Max spent the afternoon brooding in the bedroom Carter had shown him to. It was comfortable enough, if old-fashioned in furnishings, and the important feature was the barred windows. The rain fell relentlessly, drumming against the windows. There was nothing to do except think, and he’d had enough of that. He found a few novels on a shelf, and selected a copy of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca because the Cornish scenario seemed appropriate. He managed an hour, lying on the bed, but it had been a hard day and, finally, he drifted into sleep.
It was six-thirty when Jack Carter came for him. ‘Time for dinner, old son. We didn’t like to leave you on your own.’
‘That’s very civil of you,’ Max said and followed him downstairs to the library, where he found Munro with Zec Acland and Molly seated by the fire.
‘There you are,’ Munro said. ‘What’s your pleasure, whisky?’
‘Actually a brandy and soda would go down nicely.’
Carter got it for him and Molly stood up. ‘Let me check your face,’ which she did and nodded. ‘It could be worse. Does it hurt?’
‘Not too much. It feels numb more than anything.’
‘Then don’t use any more morphine. Dangerous stuff.’
‘Thanks for the consultation, Doctor.’ Max took the brandy and soda Carter handed him. ‘So what now?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Munro told him.
‘I asked you if the Tower of London was the next stop. I always thought that was de rigueur for people like me.’
‘My dear boy, there’s never been anyone quite like you.’ Munro was exasperated. ‘Damn you, Max, I keep thinking you’re Harry.’
‘Inconvenient, isn’t it? What does Eisenhower have to say?’
‘He doesn’t know yet. This whole affair is dynamite stuff as our American friends would say. To be frank, I don’t quite know how to handle it and publicity is the last thing we need, not with the invasion due in a matter of weeks.’
Julie looked in. ‘Dinner on the table.’
Zec was the first to stand up. ‘I always think better on a full stomach myself,’ and he led the way out.
They sat round the table and enjoyed Julie’s carrot soup, Dover sole, sauté potatoes and a salad. Conversation was sporadic.
Finally Munro said to Julie, ‘You’re a credit to France, my dear.’
‘Well, don’t get too worked up, Brigadier, we’re fresh out of coffee. Tea for everyone.’
‘Spoken like a true Englishwoman. Let’s adjourn to the library.’
‘Not until we’ve cleared the table, surely.’ Max smiled. ‘If I may, Julie?’ and he started to stack the plates.
‘Not really your job, Baron,’ Munro said.
‘Yes, but it is a gentleman’s,’ Julie told him tartly, as she helped Max.
‘That’s put you in your place, Brigadier,’ Zec said. ‘I’d come and have a brandy if I were you.’
Gathered in the library again, with Julie pouring tea, the atmosphere was more strained than before. Finally, Molly said, ‘Nobody’s saying a thing. It’s ridiculous, like one of those Agatha Christie novels where Hercule Poirot gets everybody to meet in the library to tell them who the murderer is.’
Max laughed. ‘A perfect description, only we know who the murderer is. It’s me.’
‘Nonsense.’ Zec was filling his pipe. ‘I’ve seen some of those plays. It’s usually the butler who did it, or the vicar.’
‘True,’ Munro agreed. ‘But in this case, the Baron it is.’
‘Quite right, but frankly, I’ve had enough.’ Max stood. ‘When you decide what to do with me, let me know, but I think I’ll go back to my room. Jack?’
Carter stood up and reached for his stick. ‘Certainly, old boy.’
When Jack returned they were all sitting quietly, not a word spoken. He went to the sideboard and poured a whisky. He raised his glass. ‘Cheers everybody and if you’ll excuse me saying this, Brigadier, he’s an absolutely smashing fella and I don’t give a damn if he’s an ace of the Luftwaffe.’
‘Good heavens, man, they took your leg at Dunkirk,’ Munro reminded him.
‘Quite right and I’d like to have it back, but war is war, a bloody stupid game over which we have no control.’
