Hitler's Angel

by William Osborne

  Otto started sawing at the rope with his knife just as Leni and Angelika arrived and the first shot rang out. It was a pistol round. A neat hole appeared in the canvas tail fin just above Otto's head.

  Luckily, the lip of the cockpit was only waist height. The girls clambered straight in, Angelika sitting between Leni's legs.

  The next gunfire was semi-automatic. Chunks of turf kicked up around Otto as he struggled to sever the rope. He kept sawing. Dazed and confused gliding students were spewing out of their tents in vests and undershorts.

  The vehicles were about a thousand metres down the hill, their engines screaming as they bounced over the bumpy ground. The dogs were making better progress, leaping ahead, sensing their quarry was near.

  With a final desperate slash, Otto severed the rope. He sprinted to the cockpit, put his hand against the side of it and pushed as hard as he could. The glider immediately started to roll forward on its landing cart, and Otto had to scramble to pull himself inside. He jammed himself in the canvas seat next to Leni. The glider shot past the tents, the wing tip uprooting one, trailing it along before it blew away as they gathered speed.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Otto saw a boy leap on to a bike and cycle towards them. The glider was accelerating quickly, but the boy was clearly determined to stop it. As he came alongside the cockpit Otto stared in astonishment.

  “Him!” he yelled. “It's him!”

  It was that thug from Prien, Rudi. The boy was staring at them, equally astonished. Leni shunted Angelika forward, twisted round and pointed her pistol at the boy's head. “Bang!” she yelled at the top of her voice. The boy's eyes widened in fright. Then the front wheel of his bicycle hit a tree stump and he shot over the handlebars and went somersaulting down the hill, followed by the bicycle.

  Angelika let out a shrill scream of warning and Otto turned back. One of the dogs had reached them. It raced along beside the cockpit and leapt into the air, its fangs bared. Otto felt a pressure wave as a bullet went past his face and hit the dog squarely in the jaw. The hound flew back, blood spurting. Otto stared at Leni in shock. The muzzle of her pistol was seeping smoke. She looked stunned at what she'd just done.

  “Are you all right?” he yelled. She made no reply.

  The glider was now travelling very fast and so were the army jeeps. They were facing a head-on collision. Otto could quite clearly see Heydrich in the lead vehicle, bringing his Schmeisser up to bear on them. Otto wrenched the control stick back just as the machine gun spat flame, and the glider swooped up into the air, the rear metal skid clipping the top of the car's windscreen. The launching cart bounced past Heydrich's jeep and crashed into the one behind. Bullets seemed to fill the air but the glider was climbing fast. Otto glanced back and caught sight of Heydrich, his submachine gun cradled in his arms, firing wildly up at them. A line of bullet holes chewed through the wing above Otto's head.

  Leni had the grenade in her hand ready to drop it, but Otto yelled, “No, save it, save it!” She nodded.

  Another sharp updraught of wind caught the light wooden craft and threw it upwards like a paper dart, shooting it higher into the morning sky. They all screamed. Otto felt the bottom of his stomach falling through his feet. Up, up, up they rose, until Leni yelled something and tugged Otto's arm. Out to their left was the blue-grey expanse of the Bodensee. Somewhere on the southern tip, MacPherson was sitting on a boat, waiting patiently for them. For a moment the sun glinted off the surface, making it shine like silver, then a dark cloud rolled in.

  “We're really flying,” shouted Angelika. Otto stared at the instruments fitted on the dashboard. Altimeter, compass, air speed indicator. He tried to remember what he'd picked up from the book he'd read. Gingerly he pushed at the rudder pedals and the glider started to bank to the left. But the wind kept pushing them south. It shouldn't matter, thought Otto, a mental picture of the map in his head. They might end up crossing the border near the town of Davos, which was a long way from the lake but still in Switzerland. Then all they had to worry about was how to land. And what to do with Angelika.

