Max and Molly danced on the crowded floor but he wasn’t anywhere near as expert as his brother. In a sense, the fact that there were so many people on the floor helped. It provided an excuse for clumsiness.
After one bump too many he said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m not doing too well.’
‘That’s all right. You’ve been through hell, Harry.’ She held him close. ‘Uncle Dougal told me that Julie mentioned you’d lost Tarquin.’
‘I’m afraid so. He must have gone up with the Lysander in the crash. He fireballed. I’m lucky to be here. If it hadn’t been for the SS …’ He shrugged. ‘I was saved by the devil, Molly.’
At that moment, the head waiter appeared on the edge of the floor and beckoned. Molly said, ‘I don’t believe this. Every time I come here with you, the same thing happens.’ She pulled away, went and spoke to the head waiter and turned. ‘Good old Guy’s again. They can’t do without me.’
‘I’ll wait up for you,’ he said, as they went back to the table.
‘I wouldn’t bank on it. If it’s after midnight I’ll stay at the hospital.’ They reached the table and she said, ‘Guess what, everybody?’
Molly went off in Munro’s staff car and West offered to drop off the others in his. Outside the Savoy entrance, Max said, ‘Look, I feel like a walk, Brigadier. I don’t know how to put it, but I’m kind of keyed up.’
‘Perfectly understandable, dear boy,’ Munro said. ‘Have a saunter, enjoy yourself. You can always get a taxi. Americans are never refused by London cabbies these days. They overpay, you see. General Sobel won’t mind me making the point.’
Sobel shook Max’s hand. ‘I’ll see you in the morning at Croydon.’
‘I’ll be there.’
They all piled into West’s staff car, which drove away. Max flagged down the first taxi that came along. ‘Do you know Westbourne Grove, Bayswater?’
‘I certainly do, guv.’
‘Okay, take me there,’ and Max climbed inside.
At the farm, Marie had sent for Jules, the farmer who was part of Jacaud’s group. She explained the situation and Jules sat there listening and watching the German woman sitting at the end of the table with Marie’s daughter on her knee. The bear sat on the table, the bear Jacaud had allowed Marie to have for her daughter.
‘Whatever happened at the château is bad, but there’s a limit to how much I can get out of her.’
Jules said, ‘Jacaud speaks good German.’
‘Yes, I know, but he went to Rennes to meet with people in the network there.’
‘True, but he’s coming back on the midnight train. He’s asked me to pick him up at two a.m. at Beaulieu station in the gazogène.’
The gazogène was a truck operated by gas generated by a charcoal burner at the rear of the vehicle.
Marie nodded. ‘All right, pick him up, but tell him to come straight here. I think this is trouble.’
The taxi dropped Max in Westbourne Grove. Max paid him off and found the side street leading to the block of flats with no trouble. He paused at the entrance, checked the names and pressed the buzzer. After a while, Sarah Dixon said, ‘Yes?’
‘Mrs Dixon? The day of reckoning is here.’
She said calmly, ‘Come up. Second floor.’
He pushed open the door and went in. In the doorway opposite, Parry had caught him twice, one of forty-eight people he’d photographed that night. He was bored, he was cold and he was not pleased.
‘Bloody Yank,’ he said softly. ‘Into some whore, I suppose. Lucky for some.’
Sarah Dixon admitted Max into her flat and led the way into the small sitting room. She opened a box of cigarettes and offered him one.
‘You’re here sooner than we expected.’
‘So Joel Rodrigues made it all right?’
‘Oh, yes. I know exactly who you are, Baron.’
‘You tell Fernando Rodrigues to get a message through at his soonest to say I arrived safely. I’m meeting Eisenhower in the morning.’
‘Will you kill him then?’
‘It depends on the circumstances. Would you mind?’
‘Frankly, I’m indifferent. I allied myself to your side a long time ago. That’s a fact of life. Where are you staying?’
‘At Haston Place, Brigadier Munro’s flat. You can’t reach me, so I’ll have to keep in touch with you.’
‘Fine. I can only wish you luck.’ She opened the door for him. ‘Good night.’
He let himself out of the front door. Parry said, ‘That was quick,’ and photographed him again.
Max turned into Westbourne Grove, moved towards Queensway and hailed a taxi.
It was almost three o’clock in the morning, Max sleeping fitfully at Haston Place, Molly at Guy’s and in Brittany the gazogène, driven by Jules, delivered Jacaud to Marie’s farm. He banged on the door and she admitted him. He and Jules went into the kitchen and Jules stirred the fire.
‘I’ll make coffee,’ Marie said and moved to the stove.
