Flight of Eagles, page 23
‘Read that.’
The head waiter’s eyes rounded. ‘Is there a problem, Detective Constable?’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Franco.’
‘Right, Franco, if you tell me what I want to know, I won’t close you down. Capisce?’ Franco nodded eagerly. ‘The two men and the woman in the window? Who are they?’
‘The lady is Mrs Dixon, Mrs Sarah Dixon. The taller one is Senhor Rodrigues from the Portuguese embassy. They’ve been coming here for years. She lives nearby.’
‘And the other?’
‘Never seen him before.’
Lacey patted his shoulder. ‘Good man. Not a word, everything normal. Do you follow me?’
‘Absolutely, officer.’
Lacey turned and went out and found Parry on the other side of the road. Parry gave him the film. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Fine. Stay here, follow them afterwards and phone in. I’ll take this film to the Yard and get it processed.’ He turned away, then paused and turned back. ‘Jesus Christ, I’ve just remembered where I’ve seen her.’
In his flat at Haston Place, Munro sat by the fire enjoying a hot toddy, leafing through files from the office, when the phone rang. He picked it up.
‘Munro.’
‘Carter, sir.’
‘Ten o’clock, Jack, I was going to get an early night. I want to be in the office at six.’
‘We have a problem, Brigadier.’
It was a phrase they only used in the most extreme situations. Munro said, ‘Bad?’
‘Very bad, sir. Chief Inspector Riley and one of his henchmen are with me. I think you should see us.’
‘Soon as you can, Jack.’
Over coffee at the restaurant, Sarah, Fernando and Joel discussed the situation in low voices. Fernando said to Sarah, ‘Does this give you a problem?’
‘Killing Eisenhower?’ She shook her head. ‘He’s nothing to me. To be honest, when it looked as if Germany was going to invade in ’40 it seemed as if every Irish dream was going to come true.’
‘Sarah, I love you,’ Fernando said. ‘But if Hitler had occupied Britain he’d have sent the Panzers rolling down to Dublin, believe me.’
‘Perhaps, but it doesn’t alter the present situation. This German posing as his brother, we do everything we can to help him. You check on the presence of Portuguese shipping in the Pool of London. He’ll need help to get away.’
‘He isn’t going to go anywhere,’ Fernando said. ‘If he kills Eisenhower, he dies. However, we don’t know when he arrives.’
‘Soon,’ she said. ‘Anyway, let’s go. I’m on early shift tomorrow. Are you staying, Fernando?’
He leaned across and kissed her. ‘Joel’s first night. I’d better settle him in.’
He paid the bill, they left, walked up Westbourne Grove and escorted her to the block of flats. ‘Good night, darling,’ Sarah said. ‘We’ll speak soon.’
Parry, in a doorway, photographed all this with his special non-flash camera. Sarah went in and the brothers walked down Westbourne Grove.
‘You like her, this woman?’ Joel said as they walked up Queensway.
‘Like her? I love her,’ Fernando told him. ‘I’d marry her tomorrow if things were different.’
‘Marry her? She’s got ten years on you.’
They went down the steps to Bayswater underground station and Fernando said, ‘I’ve always liked the girls, lots of sex and sex with her is okay, but it’s more than that. She’s worth all the tarts I’ve been to bed with put together.’
‘But you couldn’t have children.’
They stood on the platform and Fernando said, ‘You like men, Joel, that’s your business, but the love I feel for this woman, that’s my business.’
The train came, they stepped on board and Parry followed.
In the sitting room at Munro’s flat, Sean Riley introduced Lacey. Jack Carter poured Scotch and sodas at the sideboard and brought them over on a tray.
‘You’re going to need one, Brigadier.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Munro took a glass. ‘All right, let’s hear it.’
Riley described the arrival of Joel Rodrigues at Croydon, the blunder of the Berlin stamps in the passport. He went into Lacey’s involvement in detail and brought things right up to date. He snapped a finger and Lacey passed him a cardboard file, which Riley opened and extracted black and white prints.
‘The Rodrigues brothers, Brigadier, and the lady.’
