'All right, English,' Brandt called. 'Remember what I told you. Jump when I signal.'
He turned to instruct the men on the rope, and there was a cry of alarm from Briegel as Preston simply fell forward into space. Ritter Neumann jumped for the rope. Preston came to rest three feet above the ground, swinging like a pendulum, arms hanging at his side head down.
Brandt put a hand under the chin and looked into the Englishman's face. 'He's fainted.'
'So it would appear,' Steiner said.
'What do we do with him, Herr Oberst?' Ritter Neumann demanded.
'Bring him round,' Steiner said calmly. Then put him up again. As many times as it takes until he can do it satisfactorily - or breaks a leg.' He saluted. 'Carry on, please,' turned and went out.
.
The rooks in the beech trees were the only sign of life as Devlin went through the lychgate of St Mary and All the Saints. They lifted into the sky noisily as if conscious that he was a stranger and annoyed about it. When he opened the door and went into the church it was very quiet and his footsteps on the stone flags echoed hollowly between the pillars.
Our Lady seemed to float above the flickering candles in the half-light of the side chapel, the beautiful medieval face eternally peaceful. Vereker knelt before her in prayer. He crossed himself as Devlin approached then stood up with difficulty and turned, leaning on the stick. His face was drawn - in fact he looked quite haggard and was obviously in some pain.
'You wanted to see me,' Devlin said.
'It was good of you to come.'
Devlin made no reply, and Vereker swayed slightly, as if almost losing his balance, reached for the end of a pew to steady himself and sat down. 'I'm sorry. I don't feel too well. You'll have to excuse me.'
It was the first reference Devlin had known him to make to his physical state and completely unexpected, for in his short acquaintance with Vereker, he had formed the impression that the priest resented his infirmity so much, he preferred to act as if it did not exist.
'That's all right, what did you want?'
'No sense in beating about the bush,' Vereker said. 'It's to do with Molly - Molly Prior.'
'Well?' Devlin said. 'What about her?'
'I don't want you to see her again.'
'You don't want me to see her again.' Devlin laughed out loud.
Vereker's face was pale, the eyes flared. 'Mind your manners.'
'Oh, I'm sorry, sir.' Devlin rolled out the bog Irish accent in deliberate mockery. 'If I had me cap on, I'd touch it to your honour.'
'Stay away from her.' Vereker was thoroughly angry now.
'Would you mind giving me a reason?'
'A hatful if you like. For one thing, you're old enough to be her father.'
Devlin's laughter echoed up into the nave and he slapped his cap against his thigh. 'By God, Father, for that to be true I'd have had to start damned early.'
'Watch your language,' Vereker said. 'Remember you are in God's house.' His knuckles gleamed white as they tightened over the handle of the stick. 'You're not fit, Devlin, either for her, or for this place.'
'Because I don't pour my guts out to you once a week and come to Mass like a good Catholic boy?' Devlin said. 'Like Arthur Seymour? He turns up regular as clockwork, Wednesdays and Sundays, isn't that a fact? That makes what he does all right, is that what you're saying?'
Vereker was able to speak only with great difficulty 'Arthur Seymour is a poor, unfortunate wretch not responsible for his actions I try to help him. We all do. That is something you, as an outsider, cannot understand. Here, we all help each other.'
'Here you all rot together on your own stinking little dung heap, you mean.' Devlin's anger was like a fuse, slow-burning. 'You know what that animal was trying to do to Molly the other day? What he's tried elsewhere before and succeeded by all accounts. But does anyone do anything about it?'
'It's the village's business and no one else's,' Vereker said. 'They know how to handle Arthur. We all do. You don't, so stay out.'
'You can't even handle yourself,' Devlin said contemptuously 'Look at you, self-pity eating the insides out of you. My father went to war for something he believed in and they hanged him like a dog. All you lost out there in Tunisia was a foot, or was it something else?' He frowned suddenly. 'Your self-respect, maybe? Were you afraid Father, was that it?' He nodded 'Yes I can imagine someone like you taking a thing like that hard, you always having had such a grand opinion of yourself.'
There were beads of sweat on Vereker's face, his eyes seemed to start from their sockets 'I think vou'd better go,' he said hoarsely.
'Oh, I will, never fret.' Devlin told him. 'It's suddenly a trifle close for me in here.'
'Get out!' Vereker cried in a kind of agony.
'House of God, did you say, Father?' Devlin walked away, his steps echoing. When he opened the door and went out into the porch, Pamela Vereker was coming up the path. She was wearing sweater and slacks and earned a riding crop.
She smiled 'Mr Devlin, isn't it?'
'I sometimes wonder he said, especially on days like this. If you want your brother you'll find him inside. He looked in need of a little tea and sympathy to me.'
She frowned in puzzlement he touched a finger to the peak of his cap with exaggerated courtesy, went down the path to his motor-cycle and rode away
.
There were at least a dozen men in the tap room of the Studley Arms when Devlin went in Laker Armsby in his usual place by the fire with his mouth organ, the rest seated around the two large tables playing dominoes Arthur Seymour was staring out of the window, a pint in his hand.
'God save all here!' Devlin announced cheerfully There was complete silence, every face in the room turned towards him except for Seymour's. 'God save you kindly was the answer to that one,' Devlin said. 'Ah, well.'
There was a step behind him and he turned to find George Wilde emerging from the back room, wiping his hands on a butcher's apron. His face was grave and steady, no emotion there at all. 'I was just closing, Mr Devlin, he said politely.'
'Time for a jar, surely,'
'I m afraid not. You'll have to leave, sir.'