‘Where is she?’ Jacaud demanded.
‘In bed.’
‘Get her. Jules can make the coffee.’
Jacaud sat at the end of the table and lit a Gitane. Tarquin sat at the other end and Jacaud gazed at him morosely. ‘It’s all right for you.’
He’d once been a university professor of philosophy, but no one would have guessed it. The hard face, the unshaven chin, the dark eyes of a man who’d killed many times and whose notions of philosophy had gone out of the window. A man who didn’t really believe in people any more. Jules took him milky coffee in a bowl and a moment later Marie brought Rosa into the room.
Jacaud spoke in good German. ‘Sit down and listen to me. No one will hurt you if you tell the truth.’
Rosa, wearing a nightdress and robe Marie had given her, took a chair at the table.
Jacaud said, ‘Tell me who you are and what this is all about.’
Fifteen minutes later, he sat there frowning as she finished. For a while he didn’t speak and it was Marie who said, ‘What did she say?’
So Jacaud told her and Jules in a few brief sentences.
Jules said, ‘This is crazy. One brother impersonating another to kill Eisenhower? I can’t believe it.’
‘I’ve had a thought,’ Jacaud said. ‘We arranged for that friend of yours, Hélène, to screw the SS doctor, Schroeder.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And she’s still at it?’
‘As far as I know.’
‘You and Jules go round to her place now. If the German is there, bring him to me. He can confirm this woman’s story.’
So it was that, twenty minutes later, Captain Schroeder, fast asleep and entwined with the delicious Hélène, awakened to find the barrel of a Colt automatic under his throat and Jules at the side of the bed.
‘Get up and get dressed or I’ll blow your brains out.’ Hélène sat up in alarm and Jules grinned. ‘Not you, darling, you’ve served France well. Go back to sleep.’
Schroeder, convinced that he was faced with death, was most co-operative. He sat at the end of the table and talked. ‘You must understand, she wished to die. I only defended myself when she tried to kill Colonel Hartmann and did indeed kill Colonel Müller.’
‘All right, go over it again, everything about the brothers – everything.’
When Schroeder was finished, Marie said in French, ‘Was he any good?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jacaud said. ‘He doesn’t know everything, but he does know enough to confirm what the woman says. I’ll write a report. You must transmit it to SOE in Baker Street at once for the attention of Brigadier Munro.’
She shook her head. ‘Not possible. They’re not on channel for me until seven o’clock.’
‘All right, seven then. Now let’s have something to eat.’
‘What about this SS bastard?’ Jules asked. ‘Shall I shoot him?’
‘Good God, no,’ Jacaud said. ‘The invasion is in a matter of weeks. We’ll need a doctor and he’ll do just fine.’
At half past six, Air Vice Marshal West was on his way to Croydon in a staff car. It was raining and misty, although traffic was light. Suddenly, a delivery van came straight out of a side street without pause. There was little that West’s driver could do. He tried to swerve, bounced off the van and mounted the pavement into a brick wall. West was thrown sideways and caught his head on the window column. The driver was in one piece, got out and opened the rear door. West joined him and stood there in the rain, mopping blood from his head with a handkerchief while his driver checked out the van and helped out the man in overalls, who was obviously in deep shock.
A moment later, a police Wolseley patrol car, which had been in the traffic behind, swerved in beside the staff car and an officer got out. Another stayed in the car and was already on the radio.
The police officer examined West’s head. ‘You’ll need stitches there, sir. We’re calling an ambulance now.’
‘Never mind that, Constable. I’m Air Vice Marshal West. I’m due at Croydon at seven to fly to Portsmouth with General Eisenhower.’
The policeman was all attention. ‘I don’t think that’s possible, sir, not in the state you’re in.’
‘Exactly. Get on to Croydon on your radio. Tell them what’s happened. Message for Ike. I’m just knocked about a bit, but not fit to fly. Do it now, there’s a good chap.’
‘Of course, sir.’
The policeman turned to the car and spoke to his colleague. In the distance the bell of the approaching ambulance jangled and West sat on the brick wall, cursing, the handkerchief held to his head.
At Croydon, mist draping the airfield, Tom Sobel drank coffee and looked out with some gloom at the weather. Max came in from the Operations Room.
‘It’s fine at Southwick, no real problem landing there according to the met report. Cloud and rain, but no wind to speak of. No problem in taking off.’
‘Well, that’s a blessing, but where in the hell is Teddy West?’
At that moment, two things happened. A staff car drew up outside and Eisenhower got out, then a flight lieutenant hurried in from Operations with a signal flimsy, which he handed to Sobel.
‘Urgent, General.’