Jack Carter took over. ‘Fernando has been here for most of the war, now Senior Commercial Attaché. His brother, Joel, Commercial Attaché in Berlin, mysteriously transferred to courier duties from Lisbon to London.’
‘And the woman?’
Jack Carter hesitated then said, ‘Detective Constable Lacey recognized her, sir. His duties with Special Branch take him into SOE headquarters frequently.’
‘What in the hell are you saying?’ Munro demanded.
‘She’s on the staff at Baker Street, sir,’ Lacey said. ‘As Major Carter says, I recognized her.’
‘Dear God.’ Munro got up, went to the sideboard and poured another whisky. ‘Tell me the worst.’
Carter nodded to Sean Riley, who took over. ‘This is just a fast appraisal, Brigadier. We’ll be more thorough tomorrow. The lady is Mrs Sarah Dixon, widow of a George Dixon, who died of cancer. She was born in London, English father, Irish mother. Her maiden name was Brown. Her grandfather, Patrick Brown, was an IRA activist, the Easter Rising in 1916. He was executed by British forces. She was a clerk at the War Office for some time, then transferred to SOE headquarters the other year. Clerical work, secretarial, all low-grade.’
‘Low-grade?’ Munro looked as if he might have a fit. ‘How in the hell can we be sure of that when she has the run of the place? And how did she get into SOE headquarters anyway? Didn’t anybody screen this woman?’
Carter sighed. ‘We’re still checking into that, I’m afraid. She may simply have been … overlooked.’
‘Dear God.’
Carter said, ‘But Brigadier, none of this makes sense. We destroyed the Abwehr networks in Britain years ago, most agents were turned. There just hasn’t been anyone active.’
Munro sipped his whisky, frowning. ‘If memory serves me, Jack, we had a report many years ago, actually before your time. It came to our attention that before the war a Major Klein at SD headquarters in Berlin had broken all the rules and set up an English network.’
Carter said, ‘I know about that, sir, but it was only a whisper, I’ve read the file. Nothing substantial there at all.’
‘But what if there was? What if there were agents in deep cover? What if, Jack?’
Riley said, ‘Shall we pull them in, Brigadier?’
‘No, the Rodrigues brothers would claim diplomatic immunity. The worst we could do would be to deport them.’
‘But the woman, sir?’ Riley said.
Munro shook his head. ‘Total surveillance will do for the moment, Chief Inspector. Every contact she has must be recorded. Put your best men on it.’ He turned to Carter. ‘A careful check at Baker Street, Jack. Do one of your regular security checks on everybody. That will disguise our true motives.’
‘Of course, sir.’
Munro stood. ‘I need your best work, gentlemen. This could be serious.’
When Bubi went into the dining room to join the brothers for dinner, he received a shock. For a wild moment he thought it was Harry standing by the fire in American uniform then realized that Harry, seated next to him, crutches on the floor, was wearing the Luftwaffe Fliegerbluse with Knight’s Cross, Oak Leaves and Swords.
‘My God,’ Bubi said. ‘It’s unbelievable.’
‘You’d better believe it,’ Max told him. ‘Isn’t Müller joining us?’
‘No, he was called to St Malo and Schroeder is busy. A guard broke his leg.’ He turned to the orderly by the door. ‘Right, now we eat.’
‘Yes, go to a good death, but do it on a full stomach.’ Max sat down at the table. As Harry joined him, he said, ‘Is there anything I’ve forgotten?’
‘Just take it easy. There are still people you won’t recognize. General Sobel, for example. Relax, let them come to you.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Max glanced at the window. ‘Listen to that rain. Pity the poor sailors at sea on a night like this.’
‘Pity the poor pilots, more like.’ Harry picked up a glass of wine. ‘I can’t think of an appropriate toast.’
‘What about God help us all?’ Max said.
Rosa, trudging through the forest, was totally miserable and thoroughly soaked. It was so dark now that she blundered into trees. Lightning crackled in the sky and momentarily lit things up and suddenly there was a track and some sort of hut. She staggered towards it, found a large door and opened it. It actually seemed warm in there and when the lightning crackled again, she saw a great pile of logs and several stalls, although there were no animals in there. There were piles of hay and rain drifted in through high open windows and thundered on the roof. She took off her wet raincoat and hung it on a stall, then she lay on a pile of hay and covered herself with it. It smelled good. She closed her eyes and was instantly asleep.