‘But this is just an episode of war,’ Molly said. ‘And we do have control.’ She turned to Munro. ‘What do you intend to do, Uncle Dougal?’
‘All right, I’m defeated. Give me another brandy, Jack, and I’ll tell you about a rather interesting conversation Molly had with Max von Halder earlier.’
When he was finished, there was a silence. It was Carter who said, ‘And you believe that, sir, that he would fly to Morlaix and try to save his brother?’
‘For God’s sake, Jack, use that fine brain of yours,’ Molly exploded. ‘This is a great man, a fine man who had everything, so much that it’s meaningless. Medals?’ She shrugged. ‘What the hell do they mean at the end of the day? They blackmailed him and his brother into attempting a terrible act. Then they butchered his mother.’
Munro said, ‘According to Rosa Stein, she sought death.’
It was Zec who said, ‘Yes, but from what I’ve been told, that was a futile attempt to get her sons off the hook.’
‘Which Hartmann kept silent about,’ Molly said. ‘The ultimate betrayal, whatever his own fears.’
‘And now there is Harry at that damned château awaiting the outcome,’ Julie put in. ‘An outcome already ordained. Himmler will have him executed without a second’s thought. You are talking evil walking the earth here.’
‘While we sit and do nothing,’ Molly said.
There was silence while Munro brooded. It was Zec who spoke, quite calm, with no emotion. ‘They’re good boys, Brigadier. They deserve a chance, both of them.’
Munro nodded. ‘You’re right, of course, all of you. I’m not making excuses, but I’d like to think that, in my heart, I’ve known it all along, the reason I brought Max down here instead of taking him back to London.’
‘So what do we do, sir?’ Carter asked. ‘Will you tell him?’
‘Good God, no, that’s far too simple for my complicated mind. We’ll let him escape.’ He turned to Julie. ‘I’d like you to organize it for me. Will you?’
‘Of course, Brigadier.’
Munro turned to Molly. ‘Not you, my dear. There’s too much of the heart in this for you.’
At Château Morlaix, Bubi Hartmann, young Freiburg, the 109 pilot and Harry were finishing dinner. Harry wore a Luftwaffe uniform. No one had said a great deal. Bubi was preoccupied, still waiting for news of what had happened in England and also concerned at the disappearance of Schroeder. Freiburg was, as always, overawed by the rank of the two colonels. As someone who had flown with Max, it had been necessary for Bubi to explain the connection; that Harry was the Baron’s brother, a fact self-evident, but what Max was up to, that was still a secret.
They finished the meal with coffee and cognac and finally Harry reached for his crutches. ‘I’ll go back to my room.’
‘I’ll see you up,’ Bubi said.
They mounted the stairs and Bubi nodded to the SS guard who unlocked the door. Harry said, ‘What about my mother, Bubi, when do I see her?’
‘Tomorrow, Harry, I think I can promise that.’
‘For some reason, I don’t believe you.’
‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’
Bubi turned and Harry went in the room. He felt strangely uneasy, went and peered out through the barred windows, wondering about Max and what was happening to him. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed and took off his right shoe. His left was bare, the toes sticking out of the plaster cast. He didn’t bother taking off the flying blouse because it was rather chilly. He lay back on the bed, looked up at the ceiling and, after a while, slept.
Bubi sat in a corner of the sitting room, drinking more brandy than was good for him and Freiburg, in another corner, leafed through a magazine nervously. Finally, he stood. ‘I think I’ll get an early night, Colonel.’
‘Well, good for you,’ Bubi told him. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
Freiburg retired and as Bubi reached for the bottle of cognac, the phone rang. He checked his watch, frowning. Ten o’clock. Who could it be?
He picked up the phone and the operator said, ‘I’ve got a call for you, Standartenführer.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Well, he’s obviously French, though his German’s good. He insists on speaking to you personally. Says he has vital information.’
‘Put him on.’
Jacaud said, ‘Colonel Hartmann?’