Sobel read it and looked up as Eisenhower came in, smiling. ‘Bad news, General. Teddy West’s staff car was in an accident on the way here. Not too serious, but he needs hospital treatment.’
‘Damn!’ Eisenhower said. ‘We have an important conference at Southwick, Tom, as you know. Monty, the planning staff. It’s a critical meeting. Can you find another pilot fast?’
There was an inevitability about it, Max saw that. ‘You’ve got one, General. I’ll fly you down.’
Eisenhower turned and held out his hand, that famous smile in evidence. ‘I’m truly glad to see you again, Colonel. What an extraordinary happening. I look forward to hearing about it, but are you really up to flying? Your face, if you’ll excuse me, looks terrible!’
Max held out his hands. ‘Steady as a rock, General. No problem.’
Ike glanced at Sobel. ‘What do you think, Tom?’
‘If Colonel Kelso says it’s okay, that’s fine by me, sir.’
Ike nodded. ‘Right, Colonel, let’s move it.’
‘I’ll check the Lysander, General,’ Max said. ‘But that shouldn’t be a problem, it’s out there ready to go.’
He went into the ante-room, took off his German military raincoat and helped himself to a flying jacket. He transferred the Walther and the spare clip to one of the pockets, his morphine ampoules to another, zipped up the flying jacket and went outside.
Munro and Jack decided to sign in early at SOE headquarters. There was always a good breakfast at the canteen. In deference to Jack’s leg, Munro called his staff car and they drove through deserted streets, arriving in Baker Street at a quarter to seven.
‘I’ll check my desk, Jack,’ Munro said. ‘I’ll see you at eight in the canteen.’
He went upstairs and Jack made his way to his own office, where he found Detective Constable Parry sitting on the bench outside.
‘You’re early.’
‘Lacey told me to make sure you had each evening’s surveillance photos on the Dixon woman for you first thing. I finished at midnight, then decided to use the photo lab here instead of going to the Yard. They let me have a bed.’
Jack led the way into his office. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘No sign of the Rodrigues brothers. The thing is, there are around forty flats in that block. The people going in could be calling on any one of them and a varied lot they are.’
Jack sat down. ‘Let’s see.’
Parry dropped one photo after another on the table. ‘Pretty ordinary on the whole.’ He laughed. ‘Mind you, they’ve probably got their quota of whores living there. Here’s a nice one of some American officer on the prod.’
Jack Carter looked at the photo, stunned, not wanting to believe what he saw. ‘Oh, my God!’ he said and struggled to his feet. ‘Get Sean Riley on the phone. Tell him I want him and Lacey here like yesterday.’
‘You mean we’ve struck gold, Major?’
‘Just do it,’ Carter told him and went out.
Munro, absorbed in paperwork, looked up as Jack burst in.
‘Why, Jack, you seem agitated.’
‘I think you will be too, Brigadier.’
He placed the photo on the desk. Munro looked up, his face very calm. ‘Explain.’
‘Taken last night, Brigadier, timed at ten o’clock. That’s the entrance to Sarah Dixon’s apartment block.’ He hesitated then added, ‘After the Savoy, you see.’
‘Yes, of course I see. But why, Jack? It doesn’t make any kind of sense.’
There was a knock at the door and an ATS Signals Sergeant came in, a flimsy in one hand. ‘Just received in the radio room from Jacaud in Brittany, Brigadier. Plain language, marked utmost priority.’
Munro read it, then looked at her. ‘Who else knows?’
‘No one, sir, I took the message myself.’
‘Then keep it to yourself. You can go.’
She went out and Jack Carter said, ‘Sir?’
‘That isn’t Harry Kelso, Jack. It’s Max, his brother, and he’s here to assassinate Ike. Read it for yourself.’
He reached for the phone. ‘Get me Croydon.’ A moment later, he was talking to Operations. ‘General Eisenhower’s flight? Has it left?’ He listened, then replaced the phone.
Jack, looking stunned, passed the signal back. ‘What do we do, sir?’
‘Eisenhower’s flight just took off, minus Teddy West who was in a road accident. The Supreme Commander, Tom Sobel – and Oberstleutnant Max, Baron von Halder at the controls.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Jack said.
‘No, let’s keep a sense of proportion. Get on the other phone and book me a Lysander to Southwick. Utmost priority.’
‘But Brigadier, what if …’
‘What if he shoots Ike and Tom Sobel in mid-flight and flies off to France? We’ll just have to hope he doesn’t, because there’s nothing we can do about it. I’ll follow them down, now get on with it.’
Jack went into the next office and Munro rang Southwick House and asked for the head of security, a Royal Military Police major named Vereker. He was put through instantly.
