Quite suddenly, they were caught in a great eddy of water that swept them in towards the rocks of L'Equet on the tip of Burhou. There was a ship there, or half one; all that was left of a French coaster that had run on the reef in a storm earlier in the year. What was left of her stern deck sloped into deep water. A wave swept them in, the torpedo high on the swell and Steiner rolled away from it, grabbing for the ship's rail with one hand and hanging on to Neumann's lifeline with the other.
The wave receded, taking the torpedo with it. Steiner got to his feet and went up the sloping deck to what was left of the wheelhouse. He wedged himself in the broken doorway and hauled his companion after him. They crouched in the roofless shell of the wheelhouse and it started to rain softly.
'What happens now?' Neumann asked weakly.
'We sit tight,' Steiner said. 'Brandt will be out with the recovery boat as soon as this fog clears a little.'
'I could do with a cigarette,' Neumann said, and then he stiffened suddenly and pointed out through the broken doorway. 'Look at that.'
Steiner went to the rail. The water was moving fast now as the tide ebbed, twisting and turning amongst the reefs and rocks, carrying with it the refuse of war, a floating carpet of wreckage that was all that was left of the Joseph Johnson.
'So, we got her,' Neumann said. Then he tried to get up. 'There's a man down there, Kurt, in a yellow lifejacket. Look, under the stern.'
Steiner slid down the deck into the water and turned under the stern, pushing his way through a mass of planks to the man who floated there, head back, eyes closed. He was very young with blond hair plastered to the skull. Steiner grabbed him by the life-jacket and started to tow him towards the safety of the shattered stern, and he opened his eyes and stared at him. Then he shook his head, trying to speak.
Steiner floated beside him for a moment. 'What is it?' he said in English.
'Please,' the boy whispered. 'Let me go.'
His eyes closed again and Steiner swam with him to the stern. Neumann, watching from the wheelhouse, saw Steiner start to drag him up the sloping deck. He paused for a long moment, then slid the boy gently back into the water. A current took him away and out of sight beyond the reef, and Steiner clambered wearily back up the deck again.
'What was it?' Neumann demanded weakly.
'Both legs were gone from the knees down.' Steiner sat very carefully and braced his feet against the rail. 'What was that poem of Eliot's that you were always quoting at Stalingrad? The one I didn't like?'
'I think we are in rat's alley,' Neumann said, 'Where the dead men lost their bones.'
'Now I understand it,' Steiner told him. 'Now I see exactly what he meant.'
They sat there in silence. It was colder now, the rain increasing in force, clearing the fog rapidly. About twenty minutes later they heard an engine not too far away. Steiner took the small signalling pistol from the pouch on his right leg. charged it with a waterproof cartridge and fired a maroon.
A few moments later, the recovery launch appeared from the fog and slowed, drifting in towards them Sergeant-Major Brandt was in the prow with a line ready to throw. He was an enormous figure of a man, well over six feet tall and broad in proportion, rather incongruously wearing a yellow oilskin coat with Roval National Lifeboat Institution on the back. The rest of the crew were all Steiner's men Sergeant Sturm at the wheel, Lance-Corporal Briegel and Private Berg acting as deckhands Brandt jumped for the sloping deck of the wreck and hitched the line about the rail as Steiner and Neumann slid down to join him
'You made a hit, Herr Oberst What happened to Lemke?'
'Playing heroes as usual,' Steiner told him This time he went too far Careful with Lieutenant Neumann He's had a bad crack on the head.'
'Sergeant Altmann's out in the other boat with Riedel and Meyer They might see some sign of him He has the Devil's own luck, that one.' Brandt lifted Neumann up over the rail with astonishing strength 'Get him in the cabin.'
But Neumann wouldn't have it and slumped down on the deck with his back against the stern rail Steiner sat beside him and Brandt gave them cigarettes as the motor boat pulled away Steiner felt tired More tired than he he had been in a very long time. Five years of war. Sometimes it seemed as if it was not only all there was, but all there ever had been.