‘Who is this?’
‘Oh, I run what you call your opposition in this area of Brittany. A friend of mine, a Brigadier Munro, who I think you know, has been in touch with me by radio, not once, but twice.’
Bubi almost chocked. ‘What do you want?’
‘Nothing,’ Jacaud said. ‘I’m simply here to impart information. I understand the following names will mean something to you. The Rodrigues brothers, who claimed diplomatic immunity when lifted, are winging their way back to Lisbon. Mrs Sarah Dixon is in custody and so is Baron von Halder. Here’s a good one for you. The Baron was actually flying Eisenhower down to Southwick when a wandering JU88 bounced them. Would you believe the Baron made the bastard crash? He saved Eisenhower’s life.’
‘Damn you!’ Bubi groaned.
‘You’re the one who’s damned. The great day’s coming soon. Oh, by the way, thanks for Schroeder. We’ll need a decent doctor when the real fighting starts.’
He rang off. Bubi sat there clutching the phone then slowly put it down, horror on his face as the full implication of what he’d been told sank in. It was all over. He was finished. He had no illusions about the price of failure over this business.
He got up, lit a cigarette nervously and paced the floor. Max in British hands and his brother upstairs. He thought about that particularly, but what was he supposed to do? Go and knock on the door and say, ‘They’ve arrested your brother and, sorry, we lied to you, your mother was shot to death before Max flew to Cornwall’? On the other hand, there was something he could do. At least he had a priority line to Berlin. With any luck, Trudi would be overnighting at Prinz Albrechtstrasse.
Which she was, lying on a narrow camp bed in the corner of her office, reading a magazine. She picked up the phone and recognized his voice instantly.
‘It’s me, Trudi.’
‘Colonel, what is it?’
‘Just listen. The whole thing’s a failure, the Rodrigues brothers, the Dixon woman and Max, all arrested. You know what that will mean.’
‘Oh, my God!’
‘Get out of there, Trudi, use your authority as my secretary while it’s still worth something and run for it. That’s the best I can do. If you could warn my father, I’d appreciate it.’
She was in tears. ‘This is so terrible. What will the Reichsführer say?’
‘It’s what he’d do that’s important.’
‘I saw him an hour ago at his corner table in the canteen.’
‘You mean he’s there?’
‘Oh, yes, the bombing started early tonight. He’s stayed over.’
Bubi felt a strange kind of relief. ‘What the hell, let’s get it over with. Put me through to his office, and Trudi –’
‘Yes, Bubi.’
‘Run like hell, my love.’
A few moments later, Himmler said, ‘So, Standartenführer, you have good news for me?’
Bubi, suddenly past caring, said, ‘On the contrary, Reichsführer, all bad.’
There was a pause, then Himmler said, ‘Tell me.’
Which Bubi did, experiencing a perverse enjoyment by going into the finer details, such as Max actually saving Eisenhower’s life in the encounter with the Junkers. When he was finished, there was a silence.
Finally, Himmler said, ‘An ill-judged venture from the start, Colonel, but I must confess to having been carried along, in spite of my better judgement, by your own enthusiasm for the project. The death of the wretched Baroness showed a deplorable lack of leadership on your part and now we have the embarrassment of Baron von Halder in British hands.’
What Bubi wanted to say was: Go and stuff yourself, you rotten little bastard. Instead, he said, ‘Have you any further instructions, Reichsführer? What do I do with Colonel Kelso?’
‘You will do nothing. I will contact Gestapo headquarters in Paris. You’ll have a plane there tomorrow with Standartenführer Fassbinder on board. He’ll take Kelso in charge and bring him to Berlin.’
‘And myself, Reichsführer?’
‘You might as well come with them. I’ll see you then and we’ll discuss the future.’