‘Vereker, we’ve known each other a long time, so trust me.’
‘Naturally, Brigadier.’
‘You’ll get a Lysander in soon with Ike, General Sobel and Colonel Kelso as pilot.’
‘We’ve already been notified.’
‘This is difficult for you, but this is what you must do. As soon as they land, you arrest Kelso under the Defence of the Realm Act. I’m flying down myself and I’ll have the warrant for you.’
Vereker, a policeman of one sort or another for many years had long since got past being surprised at anything. ‘How discreet shall I be, sir?’
‘Nothing public, I don’t want the Supreme Commander to know at this stage. Tell him I’m on my way.’
‘Leave it to me, Brigadier.’
‘This is a bad one,’ Munro said, thinking with dread of just how bad it could be.
‘I understand, sir,’ Vereker said and rang off.
Jack came back. ‘Plane booked, sir, and car ready. Shall I come with you?’
‘No, you hold the fort. Speak to the Portuguese embassy. Try to pull the Rodrigues brothers in, but I think the ambassador will plead diplomatic immunity and ship them home. Get Riley to pull the Dixon woman in. You’ve got plenty of blank warrants. Sign one for her.’ He got up and reached for his cap. ‘Acknowledge Jacaud’s signal as received, no more. You can contact him again later when we know where we are.’
He adjusted his cap. Jack said, ‘You noticed who’s in charge at Château Morlaix, Brigadier? Bubi Hartmann, one of the best brains in the SD.’
‘Of course I did, Jack, the man who took over Klein’s department in Berlin. It all fits, but then these things usually do. By the way, you can tell the Dixon woman we don’t intend to hang her, as long as she co-operates.’
He got the door open and Carter said, ‘And Molly, sir?’
‘For God’s sake, Jack,’ Munro said and went out.
In the Lysander, Max flew at 5000 feet through broken cloud. Ahead, it was even heavier, great dark banks of the stuff, and rain drifting in. Eisenhower and Sobel sat behind, shouting to each other above the roar of the engine.
Max was prey to conflicting emotions. He’d met the Supreme Commander, shaken hands, recognized the face, and yet the man himself meant nothing. It occurred to him then, as elsewhere Munro said to Carter, that it would be simple to draw his Walther, turn and shoot Eisenhower between the eyes, but that would mean Sobel as well, Molly’s father, which would make her a victim also in this whole sorry mess. How would Harry feel if he flew into Morlaix with two dead bodies, one of them the father of the woman he loved? For he did love her, however he tried to avoid the fact: Max knew that now, having met her.
On the other hand, what about Mutti? This whole thing was about her. If he didn’t kill Eisenhower, she was dead, and Harry, too – he had no illusions about that.
So what should he do? Fly to Southwick and wait for another opportunity, one that would probably lead to his own death? Turn around now, get it done? Max had never felt this way in his entire life. He’d told Harry he would go to hell itself to save his mother – so why this strange paralysis?
The decision was taken out of his hands a moment later. There was a sudden roar, and the Lysander rocked in the slipstream of a black shadow that passed overhead and banked to port.
‘My God, what is that?’ Eisenhower demanded.
‘A JU88S nightfighter,’ Max said. ‘You still get a few over from France trawling around to see what they can find in the south country. He should have been home for breakfast by now. Hang on, gentlemen.’
Every pilot’s instinct in Max’s body was on full alert, as he dropped almost a thousand feet and the Junkers came in on his tail and fired, the cannon shell puncturing his left wing and shattering the windshield. The Junkers banked away in a wide circle.
Max yelled to the back, ‘He’s too fast for us. But on the other hand, we’re too slow for him.’ The Junkers was a quarter of a mile away, turning, and Max called over the radio, ‘Lysander One en route for Southwick, under attack from JU88S over South Downs.’
The Junkers came in again, Max banked steeply, and the stream of cannon fire missed. The flying took control of him then, so that he couldn’t help reacting as he did.
‘Right, you bastard, let’s see what you’re made of,’ he said.
He went down, faster, 2000, 1000, the wooded slopes of the Downs looming below. The Junkers overshot, banked and came in again. Max took it to 600 and then, without warning, dropped his flaps, the old trick which he had used so many times before.
The Lysander almost lurched to a halt, and the pilot of the Junkers, banking frantically to avoid hitting him, lost control and went straight into the forest below. Flames mushroomed, as Max heaved back on the control column, climbed and levelled at 1000 feet.
He turned. ‘Are we okay back there?’ Eisenhower and Sobel looked stunned and suddenly Max knew: this was the time. He would never have a better chance. He could still pull his pistol, shoot them both and be off to France.
