Try sending the bill to Winston Churchill, you never know your luck,' Preston said brutally. 'I'll have a word with him for you if you like. Press your case.'
The old man slumped down in a chair in the small exchange, the picture of misery and Steiner said, 'All right, Preston, I won't need you down here any more. Get on up to the church and take that specimen behind the counter with you. Relieve Brandt. Tell him to report to Oberleutnant Neumann.'
'What about the switchboard?'
'I'll send Altmann in. He speaks good English. Dinter and Berg can keep an eye on things until then.'
Seymour was stirring, pushing himself up on his knees and making the discovery that his hands were lashed behind his back. 'Comfortable, are we?' Preston kicked him in the backside and hauled him to his feet. 'Come on, ape, start putting one foot in front of the other.'
.
At the church, the villagers sat in pews as instructed and awaited their fate, talking to each other in low voices. Most of the women were plainly terrified. Vereker moved amongst them, bringing what comfort he could. Corporal Becker stood guard near the chancel steps, a Sten gun in his hands. Private Jansen at the door. Neither spoke English.
After Brandt had departed, Harvey Preston found a length of rope in the bell room at the bottom of the tower, lashed Seymour's ankles together, then turned him over and dragged him on his face to the Lady Chapel where he dumped him beside Sturm. There was blood on Seymour's cheek where the skin had rubbed away and there were gasps of horror, particularly from the women.
Preston ignored them and kicked Seymour in the ribs. 'I'll cool you down before I'm through, I promise you.'
Vereker limped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him round. 'Leave that man alone.'
'Man?' Preston laughed in his face. 'That isn't a man, it's a thing.' Vereker reached down to touch Seymour and Preston knocked him away and drew his revolver. 'You just won't do as you're told, will you?'
One of the women chocked back a scream. There was a terrible silence as Preston thumbed back the hammer. A moment in time. Vereker crossed himself and Preston laughed again and lowered the revolver. 'A lot of good that will do you.'
'What kind of man are you?' Vereker demanded. 'What moves you to act like this?'
'What kind of man?' Preston said. That's simple. A special breed. The finest fighting men that ever walked the face of the earth. The Waff en SS in which I have the honour to hold the rank of Untersturmfuhrer.'
He walked up the aisle, turned at the chancel steps, unzipped his jump jacket and took it off, revealing the tunic underneath, the collar patches with the three leopards, the eagle on his left arm, the Union Jack shield beneath and the black and silver cuff-title.
It was Laker Armsby sitting beside George Wilde who said, 'Here, he's got a Union Jack on his sleeve.'
Vereker moved forward, a frown on his face and Preston held out his arm. 'Yes, he's right. Now read the cuff-title.'
'Britisches Freikorps,' Vereker said aloud and glanced up sharply. 'British Free Corps?'
'Yes, you damned fool. Don't you realize? Don't any of you realize? I'm English, like you, only I'm on the right side. The only side.'
Susan Turner started to cry. George Wilde came out of his pew, walked up the aisle slowly and deliberately and stood looking up at Preston. 'The Jerries must be damned hard up, because the only place they could have found you was under a stone.'
Preston shot him at point-blank range. As Wilde fell back across the steps below the roodscreen, blood on his face, there was pandemonium. Women were screaming hysterically. Preston fired another shot into the air. 'Stay where you are!'
There was the kind of frozen silence produced by complete panic. Vereker got down on one knee awkwardly and examined Wilde as he groaned and moved his head from side to side. Betty Wilde ran up the aisle, followed by her son, and dropped to her knees beside her husband.
'He'll be all right, Betty, his luck is good,' Vereker told her. 'See, the bullet has just gouged his cheek.'
At that moment the door at the other end of the church crashed open and Ritter Neumann rushed in, his Browning in his hand. He ran up the centre aisle and paused. 'What's going on here?'
'Ask your colleague from the SS,' Vereker suggested.
Ritter glanced at Preston, then dropped to one knee and examined Wilde. 'Don't you touch him, you - you bloody German swine,' Betty said.
Ritter took a field dressing from one of his breast pockets and gave it to her. 'Bandage him with that. He'll be fine.' He stood up and said to Vereker, 'We are Fallschirmjager, Father, and proud of our name. This gentleman, on the other hand...' He turned in an almost casual gesture and struck Preston a heavy blow across the face with the Browning. The Englishman cried out and crumpled to the floor.
The door opened again and Joanna Grey ran in. 'Herr Oberleutnant,' she called in German. 'Where's Colonel Steiner? I must speak with him.'
Her face was streaked with dirt and her hands were filthy. Neumann went down the aisle to meet her. 'He isn't here. He's gone to see Devlin. Why?'
Vereker said, 'Joanna?' There was a question in his voice, but more than that, a kind of dread as if he was afraid to know for certain what he feared.
She ignored him and said to Ritter, 'I don't know what's been going on here, but about forty-five minutes ago, Pamela Vereker turned up at the cottage and she knew everything. Wanted my car to go to Meltham House to get the Rangers.'
'What happened?'
'I tried to stop her and ended up locked in the cellar. I only managed to break out five minutes ago. What are we going to do?'