He rang off and Bubi put down the phone. He’d just received his death sentence and so had Harry Kelso. The coffin lid had closed. He picked up the brandy bottle and went upstairs to his room. He shouldn’t, of course, but to hell with it. He drank another large one, took off his belt and holster. He withdrew the Mauser, lifted it in one hand and grinned. Standartenführer Fassbinder could be in for a surprise. Bubi had never liked the swine and it was much better to go down fighting. He lay back and plunged into a drunken sleep.
Max was lying on the bed and smoking a cigarette when the door creaked open. He glanced at his watch. It was two o’clock.
‘Max, it’s me.’ Julie switched on the light and Max sat up.
‘What is it?’
She sat on the edge of his bed. ‘It’s a bloody mess. No one seems to know what to do. Except Molly.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘After you’d gone, we were talking in the library and Molly told us what you’d said to her on the quay. About stealing the Storch and flying off to Brittany to get Harry.’
‘And what did Munro say?’
‘He thought it crazy.’ She shrugged. ‘But I don’t.’
‘Why, Julie?’
‘I fought the Nazis in the Resistance. What happened ruined my husband’s life. We got out, but he died and Munro found this job for me. I don’t like them, Max, but God help me, I like you and I’m probably a little bit in love with Harry, though don’t tell Molly that.’
‘She’s a woman, she’ll know it already,’ Max told her.
‘Anyway, you deserve a chance, you and Harry. If you’re mad enough to go, I’ll help you. I checked that Storch you came over in and the tank is full. They’ve been expecting someone from the Enemy Aircraft Flight to pick it up.’
‘Is there a guard on the field?’
‘No need. The ground crew are all in bed, but I’d say you’re wearing the wrong uniform to do what you have to.’
‘Definitely.’
‘Let’s go then.’
In the supply room, he changed into Luftwaffe uniform. She even found him a Knight’s Cross to hang at his neck. ‘Sorry we don’t have the oak leaves and swords.’
‘A mere detail.’ He walked to the weaponry table. ‘Can I help myself?’
He selected a Walther. ‘Do you recommend this?’
‘Especially with this silencer. It was developed for the SS.’
‘Only the best.’ He slipped a magazine into the butt, and screwed the silencer on the end. ‘Loaded for bear, that’s what my grandfather used to say to Harry and me when we were on camping holidays as boys. I’ll take a spare magazine.’ He slipped it with the weapon into the large map pocket in the Luftwaffe pants, picked up a Schiff, placed it carefully on the straw-blond hair and looked at himself in the mirror. ‘There you go. Pride of the Luftwaffe.’
‘If you’re ready, I’ll take you up there. Let’s use the back stairs.’
He followed her down to the hall outside the kitchen. She opened the back door and they went out and across the yard to the gate in the wall. The Jeep was on the other side. She got behind the wheel and Max joined her.
As she switched on and drove away he said, ‘Touch of fog in the air and low cloud.’
‘I’ve checked the met report. You’ll find it like that on your way across, but from about four, it’s due to clear and you’ll have a full moon up there.’
As they approached the airstrip, he said, ‘This is the second time in a week that I’ve taken on an impossible task. My mother thought the Eisenhower thing was madness, that I was going to my death.’
‘You’re still here.’
‘Only just. Is this madness, Julie?’
‘God help me, but I don’t know.’
He lit a cigarette. ‘Okay, an hour to get there, bluff my way at Morlaix airstrip, ten minutes’ drive to the château. Get Harry, back to the airstrip, an hour’s flight back. I could be here by five, but that’s if it works and if the guard at the airstrip, the duty controller, accepts the famous Black Baron. They never knew what I was up to, you see.’
‘Let’s hope they haven’t found out.’
‘I think I stand a chance on that, as long as Bubi has kept the lid on things.’
The Storch was on the apron. She pulled up and they got out and walked towards it. All was quiet. Max opened the door, reached for a parachute and put it on. ‘Not that it matters, but old habits die hard.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘God bless you, Julie.’
‘God bless you, Max.’
He got into the pilot’s seat, turned and smiled. ‘Where’s Munro, by the way?’