But he wasn’t going to.
Something had changed over the last few minutes, a decision had been made without his even having to think about it. As the adrenalin of the air duel coursed through his blood, he knew it was just as he had told Bubi: he was a pilot. He was not an assassin.
He turned back and called Southwick. ‘JU88S down.’ He gave the position. ‘Be with you in fifteen minutes.’
A hundred yards from the Portuguese embassy, Jack Carter sat in the back of a staff car and waited. The grey-haired man in the blue suit, a raincoat draped over his shoulders as he hurried along the pavement, was a certain Colonel da Cunha, head of security at the embassy. Carter opened the door and da Cunha joined him.
‘A long time, Jack. You said it was urgent.’
‘It is. Fernando and Joel Rodrigues. They’re in the pay of the Nazis in Berlin.’ Da Cunha opened his mouth and Carter raised a hand. ‘It’s definite. I can give you all kinds of proof.’
The colonel took a cigarette from his case and lit it. ‘They’ll claim diplomatic immunity, Jack.’
‘You mean you will? Fair enough. We know all there is to know about them. They’re of no further use to us. Get them on tonight’s TAP Dakota to Lisbon and tell them not to come back, ever.’
‘Thank you, Jack, you’re very kind.’
‘I can afford to be, we’re winning the war. Oh, and tell Fernando Rodrigues we’ve got his girlfriend. She isn’t Portuguese.’
‘Will she be executed?’
‘What would be the point?’
Jack reached over and opened the door and da Cunha got out and walked away rapidly.
When Jack got back to the office, Sarah Dixon was signing a statement sheet, Sean Riley seated beside her, Lacey by the window.
‘Have you got everything?’
Riley nodded. ‘It’s the German twin all right. She’s admitted it, but I’ve got even more dramatic news for you. There was a phone call. Apparently when he was flying Ike down to Southwick, they were bounced by a Jerry plane. It seems he did some fancy flying and made the Jerry crash.’
Carter felt no sense of surprise. ‘Well, he is one of the Luftwaffe’s greatest aces and it wasn’t his sort of thing, all this. You read that report from France I left you?’
‘Yes, poor sod, and at the end all for nothing. I mean the bastards shot his mother.’
‘And still have his brother.’
Sarah Dixon said, ‘What happens now, a trial?’
‘Good God, no,’ Carter said. ‘You’re no longer important. We’ll put you in detention, of course. As for after the war, we’ll see. I left a message for Rodrigues, by the way. Told him we had you. He and his brother are being flown out to Lisbon tonight.’
‘That was good of you.’ She smiled. ‘Can I go now?’
Riley and Lacey took her out between them and Jack sat down, thinking about it, then wrote a signal for Jacaud, bringing him up to date. He thought about it again, then added procedure instructions. He rang for a messenger, sat back, frowning, then picked up the phone again.
‘Major Carter. I need a car to take me to Guy’s Hospital. Yes, five minutes.’
At Southwick at the airstrip, the Lysander rolled to a halt and a large group ran forward, officers of the General Staff and RAF personnel. Eisenhower raised his arms and waved them back.
‘I’m fine and so is General Sobel, thanks to the finest bit of flying I’ve ever known.’ He turned to Max and motioned for silence. ‘Colonel Harry Kelso, by the authority vested in me as Supreme Commander, I intend an immediate award of the Distinguished Service Cross.’ He shook Max’s hand and turned to Tom Sobel. ‘We’d better get moving. We have a lot to do.’
Sobel put an arm around Max’s shoulders. ‘I’m proud of you, son, and Molly will be even prouder. Look, we’ve got a hell of a lot to get through this morning. Why don’t you get something to eat in the officers’ mess? Just take it easy. I’m sure Ike will want to catch up with you later.’
‘Fine,’ Max said. ‘I might just do that.’
Sobel moved away, following Eisenhower and the others, and the RAF ground crew started to inspect the Lysander. Max lit a cigarette, his hands shaking. What happened now to Elsa, to Harry? But even as he stood there, the germ of an idea began to form. Rain started to fall, and a Royal Military Police major moved to his side and raised an umbrella.
‘Got to keep you dry, Colonel, for Brigadier Munro. He’ll be arriving soon.’
In that single moment, Max knew they were on to him. ‘What is this?’
‘My name’s Vereker and I’m in charge of security here. The two corporals over there are my men.’ Max looked across and saw them, large and wearing the distinctive red cap of the Royal Military Police. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’ve been ordered to arrest you under the Defence of the Realm Act.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ Max said.