They rounded the end of the Admiralty breakwater and followed the thousand yards or so of its length into Braye. There was a surprising number of ships in the harbour, French coasters mostly, carrying building supplies from the continent for the new fortifications that were being raised all over the island.
The small landing stage had been extended. An E-boat was tied up there and as the motor boat drifted in astern the sailors on deck raised a cheer and a young, bearded lieutenant in a heavy sweater and salt-stained cap stood smartly to attention and saluted
'Fine work Herr Oberst!'
Steiner acknowledged the salute as he went over the rail. 'Many thanks, Koenig.'
He went up the steps to the upper landing stage, Brandt following, supporting Neumann with a strong arm. As they came out on top a large black saloon car, an old Wolseley, turned on to the landing stage and braked to a halt. The driver jumped out and opened the rear door.
The first person to emerge was the man who at that time was acting-commandant of the island, Hans Neuhoff, a full colonel of artillery. Like Steiner, a Winter War veteran, wounded in the chest at Leningrad, he had never recovered his health, his lungs damaged beyond repair, and his face had the permanently resigned look of a man who is dying by inches and knows it. His wife got out of the car after him.
Ilse Neuhoff was at that time twenty-seven years of age, a slim, aristocratic-looking blonde with a wide, generous mouth and good cheekbones. Most people turned to look at her twice and not only because she was beautiful, but because she usually seemed familiar. She had enjoyed a successful career as a film starlet working for UFA in Berlin. She was one of those odd people that everyone likes and she had been much in demand in Berlin society. She was a friend of Goebbels. The Fuhrer himself had admired her.
She had married Hans Neuhoff out of a genuine liking that went far beyond sexual love, something of which he was no longer capable anyway. She had nursed him back on his feet after Russia, supported him every step of the way, used all her influence to secure him his present post, had even obtained a pass to visit him by influence of Goebbels himself. They had an understanding - a warm and mutual understanding and it was because of this that she was able to go forward to Steiner and kiss him openly on the cheek.
'You had us worried Kurt.'
Neuhoff shook hands, genuinely delighted 'Wonderful work, Kurt I'll get a signal off to Berlin at once.'
'Don't do that for God's sake,' Steiner said in mock alarm 'They might decide to send me back to Russia.'
Ilse took his arm 'It wasn't in the cards when I last read Tarot for you, but I'll look again tonight if you like.'
There was a hail from the lower landing stage and they moved forward to the edge in time to see the second recovery boat coming in. There was a body on the stern deck covered with a blanket and Sergeant Altmann, another of Steiner's men, came out of the wheelhouse. 'Herr Oberst?' he called, awaiting orders.
Steiner nodded and Altmann raised the blanket briefly. Neumann had moved to join Steiner and now he said bitterly. 'Lemke. Crete, Leningrad, Stalingrad - all those years and this is how it ends.'
'When your name's on the bullet, that's it,' Brandt said.
Steiner turned to look into Ilse Neuhoff's troubled face. 'My poor Ilse, better to leave those cards of yours in the box. A few more afternoons like this and it won't be so much a question of will the worst come to pass as when.'
He took her arm, smiling cheerfully and led her towards the car.
.
Canaris had a meeting with Ribbentrop and Goebbels during the afternoon and it was six o'clock before he could see Radl. There was no sign of Steiner's court martial papers.
At five minutes to six
Hofer knocked on the door and entered Radl's office. 'Have they come?' Radl demanded eagerly.
'I'm afraid not, Herr Oberst.'
'Why not, for God's sake?' Radl said angrily.
'It seems that as the original incident was concerned with a complaint from the SS, the records are at Prinz Albrechtstrasse.'
'Have you got the outline that I asked you for?'
'Herr Oberst.' Hofer handed him a neatly typed sheet of paper.