Max took his leave of Harry at three o’clock and was driven to the airstrip through pouring rain by Bubi, who parked the Kübelwagen inside one of the hangars. The Storch stood outside in the rain and Max, a military raincoat over his shoulders, lit a cigarette as an SS sergeant major in black Panzer uniform approached.
‘You know what to do,’ Bubi said.
The sergeant major turned to one of his men and held out his hands. The man passed him a Schmeisser. The sergeant major stepped out into the rain and fired a burst into the Storch’s fuselage, close to the tail, then another burst into the port wing. He came back.
‘Excellent.’ Bubi turned to Max. ‘This is it, I suppose.’
‘Moment of truth.’ Max held out his hand. ‘Give me your Walther, Bubi, and the spare clip.’ Bubi frowned and Max said patiently, ‘I took it from the guard I knocked out and then shot another.’
‘I see.’ Bubi nodded. ‘Of course.’
He took the Walther from his holster and the spare clip and handed them over. Max fired twice in the air. ‘That should do it.’ He put the gun and the clip into a pocket of the raincoat.
‘Off you go then.’ Bubi held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not your fault, Bubi. I’ll be off.’
He walked to the plane, where the sergeant major waited to open the cabin door for him. Max threw the raincoat inside, turned and nodded to Bubi, then climbed in. The door closed. He switched on. A moment later the prop started to turn, then quickened. Rain hammered against the perspex, but as always, what he called the plane feeling enveloped him. This was what he’d been born to do. To fly.
The Storch moved forward and turned into the wind. There was only diffused light from the airstrip buildings, but it was enough. He roared down the runway, pulled back on the column and lifted into the darkness.
15
A headwind slowed him down, but the flight was no trouble at all. He kept radio silence for the first forty minutes and then called in.
‘Cold Harbour, Cold Harbour, are you receiving me?’
There was an almost instant reply. ‘This is Cold Harbour receiving you loud and clear. Who are you?’
‘Colonel Harry Kelso getting the hell out of Brittany in a Luftwaffe Storch. ETA twenty minutes.’
‘Stand by.’
The RAF corporal on radio duty that morning was considerably shocked, reached for his telephone and rang through to Julie Legrande’s bedroom. She answered a moment later, her voice sleepy.
‘What is it?’
‘The radio room. I’ve got Colonel Kelso on the air. Apparently he’s escaped from France in a Storch.’
‘My God.’ Julie was fully awake now. ‘I’ll be right down.’
She scrambled out of bed, pulled off her nightdress and reached for her track suit.
Dawn suffused the sky, the light very strange, a great blanket of grey cloud at 1000 feet. Max went down to 500, the dark sea angry and storm-tossed below him. He sat there, hands steady on the control column, enjoying every moment in a strange way, for this was flying, this was the only thing that had ever mattered to him.
He was totally exposed now in the grey dawn light, a perfect target for any wandering Spitfire or Hurricane. He wouldn’t stand a chance. Blown out of the sky in seconds. He laughed. What an end that would be to the whole sorry business, but it wouldn’t help his mother or Harry or even poor old Bubi, all still in Himmler’s hands.
Julie spoke over the radio. ‘Harry?’
‘The coast’s coming up. Yes, it’s me, Julie.’
‘It’s a miracle!’
‘I’ll be with you in ten minutes,’ he said. ‘A trifle battered, but otherwise unbowed, as our British friends say.’
‘I’ll be waiting at the airstrip. I’ll phone Munro in London.’
‘Yes, wake the old bastard up. Over and out.’
The bedside phone brought Munro awake and bad-tempered. ‘Who on earth is that at this time of the morning?’
‘It’s Julie. Something astonishing. We’ve had Harry Kelso on the radio. He’s escaped from Brittany in a Storch. He’ll be landing in ten minutes.’
Munro swung his legs to the floor. ‘Good God, are you sure?’
‘I’ve spoken to him myself, Brigadier.’
‘How did he sound?’
‘He said he was battered but unbowed.’