  CHAPTER 42

  INTERCEPT

  They were completely lost. That was the only thing Otto was sure of. Since take-off, the wind had got stronger and the clouds darker, and the glider had climbed higher and higher. The altimeter was at three thousand metres and all of them were shaking with cold. The glider was being buffeted by crosswinds and Otto had to battle all the time to try to keep it level. Luckily they'd managed to strap themselves in and as there were three of them, they were wedged in tight in the open cockpit. But that was small compensation.

  What made it truly frightening was being in the clouds. They were encased in thick, freezing fog and completely blind. Leni was shouting something at Otto but the roar of the wind made it impossible to hear. He clung to the control stick, his feet on the rudder pedals, flying by instinct. He knew that at any moment they could fly into the side of the rock face and be splattered across it. Angelika, squashed in front of Leni, had tucked her head into her knees.

  Leni kept shouting above the howling slipstream. Otto finally distinguished her words. “We have to land!”

  “Don't you think I know that?” he yelled back.

  Suddenly another updraught sent them shooting straight up and then they burst through the top of the clouds into the blinding blue above. It was like going from night to day. The glider bumped along the top of the clouds like a speedboat on a choppy sea. For a moment everything seemed perfect. The glider was slicing through the air now, the only sound the wind whistling through the gliders’ wires. And then Otto looked ahead. A mountain peak was right in front of them and approaching fast.

  Angelika shouted, “It's Piz Buin!”

  “What are you talking about?” Leni cried.

  “It is in the Silvretta range, 3,312 metres high with a glacier on the south side,” she recited at the top of her voice, like a talking encyclopaedia.

  “So what?” yelled Otto back, failing to see what she was so excited about.

  “Look at the cross on the top, look!”

  Leni and Otto stared at the summit of the mountain. Just visible was a wooden cross driven into the rock.

  “It marks the border! Once you get on the other side—” “We're nearly free!” Leni interrupted. She screamed with excitement.

  “Are you sure?” said Otto, suddenly doubtful. Patches of flinty grey rock were pockmarking the snow-capped peak.

  “Yes! My favourite book in the library. It was about the Alps. I can recognise all the different mountains, I swear.”

  Otto looked across to Leni. Maybe it was the wind, but her eyes were streaming.

  He watched the peak coming closer, knowing they'd have to somehow get over it and crash land on the southern side. He had absolutely no idea how to do that. Perhaps the mountain would be forgiving, he thought, then realised how silly that sounded. He leant forward to check the instruments. Still heading due south. If he could just keep it steady, just keep control. He glanced out to the left. Heard something. An engine perhaps. Surely not. He looked all around.

  “Do you hear that?” he yelled.

  “There!” shrieked Angelika, but this time she wasn't pointing to the mountains.

  A wing tip peeked through the cloud cover to their left. For a moment, Otto hoped they were all imagining it, then it flicked up again. The top of it was white, the underside a very pale blue. On both sides were the black and white crosses of the Luftwaffe. Otto felt a terrible quickening in his belly. It couldn't be . . .

  The plane exploded up through the clouds. Leni and Angelika screamed. Otto yelled just as loudly. The plane was a Fieseler Stork, a light, incredibly agile reconnaissance plane, ideal for mountain flying.

  Otto forced himself to look at the cockpit. Just as he feared, Heydrich was staring back at him from the pilot's seat. Behind him were the strange man with the glasses he had seen at the inn and an SS officer. The SS officer was pointing a submachine gun on them. The g
lider was already filled with holes, one short burst and it would be a flying colander. The machine gun coughed into life. But the bullets went high.

  Heydrich jabbed his thumb, indicating for them to go down.

  “It's a warning shot!” Otto shouted. “He wants us to go down.”

  “Well, he can forget that.” Leni pulled the pistol from her waistband, leant across Otto and fired six shots. With her eyesight, she was unlikely to hit a damn thing.

  “Are you mad?” Otto yelled.

  The muzzle of the officer's submachine gun spewed flame just as Otto threw the stick forward and they shot down into the cloud. Down and down, like a lift with snapped cables.

  *

  Otto had about five seconds to react as they broke through the cloud base.

