They mounted their cycles and rode in line with Allenby in the middle.
The leader had revealed a man’s name. A carefully prepared ruse, he wondered. It was more likely carelessness brought on by fear. They were amateurs and it was a dangerous game.
Occasionally they passed a small humped building or hut. Something told Allenby they were empty and deserted, the coastal strip cleared completely to prevent anyone from signalling out to sea. Sicily seemed far worse by comparison, he thought. Here there was was nothing, not even a barking dog.
They paused for a rest while the second man went on ahead to sniff out the land. He returned and murmured something to the leader.
He said, “All clear. There is an outflow pipe from the radar station. It is not yet complete.” His teeth shone in the darkness. “Nor will it be after tonight, eh?”
The leader knew his way and seemed to recognize every stone and bush. Once he stopped to drop a British cigarette packet which had been in the dinghy. Allenby hoped for his sake the clues would not be too obvious.
The pipe jutted out from the hillside, and it took only a few minutes to remove the protective wire grid from its gaping mouth.
The leader peered closely at Allenby. “Can you get through it?”
Allenby shouldered his satchel. The outflow pipe was almost as large as the W and D compartment on the X-Craft, but there was no point in mentioning it.
He climbed onto the metal, feeling its chill through his waterproof suit. To have something so large installed the Germans were obviously expecting to increase their defenses even more.
The slope was not very steep, but the satchel and the confining pipe soon made him out of breath. He had cut his hands and one knee, and he could feel the leader pushing up behind him. The nervous one remained in hiding to guard their retreat.
The leader flashed a small torch and grunted. “Here. In spection hatch. Usually locked.” He thrust at it with his shoulder and when it opened he peered through it for several seconds. He must have practiced this several times before making his suggestion about destroying it. How did they keep contact with people like Prothero? Who made the first move?
“Come on.” He gave Allenby a hand to help him into the other darkness. As they stood motionless Allenby realized it was not completely blacked out. There were small pinpoints
of light above, where electric cables came through an upper concrete floor.
He heard something scrape and his companion whispered, “Guardroom above us. Just two men. Above them is the working area. I designed it.” He led Allenby across the crudely finished concrete floor and then flashed his light on a steel junction box, and behind it a partly covered girder. He stood aside, the torch level as Allenby crouched down to examine it.
The other man whispered, “I have dynamite here. It would have been necessary to move it when the work of finishing
the outflow pipe began.” He released a deep sigh which
betrayed the strain he was under. “You are just in time.” “Fetch the dynamite. ” Allenby propped the torch on his
satchel. “No need to unpack it.” He groped for his detonators and a pack of plastic explosive. “Are you sure the Germans won’t come poking around here?”
He shook his head. “I shall report for work as usual. There are several jobs that can be done before the pipe. I have brought a Thermos and some sandwiches. It will seem like a long wait, my friend.”
Allenby moved his shoulders. He felt cold already, and the thought of staying here with the enemy above him and a devastating pile of explosives as his only company was grim.
If only he had some better fuses. Ones which would last for days if need be. It would make the job much less hazardous.
They worked in silence until Allenby was finally satisfied. The girder was one of the main supports. He recalled the pylons in Sicily, the sapper falling dead. It all seemed a long time ago.
He said, “Fair enough then. You’d better be off.” He tried to speak calmly and hide his anxiety.
The man suddenly seemed eager to go. Perhaps he had only just realized the enormity of what he was doing.
They shook hands and the leader began to scramble through the inspection hatch, and Allenby heard the sounds getting fainter and fainter. There was a short scraping noise, like the mine along the side of the X-Craft’s hull, then total silence. That must have been them replacing the wire grid.
One hour dragged after the next, and Allenby had to massage his legs to stop them getting cramped. Once somebody began to use a powerful drill overhead, and he nearly strangled himself as he tried to prevent an onset of coughing when dust filtered down in the darkness.
He eked out the coffee and the sandwiches, but by that time he was unable to tell what the food consisted of.
He tried not to peer at his luminous watch. When he did, the hands never seemed to move.
Sometimes feet clattered overhead and he pictured his nighttime companion up there with the enemy. He was taking a terrible risk. If he was caught-It did not bear thinking of. The enemy would offer no quarter, show no mercy. Any more than Thomas had done. He wondered how it must feel to the Channel Islanders. Occupied by the enemy, seeing them every day, hating them and yet afraid to show it. The German troops were older men or recovering from wounds, Prothero had said. Allenby expected that they were grateful to be here. Away from the Russian Front and all its misery.
It was a long, long day.
Allenby thought of Quinlan if only to contemplate what might happen if the X-Craft’s mission went badly wrong. While he was cooped up in his concrete hiding place Quinlan and his three companions would be groping their way around the southwest coast of Jersey and then down across the bay to St Helier harbor where German transport was reported at anchor.
If the X-Craft was driven deep by patrol boats, or became entangled in an anti-submarine net, Allenby would be left to his own resources.
But as evening closed in over the islands Allenby heard the wire grid being removed from the pipe and soon afterwards the engineer crawled through the inspection hatch and handed Allenby another sandwich.