‘I know you’re carrying a weapon, Colonel. If you could just pass it over discreetly, I’d be obliged.’
‘Oh, I’m always discreet.’ Max took the Walther and the spare clip out of one of the pockets in his flying jacket and passed it over. ‘There you go.’
Vereker slipped the Walther into his pocket. ‘Very sensible, Colonel.’
‘I’ve never done a sensible thing in my life,’ Max said. ‘What happens now?’
‘Well, you haven’t kicked up a fuss or got on your high horse.’
‘And what’s that tell you?’
‘As I’ve been a policeman for twenty years, both at Scotland Yard and in the Army, I’d say it means you’re as guilty as hell of whatever they think you’ve done, but that’s not for me to decide. That’s for Brigadier Munro.’
‘So what do we do until he gets here?’
‘How about a drink in the mess?’
‘You think you can trust me?’
‘Oh, I think so. After all, where do you have to go?’
‘You never said a truer word, Major.’ Max smiled. ‘So just lead on.’
In fact, Vereker left him to his own devices, stood at the bar himself with a whisky and The Times newspaper, while Max sat in a window seat, also enjoying a whisky and a cigarette, and thought things over. What was it Munro had discovered and how? Not that it mattered. It was all over and God help his mother and Harry, unless … His face was hurting like hell, so he got out his battle pack and extracted an ampoule. Vereker was over in a flash.
‘What’s this?’
‘Morphine,’ Max said. ‘For my face. It’s kind of recent and very painful. Here, you do it for me.’
Vereker examined the pack. ‘German?’
‘SS, actually. Only the best.’
Vereker hesitated, then snapped the end of the ampoule and jabbed Max’s wrist when he extended it. ‘I wish to God I knew what all this meant.’
‘So do I.’
Dougal Munro entered the mess, hesitated, then came towards them. ‘Brigadier,’ Max said cheerfully.
Munro ignored him. ‘Major, from this moment you are bound by the Official Secrets Act. We’ll use your office.’
Moments later, Munro sat behind Vereker’s desk and took a folded document from his pocket. ‘Your warrant for this arrest, Major, under the provision of the Defence of the Realm Act.’
Vereker examined it and looked up, bewildered. ‘But this is in the name of Oberstleutnant Baron Max von Halder.’
‘Quite right. It seems Colonel Harry Kelso crash-landed in Brittany last week and escaped after a few days to fly back in triumph in a stolen Luftwaffe Storch – only it wasn’t Harry Kelso, it was his twin brother.’
Vereker was dumbfounded. He had heard of Kelso’s brother, but – ‘But why?’
‘To assassinate General Eisenhower.’
‘But that’s crazy, Brigadier, he’s just saved Ike’s life with the most stupendous piece of flying anyone’s ever heard of.’
‘Yes, bizarre, isn’t it?’ Munro turned to Max. ‘When it came to it, you couldn’t do it, could you?’
‘Oh, I was thinking about it, just turning round and shooting him, but that would have meant shooting Sobel too and I couldn’t do that, not to Molly’s father. Harry loves her, you see.’ Max lit a cigarette. ‘And then the Junkers turned up. Strange that. If I was a fatalist, I’d have just let it happen and the three of us would have gone down together, a perfect solution.’
‘But you’re not a fatalist?’
‘Never have been. I’ll always kick and struggle even at the end and when that bastard came in on my tail …’ He shrugged again. ‘I’m a fighter pilot. I did what came naturally.’ He laughed. ‘And that’s finally what did it for me. When that Junkers went down, I sat there at my controls and I said: this is what you are, Max. You’re a pilot, you’re not an assassin. You may be a killer, but you’re not that kind of killer.’ He laughed again. ‘Incidentally, three hundred and nine was my official score. Now it’s three hundred and ten.’
‘I think I understand.’
‘Which leaves my mother and Harry in deep, deep trouble.’ He frowned. ‘But wait a minute, Brigadier. You haven’t told me how you caught me.’
‘We were shadowing the Rodrigues brothers, and don’t tell me you don’t know who they are. It led us to Sarah Dixon, who unfortunately is employed at SOE headquarters. We had a police cameraman checking everyone calling at her block of flats and there you were. Foolish, that.’
‘Well, I’m just an amateur at this kind of thing.’
‘And then we had a report from my chief agent in the Morlaix area and now I know everything: Himmler, Bubi Hartmann. Oh, yes, we know all about Bubi, your mother, Harry, the dreadful dilemma Himmler put you both in.’
‘How could you know all this? I was transferred to the château secretly, and my mother was flown down from Berlin secretly.’