Vereker put a hand on her arm and pulled her round to face him. 'Are you saying you're one of them?'
'Yes,' she said impatiently. 'Now will you leave me alone? I've work to do.' She turned back to Ritter.
'But why?' Vereker said. 'I don't understand. You're British...'
She rounded on him then. 'British?' she shouted. 'Boer, damn you! Boer! How could I be British? You insult me with that name.'
There was a genuine horror on virtually every face there. The agony in Philip Vereker's eyes was plain for all to see. 'Oh, my God,' he whispered.
Ritter took her by the arm. 'Back to your house fast. Contact Landsvoort on the radio. Let Radl know the position. Keep the channel open.'
She nodded and hurried out. Ritter stood there, for the first time in his military career totally at a loss. What in the hell are we going to do! he thought. But there was no answer. Couldn't be without Steiner.
He said to Corporal Becker. 'You and Jansen stay here,' and he hurried outside.
There was silence in the church. Vereker walked up the aisle, feeling inexpressibly weary. He mounted the chancel steps and turned to face them. 'At times like these there is little left, but prayer,' he said. 'And it frequently helps. If you would all please kneel.'
He crossed himself, folded his hands and began to pray aloud in a firm and remarkably steady voice.
17
Harry Kane was supervising a course in field tactics in the wood behind Meltham Farm when he received Shafto's urgent summons to report to the house and bring the training squad with him. Kane left the sergeant, a Texan named Hustler from Fort Worth, to follow with the men and went on ahead.
As he arrived. Sections which had been training on various parts of the estate were all coming in together. He could hear the revving of engines from the motor pool in the stabling block at the rear. Several jeeps turned into the gravel drive in front of the house and drew up line abreast.
The crews started to check their machine-guns and equipment. An officer jumped out of the lead vehicle, a captain named Mallory.
'What gives, for Christ's sake?' Kane demanded.
'I haven't the slightest idea,' Mallory said. "I get the orders, I follow them through. He wants you in a hurry, I know that.' He grinned. 'Maybe it's the Second Front.'
Kane went up the steps on the run. The outer office was a scene of frenzied activity.
Master Sergeant Garvey paced up and down outside Shafto's door, nervously smoking a cigarette. His face brightened as Kane entered.
'What in the hell is going on?' Kane demanded. 'Have we orders to move out or something?'
'Don't ask me, Major. All I know is that lady friend of yours arrived in one hell of a state about fifteen minutes ago and nothing's been the same since.'
Kane opened the door and went in. Shafto, in breeches and riding boots, was standing at the desk with his back to him. When he swung round Kane saw that he was loading the pearl-handled Colt. The change in him was extraordinary. He seemed to crackle with electricity, his eyes sparkled as if he was in a high fever, his face was pale with excitement.
'Fast action, Major, that's what I like.'
He reached for belt and holster and Kane said. 'What is it, sir? Where's Miss Vereker?'
'In my bedroom. Under sedation and badly shocked.'
'But what happened?'
'She took a bullet in the side of the head.' Shafto buckled his belt quickly, easing the holster low down on his right hip. 'And the finger on the trigger was that friend of her brother's, Mrs. Grey. Ask her yourself. I can only spare you three minutes.'
Kane opened the bedroom door. Shafto followed him in. The curtains had been partially drawn and Pamela was in bed, the blankets up to her chin. She looked pale and very ill and there was a bandage around her head, a little blood soaking through.
As Kane approached, her eyes opened and she stared up at him fixedly. 'Harry?'
'It's all right.' He sat on the edge of the bed.
'No, listen to me.' She pushed herself up and tugged at his sleeve and when she spoke, her voice was remote, far-away. 'Mr Churchill leaves King's Lynn at three-thirty for Studley Grange with Sir Henry Willoughby. They'll be coming by way of Walsingham. You must stop him.'
'Why must I?' Kane said gently.
'Because Colonel Steiner and his men will get him if you don't. They're waiting at the village now. They're holding everyone prisoner at the church.'
'Steiner?'
'The man you know as Colonel Carter. And his men, Harry. They aren't Poles. They're German paratroops.'
'But Pamela,' Kane said. 'I met Carter. He's as English as you are.'
'No, his mother was American and he went to school in London. Don't you see? That explains it.' There was a kind of exasperation in her voice now. 'I overheard them talking in the church, Steiner and my brother. I was hiding with Molly Prior. After we got away, we split up and I went to Joanna's, only she's one of them. She shot me and I - I locked her in the cellar.' She frowned, trying hard. 'Then I took her car and came here.'
There was a sudden release that was almost physical in its intensity It was as if she had been holding herself together by willpower alone and now it didn't matter She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes Kane said, 'But how did you get away from the church, Pamela?'
She opened her eyes and stared at him, dazed, uncomprehending 'The church? Oh, the - the usual way.' Her voice was the merest whisper 'And then I went to Joanna's and she shot me.' She closed her eyes again 'I'm so tired, Harry.'
Kane stood up and Shafto led the way back into the other room. He adjusted his sidecap in the mirror 'Well, what do you think? That Grey woman for a start. She must be the great original bitch of all time.'
