Jack Higgins - Eagle Has Landed

by Eagle Has Landed [lit]

  Radl was aware of a feeling of acute disappointment 'So, Mr Devlin, you also have your price like the rest of us?'

  'The movement I serve has always been notoriously low on funds.' Devlin grinned 'I've seen revolutions started on less than twenty thousand pounds, Colonel.'

  'Very well,' Radl said I will arrange it You will receive confirmation of the deposit before you leave.'

  'Fine,' Devlin said 'So what's the score then?'

  'Today is the first October That gives us exactly five weeks.'

  'And what would my part be?'

  'Mrs. Grey is a first rate agent, but she is sixty-eight years of age She needs a man.'

  'Someone to do the running around? Handle the rough stuff?'

  'Exactly.'

  'And how do you get me there and don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it?'

  Radl smiled 'I must admit. I've given the matter considerable thought See how this strikes you. You re an Irish citizen who has served with the British Army. Badly wounded and given a medical discharge. That scar on your forehead will help there.'

  'And how does this fit in with Mrs. Grey?'

  'An old family friend who has found you some sort of employment in Norfolk. We'll have to put it to her and see what she comes up with. We'll fill the story out supply you with every possible document from an Irish passport to your army discharge papers. What do you think?'

  'It sounds passable enough.' Devlin said. 'But how do I get there?'

  'We'll parachute you into Southern Ireland. As close to the Ulster border as possible. I understand it to be extremely easy to walk across the border without passing through a customs post.'

  'No trouble there,' Devlin said. 'Then what?'

  'The night boat from Belfast to Heysham, train to Norfolk, everything straight and above board.'

  Devlin pulled the ordnance survey map forward and looked down at it. 'All right, I'll buy that. When do I go?'

  'A week, ten days at the most. For the moment, you will obviously observe total security. You must also resign your post at the University and vacate your present apartment. Drop completely out of sight. Hofer will arrange other accommodation for you?'

  'Then what?'

  'I'm going to see the man who will probably command the assault group. Tomorrow or the next day depending on how soon I can arrange flights to the Channel Islands. You might as well come too. You're going to have a lot in common. You agree?'

  'And why shouldn't I, Colonel? Won't the same bad old roads all lead to hell in the end?' He poured what was left of the Courvoisier into his glass.

  5

  Alderney is the most northerly of the Channel Islands and the closest to the French coast. As the German Army rolled inexorably westward in the summer of 1940 the islanders had voted to evacuate. When the first Luftwaffe plane landed on the tiny grass strip on top of the cliffs on 2 July 1940, the place was deserted, the narrow cobbled streets of St Anne eerily quiet.

  By the autumn of 1942 there was a garrison of perhaps three thousand, mixed Army, Navy and Luftwaffe personnel and several Todt camps employing slave labour from the continent to work on the massive concrete gun emplacements of the new fortifications. There was also a concentration camp staffed by members of the SS and Gestapo, the only such establishment ever to exist on British soil.

  Just after noon on Sunday Radl and Devlin flew in from Jersey in a Stork spotter plane. It was only a half-hour run and as the Stork was unarmed the pilot did the entire trip at sea level only climbing up to seven hundred feet at the last moment.

  As the Stork swept in over the enormous breakwater Alderney was spread out for them like a map. Brave Bay, the harbour. St Anne, the island itself, perhaps three miles long and a mile and a half wide, vividly green, great cliffs on one side, the land sliding down into a series of sandy bays and coves on the other.

  The Stork turned into the wind and dropped down on to one of the grass runways of the airfield on top of the cliffs. It was one of the smallest Radl had ever seen, hardly deserving of the name. A tiny control tower, a scattering of prefabricated buildings and no hangars.

  There was a black Wolseley car parked beside the control tower and as Radl and Devlin went towards it, the driver, a sergeant of Artillery, got out and opened the rear door. He saluted, 'Colonel Radl? The commandant asks you to accept his compliments. I'm to take you straight to the Feldkommandantur.'