  The first thing he could see was that the glider was heading straight at a sheer wall of ice. But to the right of it was a U-shaped opening between Piz Buin and the next peak. Beyond that lay Switzerland.

  He kicked his feet on the rudder pedals and pulled the stick to the right. Leni had wrapped her arms around Angelika and hunched forward, braced for the fatal impact. The glider was on its side, losing altitude rapidly and sliding across to the gap.

  “We won't make it,” shouted Leni, and struggled to grab the stick.

  Otto shoved her back and kept hold. The glider's wing was now practically vertical to the ground. At the last possible moment, the craft almost touching the frozen snow, they shot through the gap and Otto wrenched the stick back, levelling the glider out and dropping down on to the southern side of the mountain. There was a glacier about thirty metres below them and Otto took the risk, dropping the nose even steeper, till they were diving for the snow.

  “Here we go, here we go!” he shouted at the girls, and Leni curled herself even more tightly around Angelika. Seconds later, they slammed down on to the glacier, bounced up into the air briefly, then crunched back down again. The glider's left wing tipped down, the edge slicing into the ice. With a terrible rending sound it was torn off and the glider started to spin down the mountainside. After a few dizzying revolutions, the right wing caught a rocky outcrop and was ripped away, too. Now they were heading straight downhill, gathering speed, bulleting along like a bobsleigh. They all held on for dear life, but just when it seemed they would be airborne again without wings, the sheer slope flattened into a plateau and the remains of the glider bumped to a halt.

  The three of them sat in silence, their hair and eyebrows encrusted with snow. Slowly Angelika leant across Leni and scooped a handful from the side of the glider.

  “Snow,” she said, and gingerly took a mouthful. She chomped on it, letting the melted water dribble out from the sides of her mouth. “Delicious!” she said, and she laughed.

  Leni laughed, too, and unbuckled her seatbelt. “See? You can fly,” she said, giving Otto a prod.

  He was sitting stock still, his hand welded to the control stick. “We did it, we did it,” he said.

  Leni helped Angelika out of the cockpit. Behind them the summit of Piz Buin was now shrouded with cloud. They had landed on the south side and were facing west, the sun behind them. A long snowfield, peppered with ridges and ravines, led down to the tree-line. Beyond that, maybe ten kilometres away, Leni could make out two villages. If Angelika was right, then at this very moment they were safely over the border.

  “We're in Switzerland!” She yelled it out at the top of her voice and the word “Switzerland” echoed round the mountain. “We've made it!”

  As the echo died, Heydrich's Stork appeared above them.

  Otto shot out of the cockpit. “Quick, over here,” he yelled.

  There was an outcrop of rocks to the left of the glider and the three of them crouched behind it. Leni raised her pistol but Otto grabbed her wrist. “Don't waste the ammunition.”

  The plane dropped lower and the three of them waited for Heydrich to open fire. They curled up tight but nothing happened.

  “Why aren't they shooting?” asked Angelika.

  Otto poked his head out and the Stork swooped over their position. He ducked down again instinctively. Moments later, first one, then two, then three grey canisters, the size of tin of beans, thudded into the snow around them. Red smoke started to billow out. “He's marking our position,” said Otto.

  “What for?” asked Angelika.

  “I don't know,” said Leni.

  The Stork flew straight down the mountain towards the valley. Then above them came the deep growl of a heavier aircraft. The cloud was clearing and, as they looked up, a transport plane burst over the summit.

  “There's the reason, Angelika,” said Otto.

  The three of them watched as tiny white figures started to spill out of the rear door of the plane, strands of cord attached to them. Within a minute there were thirty or so mushroom-shaped parachute canopies floating down towards them. Paratroopers.

  “What do we do now?” asked Angelika.

  There was only one thing for it.

  “Run!” shouted Otto.