‘Typical Harry. I’ll arrange a Lysander from Croydon. I’ll be with you as soon as possible.’
He sat there thinking about it, then went downstairs to the basement flat, went in and shook Jack Carter awake in bed and told him.
Carter said, ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Let’s get moving, Jack. Phone the Courier Service at Croydon and book a Lysander.’
‘I’ll get right on it, Brigadier.’ Carter sat up and reached for his false leg. ‘Does Molly know?’
‘Of course not. I’ll tell her now, but there are more important things in life than young love, Jack.’
He went back upstairs, knocked on the door of her bedroom and went in. She’d been awake for some time, but then she’d slept badly since the news of the crash.
She sat up. ‘Uncle Dougal? What is it?’
‘Some rather astonishing news, my dear,’ and he sat on the edge of the bed.
Max swept in from the sea and there it was below. Cold Harbour exactly as Harry had described, the lifeboat tied up at the quay, the pub, the cottages and finally, the manor and the lake. He skimmed over the pine trees and dropped down on the grass runway and taxied towards the hangar, where half a dozen ground crew waited, sheltering from the rain just inside. As he cut the engine and opened the door, they ran forward and it was with some irony that he noted the black Luftwaffe overalls and RAF sidecaps.
‘Bloody marvellous, Colonel,’ the flight sergeant said and they all crowded round, patting him on the back. ‘Your face doesn’t look too happy, sir.’
‘Oh, I’ll survive. Banged up when the Lysander went down.’ Max pretended to examine the Storch’s fuselage. ‘You’ll need some repair work here, Flight. I took off under fire, so to speak, but she flew well enough. You turned out pretty quickly.’ He reached inside the Storch for the German military raincoat and draped it over his shoulders.
‘Oh, that was Miss Legrande, sir. She said she’d be right down and here she is.’
Julie drove up in the Jeep, braked to a halt, got out and flung her arms around him. ‘You’ll never know how good it is to see you, Harry Kelso, but my God, your face.’
‘Which is why I won’t kiss you. It hurts.’ He managed a grin. ‘But I can still eat and you want to know something? I’m starving.’
‘I’ll take you down to the Hanged Man. A full English breakfast. Zec’s always up early getting the fire going.’ The rain increased its force. ‘Come on, get in.’
He sat in the passenger seat. There was a packet of Senior Service cigarettes and a lighter in the glove compartment. ‘You don’t mind if I help myself?’
As he opened the pack, she said, ‘I always thought you hated those things. I’ve only ever seen you smoke Players.’
He recovered quickly. ‘Julie, my love, after what I’ve been through, I can smoke anything.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, I can imagine,’ and turned into the High Street.
Max, the first hurdle safely passed, leaned back, the adrenalin flowing, everything sharp and clear.
Zec Acland knelt at the fire, carefully placing more logs, then turned as the door opened and Julie stepped into the bar, followed by Max. Zec hadn’t been so astonished in his entire life and stood up.
‘Well, bless my soul, Colonel, and us thinking you were over there maybe dead and gone.’
‘Almost, but not quite.’
‘Your face is a mess.’
‘Could be worse.’
‘I heard a plane coming in.’
‘That was me. I managed to steal a Storch and made a run for it.’
‘And that couldn’t have been easy.’ Zec started to fill his pipe.
‘I had to shoot one of the guards.’ Max took the Walther from his raincoat pocket. ‘The name of the game.’
Zec looked grim. ‘The bloody war. Never stops. Still, not long now. D-Day soon, that’s what we’re calling it, so they tell me. I reckon you’ve earned a drink in spite of the hour.’
Julie said, ‘I’ll make some breakfast. I can hear you in the kitchen. I phoned Munro. He’ll be flying down.’
Zec poured two whiskies and added a little water. Max said, ‘Did he want the details?’
‘No, but I couldn’t have told him, I don’t know them myself,’ Julie called.
Zec leaned on the other side of the bar. ‘What happened over there?’
Max stuck to the facts as closely as possible. The successful dropping of Jacaud, how he’d been bounced by the ME 109s. How the SS patrol had saved his bacon.
‘I don’t see any sign of Tarquin here,’ Zec observed.
