Brandt grabbed at him, too late, and Preston was across the yard and into the reeds in a matter of moments. Molly turned, reining in. Her first thought was that it was Devlin. Preston grabbed for the reins and she looked down at him in astonishment.
'All right, let's have you.'
He reached for her and she tried to back her mount away. 'Here, you leave me be. I haven't done anything.'
He grabbed her right wrist and pulled her out of the saddle, catching her as she fell. 'We'll see about that, shall we?'
She started to struggle and he tightened his grip. He slung her over his shoulder and carried her kicking and shouting through the reeds to the barn.
Devlin had been up to the beach at first light to make certain that the tide had covered all traces of the previous night's activities. He had gone up again with Steiner after breakfast to show him as much of the general pick-up area of the estuary and the Point as could be seen in the fog. They were on their way back, only thirty yards from the cottage when Preston emerged from the marsh with the girl on his shoulder.
'What is it?' Steiner demanded.
'It's Molly Prior, the girl I told you about.'
He started to run, entering the yard as Preston reached the entrance. 'Put her down, damn you!' Devlin shouted.
Preston turned. 'I don't take orders from you.'
But Steiner, hard on Devlin's heel into the yard, took a hand. 'Lieutenant Preston,' he called in a voice like iron. 'You will release the lady now.'
Preston hesitated, then set Molly down reluctantly. She promptly slapped his face. 'And you keep your hands to yourself, you bugger,' she stormed at him.
There was immediate laughter from inside the barn and she turned to see through the open door, a line of grinning faces, the truck beyond, the jeep with the Browning machine-gun mounted.
Devlin arrived and shoved Preston out of the way. 'Are you all right, Molly?'
'Liam,' she said in bewilderment. 'What is it? What's going on?'
But it was Steiner who handled it, smooth as silk. 'Lieutenant Preston,' he said coldly. 'You will apologize to this young lady at once.' Preston hesitated and Steiner really laid it on, 'At once, Lieutenant!'
Preston got his feet together. 'Humble apologies, ma'am. My mistake,' he said with some irony, turned and went inside the barn.
Steiner saluted gravely. 'I can't tell you how sorry I am about this whole unfortunate incident.'
'This is Colonel Carter, Molly,' Devlin explained.
'Of the Polish Independent Parachute Squadron,' Steiner said. 'We're here in this area for tactical field training and I'm afraid Lieutenant Preston gets rather carried away when it comes to a question of security.'
She was more bewildered than ever now, 'But, Liam,' she began.
Devlin took her by the arm. 'Come on now, let's catch that horse and get you back into the saddle.' He pushed her towards the edge of the marsh where her mount nibbled peacefully at the tussocks of grass. 'Now look what you've done,' he scolded her. 'Didn't I tell you to wait for me to call this afternoon? When will you learn to stop sticking your nose into things that don't concern you?'
'But I don't understand.' she said. 'Paratroopers - here, and that truck and the jeep you painted?'
He gripped her arm fiercely. 'Security, Molly, for God's sake. Didn't you get the drift of what the Colonel was saying? Sure and why do you think that lieutenant reacted like he did? They've a very special reason for being here. You'll find out when they've gone, but for the moment it's top secret and you mustn't mention seeing them here to a living soul. As you love me, promise me that.'
She stared up at him and there was a kind of understanding in her eyes. 'I see the way of it now,' she said. 'All these things you've been doing, the trips at night and so on. I thought it was something to do with the black market and you let me think it. But I was wrong. You're still in the army, that's it, isn't it?'
'Yes,' he said with some truth. 'I'm afraid I am.'
Her eyes were shining. 'Oh, Liam, can you ever forgive me thinking you some cheap spiv peddling silk stockings and whisky round the pubs?'
Devlin took a very deep breath, but managed a smile. 'I'll think about it. Now go home like a good girl and wait until I call, no matter how long.'
'I will, Liam. I will.'
She kissed him, one hand behind his neck and swung up into the saddle. Devlin said, 'Mind now, not a word.'
'You can rely on me.' She kicked her heels into the-horse's belly and moved away through the reeds.
Devlin went back across the yard walking very fast. Ritter had joined Steiner from the cottage and the Colonel said, 'Is it all right?'
Devlin brushed past him and plunged into the barn. The men were talking together in small groups and Preston was in the act of lighting a cigarette, the match flaring in his cupped hands. He looked up with a slight, mocking smile. 'And we all know what you've been getting up to during the past few weeks. Was it nice, Devlin?'
Devlin got in one beautiful right hand that landed high on Preston's cheekbone and sent the Englishman sprawling over someone's outstretched foot. Then Steiner had him by the arm.
'I'll kill the bastard!' Devlin said.
Steiner got in front of him, both hands on the Irishman's shoulders and Devlin was astonished at the strength. 'Go up to the cottage,' he said calmly. 'I'll handle it.'
Devlin glared at him, that bone-white killing face on him again and then the eyes dulled a little. He turned and went out, breaking into a run across the yard. Preston got to his feet, a hand to his face. There was total silence.
Steiner said, 'There is a man who will kill you if he can, Preston. Be warned. Step out of line once more and if he doesn't, I'll shoot you myself.' He nodded to Ritter, 'Take command!'
When he went into the cottage, Devlin was at the Bushmills. The Irishman turned with a shaky grin. 'God, but I would have killed him. I must be going to pieces.'
'What about the girl?'
'No worries there. She's convinced I'm still in the army and up to my neck in official secrets.' The self-disgust was plain on his face. 'Her lovely boy, that's what she called me. I'm that all right.' He started to pour another whiskey, hesitated then corked the bottle firmly. 'All right,' he said to Steiner. 'What now?'