  'Very well.' Radl said.

  They got in and were driven away, soon turning into a country lane It was a fine day, warm and sunny, more like late spring than early autumn.

  'It seems a pleasant enough place,' Radl commented. For some Devlin nodded over towards the left where hundreds of Todt workers could be seen in the distance labouring on what looked like some enormous concrete fortification.

  The houses in St Anne were a mixture of French Provincial and English Georgian, streets cobbled, gardens high-walled against the constant winds There were plenty of signs of war: concrete pillboxes, barbed wire, machine-gun posts bomb damage in the harbour tar below - but it was the Englishness of it all that fascinated Radl. The incongruity of seeing two SS men in a field car parked in Connaught Square and of a Luftwaffe private giving another a light for his cigarette under a sign that said 'Royal Mail.'

  Feldkommandantur 515, the German civilian administration for the Channel Islands, had its local headquarters in the old Lloyds Bank premises in Victoria Street and as the car drew up outside, Neuhoff himself appeared in the entrance.

  He came forward, hand outstretched 'Colonel Radl? Hans Neuhoff, temporarily in command here, Good to see vou.'

  Radl said, 'This gentleman is a colleague of mine.'

  He made no other attempt to introduce Devlin and a certain alarm showed in Neuhoffs eyes instantly, for Devlin, in civilian clothes and a black leather military greatcoat Radl had procured for him was an obvious curiosity. The logical explanation would seem to be that he was Gestapo. During the trip from Berlin to Brittany and then on to Guernsey, the Irishman had seen the same wary look on other faces and had derived a certain malicious satisfaction from it.

  Herr Oberst he said, making no attempt to shake hands.

  Neuhoft, more put out than ever, said hurriedly, 'This way, gentlemen, please.'

  Inside three clerks worked at the mahogany counter Behind them on the wall was a new Ministry of Propaganda poster showing an eagle, with a swastika in its talons, rearing proudly above the legend Am ende der Sieg! At the end stands victory.

  'My God,' Devlin said softly, 'some people will believe anything.'

  A military policeman guarded the door of what had presumably been the manager's office Neuhoff led the way in It was sparsely furnished, a workroom more than anything else. He brought two chairs forward Radl took one, but Devlin lit a cigarette and went and stood at the window.

  Neuhoff glanced at him uncertainly and tried to smile. Can I offer you gentlemen a drink? Schnapps or a Cognac perhaps?'

  'Frankly I'd like to get straight down to business.' Radl told him.

  'But of course, Herr Oberst.'

  Radl unbuttoned his tunic took the manilla envelope from his inside pocket and produced the letter 'Please read that.'

  Neuhoff picked it up, frowning slightly and ran his eyes over it. 'The Fuhrer himself commands.' He looked up at Radl in amazement 'But I don't understand What is it that you wish of me?'

  'Your complete co-operation. Colonel Neuhoff,' Radl said. 'And no questions You have a penal unit here, I believe? Operation Swordfish.'

  There was a new kind of wariness in Neuhoff's eyes, Devlin noticed it instantly, and the colonel seemed to stiffen 'Yes, Herr Oberst, that is so Under the command of Colonel Steiner of the Parachute Regiment.'

  'So I understand.' Radl said. 'Colonel Steiner, a Lieutenant Neumann and twenty-nine paratroopers.'

  Neuhoff corrected him 'Colonel Steiner, Rittei Neumann and fourteen paratroopers.'

  Radl stared at him in surprise 'What are you saying? Where are the ot
hers?'

  'Dead, Herr Oberst,' Neuhoff said simply 'You know about Operation Swordfish? You know what they do, these men? They sit astride torpedoes and...'

  'I'm aware of that.' Radl stood up, reached for the Fuhrer Directive and replaced it in its envelope, 'Are there any operations planned for today?'

  'That depends on whether there is a radar contact.'