Allenby found that he was starving despite the nearness of danger. Between gulps he asked, “Everything quiet?”
The man nodded. “The Germans are installing some new mobile guns farther along the coast in case of an air attack. They are too busy to bother us.” He sounded worn out.
Allenby looked at his watch. “Let’s get it over with.” As the other man held the torch he adjusted the time fuse, and a second one in case of accidents. He would look a complete idiot if the radar station was blown up and he was left on the beach with his dinghy to face the music. He felt inside his Ursula suit to make sure the revolver holster was unbuttoned. He could not help wondering if he would have the courage to use it on himself before he was caught and interrogated. In his heart he doubted it. He found that he was sweating, and he had to force himself to concentrate. He tested the wires once more then snapped down the firing switch.
Then he backed away from the neatly taped explosives.
“Let’s hope it works.” It was just something to say, to prevent him from running.
He thought of the girl’s face in the darkness. That last time. He would get back to her. He must.
They crawled down the pipe and the engineer made certain that the grid was replaced exactly as it was in case a foot patrol should appear. The enemy sometimes sent out small squads of soldiers to forestall black-market operators and generally to keep the islanders guessing.
As they mounted their cycles Allenby could sense that his two companions were half looking over their shoulders, ‘as if they expected an explosion already.
Allenby had put some photographs and a detailed plan inside his suit, as well as some tiny metal fittings in a leather case for the Intelligence experts in England.
He almost rode into the leading bicycle and realized that the man was leaning over the handlebars, his hand in the air.
&nb
sp; The leader whispered, “Something’s wrong.”
They dismounted and Allenby saw the first man push his machine into some bushes and then kneel beside the deserted road.
Allenby could smell the sea, sense its regular movement out there in the darkness.
The man crawled back to them. “He is not there.
Allenby tried to understand. That must be the one named Harry. Had he left them? Or was he captured? Either way, time was running out. .
There was a slight bend in the road, although Allenby could barely see it in the blackness.
The other two whispered together and he could sense their new apprehension. The unexpected was somehow worse than a visible threat.
The leader made up his mind and after giving Allenby a pat on the shoulder he vanished along the roadside. The other man knelt in the bushes saying nothing and keeping well clear of Allenby as if it might increase his chances.
The leader was soon back.
He whispered, “There is a German scout car less than fifty yards away. Three soldiers. ” He spoke in quick, breathless sentences. “I think their car has broken down. They are looking at the engine.”
Allenby’s mind explored the possibilities. They might take ages to repair their car. If they carried a field radio they might already have sent for aid. Quinlan would surface very soon now. He had to get to the beach. It was impossible. Hide, then, with these two amateur agents? Quinlan would still surface. The Germans might see or hear the X-Craft as she blew her ballast.
The leader stood up and said, “I can bluff them.” His fear had gone and he sounded very determined. “They are not a patrol.” He looked towards his companion. “Coming?”
The man shook his head and retreated into the bushes. It did not seem to surprise the engineer and he said to Allenby, “It is time. Take good care of those plans.” Without another glance he mounted the bicycle and rode very slowly along the road.
Allenby strained his eyes but the other man had vanished with his cycle. Allenby thrust his empty satchel into a bush and walked quickly across the road, his heart pounding in time with his footsteps.
A voice yelled, “Halt! Wer da?”
For an instant only Allenby thought the voice came from another direction, that the nervous challenge was directed at him. ‘He quickened his pace and heard the engineer call, “Was wollen Sie?” He even managed to laugh although he must have been terrified.
The German shouted wildly, “Halt!” Then the road lit up to a savage burst of Schmeisser fire. The firing stopped and Allenby heard their voices, the clatter of a bicycle careering off the road.
Allenby found that he had his revolver in his hand and wanted to run back, to pull the trigger until they were dead, or he had fallen to another burst.
He increased his pace and was almost running when he reached the rocks. He pulled the dinghy from its hiding place and heard his revolver splash into the water as he thrust off from the beach. He was gasping and almost sobbing as he worked the paddle until his arms throbbed. He did not even consider that the X-Craft might not be there, that he could easily be floating helplessly out to sea.
All he could see in his reeling mind was the man mounting his bicycle and riding towards the soldiers. I can bluff them.
Now the Germans would never know the real truth.
A voice called through the darkness, “This way! Over here!”
Then he was clawing and scrambling over the X-Craft’s rounded side.
He felt hands dragging him aboard and Quinlan’s voice right in his ear, “Thank God. We thought that was you just then!”
The rest was blurred as if he was only half conscious. He heard the hatch slam shut, the increased quiver in the hull as they turned away from the land.
He could not stop thinking, it was tearing him apart. He was thankful that the others were too busy as they prepared to dive to notice his reactions. There was no relief this time. Only the steel fingers of fear that gave him no peace.
Frazer sat beside his bed and read through Prothero’s latest clip of orders. It gave details of the new section in Special Operations, which would consist of the original MGB, now completely repaired, and two similar boats.
