EDIE DIDN’T NEED THE ALARM TO WAKE HER UP. SHE had been lying in bed wide awake for the past hour unable to go back to sleep. She hadn’t cried much since last night. It was almost as if tears would break her in two. All she could think about was Angelo and what would happen to him, to the two of them. Would she even see him again? There was every possibility that she wouldn’t. He could be sent anywhere.
She’d said Angelo would never harm an old man, but how well did she know him, really? Not at all, truth be told. She loved his skin, his mouth, the way he caressed her, but how much did that count? Unbidden, her mother’s voice came back to her. “You’re too soft by half, my girl. You can’t go through life with stardust in your eyes. The devil himself could come up to you and offer you an apple and I swear you’d take it. Feel sorry for him, most like.” Why had her ma said that? Edie couldn’t remember, but it had something to do with some encounter in the park with an older boy. Her dad had come along “just in time,” according to her mother, although what the boy would have done Edie didn’t understand. Not then.
But look at her now. She’d been the one to initiate the liaison with Angelo. She hadn’t waited for him to offer the apple, she’d snatched it herself.
When John Cartwright had said the barn door was not barred, Edie had doubted herself for a moment. Had she dropped the bar when she left? She was certain she had. She had stayed with Angelo as long as she’d dared. They’d exchanged kiss after kiss, so passionate they had made love again. “I must go,” she’d whispered in his ear. “I can’t risk anybody discovering I’m not in bed.” Finally, he’d let her leave, and she’d hurried back to the house, the wind pushing her backward, the rain soaking her. It must have been two o’clock by then and all was dark and silent. She’d undressed and climbed into bed, shivering in the chilly air. She was so happy she half expected she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but she did. A deep sleep that nothing disturbed.
She reached for her dressing gown now. It was too big for her, an old blue flannel affair that had belonged to her granny. Edie allowed herself a small giggle. Good thing Angelo hadn’t seen her wearing that – a passion-killer if ever there was one. But it was warm, and she was grateful for that as she scurried across the linoleum-covered floor and headed for the toilet. No dawn yet. Nobody else seemed to be up.
She didn’t even wait to make herself a cup of tea. She could breakfast later. Right now she was so anxious she had to keep on the move. She could start by milking the cows. They wouldn’t mind if she was a bit earlier than usual.
She shrugged into her overcoat, grabbed her torch, and, fast as she could, she ran down to the cow barn.
She opened the door. “Morning, girls,” she called out.
She took one of the lanterns from the hook by the door and lit it.
A figure rose out of the shadows. She gasped.
“Don’t be scared, Edie. It’s me,” said Angelo.
Tyler let himself into the house. He moved quietly, not wanting to wake Rowell. However, he had barely removed his hat and coat when he heard a creak on the stairs and his sergeant came down.
“Good morning, sir.”
“God, Oliver, you gave me a fright.”
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t know if you were you, if you know what I mean.”
“Right. I could have been a parachutist.”
“Precisely.”
They stood awkwardly, looking at each other. What was not being said was screaming for attention.
“I stayed the night with Mrs. Keogh,” Tyler said.
“Ah.”
Another silence.
“Is that all you’re going to say, Oliver?”
“I didn’t think it was my place to comment, sir.”
“Comment away. I give you permission. After all, you were the one who set the example.”
“Me, sir?”
“Yes, you, Sergeant,” said Tyler in exasperation. “And you sent me to Mrs. Hamilton, don’t forget.”
“But Mrs. Keogh isn’t one of Mrs. Hamilton’s clients, sir.”
“Does that matter?”
To say he had enjoyed having intimacy with a willing and attractive partner after so long was putting it mildly.
“I only bring it up because Mrs. Hamilton is quite rigorous about only accepting clients who are what she would call ‘ready for romance.’ ”
“Mrs. Keogh seemed very willing to, er, to be romantic.”
“It wasn’t her I was thinking of so much as you, sir. The lady in question has a husband who is presumed dead. Her feelings around love are probably quite, shall we say, cloudy. Timing is important in these matters.”
