She laughed suddenly, deep in the throat, leaning over for a moment, her head on his knee 'Oh, I do like you,' she said 'Do you know that? From the first moment I saw you, Mr Devlin, sir, sitting astride that bike outside the pub, I liked you.'
He groaned, closing his eyes and she got to her feet, eased the skirt over her hips and got his pie from the oven.
.
When he walked her home over the fields it had stopped raining and the clouds had blown away, leaving a sky glowing with stars. The wind was cold and beat amongst the trees over their heads as they followed the field path, showering them with twigs Devlin had the shotgun over his shoulder and she hung on to his left arm.
They hadn't talked much after the meal. She'd made him read more poetry to her, leaning against him, one knee raised. It had been infinitely worse than he could have imagined. Not in his scheme of things at all. He had three weeks, that was all, and a great deal to do in that time and no room for distraction. They reached the farmyard wall and paused beside the gate. 'I was wondering. Wednesday afternoon if you've nothing on I could do with some help in the barn. Some of the machinery needs moving for winter storage. It's a bit heavy for Mum and me. You could have your dinner with us.'
It would have been churlish to refuse 'Why not?' he said.
She reached a hand up behind his neck, pulling his face down and kissed him with a fierce, passionate, inexperienced urgency that was incredibly moving. She was wearing some sort of lavender perfume, infinitely sweet, probably all she could afford. He was to remember it for the rest of his life.
She leaned against him and he said into her ear gently, 'You're seventeen and I'm a very old thirty-five Have you thought about that?'
She looked up at him, eyes blind, 'Oh you're lovely,' she said 'So lovely.'
A silly, banal phrase, laughable in other circumstances, but not now. Never now. He kissed her again, very lightly on the mouth 'Go in!'
She went without any attempt at protest, wakening only the chickens as she crossed the farmyard. Somewhere on the other side of the house, a dog barked hollowly, a door banged, Devlin turned and started back.
It began to rain again as he skirted the last meadow above the main road. He crossed to the dyke path opposite with the old wooden sign. Hobs End Farm, which no one had ever thought worth taking down. Devlin trudged along head bowed against the rain. Suddenly there was a rustling in the reeds to his right and a figure bounded into his path.
In spite of the rain, the cloud cover was only sparse and in the light of the quarter moon he saw that Arthur Seymour crouched in front of him I told you, 'he said I warned you but you wouldn't take no notice. Now you'll have to learn the hard way.'
Devlin had the shotgun off his shoulder in a second. It wasn't loaded, but no matter. He thumbed the hammers back with a very definite double click and rammed the barrel under Seymour's chin.
'Now you be careful,' he said, 'Because I've a licence to shoot vermin here from the squire himself and you're on the squire's property.'
Seynour jumped back 'I'll get you, see if I don't. And that dirty little bitch. I'll pay you both out.'
He turned and ran into the night Devlin shouldered his gun and moved on towards the cottage, head down as the rain increased in force Seymour was mad -no, not quite- just not responsible. He wasn't worried about his threats in the slightest, but then he thought of Molly and his stomach went hollow.
'My God,' he said softly 'If he harms her, I'll kill the bastard I'll kill him.'
9
The Sten machine carbine was probably the greatest mass produced weapon of the Second World War and the standby of most British infantrymen Shoddy and crude it may have looked, but it could stand up to more ill-treatment than any other weapon of its type It came to pieces in seconds and would fit into a handbag or the pocket of an overcoat - a fact which made it invaluable to the various European resistance groups to whom it was parachuted by the British Drop it in the mud, stamp on it and it would still kill as effectively as the most expensive Thompson gun.
The MK IIS version was specially developed for use by commando units, fitted with a silencer which absorbed the noise of the bullet explosions to an amazing degree. The only sound when it fired was the clicking of the bolt and that could seldom be heard beyond a range of twenty yards.
The one which Staff Sergeant Willi Scheid held in his hands on the improvised firing range amongst the sand dunes at Landsvoort on the morning of Wednesday 20 October, was a mint specimen. There was a row of targets at the far end, lifesize replicas of charging Tommis. He emptied the magazine into the first five, working from left to right It was an eerie experience to see the bullets shredding the target and to hear only the clicking of the bolt. Steiner and the rest of his small assault force, standing in a semi-circle behind him, were suitably impressed.
'Excellent!' Steiner held out his hand and Scheid passed the Sten to him 'Really excellent!' Steiner examined it and handed it to Neumann.
Neumann cursed suddenly 'Dammit, the barrel's hot.'
'That is so, Herr Oberleutnant,' Scheid said. 'You must be careful to hold only the canvas insulating cover. The silencer tubes heat rapidly when the weapon is fired on full automatic.'
Scheid was from the Ordnance Depot at Hamburg, a small, rather insignificant man in steel spectacles and the shabbiest uniform Steiner had ever seen. He moved across to a groundsheet on which various weapons were displayed 'The Sten gun, in both the silenced and normal versions, will be the machine pistol you will use. As regards alight machine-gun, the Bren. Not as good a general purpose weapon as our own MG-forty-two, but an excellent section weapon. It fires in either single shots or bursts of four or five rounds so it's very economical and highly accurate.'
'What about rifles?' Steiner asked.
Before Scheid could reply, Neumann tapped Steiner on the shoulder and the Colonel turned in time to see the Stork come in low from the direction of the Ijsselmeer and turn for its first circuit over the airstrip.
Steiner said, 'I'll take over for a moment, Sergeant.' He turned to the men 'From now on what Staff Sergeant Scheid says goes. You've got a couple of weeks, and by the time he's finished with you I'll expect you to be able to take these things apart and put them together again with your eyes closed.' He glanced at Brandt 'Any assistance he wants, you see that he gets it, understand?'
