Morton threadedup the reel and wound on to the first page, which contained a brief synopsis ofthe microfilm’s contents. He was sure that he could feel the cool surgeof adrenalin rush into his heart. Could it really be that theanswer to the Coldrick’s ancestral history was contained within the fatcelluloid roll in front of him? Really? A small part of himdidn’t want to read on, didn’t want to risk another dead end. He’d giveneverything to the Coldrick Case and if the answer wasn’t here then hedidn’t think that he had the stamina to continue. There was a lot to besaid for the predictability of mundane family history research jobs.
He took a deepbreath and read the first page on the film. The Vice Chief of theImperial General Staff said that, in the light of the possibility of invasion,it was very desirable that all enemy aliens in counties in the south eastshould be interned. No doubt ninety per cent of such aliens were well-disposedto this country, but it was impossible to pick out the small proportion ofaliens who probably constituted a dangerous element. In thecircumstances, the only course seemed to be that all aliens in this area shouldbe interned for the present. The number is probably four to fivethousand. These aliens should be categorised thus: ‘A’ are known Naziswho are interned immediately, ‘B’ are the doubtful ones who will haverestrictions placed on them and ‘C’ were all the rest, mostly Jewish refugees.
Morton desperatelyhoped that James Coldrick’s mother would appear in the ‘C’ category,constituting one of the ninety percent of aliens ‘well-disposed to thiscountry’, yet he doubted that a Jewish refugee would have been willinglyphotographed with a swastika around her neck.
He wound thefilm on and discovered that the files were arranged haphazardly and in noparticular order. At first he read each and every word on the recordcards. After all, he had no idea of James Coldrick’s mother’s name and hehoped that it would be the detail that would finally reveal the truth.
It was going tobe a long search, which might well stretch into days huddled at a microfilmreader.
After several hours of fruitlesssearching, Morton began to skim-read the entries, his eyelids gravitatingtowards earth, like shop blinds at closing time. He looked at the clock:in little over two hours’ time Deidre Latimer would take great pleasure inshooing him away.
He ploughed on,but it had become an effort to stay focussed and the names that he readreceived diminished process-time in his brain. Fritz Karthauser, RozsaBalogh, Charlottenne Hellman, Eva Loewenheim, Walter Tauchert, Hans Hacault,Magda Mueller, Leni Raubal, Geli Reitsh… the names skewed and twisted inhis addled mind. He wasn’t even sure if Leni and Geli were men orwomen. He ached all over and the idea of making a note of where he’dreached in the reel, packing up for the day and returning home and snuggling upwith Juliette took hold. There was no guarantee that he’d find JamesColdrick’s mother anyway. She could easily have been one of the names hehad read, having blithely skipped over her. Then he thought of DrBaumgartner and the way that he held Morton in such high esteem. Whatwould he think about him struggling to stay awake and casually casting his eyesover the records, as if he were reading the Sunday papers, wanting to give uphalfway through? He’d be mortified, that’s what. Morton wasn’t thatperson. He needed to do this properly.
He switched offthe machine, stood, and contracted his tight leg and arm muscles. A briskwalk and a shot of caffeine would see him through the last quarter of thereel. He strode boldly past Deidre Latimer, across the car park and downto Nero’s. He had a plentiful choice of vacant seats, but Morton chose tosit in the same comfy leather armchair where he had sat the last time he washere, where Max had finally confessed the snippet of information about WilliamDunk that had led him back here again. There was something oddly comfortingin sitting in the same place, in remembering Max pulling apart hisdouble-chocolate muffin, casually revealing his corruption. Morton drankhis coffee, feeling like an echo of himself that day, a third-party observerwatching the discussion taking place again.
A loud crashand sound of smashing crockery as a tray of drinks hit the floor snapped Mortonfrom his reveries. He was back in the room, back to the presenttime. He finished his drink and hurried back to the archives.
He returned tothe microfilm reader with a renewed zeal and desire to find the answer. He’d been scanning the reel for several minutes when his mobile rang. Damn, in his haste to minimise contact with Deidre Latimer in the lobby he’dforgotten to switch off his phone, and now the amplified iPhone ringtone wasattracting the attention of the dozen or so disgruntled researchers, who werecurrently glaring at him as though he’d just committed a terribleatrocity. Leaving your mobile switched on was a kind of atrocityhere, he supposed. He elongated their pain as he deliberated whether ornot to answer: it was Jeremy, he had to answer. Just in case.
‘Hi,’ Mortonwhispered.
‘Morton, justthought I’d tell you that Dad’s been moved back to the Atkinson Ward. Heseems to be doing well.’
‘Oh, thankGod,’ Morton said, genuinely relieved that his father seemed to be pullingthrough.
‘The onlytrouble is that he keeps asking when you’re going to come in.’
‘Okay, tell himI’ll be there this evening,’ Morton answered. Whatever it was that hisfather wanted to say had better be worth it, especially now that Quiet Brianwas making a beeline towards him with a condemning look on his face. Atthat moment Morton’s eyes did an involuntary double-take at the microfilmreader and both Jeremy’s tinny voice and Quiet Brian’s admonishing whispersharply faded away, the aural equivalent of them blurring into the background.
He’d found her.
Regional Advisory Committee
Surname: Koldrich
Forename: Marlene
Date and place of birth: 18 November 1913,Berlin
Nationality: German
Police Regn. Cert. No: 470188
Address: Sedlescombe, Sussex
The committee have decided that the alienshould be placed in Category ‘A’ – sent to Lingfield Internment Campimmediately
Date: 20 May 1940
M stood for Marlene. MarleneKoldrich, the un-anglicised name