‘Your mother’s maid, Rosa Stein, was found wandering in the woods and, thank God, fell into the hands of my agent. What she told him arrived on my desk earlier this morning.’
‘Rosa? Wandering in the woods? What on earth are you talking about?’
So Munro told him.
Max sat there, haggard and drawn. Vereker opened a cupboard, poured brandy into a glass and handed it to him. Max gulped it down and, sitting there, looked up at Vereker, a dreadful smile on his face.
‘So now you know what you’re fighting for.’
‘I’m sorry, Colonel.’
‘Just make sure the good guys win, and give me another.’ He held out his glass and Vereker poured more brandy.
‘I’m sorry, too, Max,’ Munro said.
‘Our own fault. All I thought of was flying, all my mother thought of was the von Halder name and our position in society. Hitler took over and we sat back and went with the flow.’ He turned to Vereker. ‘We weren’t Nazis, Major, we kept telling ourselves that, only I ended up shooting down over three hundred planes for the Third Reich.’
There was nothing anybody could say to that and Vereker went and put the brandy bottle back in the cupboard.
‘And what really hurts is that it isn’t over. The bastards have still got Harry.’
‘And Bubi Hartmann lied to you.’
‘Yes, Bubi lied. But I think I understand him a bit. He’s part Jewish, you see, and Himmler found out. Bubi was as much under the thumb as the rest of us. They threatened his father, his aunt. You know what they do? They hang you with piano wire, men and women – very even-handed, the Reichsführer.’
‘My God,’ Vereker said. ‘The bloody swine.’
‘Spoken like a true Englishman.’ Max took out a cigarette, his hands shaking, and Vereker gave him a light. ‘What happens now, the Tower of London?’
‘Cold Harbour,’ Munro said. ‘This has gone on long enough and I want you out of here before Ike sends for you. We’ll fly out in the Lysander I arrived in.’
‘Do you want me to come with you, Brigadier?’ Vereker asked.
‘No need, not now. Tell Ike that I needed to inspect the remains of that Junkers and that I needed Colonel Kelso’s expertise. You don’t mind lying for me?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good man, and remember the Official Secrets Act. This never happened.’
‘If you say so, Brigadier.’
The Lysander pilot was a flying officer named Hare, very young and in terrible awe of Max. His flying wasn’t brilliant, but good enough to get them there and it was early afternoon when they drifted across Cold Harbour and bounced down rather uncomfortably.
‘Terribly sorry, Colonel,’ Hare said. ‘Rotten landing.’
‘We all make them,’ Max told him and followed Munro out.
Julie drove up in the Jeep and got out. ‘Nice to see you back. There’s still time for lunch. The boat’s gone out on a practice run, but Zec’s around and there are still some pies left.’
Munro said, ‘Why not?’ He turned to Max. ‘That suit you, Max?’
Max said, ‘As you say, why not?’
Julie said, ‘Max? What is this?’
‘Let’s get into the Jeep out of this damned rain and get down to the Hanged Man and I’ll tell you.’
Zec was the only person in the bar, sitting by the fire reading a book of some sort. He looked up and smiled. ‘Good to have you back.’
Munro said, ‘Let me introduce you. Oberstleutnant Baron Max von Halder, Harry Kelso’s brother.’
‘Dear God,’ Zec Acland said.
Max went behind the bar and helped himself to a pack of Players cigarettes. He lit one and gave a tired smile as he came back.
‘Get it over with, Brigadier. I’ll go for a walk if that’s all right with you. Mind you, I could do with some sustenance. I’ll eat later.’
The door closed behind him and Munro turned to them. ‘It’s a rotten story, but here goes.’
When he had finished, Julie said, ‘Truly dreadful. His poor mother.’
‘I never heard the like,’ Zec observed. ‘But what are you playing at here, Brigadier? By rights you should have taken him to London. You haven’t even told General Eisenhower about this.’
‘True, and the answer is that I don’t know what I’m playing at. I’ve no bloody idea.’ Munro sighed. ‘This job I do does make one such a liar. I can’t help feeling that there is some way we can use this, though, but I’ll let that bubble around for a while.’
The door opened and Max came in. There was more colour now to the unbruised section of his face. ‘I could murder one of those pies right now. I’m starving.’
‘And a pint of ale,’ Zec said. ‘I’ll join you.’
‘And me,’ Munro added. ‘An active morning, to put it mildly, and I didn’t catch breakfast.’
Julie produced steak and kidney pies and potatoes and they worked their way through them, mainly in silence. It was Zec who said, ‘One thing I can’t get over. If Eisenhower gave you the DSC for saving his life, can he take it back ’cause you be on the other side?’
