Moral Compass (The Samuel Beasley Trilogy Book 1)

by Adam J Watts

  'But where does all this leave me? I'm wanted for a crime I didn't commit.’

  Henry looked whimsical.

  'You've coped so far haven't you?' he smiled. 'I seriously doubt that our employers wanted you to take the blame. An agent of your ability would easily slip the net.’

  'I'm not an agent, I'm just...' he struggled to find an appropriate word.

  'A facilitator? Same thing old boy. You make sure the deals get done, no matter what the cost. You undertake jobs those higher up don't have the stomach to even speak of.’

  He'd never seen himself as a mercenary before. Someone else's tool, a cog in a much bigger machine.

  'But why me?'

  'You are a rare commodity. Someone with a natural aptitude saves the Government time. The less time spent in training, the more operations can be realised.’

  'Like the selling of the technology...' Seb mused.

  Henry suddenly looked concerned. 'What's that old chap?'

  Seb knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing.

  'The reason Gerald and I were in the Channel Islands the day he died.’

  'Yes? You said something about technology though...'

  'That's what we did. Our job was to buy and sell things the government would rather people knew nothing about... Well, it was Gerald's job. I just did the translating and made sure everything went according to plan.’

  Henry was now sitting down. His face a rather unpleasant shade of grey.

  'That wasn't Gerald's job.’

  'What do you mean?'

  'Sir Gerald Stratton was military advisor to the Ministry. Yes, he went on the occasional business trip to maintain international relations, but buying and selling secrets? Absolutely not.’

  'I have no reason to lie sir. Gerald and I went on three separate trips in the last year.’

  Henry sat shaking his head in what appeared to be denial.

  'This is bad, very bad...'

  'You mean to tell me that these little rendezvous were not sanctioned by the government?'

  'Contrary to popular belief, we are not in the habit of selling trade secrets young man. If you have something of value, you keep it close to your chest. You don't go offering it around to the highest bidder!' he coughed rather unexpectedly.

  Seb remained silent for a few seconds before lamenting over the past.

  'I had no idea...'

  'Obviously not, but that does not change the facts. The question is; what were you selling?'

  'I don't know anything about the first transaction. Gerald referred to it as my dry run. He did all the talking and I simply observed.’

  'And the other two?' a sense of urgency had crept into the old man's voice.

  'The second visit was to a restaurant in Austria and the third you know about.’

  'Do I?'

  The question confused Seb and he looked deliberately puzzled. 'I know the outcome of the visit yes, but I do not know what exchanged hands.’

  'Oh. The deal was about some new form of military technology. Gerald said it was something you had worked on personally... Something to do with radio waves and being able to predict the movements of your enemy.’

  Now it was Henry's turn to appear perplexed.

  'Radar -- as we're calling it -- isn't something the Germans wouldn't need to buy dear boy. They already have their own version. The system has been around for years.’

  'That can't be right.’

  'Who is the scientist here? Me or you? Take my word for it when I say, that isn't what you were selling.’

  'Then what?'

  Henry gestured for Seb to sit down alongside him for a moment.

  'I fear the worst. I have reason to believe that Gerald wasn't selling a technology as such, but a prototype.’

  'I never saw anything on the Island.’

  'You wouldn't have... Unless you took the time to look in a mirror.’

  ***

  The news had come as quite a shock to him yet Seb couldn't express this with an appropriate emotion.

  'That is what makes you the perfect weapon...'

  'What does?'

  'You're annoyed that you can't feel something in response to the theory I just put forward, are you not?'

  'I might be.’

  In what can only be described as an unexpected gesture, Henry reached out a hand and placed it upon Seb's shoulder.

  'You shouldn't see this is a burden Samuel. You can use this ability to your advantage.’

  Suddenly things were looking clearer. Seb knew exactly what he would do with his gift. Just as soon as he had tied up any 'loose ends' here at the Ministry...

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Misdirection ~ Winter, 1942

  'And you're sure your contact will be able to help us?' Seb enquired, as his boots crunched against the light covering of Soviet snow.

  'If something is happening in this part of the world, Sergei will know about it.’

  'What is it he does exactly, that provides him with such intelligence?'

  'He is radio operator and translator of German communications.’

  Now wasn't the first time Seb had noticed the landscape changing. The stint spent in the shelter of the outbuilding signified a village on the outskirts of a bigger town or city. From here on in, the pair of covert comrades would have to be on their guard.

  It was only logical that Max took point. He did after all know the area far better than Seb and was accustomed to moving from A to B undetected.

  With townships came an increased enemy presence. This usually manifested itself in the form of a barricade, pill box or checkpoint.

  Alongside these unforgiving deterrents came armed patrols and attack dogs. Hitler was undoubtedly as mad as a box of frogs, but even a psychotic dictator knew the importance of increased security on the Eastern front.

  Russia and her children would never give up their homeland without a fight and Der Führer knew this. So much so, that both sides had begun to undertake increasingly underhand measures to gain even the smallest advantage.

  Suddenly Max signalled for his partner to hit the deck. Once again he had seen or heard something in the distance and Seb allotted a fraction of a second to marvel at his heightened senses.

  'There is a patrol up ahead and beyond that I am almost certain there will be a barricade,' the big Russian whispered, second only to placing a clump of snow in his mouth and waiting for the wind to cover his voice.

  Seb mirrored his actions before responding to his observation.

  'We'll have to go around it?' he suggested.

  'No. We go over it.’ Max replied flatly.

  Seb was a little taken aback by this suggestion, but did not have a chance to say anything before his friend started to talk again.

  'Do you see the building to the right? That is where we will enter. We use the stairs to get to third floor, then we jump across to building on left.’