'We'll move up to the village around noon and go through the motions. My own feeling is that you should keep completely out of the way for the time being. We can meet up again this evening, after dark, when we're closer to making the assault.'
'All right,' Devlin said. 'Joanna Grey is certain to contact you at the village somehow during the afternoon. Tell her I'll be at her place by six-thirty. The E-boat should be available any time between nine and ten. I'll bring the S-phone with me so that you can contact Koenig direct from the scene of operations and fix a pick-up time to fit the circumstances.'
'Fine,' Steiner said and appeared to hesitate. 'There's one thing.'
'What's that?'
'My orders regarding Churchill. They're quite explicit. They'd like to have him alive, but if that isn't possible...'
'You've got to put a bullet in him. So what's the problem?'
'I wasn't sure whether there might be one for you?'
'Not in the slightest,' Devlin said. This time everyone's a soldier, and takes a soldier's chances. That includes old Churchill.'
.
In London, Rogan was clearing his desk, thoughts of lunch in his mind, when the door opened with no preliminary knock and Grant entered. His face was tense with excitement. 'Just in over the teleprinter, sir.' He slapped the message down in front of Rogan. 'We've got him.'
'Norfolk Constabulary, Norwich,' Rogan said.
That's where his registration particulars ended up, but he's some distance from there, right up on the North Norfolk coast near Studley Constable and Blakeney. Very isolated sort of place.'
'Do you know the area?' Rogan asked as he read the message.
'Two holidays in Sheringham when I was a nipper, sir.'
'So, he's calling himself Devlin and he's working as a marsh warden for Sir Henry Willoughby, the local squire. He's certainly due for a shock. How far is this place?'
'I'd say about a couple of hundred miles ' Grant shook his head What in the hell could he be up to?'
'We'll find that out soon enough,' Rogan looked up from the report
'What's the next move, sir? Shall I get the Norfolk Constabulary to pick him up?'
'Are you mad?' Rogan said in amazement 'You know what these country police are like? Turnip heads No, we'll handle this one ourselves, Fergus You and me It's a while since I've had a weekend in the country It'll make a nice change.'
You've got an appointment at the Attorney General's office after lunch,' Grant reminded him. 'Evidence for the Halloran case.'
'I'll be out of there by three o'clock Three-thirty at the latest You get a car from the pool and be ready and waiting and we can get straight off.'
'Should I clear it with the Assistant Commissioner sir?'
Rogan flared in irritation 'For Christ's sake, Fergus, what's wrong with you? He's in Portsmouth, isn't he? Now get moving.'
Unable to explain his strange reluctance to himself, Grant made an effort 'Very well, sir.'
He had a hand on the door when Rogan added, 'And Fergus.'
'Yes, sir?'
'Call in at the armoury and draw a couple of Browning Hi-Powers. This character shoots first and asks what you wanted afterwards.'
'Grant swallowed hard I'll see to that, sir,' he said, his voice shaking slightly and went out.
Rogan pushed back his chair and went to the window He flexed the fingers of both hands, full of tension 'Right you bastard,' he said softly 'Let's see if you're as good as they say you are.'
.
It was just before noon when Philip Vereker opened the door at the end of the presbytery hall under the back stairs and went down to the cellar. His foot was giving him hell and he had hardly slept at all during the night. That was his own fault. The doctor had offered a plentiful supply of morphine tablets, but Vereker had a morbid fear of becoming addicted.
So he suffered At least Pamela was coming for the weekend. She'd telephoned early that morning, not only to confirm it, but to tell him that Harry Kane had offered to pick her up from Pangbourne. At least it saved Vereker a gallon of petrol, and that was something. And he liked Kane. Had done instinctively, which was rare for him It was nice to see Pamela taking an interest in someone at last.
A large torch hung from a nail at the bottom of the cellar steps Vereker took it down, then opened an ancient, black, oak cupboard opposite, stepped inside and closed the door. He switched on the torch, felt for a hidden catch and the back of the cupboard swung open to reveal a long, dark tunnel with Norfolk flint walls that glistened with moisture.
It was one of the finest remaining examples of such a structure in the country, a priest's tunnel linking the presbytery with the church, a relic of the days of Roman Catholic persecution under Elizabeth Tudor. The secret of it was handed on from one incumbent to the next. From Vereker's point of view it was simply a very great convenience.
At the end of the tunnel, he mounted a flight of stone steps and paused in surprise, listening carefully. Yes there could be no mistake. Someone was playing the organ, and very well indeed. He went up the rest of the stairs opened the door at the top (which was in fact a section of the oak-panelled wall in the sacristy) closed it behind him, opened the other door and moved into the church.
When Vereker went up the aisle he saw to his astonishment that a paratrooper sergeant in camouflaged jump jacket was sitting at the organ, his red beret on the seat beside him He was playing a Bach choral prelude, one highly appropriate to the season, for it was usually sung to the old Advent hymn Gottes Sohn ist kommen.
Hans Aitmann was thoroughly enjoying himself. A superb instrument, a lovely church. Then he glanced up and in the organist's mirror saw Vereker at the bottom of the chancel steps. He stopped playing abruptly and turned.
'I'm sorry, Father, but I just couldn't help myself.' He spread his hands. 'One doesn't often get the chance in my - my present occupation.' His English was excellent but with a definite accent.
Vereker said, 'Who are you?'
'Sergeant Emil Janowski, Father.'
'Polish?'
'That's right.' Altmann nodded. 'Came in here looking for you with my C.O. You were not here, of course, so he told me to wait on while he tried the presbytery.'
Vereker said, 'You play very well indeed. Bach needs to be played well, a fact I constantly remember with bitterness each time I take that seat.'
