by Adam J Watts
Everything was happening so slowly. The mine seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Finally it landed prongs down. Seb had expected it to topple over and lie there in wait for its baby brother to arrive, but something entirely different happened.
The mechanism armed itself and tried to jump upwards. The trouble was, being upside down Bettie had nowhere to bounce to. Instead the explosive jerked awkwardly and began to roll in a circular motion.
The Germans were on their feet and heading for cover. Even with the mine rolling around in the dirt, they knew all too well the effects of the explosion. Lethal from up to a hundred and fifty feet, you didn't take any chances.
The grenade arrived and landed some ten feet from the mine. They bid each other a brief good day, before the grenade exploded.
Machine gun fire was in full flow now and although the smoke was taking effect, the gunner continued to spray wildly into the unknown. Now it was the mine's turn to take centre stage. Up she went with an impressive bang, scattering shards of metal in all directions.
The grenade had floored one fleeing German by itself, but the mine made light work of two more. In what proved to be a gruesome sight, shrapnel tore through leg muscle and flesh like cheese wire leaving the two casualties writhing on the floor.
The one that got away was furious. Even worse, he had spotted Seb in the tree. Quickly he raised his Kar98 to his shoulder and began to take aim. The branches shook
and twitched with some vigour as the stricken Seb tried to shimmy down the tree as fast as humanly possible.
He wasn't going to make it. The best thing he could hope for in this split second window of thinking time was that either the German was a poor shot or he got extremely lucky somehow.
***
Stupid, macho idiot! That bullet was meant for him.
In the aftermath of the conflict Seb held a dying man in his arms. He was grateful for the intervention, but at what cost?
In an act of untold bravery Private Hewitt had appeared from nowhere. He emerged from the cloud of smoke like some kind of superhero. Seb had known instantly that the young man would be killed.
Tackling the remaining German to the floor he wrestled with him, buying Seb enough time to drop from the tree and slide down the bank.
He remembered screaming for a gun with some range to it. Pleading with anyone that would listen to him. Eventually someone had heard his cries and handed him a BAR. Quickly he dropped to one knee and rested the barrel of the gun on a fallen tree trunk.
At this point the German was on top of the young Canadian and appeared to be winning the contest. Seb fired two quick shots in the direction of the men locked in an unpleasant embrace. The enemy fell backwards from Private Hewitt and hit the floor. He did not move again. The trouble was, neither did Hewitt.
Another explosion occurred to the left. It was only after the smoke had settled that he realised it must have been a grenade in the machine gun emplacement. It didn't matter. Seb was away. Running towards the wounded soldier. He had to try and save him. He was partially to blame for his injuries.
Upon arrival he positioned himself next to Hewitt. It didn't look good. He was losing a lot of blood from a stab wound to the neck. Seb didn't care about the mess. He placed his hand over the wound and pressed as firmly as he could.
'Medic!' he shouted over the din of surrounding gun fire, but nobody came. 'You'll be alright... What were you thinking?'
The soldier tried to speak, but nothing came out. The wound must have caused damage to the vocal chords. He was minutes from death.
He was so caught up in the moment Seb didn't realise the battle was won. If he was honest, he knew he had gone, but still his hands applied pressure.
The hand on his shoulder felt unreal. It was only when a voice spoke to him that he realised it wasn't a figment of his own imagination.
'Let him go Sebastian...' Pierre said solemnly.
Seb did as he was told. Hewitt's eyes held a glassy, startled expression.
'That should have been me,' he declared.
'Why?'
'The plan was my idea. It failed and this is the end result...'
The hand on his shoulder suddenly became rough. It grabbed at his collar and wrenched him upwards.
'Look around you! The plan worked...' Seb stared at the dead bodies wearing grey, 'We lost two men, they lost everything. Private Hewitt did not die in vain.’
'Why did he sacrifice himself like that?'
'It was not a sacrifice. It was instinct. He saw an opportunity and took it, just like you did... He admired you really you know.’
Seb looked at Pierre. He didn't believe him.
'I don't think so. You're just saying that.’
'Private Stanley!'
Hewitt's friend came when called.
'Yes sir?'