Radl examined it quickly. 'Excellent, Karl. Really excellent.' He smiled and straightened his already immaculate uniform. 'You're off duty now, aren't you?'
'I'd prefer to wait until the Herr Oberst returns.' Hofer said.
Radl smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. 'All right, let's get it over with.'
.
The Admiral was being served with coffee by an orderly when Radl went in. 'Ah, there you are. Max,' he said cheerfully. 'Will you join me?'
'Thank you, Herr Admiral.'
The orderly filled another cup, adjusted the blackout curtains and went out. Canaris sighed and eased himself back in the chair, reaching down to fondle the ears of one of his dachshunds. He seemed weary and there was evidence of strain in the eyes and around the mouth.
'You look tired,' Radl told him.
'So would you if you'd been closeted with Ribbentrop and Goebbels all afternoon. Those two really get more impossible every time I see them. According to Goebbels we're still winning the war. Max. Was there ever anything more absurd?' Radl didn't really know what to say but was saved by the Admiral carrying straight on. 'Anyway, what did you want to see me about?'
Radl placed Hofer's typed outline on the desk and Canaris started to read it. After a while he looked up in obvious bewilderment. 'What is it, for God's sake?'
The feasibility study you asked for, Herr Admiral. The Churchill business. You asked me to get something down on paper.'
'Ah, yes.' There was understanding on the Admiral's face now and he looked again at the paper. After a while he smiled. 'Yes, very good, Max. Quite absurd, of course, but on paper it does have a kind of mad logic to it. Keep it handy in case Himmler reminds the Fuhrer to ask me if we've done anything about it.'
'You mean that's all, Herr Admiral?' Radl said. 'You don't want me to take it any further?'
Canaris had opened a file and now he looked up in obvious surprise. 'My dear Max, I don't think you quite get the point. The more absurd the idea put forward by your superiors in this game, the more rapturously should you receive it, however crazy. Put all your enthusiasm - assumed, of course - into the project. Over a period of time allow the difficulties to show, so that very gradually your masters will make the discovery for themselves that it just isn't on. As nobody likes to be involved in failure if he can avoid it, the whole project will be discreetly dropped.' He laughed lightly and tapped the outline with one finger. 'Mind you, even the Fuhrer would need to be having a very off-day indeed to see any possibilities in such a mad escapade as this.'
Radl found himself saying. 'It would work, Herr Admiral. I've even got the right man for the job.'
'I'm sure you have, Max, if you've been anything like as thorough as you usually are.' He smiled and pushed the outline across the desk. 'I can see that you've taken the whole thing too seriously. Perhaps my remarks about Himmler worried you. But there's no need, believe me. I can handle him. You've got enough on paper to satisfy them if the occasion arises. Plenty of other things you can get on with now - really important matters.'
He nodded in dismissal and picked up his pen. Radl said stubbornly, 'But surely, Herr Admiral, if the Fuhrer wishes it...'
Canaris exploded angrily, throwing down his pen. 'God in heaven, man, kill Churchill when we have already lost the war? In what way is that supposed to help?'
He had jumped up and leaned across the desk, both hands braced. Radl stood rigidly to attention, staring woodenly into space a foot above the Admiral's head. Canaris flushed, aware that he had gone too far, that there had been treason implicit in his angry words and too late to retract them.
'At ease,' he said.
Radl did as he was ordered. 'Herr Admiral.'
'We've known each other a long time, Max.'
'Yes, sir.'
'So trust me now. I know what I'm doing.'
'Very well, Herr Admiral,' Radl said crisply.
He stepped back, clicked his heels, turned and went out. Canaris stayed where he was, hands braced against the desk, suddenly looking haggard and old. 'My God,' he whispered. 'How much longer?'
When he sat down and picked up his coffee, his hand was trembling so much that the cup rattled in the saucer.
4
When Radl went into the office, Hofer was straightening the papers on his desk. The sergeant turned eagerly and then saw the expression on Radl's face.