She was taken by surprise. ‘I don’t really know.’
‘Come on, Julie.’ He smiled, closed and locked the door. He switched on and taxied to the end of the runway. A moment later, he lifted into the night.
In the Hanged Man Zec stirred the fire into life. Jack Carter and Molly sat in the inglenook and Munro stood at the bar. The lifeboat crew were scattered around the room. One of them spoke for all.
‘What’s it all about, Zec? You said something special.’
At that moment, there was the sound of the Storch passing overhead and moving out to sea. Another man said, ‘What in the hell was that?’
Zec looked at Munro, who nodded. Zec said, ‘That was Colonel Kelso on his way to France to attempt a pick-up.’
There was the sound of the Jeep drawing up outside and a moment later, Julie came in and went to Munro. They conversed in low voices. Finally, Munro nodded and turned.
‘This is probably the most hazardous mission ever undertaken from Cold Harbour. Positively suicidal. If he’s successful, we may see him at around five. On the other hand, he may need assistance at sea. I don’t know.’
‘Which is why I want you buggers on hand,’ Zec said. ‘Any objections?’
One of the men laughed. ‘For God’s sake, Zec, build up the fire, shut up and let’s get the cards out.’ He turned to Julie. ‘And a pie or two wouldn’t go down too badly.’
She smiled. ‘You’ve got it. Would you mind giving me a hand, Molly?’
‘Of course not.’
Molly followed her into the kitchen and Zec said, ‘Anyone wants a drink, have it now. One pint each and that’s it.’ He turned to Munro and took a pack of cards from his pocket. ‘What’s your pleasure, Brigadier?’
‘Poker,’ Munro told him. ‘I’ve always had a weakness for stud poker. Unfortunately, I only play for money.’
There was a roar of laughter, someone joined two tables together and everyone crowded around.
Max left his contact with Morlaix until he was five miles out. His trip across from Cornwall to Brittany had been made at 500 feet, his hands tight on the control column. He felt calm, totally in charge, no fear at all.
‘I’m coming to get you, Harry,’ he murmured softly. ‘I’m coming.’
At the château, Harry stirred, came awake as from a dream, stared up at the ceiling and then the dream receded, its content already fading. He lay there, for some reason very alert and excited and reached for a cigarette.
The duty controller at Morlaix was a Sergeant Greiser. There was nothing to do, no traffic, but regulations demanded that someone be on the radio. He sat there, yawning, when at three-thirty Max’s voice sounded over the air.
‘Come in, Morlaix, are you receiving me?’
Greiser reached for the mike. ‘Loud and clear. Who are you?’
‘Baron von Halder on special assignment. I’ll be with you in five minutes. You will notify no one of my arrival. I act directly under the orders of Reichsführer Himmler. Over and out.’
Greiser, incredibly excited, switched on the landing lights, went out of the hut and ran through a light rain to the hangar which housed Freiburg’s ME 109. A young sentry sheltered there, his Schmeisser slung over one shoulder.
‘What’s the flap?’ he asked.
‘Storch coming in.’
‘At this time in the morning? Who is it?’
‘Mind your own business,’ Greiser told him.
The Storch made a perfect landing, taxied towards them and halted. Max switched off, got out and approached. ‘You are?’ he asked.
‘Greiser, Herr Baron.’ The sergeant got his heels together. ‘A great honour.’
Max took out a cigarette and Greiser offered his lighter. ‘I’ll take you into my confidence, Greiser. This is a special duties flight. I’m due at the château to pick up a passenger. Have you a vehicle I can use?’
‘The duty Kübelwagen, Herr Baron. I’ll drive you myself.’
‘Not necessary, I need you here. I’ll be back within thirty minutes. Show me.’ Greiser led him to the second hangar and there was the Kübelwagen. Max slid behind the wheel and switched on. ‘You’re a good man, Greiser, and I’ll say so in my report to Reichsführer Himmler.’
‘My thanks, Herr Baron.’ Greiser saluted and Max drove away.
