I was so used to Balfour or some street waif bringing me my messages from Ivanhoe, I took exception to being told by Alice. I don’t know why; it just irked me.
“Tonight,” she said, her usual smile brightening up my Tuesday afternoon.
“What about tonight?”
She looked down the corridor before continuing. “The radio station. We’ve to pick Lilith up at the same place, same time.”
“We?” I wondered how she’d managed to get herself aboard.
“I got co-opted as an extra lookout.”
I couldn’t believe her. “No, you mean you volunteered.”
“Well, so what if I did. I can’t have you having all the excitement, can I?”
I shook my head in frustration at her impetuousness. “Can’t a man get a night out on his own once in a while?”
“Not with a minx like Lilith, he can’t.”
So that was it; I almost blew up at her for questioning my fidelity, then remembered the evening with Marie, and how that had turned out. God, I was such an arse sometimes.
Then my telephone rang, saving me from further ignominy. “James Baird.”
“Herr Baird.”
“Yes, Captain Möller, how can I help you?”
“It is I who can help you. I have an event which will need some reporting. I have decided to give you the scoop.”
“Okay, you’ve got me interested. What’s going on?” He hadn’t mentioned it at our normal briefing earlier in the day.
“Oh, I think you will be more than interested. Bring your best Photographer with you. I will have a car pick you up at eight tomorrow morning.”
“Eight in the morning?” I couldn’t help but worry about the proximity to tonight’s intended raid. “Can’t it be later?”
“Oh, these events don’t wait for the likes of us, Herr Baird, eight o’clock. Oh, bring binoculars.”
“Yes, Captain.”
It was all beginning to pile on my shoulders. Now I regretted my own enthusiasm in getting in on the raid in the first place.
We picked up Lilith at the appointed place, and I was surprised to see her in trousers. “Dressed for action?” I asked as she settled beside me.
“Always with you, James,”
I should learn to keep my smart mouth shut.
“Don’t mind me,” Alice said from the back seat. “I’m only the wife.”
“That’s okay dearie,” Lilith craned her head back. “Whichever one of you survives, I’ll comfort you real good.”
I shook my head, tried not to have any images in my head, and drove off towards Tollcross.
Haddington Place was deserted, which it should have been at one in the morning. Leaving the car opposite, with keys in the ignition, we walked across the street. Lilith bent to the door as Ivanhoe’s car arrived. By the time he and Dave had gotten out, we were inside the foyer.
I carried my rucksack to the store room, followed by Alice.
“Are you two stealing records again?” Lilith grimaced.
“Shut up,” I said, disappearing into the store. “You’re going to blow them up. I’m only rescuing some of the better ones.” Not that I knew what I was ‘saving’. I just picked familiar names on the shelves and grabbed a couple from each.
“Setting the timers!” Ivanhoe said from the record booth. I stopped stealing for a second and turned to my detonator. “Three, two one,” I turned mine fully clockwise.
We had fifteen minutes.
“Shit,” I heard Dave say.
Ivanhoe asked the question. “What?”
“German car, just pulled up outside.”
“Jimmy!” Ivanhoe called.
“Aye?”
“Find a way out the back.”
I knew the position of the back door; I had to pass it to get to the storeroom. It had bolts, but when I pulled them, the door still didn’t budge. “It’s stuck,”
Suddenly Dave was at my shoulder. “Well you better un-budge it, because they’re coming in!” I stood up, and gave the side a good kick. The blue door swung out into the darkness beyond.
“Reset your timers!” Ivanhoe roared as Germans started to kick on the front door. “Two minutes!”
I ran back to the storeroom, rucksack on my back, to see Lilith and Alice with timers in their hands, turning the clock devices.
Ivanhoe shouted. “Three, two, one!” Click.
I turned and ran for the door, the second man out after Dave. I tapped Lilith’s shoulder as she passed me, then Alice. “Which way?” She asked, looking after Lilith’s form off to the left.
I had other plans. “To the right, up the hill.” I remembered the map. “There’s a vennel up there.”
Ivanhoe appeared, out of breath. We slammed the door behind him, then I ran after Alice.
Of course, the map hadn’t told of a six foot brick wall in the way. Alice had already clambered on top, and she offered her hand, sitting astride the rough stones. Only a minimal amount of light came from the dim overcast sky above, but it was enough to see the hand and the wall. And her concerned expression.
I grabbed her hand as she slid over into more darkness.
Noises at the door behind me spurred me into action, and I soon had a leg over.
The door spilled open as I turned to drop.
BAM!
God if they hadn’t just opened fire. I swear I heard the bullet tear through the air near my head. I more fell than dropped, landing awkwardly. I felt my arm being pulled, and I ran, a small shaft of light illuminated by the yellow street lights. The way out.
“Halt!” I heard behind me.
“Oh tell me to halt now!” I said, running after Alice’s form. “After you’ve shot at me!”
BAM!
This time I felt the bullet hit my back, sending me forward.
BAM!
A ricochet, ringing around me, sparking brightly off stone and brick.
BAM!
Oh, my side. I roared in pain, but despite the stinging somehow my legs still worked. I got to the light, and I felt a hand grab mine. “Are you hit?”
Then hell broke loose behind us.