  'And exit on the other side of the barricade, via the building on the left.’

  Max turned and smiled at Seb.

  'It is good plan, no?'

  It was a plan. Whether it ventured into the realms of good or not would be judged against their success at a later date.

  'What about the patrol?'

  'Patrol moves in big circuit around fabricated courtyard. We time our move across open space for when patrol is on far side, but we must be quick.’

  'Great,' Seb mouthed silently behind Max.

  As the plan suggested, the pair bided their time. Waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Max noticed the patrol had come to a standstill. The four soldiers and one Rottweiler had not quite made the recommended distance, but they had become distracted with a cigarette break.

  'We go now Seb!' Max said sternly.

  'No time like the present,' he grumbled in response, as he clambered to his feet.

  Staying as low as possible they dashed across the open space. All they needed was for the group of young men in the distance, to maintain their focus on lighting up.<
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  Three quarters of the way toward the derelict tower block, Seb thought he saw something. It was hard to tell through the sleet, but he thought someone was approaching the group of men from the north.

  Whoever they were and whatever they wanted did not matter. All Seb knew was that they were a Godsend.

  With one last push the pair hurried inside the concrete block.

  It was important to get to high ground as soon as possible, so there was no time to compose themselves.

  Seb was on autopilot at this point and although his legs were buckling, he bound up the stairs two at a time.

  As soon as they were within the relative safety of the building and hidden from view, Max began to speak.

  'Did you see that?' he enquired.

  'The other group approaching the patrol?'

  Max nodded and it was Seb's turn to ask a question.

  'Who were they?'

  Slowly, Max removed the Mosin Nagant from his shoulder.

  'I have no idea, but I shall try and find out.’

  With this the sniper got down on all fours and crawled over to what could have once been a window, or perhaps it was simply a shell hole -- it was hard to tell.

  Seb remained silent while his friend surveyed the scene. At a guess he would say ten minutes elapsed before the big Russian made his way back over to where he was sitting, sipping water from a canteen.

  'It is not good news my friend.’ Max said solemnly.

  'What is it?'

  'It would appear we have stumbled across a stronghold.’

  'But this is just a checkpoint surely?' Seb questioned nervously.

  'This is indeed checkpoint, but gateway to greater things.’

  Max appeared to be contemplating their next move when Seb interrupted.

  'The armoured convoy?' he murmured, to himself as much as to Max.

  'How do you know about that?'

  'When we first met, you spoke of how I might be able to help in exchange for information about Hackbeil.’

  'You have good memory, but what is this armoured convoy you mention my friend.’

  'A few months ago I was fortunate enough to chance upon some documents. In one of the files, there were detailed plans for the conflict in Russia.’

  'And only now you decide to share this knowledge?' Max snarled.

  'Yes, because I didn't think the plans would materialise.’

  'It would appear that you were wrong.’

  'The files told of a considerable push by the Axis forces. Approximately twelve Tigers with Panzerschreck crews and supporting artillery.’

  Seb could not be certain, but what colour there had been in Max's face appeared to have drained.

  'We must get message to Red Army.’

  A smile crept across Seb face and Max was openly intrigued.

  'Not necessarily my friend.’

  'You have idea?' Max probed before continuing, 'You will get us both killed and many more beside.’

  'How far are we from the nearest radio tower or lookout point?'

  'Approximately two miles. Why do you ask?'

  Seb rose to a crouched position whilst ridding himself of any concrete dust.

  'We are going to send a message, as you suggest.’

  'We have no radio.’

  'Correct, but we do have what the Native Americans had.’

  Max stared at Seb, before cracking an infectious smile.

  'You are quite mad my friend.’

  'Undoubtedly, but will you help me?'

  The slightest pause ensued before Seb's comrade extended a hand.

  'Of course.’

  ***

  The hours passed slowly as Seb and Max took turns to scout the German facility through the lense of the Mossin Nagant.

  'When do we strike?'

  'In the middle of the night. It's always the best time' Seb replied.

  Max smiled.

  'Yes. Less men on guard and bigger element of surprise.’

  Seb handed the rifle back to Max.

  'Reminds me of Africa.’ He said, speaking his mind without thinking.

  'Yes. You never finished the story,' Max smiled, 'We have time now.’

  Seb nodded in agreement, as anything was better than sitting in silence for another four hours.

  'How far had I gotten?'

  'You had followed the German to an airbase in North Africa...'

  Seb leaned against the wall and cradled his canteen.

  'Of course. Well, it wasn't long before I found myself alone. Nadir had done his job and decided it would be in his best interests to leave.’

  'How kind,' Max muttered with a smirk.

  'It was for the best. I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.’

  At that moment the wind whistled through a hole in the concrete wall and the pair held themselves tighter.

  'Go on,' Max encouraged.

  'I could only assume she was with him and inside the airbase.’

  Max could not hide his confusion.

  'She?'

  'Yes, she. Caitlin. Either that or he was holding her somewhere in Germany. That is another reason I have to find Hackbeil.’

  'Who is she?' Max ventured.

  'She is someone I let down.’

  Max scratched at his overgrown stubble.

  'And you think she is still with him today?'

  The question bore into Seb like drilling for oil. If the truth be told, he had lost hope a long time ago. She was almost certainly dead by now, but without faith we have nothing.

  'Maybe not with him, but she's out there somewhere.’

  The look etched across Seb's face was one of determination, but more so belief. This was something Max had respect for. A man with conviction is a force to be reckoned with. 'Gaining access to the airfield was - in some respects - similar to the situation we find ourselves in tonight.’

  'You observed from a distance and struck at night?' Seb nodded before continuing with his story.

  'After a few hours observation I became familiar with the patrol patterns and routes to which the guards stuck.’