At the château, the young SS sentry huddled from the rain in the sentry box. Max pulled up at the swing bar. ‘For God’s sake, get this thing raised. It’s Baron von Halder. I’ve just flown in and I’m tired.’
The boy never even queried him. He took in the Luftwaffe uniform, the Oberstleutnant’s tabs, the Knight’s Cross, stumbled to the bar and raised it. Max drove through, moved along the drive, stopped at the main entrance and switched off. There was a sentry under the portico at the main door.
Max said, ‘Baron von Halder. I’m expected.’
This one was older and harder, a different proposition. ‘Your pass, Herr Baron.’
‘Certainly.’ Max took the silenced Walther from his map pocket and shot him between the eyes.
He dragged the corpse into the shadows, then opened the front door and stepped inside. A young SS corporal sat at a table. He glanced up and Max shot him twice in the heart, driving him back so that the chair tilted.
It was very quiet. He stood there for a moment then mounted the stairs. It was strangely dreamlike, not happening at all and yet it was. He had never felt so purposeful, so strong in his life. He moved with total certainty, almost like a cat, his feet quiet as he drifted along the carpeted corridor towards his brother’s room. The sentry was seated, reading a book, his Schmeisser on the floor. He looked up at the last moment and Max put the silencer against his forehead and fired and blood and fragmented bone spattered the wall as the sentry fell out of the chair. The key was in the door. Max turned it and opened. He moved inside.
‘Harry, it’s me.’
Harry, lying on the bed, couldn’t believe it. He sat up. ‘Max? What the hell is happening here?’
‘Just listen. I got to England and they all accepted me, Zec, Munro and Carter, even Molly. Then it went wrong. They were on to the Rodrigues brothers and Sarah Dixon and that led them to me. I was arrested at Southwick and Munro took me to Cold Harbour.’
‘But how come you’re here?’
‘I stole the Storch and flew over. I’m going to take you back. Do you think I could have left you here? To Himmler?’
‘But what about Mutti?’
‘Mutti’s dead. She was shot to death before I left. They lied to us, Harry. Bubi lied.’
‘Oh, God, no!’ Harry moaned.
‘Time to grieve later. Let’s go.’
Harry pulled on his right shoe, picked up his crutches and pushed up. He struggled after Max, his mind in a turmoil and then the unexpected happened. They had reached the head of the stairs when a bathroom door opened and Freiburg came out, sleepy in his pyjamas. He paused, looking at them.
‘My God, Max, it’s you.’
Max could have shot him. Instead he struck him twice across the side of the head and Freiburg went down like a stone.
‘Come on,’ Max said to Harry and they descended the stairs.
At the bottom, Harry took in the body of the corporal, but Max already had the door open and the feet of the dead sentry were sticking out of the shadows. ‘You don’t take prisoners, Max.’
‘Not tonight,’ Max told him. ‘Now let’s get the hell out of here.’
He helped Harry in, slid behind the wheel and drove away. At the gate, the sentry was out in a flash and raised the barrier. They passed through and Max increased speed and drove back to the airstrip.
He pulled in beside the Storch and helped Harry out. ‘Just dump the crutches, okay?’
‘If you say so, brother.’
Max helped him into the Storch, closed the door and went round to the pilot’s side. As he climbed in, Greiser ran across the apron. ‘Is there anything I can do, Herr Baron?’
‘No, thanks, you’ve done splendidly,’ Max told him.
He taxied to the far end, turned into the wind and thundered down the runway. A moment later the Storch lifted and faded into the dark.
At the château, Bubi came awake to a frenzied knocking. He got out of bed, opened the door and Freiburg staggered in, blood on his face.
‘For God’s sake, what is it?’ Bubi demanded.
‘He was here, the Baron, with his brother.’
‘You’re mad,’ Bubi told him.