“I know what you’re saying, Oliver. I’ll be careful. Both of the feelings of the lady in question and my own.”
“Of course, sir. Shall I put the kettle on for some tea, sir?”
Edie extricated herself from Angelo’s arms.
“What are you doing here? I didn’t think they’d release you so soon.”
“They didn’t. I have escaped.”
“Escaped! Oh my God, Angelo. You can’t. You must go back.”
“I won’t. I’ll hide here. The war with Italy will be over soon, I know it. I’ll hide until I am no longer considered the enemy. Then we can get married and make lots of babies until we are too old.”
Edie didn’t laugh. “That’s mad. It could be months, years even before the war’s over. You can’t hide in here for months.”
“Why not? People have. I’ll live on cow’s milk and what you bring me.”
“What I bring you? Angelo, for God’s sake. You would be discovered in a minute.”
“Ah. You don’t love me after all. You gave me your body, your strange territory, but you won’t take the risk so we can be together.” His words were angry but his tone was almost playful and teasing.
It was Edie who was angry. “Love has nothing to do with it. What you are proposing is insane. Not practical. Fraternizing is not allowed. We’ll both go to jail. I will be seen as a traitor. What good would that do us?”
Suddenly serious, he caught her face between his hands. “Then let us run away together. We’ll be like cunning foxes.”
“We don’t stand a chance. We’ll be caught right away.”
He turned her head toward him and kissed her. “Any time with you, however short, is better than no time at all.”
Before he could continue, the barn door banged open and Ned Weaver burst inside. He hesitated for only a moment, then raised the revolver he was holding and pointed it at them.
“Step away, Edie. He’s a dangerous man. Step away from him.”
Edie had been standing in Angelo’s arms, her back to the door. She turned at once so that she was shielding her lover.
“No. No. Ned, please, put down that gun.”
“I’m taking him back where he belongs.”
In a split second, Angelo responded. He pushed Edie away from him and leaped toward Ned.
Before he could reach him, Ned fired.
Tyler was just about to leave for the police station when the telephone rang.
“I’ll get it,” he said to Rowell, who was still tidying up in the kitchen.
Captain Beattie was on the other end.
“Tyler, something serious has happened here. Angelo Iaquinta has apparently gone missing.”
“What!”
“His absence was detected this morning at roll call. It looks as if he got out of the window at the back of the hut and escaped that way.”
“Have you started a search, sir?”
“I was about to do just that, but I want to keep it under wraps as long as possible. I don’t want to scare the bejesus out of the civilian population. You know how jumpy everybody is about enemy parachutists and so on. I don’t consider the fellow to be dangerous, do you?”
“Hard to say, sir. If he’s desperate enough, he might do anything.”
“Bloody stupid to run like that. Where does he think he’s going? He took one of the bikes. He has no currency he can use. No identification, unless you count his uniform. Where’s he heading?”
Tyler thought he could take a good guess.
“I’ll get over to the Cartwrights’ right away. Angelo knows the farm, he might be going there.”
“All right. Good thinking. Call me at once if you get a lead. I’ll see what I come up with this end.”
Tyler hung up, but before he even moved from the telephone it rang again. This time it was John Cartwright.
“Inspector! You had better come at once. There’s been an accident here. A terrible accident.”
His voice was so choked, Tyler could hardly understand him.
“What’s happened?”
“Edie’s dead,” John whispered.
Angelo could barely manoeuvre the bicycle. The wind was fierce and the wound in his right arm was bleeding freely where the bullet had sliced off a piece of flesh. He could hardly breathe with the effort and the force of his feelings. He had to get away. Rationally he knew he couldn’t get far under these conditions, but he was like a wounded animal that has to go to ground – the instinct to run and hide, to stay alive as long as possible, was a powerful one.
He pedalled as hard as he could up to the crest of the hill. The trees were tossing and heaving in the wind. Suddenly he remembered there were the remains of a shepherd’s hut deep in the woods. He’d come across it in the summer when he was foraging for firewood. He might be able to make himself some kind of shelter. He could hole up there until he made a plan of what to do.