Brandt sprang to attention 'Herr Oberst.'
'Good,' Steiner's glance seemed to take in each man as an individual 'Most of the time Oberleutnant Neumann and myself will be in there with you. And don't worry You'll know what it's all about soon enough, I promise you.'
Brandt brought the entire group to attention. Steiner saluted, then turned and hurried across to the field car which was parked nearby followed by Neumann. He got into the passenger seat, Neumann climbed behind the wheel and drove away As they approached the main entrance to the airstrip the military policeman on duty opened the gate and saluted awkwardly, hanging on to his snarling guard dog with the other hand.
'One of these days that brute is going to get loose.' Neumann said. 'and frankly. I don't think it knows which side it's on.'
The Stork dropped in for an excellent landing and four or five Luftwaffe personnel raced out to meet it in a small truck. Neumann followed in the field car and pulled up a few yards away from the Stork Steiner lit a cigarette as they waited for Radl to disembark.
Neumann said, 'He's got someone with him.'
Steiner looked up with a frown as Max Radl came towards him a cheerful smile on his face. 'Kurt, how goes it?' he called, hand outstretched.
But Steiner was more interested in his companion the tall, elegant young man with the deathshead of the SS in his cap. 'Who's your friend, Max?' he asked softly.
Radl's smile was awkward as he made the necessary introduction Colonel Kurt Steiner - Untersturmfuhrer Harvey Preston of the British Free Corps
.
Steiner had had the old living-room of the farmhouse converted into the nerve centre for the entire operation. There were a couple of army cots at one end of the room for himself and Neumann and two large tables placed down the centre were covered with maps and photos of the Hobs End and Studley Constable general area. There was also a beautifully made three-dimensional mock-up as yet only half completed Radl leaned over it with interest a glass of brandy in one hand. Ritter Neumann stood on the other side of the table and Steiner paced up and down by the window smoking furiously.
Radl said, 'This model is really superb. Who's working on it?'
'Private Klugl.' Neumann told him. 'He was an artist I think before the war.'
Steiner turned impatiently. 'Let's stick to the matter in hand, Max Do you seriously expect me to take that - that object out there?.'
'It's the Reichsfuhrer's idea not mine.' Radl said mildly. 'In matters like this my dear Kurt. I take orders. I don't give them.'
'But he must be mad'
Radl nodded and went to the sideboard to help himself to more cognac. 'I believe that has been suggested before.'
'All right.' Steiner said. 'Let's look at it from the purely practical angle. If this thing is to succeed it's going to need a highly disciplined body of men who can move as one think as one act as one and that's exactly what we've got. Those lads of mine have been to hell and back, Crete, Leningrad, Stalingrad and a few places in between and I was with them every step of the way. Max there are times when I don't even have to give a spoken order.'
'I accept that completely.'
'Then how on earth do you expect them to function with an outsider at this stage especially one like Preston?' He picked up the file Radl had given him and shook it. 'A petty criminal a poseur who's acted since the day he was born even to himself.' He threw the file down in disgust. 'He doesn't even know what real soldiering is.'
'What's more to the point at the moment or so it seems to me.' Ritter Neumann put it. 'he's never jumped out of an aeroplane in his life.'
Radl took out one of his Russian cigarettes and Neumann lit it for him. 'I wonder Kurt whether you're letting your emotions run away with you in this matter.'
'All right.' Steiner said. 'So my American half hates his lousy guts because he's a traitor and a turncoat and my German half isn't too keen on him either.' He shook his head in exasperation. 'Look Max have you any idea what jump training is like.' He turned to Neumann. 'Tell him Ritter.'
'Six jumps go into the paratroopers qualification badge and after that, never less than six a year if he wants to keep it.' Neumann said 'And that applies to everyone from private to general officer. Jump pay is sixty-five to one hundred and twenty Reichsmarks per month, according to rank.'
'So?' Radl said.
'To earn it you train on the ground for two months, make your first jump alone from six hundred feet. After that, five jumps in groups and in varying light conditions, including darkness, bringing the altitude down all the time and then the grand finale. Nine plane-loads dropping together in battle conditions at under four hundred feet.'
'Very impressive,' Radl said 'On the other hand, Preston has to jump only once, admittedly at night, but to a large and very lonely beach. A perfect dropping zone as you have admitted yourselves. I would have thought it not beyond the bounds of possibility to train him sufficiently for that single occasion.'
Neumann turned in despair to Steiner, 'What more can I say?'
'Nothing,' Radl said, 'because he goes. He goes because the Reichsfuhrer thinks it a good idea.'
'For God's sake,' Steiner said 'It's impossible. Max, can't you see that?'
'I'm returning to Berlin in the morning.' Rafll replied. 'Come with me and tell him yourself it that's how you feel. Or would you rather not?'
Steiner's face was pale 'Damn you to hell Max, you know I can't and you know why.' For a moment he seemed to have difficulty in speaking. 'My father - he's all right? You've seen him?'
'No,' Radl said 'But the Reichsfuhrer instructed me to tell you that you have his personal assurance in this matter.'
'And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?' Steiner took a deep breath and smiled ironically. 'I know one thing. If we can take Churchill, who I might as well tell you now is a man I've always personally admired and not just because we both had an American mother, then we can drop in on Gestapo Headquarters in Prinz Albrechtstrasse and grab that little shit any time we want. Come to think of it, that's quite an idea.' He grinned at Neumann.
'What do you think, Ritter?'
'Then you'll take him?' Radl said eagerly 'Preston, I mean?'
'Oh, I'll take him all right,' Steiner said, 'only by the time I've finished, he'll wish he'd never been born.' He turned to Neumann 'All right, Ritter. Bring him in and I'll give him some idea of what hell is going to be like.'