‘No, I swear it. I saw Max von Halder in Luftwaffe uniform and his brother on his crutches at the head of the stairs. I needed the toilet, I’d gone to the bathroom. I came out and they were there. The Baron clubbed me with a pistol and the sentry that was outside Kelso’s room is dead.’
Bubi flung him to one side, ran along the corridor to the head of the stairs, looked down and saw the dead corporal. It was enough. He made it back to his room, got his uniform from the wardrobe and threw it on the bed.
As he took his pyjama jacket off, he said to Freiburg, ‘Raise the alarm and have my staff car brought to the front entrance.’
Five minutes later, he rushed down the steps past the SS personnel already busy with the corpses and jumped into the back of the staff car. ‘The airstrip,’ he told the driver.
It had to be the airstrip, the only way Max could have got here. My God, both of them together once again. Enough to make even Himmler happy. It could change everything.
He leaned over and struck the driver on the shoulder. ‘Faster, damn you, faster.’
Zec threw down his cards. ‘That’s it, Brigadier, I reckon you’ve cost us ten quid.’
‘I can’t help superior play,’ Munro told him.
‘Yes, and I can’t help my nose. Out there at sea I smell things, Brigadier, things on the wind, but I smell something different now. I can’t sit here. I’ve a feeling we could be needed and, if that’s true, we’re better fifteen or twenty miles out there and waiting.’
Munro didn’t even hesitate. ‘I bow to your superior judgement.’
‘We’ll leave now.’ Zec turned to the crew. ‘Move it!’
They all crowded out and Molly stood up, her medical bag in one hand. ‘You might need me, Zec.’
‘Good girl.’
‘Dammit, I won’t be left out.’ Munro stood up. ‘Hold the fort, Jack.’
Carter said, ‘You don’t want me out there, Brigadier. A Watson type lifeboat is no place for a false leg.’ He turned to Molly and kissed her cheek. ‘Good luck, love.’
She didn’t say a word, simply turned and followed everyone out. It was quiet now, only Jack and Julie at the bar. She said, ‘Time for prayer, I think.’
‘Yes, well, a large whisky would assist,’ Jack said. ‘So, if you don’t mind.’
At the airstrip, Bubi jumped out of the staff car and ran across the apron. He opened the door of the radio hut and Greiser turned in his chair, surprise on his face.
‘Standartenführer.’
‘Baron von Halder, he was here?’
‘Why yes, Standartenführer. He landed in a Storch, told me he was here on a mission for Reichsführer Himmler and borrowed a Kübelwagen. He came back twenty minutes ago with a passenger and took off again.’
‘You imbecile.’ Bubi turned, and ran towards the ME109 in the hangar. The Storch was slow, the 109, the latest model, was very fast indeed. All he had to do was catch up, threaten to blow them out of the sky unless they turned back. He could still retrieve the situation.
He clambered into the cockpit, not bothering with a parachute, pulled on the flying helmet with the radio mike and switched on. The roaring of the ME’s engine seemed to make the hangar vibrate. He taxied out, moved to the end of the strip, turned into the wind and took off.
Julie’s met report proved totally accurate for, as the Storch moved out over the sea, the cloud cover cleared and the moon appeared, clear and bright, a hard white light. Max turned and spoke to Harry, who was wearing the spare headphones and mike. ‘You okay?’
‘I’ve never felt better.’
Max smiled. ‘We made it, brother. I’m sorry for Bubi, but I’d love to see Himmler’s face.’
‘So would I.’ Harry checked the instruments. ‘ETA thirty minutes, I’d say.’
There was a sudden roaring and the Storch rocked in turbulence as the ME 109 passed overhead and banked to take station to starboard. Bubi’s voice crackled on the headphones.
‘Turn back, Max, the jig’s up. I can’t let you do this. It’s a death sentence for me and those close to me.’
‘What about our mother, Bubi? You lied.’
‘That wasn’t my fault, I swear it.’
‘Too bad,’ Max told him. ‘But it’s a fact of life. Come on, Bubi, you seriously want me to turn round and fly back to Morlaix?’