The room was very quiet Devlin put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, head down. And when he looked up, Wilde took an involuntary step back, for the Irishman's face had turned very pale, the skin stretched tight over the cheek bones, blue eyes glittering.
'There is one man here who will leave,' Devlin said quietly, 'and it is not me.'
Seymour turned from the window. One eye was still completely closed his lips scabbed and swollen. His entire face seemed lopsided and was covered with purple and green bruises. He stared at Devlin dully then put down his half finished pint of ale and shuffled out.
Devlin turned back to Wilde. 'I'll have that drink, now, Mr Wilde A drop of Scotch, Irish being something you'll never have heard of here at the edge of your own little world and don't try to tell me you don't have a bottle or two under the counter for favoured customers.'
Wilde opened his mouth as if to speak and obviously thought better of it. He went into the back and returned with a bottle of White Horse and a small glass. He poured out a single measure and placed the glass on the shelf next to Devlin's head.
Devlin produced a handful of change. 'One shilling and sixpence,' he said cheerfully, counting it out on the nearest table. The going price for a nip. I'm taking it for granted, of course, that such a fine, upstanding pillar of the church as yourself wouldn't be dealing in black market booze.'
Wilde made no reply. The whole room waited. Devlin picked up the glass, held it to the light, then emptied it in a golden stream to the floor. He put the glass down carefully on the table. 'Lovely,' he said. 'I enjoyed that.'
Laker Armsby broke into a wild cackle of laughter, Devlin grinned. 'Thank you. Laker, my old son. I love you too,' he said and walked out.
.
It was raining hard at Landsvoort as Steiner drove across the airstrip in his field car. He braked to a halt outside the first hangar and ran for its shelter. The starboard engine of the Dakota was laid bare and Peter Gericke, in a pair of old overalls, grease up to his elbows, worked with a Luftwaffe sergeant and three mechanics.
'Peter?' Steiner called. 'Have you got a moment? I'd like a progress report.'
'Oh, things are going well enough.'
'No problems with the engines?'
'None at all. They're nine-hundred horsepower Wright Cyclones. Really first class and as far as I can judge, they've done very little time. We're only stripping as a precaution.'
'Do you usually work on your own engines?'
'Whenever I'm allowed.' Gericke smiled. 'When I flew these things in South America you had to service your own engines, because there was nobody else who could.'
'No problems?'
'Not as far as I can see. She's scheduled to have her new paint job some time next week. No rush on that and Bohmler's fitting a Lichtenstein set so we'll have good radar coverage. A milk run. An hour across the North Sea, an hour back. Nothing to it.'
'In an aircraft whose maximum speed is half that of most RAF or Luftwaffe fighters.'
Gericke shrugged. 'It's all in how you fly them, not in how fast they go.'
'You want a test flight, don't you?'
'That's right.'
'I've been thinking,' Steiner said. 'It might be a good idea to combine it with a practice drop. Preferably one night when the tide is well out. We could use the beach north of the sand pier. It will give the lads a chance to try out these British parachutes.'
'What altitude are you thinking of?'
'Probably four hundred feet. I want them down fast and from that height fifteen seconds is all it takes.'
'Rather them than me. I've only had to hit the silk three times in my career and it was a lot higher than that.' The wind howled across the airstrip, driving rain before it, and he shivered. 'What a bloody awful place.'
'It serves its purpose.'
'And what's that?'
Steiner grinned. 'You ask me that at least five times a day. Don't you ever give up?'
'I'd like to know what it's all about, that's all.'
'Maybe you will, one day, that's up to Radl, but for the moment we're here because we're here.'
'And Preston?' Gericke said. 'I wonder what his reason is? What makes a man do what he's done.'
'All sorts of things,' Steiner said. 'In his case, he's got a pretty uniform, officer status. He's somebody for the first time in his life, that means a lot when you've been nothing. As regards the rest - well, he's here as the result of a direct order from Himmler himself.'
'What about you?' Gericke asked. The greater good of the Third Reich? A life for the Fuhrer?'.
Steiner smiled. 'God knows. War is only a matter of perspective. After all, if it had been my father who was American and my mother German, I'd have been on the other side. As for the Parachute Regiment - I joined that because it seemed like a good idea at the time. After a while, of course, it grows on you.'
'I do it because I'd rather fly anything than nothing,' Gericke said, 'and I suppose it's much the same for most of those RAF lads on the other side of the North Sea. But you.' He shook his head. 'I don't really see it. Is it a game to you then, just that and nothing more?'
Steiner said wearily 'I used to know now I'm not so sure. My father was a soldier of the old school Prussian blue. Plenty of blood and iron, but honour, too.'
'And this task they've given you to do,' Gericke said, 'this-this English business, whatever it is. You have no doubts?'
'None at all. A perfectly proper military venture, believe me Churchill himself couldn't fault it, in principle, at least.' Gericke tried to smile and failed and Steiner put a hand on his shoulder. I know there are days when I could weep myself - for all of us, and he turned and walked away through the rain.
.
In the Reichsfuhrer's private office, Radl stood in front of the great man's desk while Himmler read through his report Excellent, Herr Oberst,' he said finally Realty quite excellent He laid the report down 'Everything would appear to be progressing more than satisfactorily You have heard from the Irishman?'
'No, only from Mrs. Grey, that is the arrangement. Devlin has an excellent radio-telephone set. Something which we picked up from the British SOE, which will keep him in touch with the E-boat on its Way in. That is part of the operation he will handle as regards communication.'
'The Admiral has not become suspicious in any way? Has picked up no hint of what is happening? You re sure of that?'
