'Another thing, Vereker was a paratrooper padre in Tunisia,' Devlin added, 'so he'll be leaning over backwards to assist when he sees those red berets.'
'There's an even stronger point in our favour where Vereker's concerned,' Joanna Grey said. 'He knows the Prime Minister is spending the weekend at Studley Grange which is going to work on our behalf very nicely. Sir Henry let it slip the other night at my house when he'd been drinking a little bit too much. Of course Vereker was sworn to secrecy. Can't even tell his own sister until after the great man's gone.'
'And how will this help us?' Steiner asked.
'It's simple,' Devlin said. 'You tell Vereker you're here for the weekend on some exercise or other and ordinarily he would accept that at face value. But this time, remember, he knows that Churchill is visiting the area incognito, so what interpretation does he put on the presence of a crack outfit like the SAS?'
'Of course,' Steiner said. 'Special security.'
'Exactly.' Joanna Grey nodded. 'Another point in our favour. Sir Henry is giving a small dinner party for the Prime Minister tomorrow night.' She smiled and corrected herself. 'Sorry, I mean tonight. Seven-thirty for eight and I'm invited. I'll go only to make my excuses. Say that I've had a call to turn out on night duty for the WVS emergency service. It's happened before, so Sir Henry and Lady Willoughby will accept it completely. It means, of course, that if we make contact in the vicinity of the Grange, I'll be able to give you a very exact description of the immediate situation there.'
'Excellent,' Steiner said. The whole thing seems more plausible by the minute.'
Joanna Grey said, 'I must go.'
Devlin brought her coat and Steiner took it from him and held it open for her courteously. 'Is there no danger for you in driving round the countryside alone at this hour of the morning?'
'Good heavens no.' She smiled. 'I'm a member of the WVS motor pool. That's why I'm allowed the privilege of running a car at all, but it means that I'm required to provide an emergency service in the village and surrounding area. I often have to turn out in the early hours to take people to hospital. My neighbours are perfectly used to it.'
The door opened and Ritter Neumann entered. He was wearing a camouflaged jump jacket and trousers and there was an SAS winged dagger badge in his red beret.
'Everything all right out there?' Steiner asked.
Ritter nodded 'Everyone bedded down snugly for the night. Only one grumble. No cigarettes.'
'Of course I knew there was something I'd forgotten I left them in the car.' Joanna Grey hurried out
She was back in a few moments and put two cartons of Players on the table, five hundred in each in packets of twenty.
'Holy Mother,' Devlin said in awe 'Did you ever see the like? They're like gold those things. Where did they come from?'
'WVS stores. You see, now I've added theft to my accomplishments.' She smiled 'And now, gentlemen, I must leave you. We'll meet again, by accident, of course, tomorrow when you are in the village.'
Steiner and Ritter Neumann saluted and Devlin took her out to her car. When he returned, the two Germans had opened one of the cartons and were smoking by the fire.
'I'll have a couple of packets of these myself,' Devlin said.
Steiner gave him a light 'Mrs. Grey is a remarkable woman. Who did you leave in charge out there, Ritter? Preston or Brandt?'
'I know who thinks he is.'
There was a light tap on the door and Preston entered The camouflaged jump jacket, the holstered revolver at his waist, the red beret slanted at just the right angle towards the left eye, made him seem more handsome than ever.
'Oh, yes,' Devlin said 'I like it. Very dashing. And how are you, me old son? Happy to be treading your native soil again, I dare say?'
The expression on Preston's face suggested that Devlin reminded him of something that needed scraping off his shoe 'I didn't find you particularly entertaining in Berlin Devlin. Even less so now I'd be pleased if you would transfer your attentions elsewhere.'
'God save us,' Devlin said, amazed 'Who in the hell does the lad think he's playing now?'
Preston said to Steiner, 'Any further orders, sir?'
Steiner picked up the two cartons of cigarettes and handed them to him I'd be obliged if you'd give these out to the men, he said gravely.
'They'll love you for that,' Devlin put in.
Preston ignored him, put the cartons under his left arm and saluted smartly 'Very well, sir.'
.
In the Dakota, the atmosphere was positively euphoric. The return trip had passed completely without incident. They were thirty miles out from the Dutch coast and Bohmler opened the Thermos and passed Gericke another cup of coffee 'Home and dry,' he said.
Gericke nodded cheerfully. Then the smile vanished abruptly. Over his headphones he heard a familiar voice Hans Berger, the controller at his old unit, NJG7.
Bohmler touched his shoulder 'That's Berger, isn't it?'
'Who else?' Gericke said 'You've listened to him often enough.'
'Steer o-eight-three degrees.' Berger's voice crackled through the static.
'Sounds as if he's leading a night fighter in for the kill,' Bohmler said. 'On our heading.'
'Target five kilometers.'
Suddenly Berger's voice seemed like the hammer on the last nail in a coffin, crisp, clear, final Gericke's stomach knotted in a cramp that was almost sexual in its intensity. And he was not afraid. It was as if after years of looking for Death, he was now gazing upon his face with a kind of yearning.
Bohmler grabbed his arm convulsively 'It's us, Peter!' he screamed 'We're the target!'
The Dakota rocked violently from side to side as cannon shell punched through the floor of the cockpit, tearing the instrument panel apart, shattering the windscreen Shrapnel ripped into Gericke's right thigh and a heavy blow shattered his left arm. Another part of his brain told him exactly what was happening Schraege Musik, delivered from below by one of his own comrades - only this time he was on the receiving end.
He wrestled with the control column, heaving it back with all his strength as the Dakota started to go down Bohmler was struggling to rise to his feet, blood on his face.
