INVERLAIR

Originally built in the late 18th century, Inverlair lodge was later acquired by John Walker of Crawfordton where, along with Corrour, he bought part of the Loch Treig estates from the Duke of Gordon.

Nearly a hundred years later, the lodge became the property of the Special Operations Executive (SOE) during the Second World War where it was known as the No.6  Special Workshop School, part of the Inter Services Research Bureau (ISRB).

Often, when the SOE and (SIS or MI6) had volunteers who changed their minds at the last minute regarding secret operations they had been expected to carry out they would most likely be sent to Inverlair Lodge so that they didn't become a liability to the security of the country or an asset to enemy countries throughout wartime.

Spies or double agents from foreign lands would also be kept at the lodge so they could be interrogated and surveilled in secret away from the general public's notice.

It was even rumoured that Rudolf Hess, deputy leader of Nazi Germany, was held prisoner in secret at the lodge.

Rumours are often the fake news of history, but sometimes, just sometimes, there is a ring of truth to these whispered stories of our collective past.

1943

Heinrich woke up to the familiar sound of BBC radio and a kettle whistling in the room next door.

He recognised the sounds because he had done his research on the culture of Great Britain and its common rituals. Making tea with the radio on was top of the list.  

In further getting himself into the mindset of an Englishman, he had saturated himself in the culture before arriving in the United Kingdom. He'd read the complete works of Chaucer, Shakespeare and Charles Dickens and felt as informed about the national character as was possible without living in the actual place for a decade or more. Listening late at night in his lonely Berlin apartment to English classical music, he'd found himself becoming especially roused by the music of Edward Elgar, the 2nd symphony holding a particular fascination for him, especially the fourth movement with its swirling mists of fading pomp and circumstance finally reduced to a beautiful whimper as the curtain was finally drawn on the nation's reign across the globe and put back in its box.

The trouble with immersing yourself in the art and culture of the enemy country was that it clouded your judgement when it came to maintaining the cold, clinical mentality needed to be a successful double agent and for Heinrich he sensed he had been too easily seduced by England's green fields as well as its choral and pastoral music.

If he needed to steel his reserve he would revert to playing plenty of Beethoven and Wagner which would be for him the musical equivalent of a cold shower.

But though his mind could detach from the place he was trained to infiltrate, his heart had struggled as he now sensed he had accidentally forged some deep bond with Great Britain through his obsessive research on the country.  

"You overthink these things Heinrich," his training officer back in Berlin had warned him. "You go too deep then you miss your mark."

Having suffered the humilation of being captured, Heinrich couldn't forget that prescient warning and wished he had heeded it at the time.

Looking out of his window at the dark heathered terrain, part of him knew he'd surrendered long before he got caught. And the irony was, it had been attending a classical music concert by the Halle orchestra conducted by John Barbirolli that had alerted his captors to him.

Heinrich had longed to hear Elgar's 2nd Symphony played live, having only previously ever heard it on the gramophone and he had taken a night train a few days earlier in order to reach St Andrews Hall, Glasgow in time to hear it performed by the Halle.

Sensing he was being followed, Heinrich had tried a few of his old tricks to put his pursuers off the scent and he'd felt confident he'd done it until he noticed them sitting just a few rows back at the same concert.

Never in his life, with the exception of saying goodbye to his long time lover in Berlin, had he felt such a conflict of emotions as he listened in awe to Elgar's greatest symphony whilst at the same time knowing that everything he had trained for was now in vain and that he had failed his superiors and the fatherland.

As the final movement came to its shimmering close, he could recall those cold Berlin nights imagining the green fields of England and its vast history, and falling covertly in love with a country he was sent to destroy one way or another.

When the applause for the conductor and orchestra began to increase in volume like a giant rain storm all around him, he made his hasty exit only to find more secret service agents waiting outside the concert hall to confront him.

Bundled into a unmarked vehicle, Heinrich was blindfolded and driven off to an unknown destination. Even though he knew he would face potentially sadistic beatings and relentless questioning he did not regret for one minute hearing the music he so loved played live by a living, breathing orchestra.

In the event of war, he was ill suited to playing his part because his heart knew no enemy when it came to the greatest art form ever invented.

Music.

"You got cocky my friend. And now you're paying the price for your arrogance."

The military guard selected to watch over Heinrich approached him with a fresh made cup of tea.

Heinrich smiled to himself.

"It wasn't arrogance I assure you."

Placing the cup down by the prisoner's bedside table, the guard looked quizzically at Heinrich.

"Oh, what was it then?"

"England."