  CHAPTER 43

  ACROSS THE BORDER – SWITZERLAND

  Heydrich kept the plane in a steep descent. His right thigh was starting to ache now from working the heavy rudder pedals. He glanced down at the bullet wound. It was superficial, a slicing cut through the top of the muscle, but it had soaked his breeches with blood and the cold mountain air made it burn. That young girl was either a crack shot or had the luck of the devil. The side of the mountain suddenly loomed large in front of him and he pulled the stick back, increased the throttle. The plane climbed sharply. Concentrate! he told himself.

  He looked ahead, then banked the plane, hunting for a suitable landing place. Below the tree-line, the hillside levelled out on to the valley floor. A mountain river ran through the valley, copses of trees growing along its banks. He decided there was just enough space and level ground to put down. The extended landing gear which gave the plane its distinctive name, Stork, absorbed the hard and bumpy landing, and the plane rolled to a halt.

  Heydrich unstrapped and jumped out. “Give me the radio and get me a field dressing.”

  General Müller nodded and handed down the radio's microphone to him. Heydrich had taken the precaution of bringing Müller, his most trusted subordinate, the head of the Gestapo itself. If anyone could help Heydrich finish the job it was him. He was a heavy-set man, with jet-black hair, dark eyes and thin lips set hard.

  While Müller attended to Heydrich's order and also unloaded their weapons, the third passenger in the plane gingerly climbed out. It was Straniak, now looking even more nauseated and fearful. He leant against the plane's fuselage and took long, slow breaths.

  Within minutes Heydrich was confirming that alpine paratroopers had deployed on the mountain. He considered contacting the Führer at the Berghof but decided against it. Better to wait until he had successfully completed the mission than bring false hope.

  Müller handed him a dressing and bandage, and Heydrich quickly and expertly applied it to the wound above his knee. It had stopped bleeding and the throbbing pain acted as a stimulant to him.

  “Hand me the glasses,” he said to Müller, who passed him a pair of high-powered binoculars. Directly in front of him was a pasture and a mountain track which led up towards a ravine. He could make out the track winding through the rocks and up to the tree-line. Above that the mountain rose up.

  If he climbed fast it would take no more than a couple of hours to reach the snow field, by which time the paratroopers would have chased their quarry into his waiting arms. He struck out for the track.

  Müller and Straniak fell in behind him. Müller had the submachine guns in his arms. Several grenades poked out the front of his tunic. He passed one of the submachine guns to Heydrich, who racked the slide.

  “Perhaps you do not need me any more?” said Straniak weakly.

  “Nonsense, Herr Straniak, these children are like quicksilver. Until I have my boot on their throats I will not be confident of
success.”

  Herr Straniak appeared to deflate some more.

  “Remember, Herr Straniak, there is no higher honour than to serve the Führer. Now, let us finish this business.”

  CHAPTER 44

  BAD NEWS

  Since the sun had come up over the Bodensee, MacPherson had taken to scanning the shoreline every fifteen minutes or so with a pair of powerful naval binoculars. They were still moored up on the swimming pontoon, and Durand had arranged a couple of fishing rods off the stern of the launch. The children had not appeared, as he had hoped they would, and he was becoming increasingly anxious. Several German police launches had been patrolling at first light, but they had headed back to shore some time ago and it was then that MacPherson had first got a sinking feeling.

  As he put the glasses down and took out his pipe, he heard the sound of a motor launch coming towards them. Turning, he immediately made out the speedboat from the boathouse.

  “It's your pilot!” exclaimed Durand. She quickly tipped her coffee away over the side and hurried towards the stern rope tying them up to the pontoon.

  Bracken came racing up, throwing the speedboat hard into reverse to avoid a collision.

  “Urgent information from London, sir, radio intercept from Berlin to the Swiss authorities.” He was breathless.

  “Well, go on, spit it out, man!” shouted MacPherson.

  “Foreign Minister Ribbentrop has informed the Swiss that German paratroopers have crossed the border in the Engadin. They are conducting search and rescue operations and any attempt to resist or interfere will result in the gravest consequences for the Federation.”

  “The Engadin?” Durand frowned. “That's miles from here.”

  MacPherson knew the message had to be about the children. But why had they crossed the border so far south of the rendezvous point?