'Tell our associate here, what Hewitt said last night.’ Stanley appeared sceptical, 'But Sir, I'm not sure...'
'Tell him, Private!'
The other young soldier proceeded to explain to Seb how Hewitt admired his work in the farmhouse and only gave him a hard time, because he envied his abilities.
'He didn't want to be like me.’
'He did sir, that's why...'
'I'm no role model,' Seb exhaled with some feeling.
Crouching beside Hewitt for one last time, Seb fished around in his own pocket.
'You can have these back... You earned them.’
Carefully he placed the pack of cigarettes inside the young man's jacket pocket before turning and walking away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Revolutions ~ Winter 1961
It may well have been winter in this part of the world, but Cuba continued to serve up a steamy dish all the same. Seb had never handled the heat well. He remembered quite vividly the times he had suffered at the hands of the sun. Most people tanned, he simply took on the appearance of a freshly served lobster.
'How do you want to do this?' Max asked.
The scene laid out before them gave Seb flashbacks of Russia. He saw no reason why they could not execute this particular mission in the same idiom as before.
'Just like we used to. I'll get inside and you find somewhere to scope out targets.’
'Good plan. I join you once you carve a path.’
Seb nodded, before placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.
'You didn't have to come here. I won't forget that.’
'I know. By me a drink when we get back' he joked, 'Besides, I brought something along... As you suggested.’
Seb smiled in the pre-dawn light, 'Did I say that?'
Five minutes later he had traversed the foliage and associated rock formations surrounding the complex and reached the perimeter fence. Naturally there was a patrol with accompanying guard dog, but Seb had already taken note of his route and the time it took this particular soldier to complete his circuit.
He had three minutes to penetrate the fence and tuck himself away behind one of the many small buildings situated at the extremity of the base. The guard passed by. Ten seconds later Seb was out from behind a nearby boulder and snipping away at the wire with his trusty bolt cutters.
Second to snagging his American apparel on the fence, he was through. From behind the building Seb could gather his thoughts. Within a few moments he had decided that the best course of action here would be to avoid confrontation at all costs. Max was more than capable of following him inside, so why start fights with the forces billeted here if it wasn't essential to the job in hand?
This in mind, he waited until the guard had reached the far side of the compound and made a hunched dash for the next available cover. The military jeep was fine as a temporary hiding place, but it wouldn't hold up for long.
Where was the guard? He wasn't on his usual path. As things stood Seb felt more than a little isolated. He hoped Max was watching and had the missing military man in his sights.
There he was! He must have been to the toilet or gone to check on something in one of the
other buildings.
The wind was getting up and if Seb wasn't mistaken, it had changed direction.
Suddenly the attack dog's head tilted upwards. Had it caught scent of the intruder, a.k.a. Seb? A few seconds passed as the Alsatian deliberated over the possibility and the guard tugged on the lead. Soon the soldier would come to realise man's best friend had detected a foe. Sure enough he took a knee and began to speak to the dog. Decision made, the canine began to bark.
Almost instantly the barking was muted mid-stream. The guard reeled backwards, as if in recognition of something. Max.
Another suppressed shot and the Cuban was sent sprawling to the ground. He writhed momentarily in the mud and fumbled for his radio. Before he could get a firm grasp on the device another dull thud presented itself and the floored soldier went limp.
Although Seb was grateful for his associate's intervention, this action would result in him having to hide the bodies of both the dog and the guard. To leave them out in the open was far too dangerous and could result in the entire facility being placed on alert.
There was also the added complication of the radio. It was standard protocol for any security unit to call in at pre-arranged intervals, so that the control room could maintain a line of communication and thus know everything was okay in the outside world.
Spanish was not one of Seb's lingoes. He spoke a few, but had never seen the benefit of learning the Latin based language. The only alternative was to act fast. Move the bodies out of sight and try to reach his
destination before anyone realised something was wrong.
He was thankful for a lack of spotlights around the facility. A limited budget and lack of reliable power, had determined that the only source of light available to their hosts, came via a series of diesel generators hooked up to some less-than-inspiring floodlights. They were the kind you might find on a building site and hardly set the world alight.
