew into a love that was solid and strong. Time they spent apart was miserable for both of them so they made their commitment to be husband and wife. Liza and Ben also grew together and whilst they hadn’t married they had lived with each other for almost seven years. Thomas and Christine remained just good friends as they always had. Every time he saw her his mental clock of missed opportunities clicked up by another one. So many clicks he didn’t even sigh inwardly anymore. He smiled at Christine and then looked down to the table that stood in the middle of the six friends.

  On it stood a single item.

  A small porcelain statue, standing fifteen centimetres tall. A perfect circle mounted on a small, pyramid base. Within the circle six finely twisted strands of porcelain formed six spokes radiating in to a smaller circle at the centre. The wheel had been in Thomas’s family since the 17th Century. Created by a master craftsman in the North of England it represented the last physical link Thomas had with his heritage. He had changed his family name, his personal history, he had forsworn in public any connection to the family he had loved and respected. He had broken any links that could have traced him back to the people he came from. Yet he had kept his belief inside and he had kept the wheel. Safe and protected. The way he felt when in private, with trusted friends, he professed his true self.

  As if prompted by Thomas’s thoughts, Christine led them. She raised her hands in a welcoming gesture and spoke in a soft and gentle rhythm.

  “Dear friends, in the presence of God, amidst this circle and in our own company let us profess our belief.”


  The six voices, in hushed and reverent tones began to speak the most sacred words of the beliefs that had sustained mankind for almost two thousand years. Beliefs that had grown and adapted as each new Messenger of God was revealed through the centuries.

  “We believe in One True God, the creator and sustainer of the universe. The Father, the Almighty, of all that is seen and unseen. We believe in the Holy Prophets, led by Abraham the first Messenger of the Father, through him all heard the voice of the Lord. We believe in the Holy Prophet, the Messiah, Jesus, who banished discord and was the uniting voice of the Spirit divine. He was ascended into heaven in full view of the world and is seated with the Father. We believe in Mohammed, the Last Holy Prophet of the Father who reunited the Spirit, stronger and more whole. He was ascended into heaven in full view of the world and is seated with the Father. We believe in the realisation of Moksha, in the way of the light through Buddah and in the unifying force of harmony with the principles of the universe.”

  They all bowed their heads slightly toward the statue then reached out to either side and held each other’s hands to form a bound circle.

  “We believe in the rights of humanity created by God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God. With the Father we are His children. Through Him all things were made. For men and women and our salvation He revealed His true self through His Messengers. We believe God will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and His kingdom will have no end.”

  They raised their heads to look at the person opposite them in the circle. Thomas looked into Christine’s eyes and as always, became amazed by how truly beautiful she was. He smiled as he began, with the others, to profess the final and central tenets.