He turned the bicycle off the road onto the narrow dirt path that led into the woods. There was some respite from the wind there, but in the deep shadow of the trees it was hard to see where he was going. He dismounted. The ground was so rough and uneven that it was easier to walk and push the bike. The tumbledown hut was just ahead.
What was that?
There seemed to be a pinprick of light coming from among the loose bricks at the base of one ruined wall. He moved closer. Was it a dropped torch? He held his head up, almost sniffing the air like a dog. Was there somebody else in the woods? The only sound was the creaking of branches. He pulled out the gun that he’d taken from Ned Weaver and cocked the hammer, aiming the barrel toward the dot of light. Nothing moved.
He risked bending closer. He put the gun carefully on the ground and unhooked the lamp from the bicycle. He flashed it over the wall of the hut. There was a narrow opening at the base, perhaps the size of a postbox slot. Impossible for anybody to get through. But then he realized that a heavy branch had fallen across the lower bricks. He could see that the tiny light was coming from some kind of underground space.
Quickly, he returned to the bike. He had to get away before anybody saw him.
The silence on the other end of the line was so profound that, for a moment, Tyler thought they might have been disconnected.
“Mr. Cartwright? Mr. Cartwright? What happened? Please talk to me.”
“It was the Italian,” whispered the voice on the other end of the phone. “He was in the barn hiding out. Ned must have heard something because he went in with his revolver. He was afraid for Edie. He was trying to protect her. The Itie shot both of them. And…” John stopped. Then he said, “Ned is seriously hurt.”
“Is the POW still there?”
“No. He seems to have taken off.”
“I’ll send for medical help and I’ll come as fast as I can.”
“You’d better hurry. I’ve done what I could to stop the bleeding but Ned caught it in the chest. I seen wounds like that in the Great War. I don’t think he can last.”
“I’m on my way.”
Tyler hung up and ran back to the kitchen.
“Oliver. There’s been a shooting at the Cartwrights’.”
“What the…?”
“The POW escaped from the camp and went to the farm. Apparently the Land Girl has been killed and the son is badly injured. I’m going there immediately. According to John Cartwright, the Italian was the one doing the shooting.”
Tyler headed upstairs to his room. “Contact Captain Beattie. Tell him we’ll need a doctor and an ambulance at the Cartwright farm. Say we’ve located Iaquinta but there’s been gunfire. One fatality, one injury. The POW isn’t on the scene but he must be in the vicinity. Beattie should send a search party over there right away.”
“My God, sir.”
Tyler drove as fast as he could and he was at the farmhouse in fifteen minutes. John Cartwright was standing at the gate, holding up a storm lantern. The light winked in the dim light.
As soon as Tyler had stopped the car, John ran over to him.
“They’re down in the barn. Susan is with Ned.”
“Is he…?”
“Barely alive but he’s conscious.”
Hurriedly, Tyler followed him.
The body of the young Land Girl was several feet away from the entrance. She was lying on her side. The entire right side of her forehead was a bloody, pulpy mess. Tyler stopped only briefly to check on her. She was obviously dead.
Farther inside, near the partition, Tyler could see Susan Cartwright kneeling beside her son, who was lying flat on his back. She had a towel pressed to his chest but it was already soaked with blood. As Tyler went over to them, he could hear the gurgling, liquid sound of Ned’s lungs at every intake of breath. Susan looked up. Her face was sheet-white. Tyler dropped to a crouch next to her, and behind him John held up the lantern, which swayed in his unsteady grip.
“An ambulance will be here shortly,” said Tyler. He gestured to Susan to move back and gently lifted the blood-soaked towel. There was a ragged hole in the centre of Weaver’s chest and blood was pumping out. Tyler replaced the towel and applied pressure.
“Ned. Can you hear me?”
The injured man’s eyes flickered open and he made a sort of grunting sound.
Tyler raised his voice. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Ned’s eyes focused on him. “Are you a doctor?” he whispered.