He prepared himself for another hunched dash. How he wished he was young again. All those years spent crawling around in the mud or sitting in a damp uniform were beginning to take their toll on him. Neverthe-less he was out of the traps and heading towards the bodies. Once there his head was on a swivel. He was scouting for somewhere to put them, when he spotted the perfect place.
The industrial sized hopper took both bodies with room to spare and although the thought of laying a seemingly innocent man to rest amongst cabbage leaves and other household waste niggled at him, it was ultimately for the greater good of humanity.
Intelligence reports had informed the boys at the Pentagon that any scientific research was being carried out in a building to the west. The process used to unearth this information was fascinating to Seb and involved heat signatures. Something he would have to look into once this whole thing was over.
'Whenever you're ready Max. We're heading for the building to the West.’
The silence was filled with a dull hissing until his eyes in the sky responded.
'On my way down. Where is the rendezvous point?'
'The hopper where I dumped the bodies. Thanks for your help by the way.’
'Anytime.’
As he waited for Max to arrive, Seb thought of what he would say to the man he had spent the last eighteen years searching for. He tried to focus, but any kind of logical conversation was replaced with an act of violence. Perhaps he would just shoot him and that would be the end of it all...
This turn of events left him cold and similarly, with so many questions unanswered. He needed to interrogate the German before any form of retribution could be handed out.
'You took your time,' he said sarcastically as Max crouched beside him.
'You have submachine gun, I have sniper rifle. I would like to see you get here any quicker,' the Russian retorted.
'Okay, okay... How do we get from A to B?'
Seb pointed with his finger and Max followed the tip.
'The quickest way to get from A to B is in a straight line.’
'I doubt our hosts will just allow us to walk right in.’
'So create a distraction. I thought you were good at those?' Max probed.
'Challenge accepted.’
With that Seb was off again and heading back towards the jeep he had previously used for cover. Removing a home-made incendiary device from the holster on his
belt, he opened the fuel cap on the vehicle. He quickly dropped the miniature phosphorus grenade inside and ran back to the sanctuary of the bins.
'What was that?' Max enquired.
Seb panted as he spoke, 'Phosphorus grenade with an added extra, courtesy of MI6... Made it myself a long time ago.'
'I think it is a dud,' he said with some amusement.
'Extended fuse,' Seb winked.
The explosion was huge. Certainly big enough to draw the attention of those on guard or sleeping in nearby buildings.
From their hiding place, Seb and Max watched as several Cubans emerged from different parts of the complex, their attention on the fireball of a former jeep. Slowly the covert couple edged their way forwards and along the side of the building with the external bins. A little further and they could tuck themselves away again and advance on the blindside of the agitated troops.
'Subtle,' Max exclaimed jovially.
'It worked, didn't it?' His friend replied.
The conversation ceased soon after, as they had reached the research facility.
'After you, comrade.’
'How kind... I hope our mutual friend is home.’
Chapter Thirty:
Pilgrim In An Unholy Land ~ Autumn 1940
Berlin. Not the most beautiful city in the world, but certainly an industrious one under the current regime. The propaganda posters were everywhere. You couldn't walk down a street without seeing the face of the Führer or reading a powerful message against enemies of the state. Joseph Goebbels certainly knew his job.
Seb would have stood out like a sore thumb had it not been for the outfit he 'borrowed' from the train station. The lost and found departments in these places were a relative goldmine when it came to adopting a new identity in the space of a few minutes.
It had not proven difficult to get inside the office either. He had merely wandered up to the kiosk, informed the member of staff that he had seen an item of discarded luggage in the public toilet and waited for him to leave his post. Once inside he had found everything he needed.
Ich bin ein Berliner.
If he avoided any checkpoints and kept his head down he should be fine. His main priority was locating the man whom he had come to know as Herman. As far as he could ascertain the weasel had returned to his homeland with his tail between his legs. His plans to lure Seb out of hiding had failed and his superiors were less than impressed with the trail of destruction he had been leaving wherever he went.
The best chance of locating him would be at the headquarters of German intelligence. At a guess Seb imagined he would have been assigned to a desk job within the bowels of the Sicherheitsdienst.