A deep rumble followed immediately by flames shooting from behind the wall. I heard cries of agony, but just felt relieved that the shooting had stopped. Flames from the windows and open door danced high into the night sky.
“Are you hit!”
That piercing question again. I panted, not knowing how deep the bullets had gone. “Twice, I think.”
“Oh, no…” I heard weeping, then the screeching of tyres next to us.
Somehow I got bundled headfirst into the back seat, my heavy rucksack pushing my face onto the smooth cold leather. The driving buffeted me for a few moments, then it calmed down, driving more smoothly, sliding slowly on quiet roads.
I felt hands at my rucksack, pulling the heavy records from my back. My side stung like hell, but I still had full movement. Lifting myself up, I saw unfamiliar streets. “Where are we going?”
“I thought you said he was hit?” Lilith’s insistent tone.
“He is.” Alice knelt on her seat, thrust her body into the back. I felt her hand reach inside mine, clutching my side. “He’s bleeding.”
“Okay.”
“Just keep your hand on it,” she said calmly. “Keep the pressure on. Where else?”
“My back. I got shot in the back.”
“Where?” Most of her body was now over the back of her chair. Her hands searched my back, but to my surprise I felt no pain. “I can’t feel anything, honey.”
She’d called me ‘honey’. How nice.
The car came to a smooth halt. I saw railings and a high Georgian frontage. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” Alice replied. Lilith had left the car door open, the engine running.
She returned almost immediately. “Come on, let’s get him inside.”
The walls were yellow, sort of buttercup yellow. I lay on my side, still awake, but slightly dizzy. The pain in my side soon died, and I felt hands taking my jacket off, then shirt, vest. I even managed a look myself.
Two small holes, less than four inches apart. Both pulsing blood. “I got shot twice?”
The doctor, for I recognized his efficient actions, shook his head. “You’ve been grazed. Very lucky; just nicked and no more. Another two inches and it could have been ribs, a lung maybe.”
“And my back?”
He shook his head. In fact they all shook their heads. “Nope, your back’s clear.”
An hour later, with a couple of pain pills in my belly, my wound stitched and bound, I managed to walk to the car. The shirt I wore was a little on the big side, but there was no tell-tale blood if we were stopped.
Twenty more dreamy minutes later, we were home. Alice helped me up the stairs, and I lay on the bed exhausted. I only had one thing to remember.
“I have an appointment with Möller at eight tomorrow.”
“Oh, boy.”
Rising at six, I felt like the dead, but keeping a straight face for mother was the practice-run to see if I could do it for Möller. I walked back and forth, and to be honest, considering I’d been shot the evening before, Alice pronounced me fit to do the ruse.
The pain pills helped, of course.
I had another four in my pocket, just in case I needed them later.
“Just as long as he doesn’t take you riding or something.” Alice said on the tram to work.
I laughed and immediately regretted it.
Möller’s open-topped car was punctual, as expected, sitting by the curb as we walked out of The Scotsman building. I’d been assigned Colin Tait as my photographer; I didn’t know him at all well, but had seen his work in the paper; it was exemplary.
Once seated, we drove along Princes Street in silence, my binocular case at my side. Sitting in the back with the captain, I got the whole range of stares from the Edinburgh people. Colin sat up front, I’m sure he felt the same.
We soon left the city, and I knew we were headed for the south of the Forth somewhere. I leant carefully on my back, keeping my side away from the bumping of the journey.
“So do I get to know the destination?” I asked, the wind in my hair feeling quite exhilarating.
Möller grinned like the Cheshire cat, and preened himself like a Broadway actor. “We are going to South Queensferry.” He shuffled in his seat. “You are about to greet a huge part of the German war machine.”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Was Hitler himself arriving? One of his senior staff?
When we turned onto the Queensferry Road and out into the country proper, I was no further forward in my deliberations, and felt far more uncomfortable, both with my wounded side and the questions racing through my head.
The road soon narrowed, an old wall on the right leading to rough pasture where sheep grazed unconcerned with our human machinations. At that particular instant in time, I almost envied them.
Gradually, as we topped the hill, I caught glimpses of the red railway bridge, that icon of Victorian engineering, its three arches looping over to Fife.
The sun peeked from between scudding clouds as we dipped downwards through a tree-lined valley towards the waterside. Despite Möller’s cryptic wording, I felt an edge of anticipation, and considering we would soon be emerging out onto one of the best views in Scotland, I readied myself for whatever was coming next. My mood wasn’t improved by Möller’s advice. “It is time to get your binoculars ready, Herr Baird.”
Then the straight approach of the bridge was visible high above us, resting gently on high stone pillars.
It was only then I noticed Möller’s position, restlessly looking around, looking back past the trees, trying to see something.
Then, almost without warning, we turned the corner and were out onto the waterfront drive.
“Gott im Himmel,” Möller gasped, looking back out to sea. “Langsamer!” he scolded the driver, who immediately slowed the car.
As we braked, I followed the German’s gaze. I almost swore myself. Out to sea, and obviously being guided inshore was the biggest ship I had ever seen in my life. Huge guns sat both bow and stern, and large zig-zag patterns had been painted on her sides and superstructure.
“What is it?” I had to ask, the scene was simply breathtaking.
“That, my friend, is the flagship of the German Kriegsmarine, the Bismarck.”