“No, it’s Inspector Tyler. The policeman you talked to before. A medic will be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?” he repeated. “Who shot you?”
“Itie ran at me. He grabbed the gun. Shot me in the chest.” He struggled to lift his head. “How is Edie?”
“Not good, I’m afraid.”
Ned sank back. “Is she dead?”
“Yes, Ned, she is.”
Weaver licked his lips. “I’m thirsty.”
Susan scrambled to her feet. “I’ll get some water.”
John grabbed her hand. “No water, Susan.”
She shook him off in a fury. “Didn’t you hear? He’s thirsty.”
Tyler looked at her over his shoulder.
“Your husband’s right, Mrs. Cartwright. With a wound of this nature, he mustn’t be given anything to drink.”
Her face was contorted. “Stop questioning him, then. You’re making him worse.”
Tyler didn’t want to say “This might be the only chance I get,” but John did it for him.
“We must know what happened, Susan.”
“He told you. Leave him be.”
Ned’s eyes fluttered. “Edie got in the way. Didn’t mean it. Didn’t want to shoot her. He came at me. Grabbed gun. Went off.”
Tyler glanced around quickly. There was no sign of the weapon.
“Where’s the gun?” he asked John.
“Haven’t seen it.”
Ned groaned and seemed to drift back into unconsciousness. Tyler thought that might be the end, but Ned spoke again, his voice so low Tyler had to put his ear a few inches from the man’s mouth.
“He was outside. Came at me. Thought he was going to kill me. Only trying to defend myself.”
Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth and Tyler used the towel to wipe it away.
“Outside? Who do you mean, Ned? The Italian?”
Ned didn’t respond. He managed to lift his hand. Tyler caught hold of it. It was icy cold.
“Do you know any prayers?” Ned murmured. “I’d like to go off with a prayer.”
Tyler looked at John Cartwright, standing like stone behind him.
“He’d like a prayer.”
John seemed incapable of speaking, but Susan immediately clasped her hands together. “Our Father, which art in heaven…”
Tyler turned back to Ned. His lips were moving as if he was accompanying her.
Susan continued, speaking fast. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…”
She hadn’t finished when the barn door opened and three uniformed soldiers rushed in. The leader was white-haired and had doctor’s flashes on his sleeve. The other two were young POWS. They were carrying a stretcher.
“Over here,” called Tyler. “It’s this one.”
He moved out of the way.
Susan Cartwright was still kneeling in prayer. “You’ll soon be right as rain, pet,” she said.
Tyler thought that was extremely unlikely.
“Help. Help.”
It was a child’s voice, faint and feeble. Angelo froze. His thoughts were racing. Had a child fallen into a well or some such thing? Obviously the tree branch was preventing him from getting out. What could he do? Every minute of delay meant more chance that his own whereabouts would be discovered. He moaned.
In all likelihood he would be charged with murder. Edie was dead. He’d sprung at Ned, desperately trying to grab his gun. It had gone off, and the bullet had hit the other man in the chest. Angelo didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. Even if he lived, Angelo knew he wouldn’t stand a chance. Who would believe him?
He turned his bicycle.
The tiny voice floated out from the air vent.
“Is somebody there? Help! Please help!”
“He’s still got vitals,” said the doctor. “Let’s get him to the hospital.” He beckoned to the two medics who’d come with him. They were both young, frightened. “Put this man on the stretcher. We’ll take him into Ludlow.”
“I want to come with you,” said Susan. “I’m his mother.”
The doctor shook his head. “Better to follow behind us, madam. I will have to treat him as we drive.”
“I’ll take the lorry.” Susan turned to John. “Will you come?”
“Of course.”
Both of them followed the stretcher-bearers out of the barn.
The doctor halted in front of Tyler. “The girl looks to be beyond help.”
“She is.”
“Fill me in when you can. You can reach me through the camp. I’m Stevens.”
He hurried off.
Because of the need to tend to Weaver, Tyler hadn’t closely examined the nature of Edie’s wound, but now he went over to her body. The right side of her forehead had been sliced off; the flesh gleamed red and raw. He could see brain matter. It didn’t look like a bullet wound to him.