They would exercise with the military and get used to taking over from one another in any sudden emergency. They had learned something from Able Two’s loss, he thought.
The small house which had been taken over for the various officers had been left bare by the previous occupants. When not getting used to their new duties most of the officers made a beeline for one of the local inns and came back too full of beer or cider to notice the cold and the bare rooms.
It was late, and they would all be back soon, he thought. How on earth could he ask Lynn Balfour to go out with him when there was nowhere to go? The place was filled with uniforms. There would be no atmosphere even if she agreed to come witk him.
He had seen very little of her. Only their occasional meetings at the inn. Frazer had decided to move into his new quarters. He already regretted it, except that he felt in touch with the new HQ along the road.
He wondered about Allenby. If he was back, in some other port. Or dead. Nobody mentioned it. It was like trying to speak to a brick wall.
A telephone broke the stillness and he reluctantly got to his feet. There was nobody else in the building, nor would there be until the stewards brought the morning tea. Piping hot and orange from the tinned milk. You could stand a spoon up in a cup of pusser’s tea, they said.
The telephone rang again and he hurried along the passage to answer. It reminded him of the time she had phoned him at Gib. It was a mystery, and she had never explained it to him. He recalled the irate officer who had banged on their door, the fact he had gone half naked to the telephone.
He picked up the instrument. “Yes. Lieutenant Commander Frazer here.” He always hesitated, caught out by his new rank.
It was a female voice. “Could you come to the Operations Room, sir?”
Frazer blinked. “Surely I’m not the senior bod in the whole place?”
He tried again, “Isn’t Second Officer Balfour available?” It would give him an opportunity to see her.
She replied, “Well, no, sir.” She sounded desperate. “And the other Two-Oh is on leave until tomorrow.”
Frazer said, “Something’s wrong.” It dawned on him. He should have known. “Is that Leading Wren Hazel?”
“Yes, sir. Staff Officer, Operations, and Commander Prothero will be here tomorrow.” She hesitated. “Early.”
Frazer nodded. There was a flap on. But why-?
She said, “She needs your help, sir. She doesn’t know I’m calling you. I didn’t know what else to-” She sounded close to tears.
Frazer had seen her once, but she had not even noticed ` him. So it was true about her and Dick.
He said, “I’ll be right there. Three minutes.” He added softly, “And thanks.”
It was a holiday cottage which Lynn Balfour shared with another Wren officer, the one on a night’s leave.
The dark-haired Wren had to walk quickly to keep up with Frazer’s strides.
She said as they hurried through the gates, “She’s not well.”
Frazer glanced at her pale profile. “You care, don’t you?”
She replied, “She’s a real poppet. She never lets anyone down.” She hesitated as they reached the cottage. “Look, sir, there’s something you should know.”
He touched her arm. “Later. Let’s go inside.”
They closed the door and switched on the lights. It was like a stage, set for a play, but still awaiting the actors. A typical Cornish cottage, he supposed, still furnished by the people who had once come here to get away from it all.
A Wren officer’s jacket lay carelessly across a sofa and a tricorn hat perched jauntily on an empty flower vase.
The girl called Joanna said, “I-I’ll go and see-“
Frazer said quietly, “We’ll go together.”
He pushed ope
n the bedroom door and saw that a light was still burning. His eyes took it in with one glance. A photograph on the dressing table of a serious-looking man with a dog. That must be her father who was a vet in Edinburgh. Leading Wren Hazel stepped aside and he saw Lynn sprawled on her side, half covered by the bedclothes, one bare arm dangling towards the floor. There was another photograph in a frame beside the lamp. The young lieutenant who must have been her lover. His eyes fastened on an empty pill bottle which lay directly below her outthrust hand.
Frazer said, “Help me.” He cradled his arm under the girl’s body and raised her to a half-sitting position. Joanna leaned over to pull her nightdress back onto her bare shoulder to cover her breast.
Frazer thought suddenly of the German girl, and Ives’s anguish for her.
“Is she-” Joanna touched her face and pushed the hair from her eyes.
Frazer hesitated and then thrust his hand below her breast. He was conscious of her nearness, unable to believe what had happened. Her head rolled against his chest as if her neck was broken. She was out cold.
He looked up and saw the girl watching him, her brown eyes very steady, prepared.
Frazer said, “There is a heartbeat.” He lifted Lynn’s face with his hand and supported her chin as she lolled against him.
“Could you make some coffee?” He saw Joanna’s relief, her eagerness to help, the need to do something.
She hurried out and left the door wide open.
Frazer held Lynn carefully, aware of her body in his grip, and how lovely she was, so different too without her uniform.
What had she done? He lowered his face and touched her mouth with his. As he did so he smelt and tasted the gin. He had already noticed it but had assumed it was because she had been drinking while reading Prothero’s orders.
It hit him like a club. If Prothero arrived with SO(O) in the morning it would ruin her. But why?
He heard the clatter of a cup, and prayed that she would be all right.
Aloud he murmured, “Lynn, my love, what am I to do with you?”
The Volunteers Page 21