  "No more,' Radl said. 'It stops now, from this moment.' He held up the envelope. 'My first order under this directive.'

  Neuhoff actually smiled. 'I am delighted to comply with such an order.'

  'I see,' Radl said. 'Colonel Steiner is a friend?'

  'My privilege,' Neuhoff said simply. 'If you knew the man, you'd know what I mean. There is also the point of view that someone of his extraordinary gifts is of more use to the Reich alive than dead.'

  'Which is exactly why I am here,' Radl said. 'Now, where can I find him?'

  'Just before you get to the harbour there's an inn. Steiner and his men use it as their headquarters. I'll take you down there.'

  'No need,' Radl said. 'I'd like to see him alone. Is it far?'

  'A quarter of a mile.'

  'Good, then we'll walk.'

  Neuhoff stood up. 'Have you any idea how long you will be staying?'

  'I have arranged for the Stork to pick us up first thing in the morning,' Radl said. 'It is essential that we're at the airfield in Jersey no later than eleven. Our plane for Brittany leaves then.'

  'I'll arrange accommodation for you and your - your friend.' Neuhoff glanced at Devlin. 'Also, if you would care to dine with me tonight? My wife would be delighted and perhaps Colonel Steiner could join us.'

  'An excellent idea,' Radl said. 'I'll look forward to it.'

  As they walked down Victoria Street past the shuttered shops and empty houses Devlin said, 'What's got into you? You were laying it on a bit strong, weren't you? Are we feeling our oats today?'

  Radl laughed, looked slightly shamefaced. 'Whenever I take that damned letter out I feel strange. A feeling of - of power comes over me. Like the centurion in the Bible, who says do this and they do it, go there and they go.'

  As they turned into Brave Road a fieldcar drove past them, the artillery sergeant who brought them in from the airfield at the wheel.

  'Colonel Neuhoff sending a warning of our coming,' Radl commented. 'I wondered whether he would.'

  'I think he thought I was Gestapo.' Devlin said. 'He was afraid.'

  'Perhaps,' Radl said. 'And you, Herr Devlin? Are you ever afraid?'

  'Not that I can remember.' Devlin laughed, without mirth. 'I'll tell you something. I've never told another living soul. Even at the moment of maximum danger and, God knows, I've known enough of those in my time, even when I'm staring Death right between the eyes, I get the strangest feeling. It's as if I want to reach out and take his hand. Now isn't that the funniest thing you ever heard of?'

  .

  Ritter Neumann, wearing a black rubber wet suit, was sitting astride a torpedo moored to the number one recovery boat tinkering with its engine, when the fieldcar roared along the jetty and braked to a halt. As Neumann looked up. shading his eyes against the sun, Sergeant-Major Brandt appeared.

  'What's your hurry?' Neumann called. 'Is the war over?'

  Trouble, Herr Leutnant,' Brandt said. 'There's some staff officer flown in from Jersey. A Colonel Radl. He's come for the Colonel. We've just had a tip-off from Victoria Street.'

  'Staff officer?' Neumann said and he pulled himself over the rail of the recovery boat and took the towel that Private Riedel handed him. 'Where's he from?'

  'Berlin!' Brandt said grimly, 'And he has someone with him who looks like a civilian, but isn't.'

  'Gestapo?'

  'So it would appear. They're on their way down now - walking.'

  Neumann pulled on his jump boots and scrambled up the ladder to the jetty. 'Do the lads know?'

  Brandt nodded, a savage look on his face, 'And don't like it. If they find he's come to put the screws in the Colonel they're quite likely to push him and his pal off the end of the jetty with sixty pounds of chain apiece around their ankles.'

  'Right,' said Neumann. 'Back to the pub as fast as you can and hold them. I'll take the fieldcar and get the Colonel. He went for a walk along the breakwater with Frau Neuhoff.'

  Steiner and Ilse Neuhoff were at the very end of the breakwater. She was sitting above the rampart, those long legs dangling into space, the wind off the sea ruffling the blonde hair, tugging at her skirt. She was laughing down at Steiner. He turned as the fieldcar braked to a halt.