Edie was lying next to a post. There was a fresh gouge on one side where the bullet had sheared off a chunk of wood that must have flown straight at Edie and hit her full force. She must have died immediately. This bright young woman, the chatterbox with so much love and passion for life, had gone from the face of the earth.
Angelo dragged the branch away from the opening in the base of the wall. There had been no more cries and the silence drove him to move quickly. The branch was very heavy but he was able to move it sufficiently to clear the entrance. He bent down and shouted into the small opening.
“Hello in there! Are you all right?”
There was no reply.
He tugged at what appeared to be a loose plank. It was attached to a trap door, which he lifted up to reveal a narrow, dark opening and the top of a metal ladder.
“Hello,” he shouted again, but there was only silence.
He turned so he could descend the ladder. At the bottom was a small, cave-like dugout. The light he’d glimpsed earlier was coming from a small lamp that was flickering faintly. He could just make out two boys lying on a cot.
Neither was moving.
Tyler stood at the threshold of the barn, watching as the morning light grew stronger. A cow inside mooed and he was jolted out of his reverie. Who was going to milk them?
After what seemed like an eternity he heard the blessed sound of a motorcycle and, sure enough, Agnes Mortimer came roaring down the road and into the yard. Mady was in the sidecar.
They quickly disentangled from the motorcycle, and Mortimer handed Tyler a brown envelope.
“Sergeant Rowell sent this, sir. It just arrived. He thought you would want to have it right away.” It was stamped “TOP SECRET” in large black letters. When Tyler opened it, he found a second envelope inside, and within that, a single piece of paper. The message was handwritten, neat and small. Golden, he presumed.
The operative named Zechariah was with the Auxiliary for a while but he was released a year ago. Reason being, “not suitable.” Unfortunately, I do not have a name for him. It was deleted for security reasons. Ezekiel is the code name of Samuel Wickers.
Somehow, Tyler was not surprised. He could see Wickers enjoying the life of a commando with nobody to answer to except himself. So who was the unsuitable Zechariah? Presumably he would be aware of the location of the secret hideouts if he’d been in the Auxiliary Unit even if it was only for a while.
He addressed his constables who were waiting. “Constable Mady, stay here and guard this door. There’s a corpse inside. Don’t let anybody touch anything. There should be a contingent of soldiers coming from the camp any minute to search for the missing POW. Tell them they mustn’t proceed until I get back.”
“When will that be, sir?”
“Hopefully not long. Constable Mortimer, come with me.”
“Yes, sir. Shall we take the motorcycle?”
Tyler hesitated. It was by no means his favourite form of transport but he didn’t want to waste time fussing with the unreliable Annabel.
“All right. And this time you can speed.”
“Yes, sir. Where are we going?”
“Up the hill. The Mohan farm.”
They were at the Mohan place within five minutes. Tyler signalled to Mortimer to pull over near the front door. He could see that Sam Wickers and Tim were both having breakfast at the kitchen table.
Tyler had no idea what he might be walking into and, not for the first time in his career, he wished he had a weapon. Basically he was trusting his instincts. First, that Wickers was not a cold-blooded murderer, and second, that neither was the young Italian.
He knocked hard on the front door. Wickers opened it, and while he looked surprised to see them he did not seem particularly alarmed.
“Inspector, Constable Mortimer, don’t tell me you’ve come to give me a report on my work?”
“No. I’d like to come in and speak to you in private.”
“I was just about to go out and hunt us up some dinner.”
“Don’t push it, Wickers. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s just say we need to discuss a certain person.”
“Who might that be?”
“His name’s Ezekiel.”
Wickers tensed. “Better I come out, then.”
He did so and closed the door behind him. He had no coat but he seemed impervious to the cold.
Tyler nodded in the direction of Mortimer. “Don’t worry. We can talk in front of my constable. I’ll get straight to the point.”
“Please do. I can hardly stand the suspense.”
