We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [89]
He must not let Lizzie go. He strode out of the tent into the darkness and saw her figure ahead of him, pale for a moment as she passed by the light of an open flap, and then dark again in the shadow. He ran to catch up with her. If she were angry or confused that he was so determined to clear Schenckendorff, he must explain to her why he had no choice.
“Lizzie!” he called, breaking into a run.
She slowed but did not stop.
He caught up with her. Without thinking he took her arm, then felt her stiffen. Even that slight pulling away hurt him. It created a distance he did not want. “Lizzie, it’s far more than simply for justice that we have to prove Schenckendorff’s innocence.” He kept his voice low so that in the darkness it would not carry even to the closest tents, or anyone standing just outside in the shadows where he could not see. He had to tell her, explain the importance, the urgency.
“It doesn’t—” she started.
“Yes, it does,” he cut in. “To me. My parents were murdered just before the war.”
“I know.” Her voice was gentle. “In a car crash. That is, I didn’t know it was murder. But—”
“It was. My father had discovered a plot to stop the war with an Anglo-German alliance to betray France, then form a new empire to divide up most of the world.” There was no need, and no time, for details. He felt her stiffen with surprise. “It was led by a man whose identity we spent all the war trying to discover, because he never gave up plotting to make the plan still work, if he could only end the war, even if it was by Britain losing. He tried all sorts of ways. We know at least some of them—destroying morale, sabotage of our scientific inventions, which was why he had Theo killed—other ways of corruption and mutiny as well.” Joseph stopped when he heard Lizzie gasp, then plunged on as he knew he must. “Many people were murdered, including General Cullingford, because he worked out this man’s identity—we named him ‘the Peacemaker.’ Now he is trying to affect the terms of the armistice, and if we don’t stop him, he could succeed. He has immense power.”
She was turned toward him, and there was no doubt in her voice. “How can you? You said you don’t even know who he is!”
“Schenckendorff does,” he answered simply. “He has been his ally since the beginning, but now he realizes that the Peacemaker will try to enforce terms that will enable the whole thing to start again. Germany will rise from defeat in a short time, and a new Anglo-German Empire will become possible. He will never give up trying. Schenckendorff has seen the horror of this, and he will come to London with us—even if he is hanged for his part—rather than see his country dragged into such destruction again.”
Her voice was thick with emotion, so intense she could barely force the words. “You have to get him there, Joseph, whatever it costs, absolutely anything, you must stop this…Peacemaker…from letting this happen again!”
“I know.” Without thinking he put up his hand and touched the stray wisps of dark hair that crossed her brow. “We’ll do everything we can. But Jacobson is convinced that Schenckendorff killed Sarah Price, and we haven’t yet worked out any way to make him doubt it enough to let us take Schenckendorff out of here. Tomorrow, or the next day, Jacobson will charge him and send him back for trial. There’s nothing you can do. I just needed you to know why it matters so much.”
“I understand,” she whispered. Then she pulled away from him and walked quickly to the nearest tent flap. She went in without looking back.
Judith was alone in one of the Treatment tents, watching the man whose leg had been amputated. She felt helpless, inadequate to ease his pain or offer any comfort that was real. How on earth did Joseph manage to do this day after day and not make things even worse by talking rubbish,