The Admiral didn't like it, Herr Oberst?'
'He said it had a certain mad logic, Karl. Actually, he seemed to find it quite amusing.'
'What happens now, Herr Oberst?'
'Nothing, Karl,' Radl said wearily and sat down behind his desk. 'It's on paper, the feasibility study they wanted and may never ask for again and that's all we were required to do. We get on with something else.'
He reached for one of his Russian cigarettes and Hofer gave him a light. 'Can I get you anything, Herr Oberst?' he said, his voice sympathetic, but careful.
'No, thank you, Karl. Go home now. I'll see you in the morning.'
'Herr Oberst.' Hofer clicked his heels and hesitated.
Radl said, 'Go on, Karl, there's a good fellow and thank you.'
Hofer went out and Radl ran a hand over his face. His empty socket was burning, the invisible hand ached. Sometimes he felt as if they'd wired him up wrongly when they'd put him back together again. Amazing how disappointed he felt. A sense of real, personal loss.
'Perhaps it's as well,' he said softly, 'I was beginning to take the whole damn thing too seriously.'
He sat down, opened Joanna Grey's file and started to read it. After a while he reached for the ordnance survey map and began to unfold it. He stopped suddenly. He'd had enough of this tiny office for one day, enough of the Abwehr. He pulled his briefcase from under the desk, stuffed the files and map inside and took his leather greatcoat down from behind the door.
It was too early for the RAF and the city seemed unnaturally quiet when he went out of the front entrance. He decided to take advantage of the brief calm and walk home to his small apartment instead of calling for a staff car. In any case his head was splitting and the light rain which was falling was really quite refreshing. He went down the steps, acknowledging the sentry's salute and passed under the shaded street light at the bottom. A car started up somewhere further along the Tirpitz Ufer and pulled in beside him.
It was a black Mercedes saloon, as black as the uniforms of the two Gestapo men who got out of the front seats and stood waiting. As Radl saw the cuff-title of the one nearest to him, his heart seemed to stop beating. RFSS. Reichsfuhrer der SS. The cuff-title of Himmler's personal staff.
The young man who got out of the rear seat wore a slouch hat and a black leather coat. His smile had the kind of ruthless charm that only the genuinely insincere possess. 'Colonel Radl?' he said. 'So glad we were able to catch you before you left. The Reichsfuhrer presents his compliments. If you could find it convenient to spare him a little time, he'd appreciate it.' He deftly removed the briefcase from Radl's hand. 'Let me carry that for you.'
Radl moistened dry lips and managed a smile. 'But of course,' he said and got into the rear of the Mercedes.
The young man joined him, the other got into the front and they moved away. Radl noticed that the one who wasn't driving had an Erma police sub-machine-gun across his knees. He breathed deeply in an effort to control the fear that rose inside him.
'Cigarette, Herr Oberst?'
'Thank you,' Radl said. 'Where are we going, by the way?'
'Prinz Albrechtstrasse.' The young man gave him a li
ght and smiled. 'Gestapo Headquarters.'
When Radl was ushered into the office on the first floor at Prinz Albrechtstrasse, he found Himmler seated behind a large desk, a stack of files in front of him. He was wearing full uniform as Reichsfuhrer SS, a devil in black in the shaded light, and when he looked up the face behind the silver pince-nez was cold and impersonal.
The young man in the black leather coat who had brought Radl in gave the Nazi salute and placed the briefcase on the table. 'At your orders, Herr Reichsfuhrer.'
'Thank you, Rossman,' Himmler replied. 'Wait outside. I may need you later.'
Rossman went out and Radl waited as Himmler moved the files very precisely to one side of the desk, as if clearing the decks for action. He pulled the briefcase forward and looked at it thoughtfully. Strangely enough, Radl had got back some of his nerve, and a certain black humour that had been a saving grace to him on many occasions surfaced now.
Jack Higgins - Eagle Has Landed Page 7