“Don’t be so cheeky,” said Tyler. “Fact is, I’m aware you’re a member of the Auxiliary Units.”
“Are you now?”
“Don’t worry, I found out through proper channels. Chief constable and all that.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Wouldn’t want you to read it in the Ludlow Ledger.”
“Cut it out, Wickers. I’m dealing with a serious situation.”
“Sorry.” Wickers seemed sincere for once. “What’s going on?”
“As an Auxiliary, you would know about the hideout underneath the trough. Isn’t that right?”
Sam nodded.
“That’s where Jasper Cartwright’s body was found. Did you dump him in there?”
Sam recoiled. “No. I did not.”
“Somebody stabbed him with something that sounds suspiciously like a commando knife to me. Double-sided, sharp point. The kind you were most likely issued.”
Sam rubbed his hands together to warm them. “Wasn’t me. I don’t fight with harmless old men.”
“According to what I’ve heard, Jasper was a bit off his rocker. Did you run into him in the wee hours when you were poaching rabbits? Perhaps he threatened to tell on you.”
“No. In my book, getting rabbits for those that need them isn’t exactly a major crime. So what if word got out? We’re at war, don’t forget. Nobody cares.” He rubbed his hands again. “I’m not going to stab somebody over a trifle like that.”
“All right. I believe you. But what I’d like to know is if you did see Jasper? He was out wandering around in the storm.”
Wickers shook his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I know you don’t have a high opinion of me, Inspector, but I assure you if I had run into the old man I would have taken him home.”
Mortimer tapped Tyler on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, sir. Can Mr. Wickers provide us with an alibi? That would help enormously.”
“I was about to ask that very thing, Constable,” said Tyler.
Wickers grinned. “Matter of fact I can. Hope you won’t be shocked.”
“We’ll try not to be,” said Tyler.
“I wasn’t home for the entire night.”
“That’s not what your chum said.”
“Tim was trying to help, but I have a better witness who will vouch for the fact that I was nowhere near here on Monday night. If it’s an alibi you’re looking for, I’ve got one.”
“Do tell.”
“I spent the night, the entire night, with a lady-friend in Ludlow. I joined her about eleven and got back here at six. She’ll vouch for me.”
Tyler took out his notebook. “Lucky for you – if it’s true. I’ll need her name and address.”
Wickers didn’t answer right away. “Look, problem is she’s married.”
“Her husband wasn’t at home, I presume, when you were, er, visiting this lady? Or was it a threesome?”
He caught a bit of a blush flit across his constable’s face.
“What? No, course it wasn’t,” said Wickers, his voice indignant. “He works out of town.”
“All right. I’ll just ask her to confirm that you were together for the night. So? Who is she? Where does she live?”
Reluctantly, Wickers gave him the information. “You promise you’ll be discreet? She’s a good woman. She gets lonely is all. I don’t want to get her into hot water.”
Tyler wasn’t going to be so hypocritical as to comment on marital infidelity. He put away his notebook. “All right, back to more important issues. We’ve got two young boys who’ve gone missing. We know they were making use of a hideout that was built by the Auxiliaries. It’s not out of the question that they know something they’re not supposed to. Frankly, Wickers, I fear for their safety.”
“Good lord. You’re not talking about the little Dutch kids, are you? Jan and Pim?”
“That’s them.”
“When you say they’ve gone missing, what do you mean?”
“They left their foster home yesterday, said they were going to London to see their Queen. They’ve vanished.”
“Good lord,” Wickers exclaimed again. For the first time, Tyler thought, the I-don’t-really-give-a damn attitude dropped away. “They discovered me not too long ago when I was going into the hideout with some rabbits. I was careless, didn’t realize they were out there playing at being Scouts. I put the fear of God into them, but also told them they could use the place as long as it was a deep secret.” He bit his lip. “The Auxiliaries haven’t been active for over a year. I didn’t see any harm would come of it.”
“Are there any more hideouts?” Tyler asked.
“One other, in the woods. It’s not in good shape though.”
“Did the boys know about it?”
“I mentioned it but I didn’t show them.”