'Who have we notified? The War Office and GOC East Angha for a start and...'
Shafto cut right in 'Have you any idea how long I'd be on the phone while those chair-bound bastards at Staff try to decide whether I've got it right or not?' He slammed a fist down on the table 'No, by Godfrey I'm going to nail these Krauts myself, here and now and I've got the men to do it Action this day.' He laughed harshly 'Churchill's personal motto I'd say that's rather appropriate.'
Kane saw it all then. To Shafto it must have seemed like a dispensation from the gods themselves. Not only the salvaging of his career, but the making of it. The man who had saved Churchill. A feat of arms that would take its place in the history books. Let the Pentagon try to keep that general's star from him after this and there would be noting in the streets.
'Look, sir,' Kane said stubbornly 'If what Pamela said is true, this must be just about the hottest potato of all time. If I might respectfully suggest, the British War Office won't take too kindly.'
Shafto's fist slammed down on the desk again 'What's got into you? Maybe those Gestapo boys did a better job than they knew?' He turned to the window restlessly, then swung back as quickly, smiling like a contrite schoolboy 'Sorry, Harry that was uncalled for. You're right, of course.'
'Okay, sir, what do we do?'
Shafto looked at his watch Four-fifteen. That means the Prime Minister must be getting close We know the road he's coming on I think it might be a good idea if you took a jeep and headed him off. From what the girl said you should be able to catch him this side of Walsmgham.'
'I agree, sir. At least we can offer him one hundred and ten percent security here.'
'Exactly.' Shafto sat down behind the desk and picked up the telephone 'Now get moving and take Garvey with you.'
'Colonel '
As Kane opened the door he heard Shafto say, 'Get me the General Officer commanding East Angha District and I want him personally - no one else.'
When the door closed Shafto removed his left index finger from the telephone rest. The operator's voice crackled in his ear 'Did you want something, Colonel?'
'Yes, get Captain Mallory in here on the double.'
Mallory was with him in about forty-five seconds 'You wanted me, Colonel?'
'That's right, plus a detail of forty men ready to move out five minutes from now. Eight jeeps should do it Cram 'em in.'
'Very well, sir.' Mallory hesitated, breaking one of the strictest rules 'Is it permitted to ask what the Colonel intends?'
'Well, let's put it this way,' Shafto said 'You'll be a major by nightfall - or dead.'
Mallory went out, his heart pumping and Shafto went to the cupboard in the corner and took out a bottle of Bourbon and half-filled a glass. Rain beat against the window and he stood there, drinking his Bourbon, taking his time. Within twenty-four hours he would probably have the best-known name in America. His day had come, he knew that with absolute conviction.
.
When he went outside three minutes later the jeeps were drawn up in line, the crews on board Mallory was standing in front talking to the unit's youngest officer, a second lieutenant named Chalmers. They sprang to attention and Shafto paused at the top of the steps.
'You're wondering what all this is about I'll tell you. There's a village named Studley Constable about eight miles from here. You'll find it marked plainly enough on your maps. Most of you will have heard that Winston Churchill was visiting an RAF station near King's Lynn today. What you don't know is that he's spending tonight at Studley Grange. This is where it gets interesting. There are sixteen men from the Polish Independent Parachute Squadron of the SAS training in Studley Constable. You can't miss them in those pretty red berets and camouflage uniforms.' Somebody laughed and Shafto paused until there was complete silence again. I've got news for you. Those guys are Krauts German paratroops here to get Churchill and we're going to nail them on the wall.' The silence was total and he nodded slowly 'One thing I can promise you boys. Handle this right and by tomorrow, your names will ring from California to Maine. Now get ready to move out '
There was an instant burst of activity as engines roared into life Shafto went down the steps and said to Mallory, Make sure they go over those maps on the way. No time for any fancy briefing when we get there.' Mallory hurried away and Shafto turned to Chalmers 'Hold the fort boy until Major Kane gets back.' He slapped him on the shoulder 'Don't look too disappointed He'll have Mr Churchill with him. You see he gets the hospitality of the house ' He jumped into the lead jeep and nodded to the driver 'Okay son, let's move out.'
They roared down the drive, the sentries on the massive front gate got it open fast
and the convoy turned into the road. A couple of hundred yards farther on Shafto waved them to a halt and told his driver to pull in close to the nearest telephone pole. He turned to Sergeant Hustler in the rear seat 'Give me that Thompson gun.'
Hustler handed it over Shafto cocked it, took aim and sprayed the top of the pole, reducing the crossbars to matchwood. The telephone lines parted, springing wildly through the air.
Shafto handed the Thompson back to Hustler 'I guess that takes care of any unauthorized phone calls for a while.' He slapped the side of the vehicle. 'Okay, let's go, let's go, let's go!'
.
Garvey handled the jeep like a man possessed, roaring along the narrow country lanes at the kind of speed which assumed that nothing was coming the other way. Even then, they almost missed their target, for as they drove along the final stretch to join the Walsmgham road, the small convoy flashed past at the end of the lane. Two military policemen on motor-cycles leading the way, two Humber saloon cars, two more policemen bringing up the rear.
Jack Higgins - Eagle Has Landed Page 35