'Get out!' Gericke shouted above the roaring of the wind through the shattered windscreen 'I can't hold her for long.'
Bohmler was on his feet now and trying to speak Gericke lashed out wildly with his left arm catching him across the face. The pain was excruciating and he screamed again 'Get out! That's an order.'
Bohmler turned and moved back along the Dakota to the exit. The plane was in a hell of a state, great holes ripped in the body pieces of fuselage rattling in the turbulence. He could smell smoke and burning oil. Panic gave him new strength, as he wrestled with the release handles on the hatch
'Dear God, don't let me burn,' he thought 'Anything but that.' Then the hatch eased back and he poised for a moment and tumbled into the night.
The Dakota corkscrewed and the port wing lifted Bohmler somersaulted, his head caught the tailplane a violent blow even as his right hand fastened convulsively on the metal ring. He pulled his ripcord in the very moment of dying The parachute opened like a strange pale flower and carried him gently down into darkness.
The Dakota flew on, descending now the port engine on fire, flames spreading along the wing, reaching for the main body of the plane Gericke sat at the controls, still fighting to hold her unaware that his left arm was broken in two places.
There was blood in his eyes He laughed weakly as he strained to peer through the smoke What a way to go. No visit to Kannhall now, no Knight's Cross. His father would be disappointed about that. Though they'd simply award the damn thing posthumously.
Suddenly, the smoke cleared and he could see the sea through intermittent fog. The Dutch coast couldn't be far away. There were ships down there, at least two. A line of tracer arched up towards him. Some bloody E-boat showing it had teeth. It was really very funny.
He tried to move in his seat and found that his left foot was trapped by a piece of twisted fuselage. Not that it mattered, for by now he was too far down to jump He was only three hundred feet above the sea, aware of the E-boat to starboard racing him like a greyhound, firing with everything it had got, cannon shells ripping into the Dakota
'Bastards!' Gericke shouted 'Stupid bastards' He laughed weakly again and said softly, as if Bohmler was still there on his left 'Who in the hell am I supposed to be fighting, anyway?'
Quite suddenly, the smoke was torn away in a violent cross wind and he saw the sea no more than a hundred feet below and coming up to meet him fast.
At that moment he became a great pilot for the only time in his life when it really mattered. Every instinct for survival surged up to give him new strength. He pulled on the column and in spite of the agony of his left arm throttled back and dropped what was left of his flaps.
The Dakota almost stalled the tail started to fall. He gave a final burst of power to straighten her up as she dropped in to the waves and pulled hard on the column again. She bounced three times, skimming the water like a gigantic surfboard and came to a halt, the burning engine hissing angrily as a wave slopped across it.
Gericke sat there for a moment. Everything wrong, nothing by the book and yet he had done it and against every conceivable odds. There was water around his ankles. He tried to get up, but his left foot was securely held. He pulled the fire axe on his right from its holding clip and smashed at the crumpled fuselage, and his foot, breaking the ankle in the process. By then he was beyond reason.
It came as no surprise to find himself standing, the foot free. He got the hatch open - no trouble at all, and fell out into the water, bumping against the wing clumsily, pulling at the quick release ring of his life-jacket It inflated satisfactorily and he kicked out at the wing, pushing himself away as the Dakota started to go under.
When the E-boat arrived behind him he didn't even bother to turn, but floated there watching the Dakota slide under the surface.
'You did all right, old girl. All right,' he said.
A rope splashed into the water beside him and someone called in English with a heavy German accent. 'Catch hold. Tommi, and we'll haul you in. You're safe now.'
Gericke turned and looked up at the young German naval lieutenant and half a dozen sailors who leaned over the rail above him.
'Safe, is it?' he demanded in German. 'You stupid bastards - I'm on your side.'
15
It was just after ten on Saturday morning when Molly rode down through the fields towards Hobs End. The heavy rain of the previous night had slackened into a light drizzle, but the marsh itself was still blanketed in fog.
She'd risen early and worked hard all morning, had fed the livestock and seen to the milking herself, for Laker Armsby had a grave to dig. Her decision to ride down to the marsh had been a sudden impulse for. in spite of the fact that she had promised Devlin to wait until he called for her, she was terrified that something might happen to him. Conviction of those involved in black market activities usually meant a heavy prison sentence.
She took the horse down into the marsh and came to the cottage from the rear through the reed barrier, letting the animal choose its own way. The muddy water came up to its belly and some slopped inside her Wellington boots. She paid no heed and leaned over the horse's neck, peering through the fog. She was sure she could smell woodsmoke. Then the barn and the cottage gradually materialized from the fog, and there was smoke ascending from the chimney.
She hesitated, momentarily undecided. Liam was at home, obviously back earlier than he had intended, but if she went in now he would think she had been snooping again. She dug her
heels into her horse's flanks and started to turn it away.
.
In the barn the men were getting their equipment ready for the move out. Brandt and Sergeant Altmann were supervising the mounting of a Browning M2 heavy machine-gun on the jeep. Preston stood watching, hands clasped behind his back, giving the impression of being somehow in charge of the whole thing.
Werner Briegel and Klugl had partially opened one of the rear shutters and Werner surveyed what he could of the marsh through his Zeiss fieldglasses. There were birds in the suaeda bushes, the reedy dykes. Enough to content even him. Grebes and moorhens, curlews, widgeon, brent geese.
'There's a good one,' he said to Klugl. 'A green sandpiper. Passage migrant, usually in the autumn, but they've been known to winter here.' He continued his trajectory and Molly jumped into view. 'Christ, we're being watched.'
In a moment Brandt and Preston were at his side. Preston said 'I'll get her,' and he turned and ran for the door.