‘A neat point,’ Munro said. ‘And I doubt whether it’s been raised before.’ At that moment, they heard a roaring overhead. ‘What on earth is that?’
Julie went to the door and looked out. ‘Lysander,’ she said.
‘Now who would that be?’
‘Shall I drive up and see?’
‘No, finish your lunch. Whoever it is will show themselves soon,’ and Munro returned to his food.
It was perhaps fifteen minutes later that they heard the sound of a Jeep outside. A moment later the door opened and Jack Carter limped in, followed by Molly.
‘Don’t blame Jack, Uncle Dougal, I made him bring me,’ Molly said.
‘I’ve sent the Lysander straight back, sir,’ Carter told him.
‘I should think so. We’ll be running out of them.’
‘There was a signal from Southwick, sir. General Eisenhower trying to find you.’
‘Well, I didn’t receive it and for the moment I stay lost.’
Jack turned to Max. ‘That was one hell of a thing you did this morning.’
‘Runs in the family,’ Max told him. ‘Just like Harry. The only thing we do well is fly.’
Molly said, ‘I’d like to talk to you. Is that all right, Uncle Dougal?’
‘I think we could stretch a point.’
She went out and Max followed her. They walked to the end of the quay and she sat on a bench and he leaned on the railings. There was a strange intimacy between them.
‘Jack told me everything about the whole rotten business. I’m so sorry about your mother.’
‘So am I. I’m also sorry about Harry, still stuck over there.’
‘Tell me how he was.’
‘You love him a lot, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Nothing but grief there for you. I know, because there’s nothing but grief there where I’m concerned.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Love doesn’t look for reason. Love is beyond reason. So tell me.’
‘He was in fair condition. A badly smashed left ankle, but Captain Schroeder did a good job there, just like he did on my face.’
‘Schroeder was the doctor?’
‘An SS doctor, so he was damn good.’
‘What did he do to your face?’
‘Gave me a local anaesthetic, beat me with an iron bar, sliced me open with a scalpel. Harry sat there watching. He was distinctly unhappy.’
‘Terrible, the whole thing.’ She shook her head. ‘But to kill Eisenhower …’
‘If you’d seen the film Himmler made us watch of the executions of so-called traitors. Piano wire slicing into their necks, faeces trickling down their legs. To see the men was bad enough, but the women?’ He shook his head. ‘It was past belief. It was a joint enterprise, had to be. I needed Harry’s expertise if I was to stand any chance of getting away with it.’
‘I understand, I really do. The irony is that if anyone else had been piloting Eisenhower’s plane the General would probably be dead by now.’ She stood up. ‘There must be something we could do.’
‘Send in the commandos?’ Max shook his head. ‘Things like that take time to organize. The Rodrigues brothers will be back in Portugal fast, enjoying their diplomatic immunity. They’ll report into Prinz Albrechtstrasse eventually from Lisbon, if only in the hope of a little extra cash. God knows what will happen to Harry. The least Himmler will do is pull him out to Berlin.’
They walked along the quay and the lifeboat moved in. Someone called and waved from the stern and Max waved back.
‘This is terrible,’ she said, tears in her eyes. ‘I feel so helpless and there’s nothing to be done.’
Max put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking. Molly – what if I became the pride of the Luftwaffe again? Changed into the right uniform in Julie’s supply room, sneaked up to the airstrip under cover of darkness? There are two Storchs there. I’d be at Morlaix in an hour, land at the airstrip and play it by ear.’
‘It’s madness,’ she said. ‘Certain death for you.’
‘Certain death for Harry now. At least we’d be together.’
‘So if you could, you’d fly him back?’
‘I’d have to. He couldn’t fly himself.’
‘It’s fantasy, it’s not possible.’
As they reached the pub, Jack Carter came out with Julie. ‘I’ve got orders to run you up to the house, old son. Lock you in, barred windows, all that sort of thing.’
‘Why not,’ Max told him. ‘I’ve nowhere else to go.’ He climbed into the rear of the Jeep, Carter got in beside Julie and she drove away.
Munro was leaning on the bar, talking to Zec over a whisky, when Molly got back. The brigadier turned to Molly. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m not sure. We talked, he explained a great deal and he’s concerned about Harry. Tell me, why did you bring him here?’
‘Too much had happened too soon. I thought it best to get him out of the way until the dust settles.’
‘So you’ve no ideas about how to help Harry?’
‘No, it’s impossible.’
‘Max doesn’t think so.’
‘Doesn’t he then?’ Zec Acland put in.
Munro was frowning. ‘Tell me,’ he said, which she did.