  Neumann scrambled out and Steiner took one look at his face and smiled sardonically. 'Bad news, Ritter, and on such a lovely day.'

  'There's some staff officer in from Berlin looking for you, a Colonel Radl,' Neumann said grimly. 'They say he has a Gestapo man with him.'

  Steiner wasn't put out in the slightest. 'That certainly adds a little interest to the day.'

  He put up his hands to catch Ilse as she jumped down, and held her close for a moment. Her face was full of alarm. 'For God's sake, Kurt, can't you ever take anything seriously?'

  'He's probably only here for a head count. We should all be dead by now. They must be very put out at Prinz Albrechtstrasse.'

  .

  The old inn stood at the side of the road on the approach to the harbour backing on to the sands of Braye Bay. It was strangely quiet as Radl and the Irishman approached.

  'As nice a looking pub as I've seen,' Devlin said. 'Would you think it possible they might still have a drink on the premises?'

  Radl tried the front door. It opened and they found themselves in a dark passageway. A door clicked open behind them. 'In here, Herr Oberst,' a soft, cultured voice said.

  Sergeant Hans Altmann leaned against the outside door as if to bar their exit. Radl saw the Winter War ribbon, the Iron Cross, First and Second Class, silver wound badge which meant at least three wounds, the Air Force Ground Combat badge and, most coveted honour of all amongst paratroopers, the Kreta cuff-title, proud mark of those who had spearheaded the invasion of Crete in May, 1941.

  'Your name?' Radl said crisply.

  Altmann didn't reply, but simply pushed with his foot so that the door marked 'Saloon Bar' swung open and Radl, sensing something, but uncertain what, stuck out his chin and advanced into the room.

  The room was only fair-sized. There was a bar counter to the left, empty shelves behind it, a number of framed photographs of old wrecks on the walls, a piano in one corner. There were a dozen or so paratroopers scattered around the room, all remarkably unfriendly. Radl, looking them over coolly, was impressed. He'd never before seen a group of men with so many decorations between them. There wasn't a man there who didn't have the Iron Cross, First Class and such minor items as wound badges and tank destruction badges were ten a penny.

  He stood in the centre of the room, his briefcase under his arm, his hands in his pockets, coat collar still turned up. 'I'd like to point out,' he said mildly, 'that men have been shot before now for this kind of behaviour.'

  There was a shout of laughter. Sergeant Sturm, who was behind the bar cleaning a Luger said, 'That really is very good, Herr Oberst. Do you want to hear something funny? When we went operational here ten weeks ago, there were thirty-one of us. including the Colonel. Fifteen now, in spite of a lot of lucky breaks. What can you and this Gestapo shit offer that's worse than that?'

  'Don't go including me in this thing,' Devlin said. 'I'm neutral.'

  Sturm, who had worked the Hamburg barges since the age of twelve and was inclined to be a trifle direct in his speech, went on, 'Listen to this because I'm only going to say it once. The Colonel isn't going anywhere. Not with you. Not with anyone.' He shook his head. 'You know that's a pretty hat. Herr Oberst, but you've been polishing a chair with your backside for so long there in Berlin that you've forgotten how real soldiers feel. You've come to the wrong place if you're hoping for a chorus from the Horst Wessel.'

 
'Excellent,' Radl said. 'However, your completely incorrect reading of the present situation argues a lack of wit which I, for one, find deplorable in someone of your rank.'

  He dumped his briefcase on the counter, opened the buttons of his coat with his good hand and shrugged it off. Sturm's jaw dropped as he saw the Knight's Cross, the Winter War ribbon. Radl moved straight into the attack.

  'Attention!' he barked. 'On your feet, all of you.' There was an instant burst of activity and in the same moment the door swung open and Brandt rushed in. 'And you, Sergeant-Major,' Radl snarled.