‘If you don’t, I’ll shoot you down.’
‘Bubi, I always liked you, but you were never very good in the old days over France before the Battle. What do you say, brother?’
‘Tell him to go and fuck himself,’ Harry Kelso said.
‘You heard, Bubi. If you fancy trying to blow us away, go for it. It’s a lot quicker than dangling in a wire noose from a meathook.’
He went down fast and, at 1500 feet, Bubi came in on the Storch’s tail. Pieces flew from the fuselage and wings. Max kept on going down and Harry said, ‘Not that old trick?’
‘It saved Eisenhower the other day. Remind me to tell you about it some time.’
At 700 feet, Bubi came in again, the Storch staggered and Max groaned at a hammer blow in the back. He dropped the flaps, the Storch almost stopped dead and Bubi Hartmann, with nowhere to go, ploughed into the sea.
‘It never fails,’ Max gasped. ‘Don’t you find that?’
‘Takes me back to Rocky and those first lessons,’ Harry said. ‘Where would we have been without him?’
‘Long gone.’ Max choked and blood poured out of his mouth.
‘Jesus!’ Harry said.
‘Call Cold Harbour,’ Max told him, ‘because I’m losing power fast. We’re not going to make it.’
Harry called. ‘Cold Harbour, come in. Colonel Kelso here, plus brother, in one badly damaged Storch.’
It was the lifeboat that answered. ‘Zec here, Colonel, we’re twenty miles out in the Lively Jane. Give me your position.’
Harry did as he was asked. ‘My brother’s been hit. It’s not good and the engine’s failing.’
‘We’ll be there, boy, no more than three miles away.’
The Storch descended, clear in the bright moonlight, the sea black below and yet dawn was touching the sky to the east. On the Lively Jane it was as if all the crew saw the plane at the same moment and there was a general chorus. Molly, in the stern cockpit, leaned on the rail with Munro, as the boat raced on over a strong sea, lifting over the waves. The Storch was clearly visible now, a mile to port, smoke trailing.
At 400 feet the engine died and the propeller stopped. There was silence, only the sound of the wind, and Max coughed again. ‘Get your lifebelt on.’
Harry did as he was told then pulled another from under the seat. ‘Now you, Max.’
‘No point. I’m drowning in my own blood.’
A hundred feet now, and then lower, skimming the wave tops and Max swung the Storch to port and landed parallel to the crests. The Storch settled, water pouring in. Harry opened the door and unfastened his seat-belt. The Storch was already sinking. He tried to unfasten Max’s belt but it seemed jammed.
Max coughed, another gush of blood erupting from his mouth. ‘Daft bastard. I’m finished. Get out of here.’
‘Max,’ Harry cried. ‘For God’s sake!’
Baron Max von Halder summoned up every last atom of strength and punched him in the mouth. Harry went backwards through the open door, a wave caught him and pulled him away. Behind him the Lively Jane swerved in broadside, but Harry only had eyes for the Storch, the port wing under the water, the aircraft tilting slightly, a last glimpse of his brother in the cockpit, only a shadow and then it went under the waves, disappeared for ever.
The two crew members who came over the side for Harry towed him in and willing hands reached down and pulled him over. Harry slumped to the deck and someone draped a blanket over his shoulders.
‘Harry, it is you, isn’t it?’ Munro demanded.
‘Look at my bloody face, damn you.’
‘What happened?’
‘Max got me out, Bubi Hartmann chased us in an ME 109. Shot us up good. Max took a cannon shell in the back, then he made Bubi crash back there. End of story.’
‘Good God.’
Molly had an arm around him. ‘Come below, let me check you over.’
‘What for, to tell me I should be dead? I’ve known that for years. I believe my brother knew the same. Now he’s gone.’ Harry’s face was like stone. ‘You know what, Molly, my love? My luck ran out with Tarquin. I’m a dead man walking,’ and he stood up and went below.