Tyler looked over at his constable. The tip of her nose was red from the cold but she was listening intently.
“They might have gone there, sir.”
“We’ll check right now.” Tyler turned back to Wickers. “Listen, son. I believe what you’ve told me, but there’s something else I need to know. According to the chief constable there were two of you Auxiliaries in this area. One of them was discharged last year as unsuitable. Code name of Zechariah. What’s his real name?”
Before Wickers could answer, Agnes Mortimer suddenly cried out, “Sir! Look. It’s the POW.”
Tyler twirled around. Emerging from the stand of trees on the ridge was Angelo Iaquinta. He was wheeling his bicycle. His arm was around one boy, holding him on to the saddle. The other boy was sitting on the crossbar and draped over the handlebars. Iaquinta was attempting to keep him in place with his other hand. Jan and Pim.
“Come on,” said Tyler, and he set off on the run. Younger and faster, Wickers raced ahead, and Mortimer was close behind.
Angelo halted.
“Help. Please help me. The boys are sick.”
Later, Tyler would credit Sam Wickers with saving Pim. Jan was looking green around the gills but he was still conscious. Tyler got him off the bike and carried him to the side of the path. Mortimer immediately removed her own coat and put it around Jan’s shoulders. In the meantime, Sam lifted the smaller boy, who was pale and unmoving, off the handlebars and laid him flat on the ground on his stomach, arms above his head. He pressed on the boy’s back, then pulled up his arms. Repeat.
Barely moments later, as if on cue, the cavalry arrived in the shape of an army lorry. The half dozen soldiers crammed in the back jumped out, rifles at the ready, all focused on Angelo. Tyler yelled at them to stay where they were.
“Situation under control.”
Angelo made no attempt to get away but leaned on the bicycle watching anxiously as Wickers frantically worked.
It seemed a very long time before Pim responded but it was probably only minutes. His eyelids fluttered and a dribble of saliva came from his mouth. Wickers turned the boy’s chin and he vomited yellow bile.
“Atta boy,” said Sam cheerily.
Jan tried to stand up and go to his brother. “Pim. Wake up. Wake up.”
Tyler held him back. “Take it easy, lad. Your brother’s in good hands. He’s going to be all right. Let the man finish his job.”
Wickers had in fact stopped the artificial respiration. He turned Pim over onto his back and pulled him into a sitting position.
“Feeling a bit better, Scout?”
“Yes, Captain,” whispered the boy.
“Keep taking some nice deep breaths for me, there’s a chum,” Wickers said.
Jan pointed at the group of soldiers and at Angelo. “They’re not going to arrest him, are they?”
“I’m afraid he has to go back to the camp. He’s a POW. You were very lucky he found you.”
“A tree branch fell across the entrance. We couldn’t get out. Pim started to get sick.”
“You shouldn’t have been in that hideout, young Scout. I told you we abandoned it ages ago. I didn’t even know there was still a heater in there, but it was probably not working properly. Those things are bloody dangerous when they’re faulty.”
Nobody said, “You could both have died,” but the words hung in the air.
Tyler had Wickers and Mortimer take the boys back to the Mohan farmhouse. Wickers gave Pim a piggyback ride. The boy was still ashen but alive. Jan looked wobbly but was all right with Mortimer taking his hand.
A corporal from among the soldiers came forward to take charge of the Italian. Angelo didn’t resist, and at Tyler’s request, he handed over the gun he’d taken from Ned. He had a wound in his left arm, but it had stopped bleeding and didn’t look too serious. As the soldiers put him in the lorry, Tyler spoke to him softly.
“I’m sorry, son. I’m truly sorry about what has happened.”
He made his way to the Mohan farm and was met at the door by Sam Wickers.
“We just got a message from the hospital. John Cartwright called. Ned died in the ambulance on the way.”
“Damn. I didn’t hold out much hope, I must say.”
“Oh, and Inspector,” continued Wickers, “I never got the chance to answer your question.”
“Yes?”
“The real name of the other Auxiliary was Ned Weaver.”