as bait to flush out the traitor whom the Russians had infiltrated into TRR-2: now that the bomb had dropped, better a dead Number 16 than a compromised TRR-2!
‘There won’t be any problem, sir.’ The saving grace was that although Clinton wanted their traitor, he still also wanted Number 16 as planned. And that was probably why he got on so well with Uncle Luke: unforeseen complications, Uncle Luke always said, always provide matching opportunities for greater profits if you look at them in the right way! ‘You will both be very welcome, I assure you, sir.’ And ... ‘ I want him to come willingly, Fred.’ Clinton had said.
‘ One volunteer is worth a hundred pressed men.
Because, once he’s with us by choice . . . there’ll be physicists from Cambridge to pick his brains, and tempt him back to his old discipline. Because with dummy4
work as well as women, you only love truly once –
everything else is a delusion, major. So whatever he believes, he’s still a nuclear physicist, not an archaeologist.’
‘Welcome?’ The eyes were not so much pitying now as very tired.
‘Yes, sir.’ Fred continued on what he knew to be closest to the truth. ‘Our people know all about Professor Schmidt, and what he tried to do. There is ...
a certain sympathy for his intention – at least, among some of our scientists.’ He tried to blot out the rest of what Clinton had said: that with the British just beginning to follow their allies in de-Nazifying dyed-in-the-wool Nazis who were useful, there really wouldn’t be any trouble getting these two into Britain, willing or unwilling. ‘So you will be welcome – and free to continue your archaeology.’
Number 16 continued to stare at him. But it was Zeitzler who broke the silence. ‘Heinrich . . . glaubst du es ihm.’
‘W – ?’ For an instant Fred couldn’t decide whether to pretend he hadn’t understood the German words.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Number 16 held them both for an equal instant. ‘All that matters now, Ernst, is that if it is a lie, then it is a most persuasive one in our present circumstances. For we are undoubtedly caught between the Red Devil and the very deep blue British sea, I fear.
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But as I said last night, death by drowning is preferable to hellfire.’ The weary eyes softened. ‘Yet, as I also said last night ... I will not impose my fate on you, old friend.’
Zeitzler’s mouth twitched downwards as he glanced left and right, from his old trusted friend to his new untrusted ersatz British friend. But his eyes glittered behind his spectacles, as though at the enticing prospect of all those built-over Romano-British cities, which had been well-cleared by German bombs to open them up to archaeologists as they had not been open for a thousand years. ‘Do we have a choice?’
Fred so much hated the truth, which Zeitzler had reached at last, that he turned away from it in distaste, first towards Audley, and then to where Amos de Souza stood apart from them: and Amos, he saw, was directing the RSM’s attention to the menacing woods around them, and to the lake, and the rocks; while on young Audley’s face there was a mirror-image of his own feelings, uglified and brutalized by the face which God had given to the boy, which he couldn’t help.
‘No – you are right, as always!’ Number 16 accepted Number 21’s answer as untainted by self-interest, with heart-rending innocence. ‘Then we accept your offer, Herr Major: we are at your disposal, without any compulsion – we accept the word of a British officer.
Which is, of course, as strong as that of a German dummy4
officer.’
Shit! thought Fred, cutting off Audley’s face from the reckoning. ‘Major de Souza! If you please!’
Major de Souza disengaged himself from his contemplation of the Exernsteine Rocks. ‘Major Fattorini – ?’
‘We’re ready to go now. Would you ask the RSM to alert Sergeant Devenish?’ He worked at the formality of the command: because of de Souza, he no longer knew quite what would happen once they were on the road back to Schwartzenburg Castle, or thereafter. But the game had to be played to the last ball and the final whistle, regardless.
‘Mr Levin – !’ De Souza twisted on his heel, so that he was backing away from the woods. ‘Ready?’
‘Sah!’ The RSM snapped to even greater attention than before, first stiff as a board in preparation for obedience to orders, and then falling in behind the adjutant, while he attached an extension to his Sten’s barrel in a series of jerky, regimental movements.
‘Right.’ De Souza snapped open his webbing holster, lifting his arm high to clear his pistol from it. ‘As of now we assume the worst of all possible worlds until we’re in the clear – ’ his glance passed Audley, to fix on Fred himself‘ – right, major – ?’
Thump –
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De Souza jerked forward suddenly, arching his back and dropping his pistol, as his legs buckled beneath him –
“Steady, now!‘ As the RSM barked the words. De Souza continued forwards and downwards, unbalanced, as though fighting an irresistible blow from behind, until he finally sank on his knees, almost in an attitude of prayer.
‘ Steady, now!’ The RSM swung the curiously long-barrelled Sten left and right, right and left, taking them all in with it, but ending up with the muzzle pointing at Fred’s stomach.
An unintelligible groan came from de Souza, who was still on his knees, swaying in agony. And then Fred watched, hypnotized with frozen horror, as the adjutant began to reach forward towards his fallen pistol.
‘Don’t – ’ The bulbous silencing attachment on the end of the RSM’s Sten continued to point at Fred as he spoke ‘ – don’t make me do it, Major de Souza, sir –
don’t make me do it, I beg you!’
De Souza rocked slightly, but continued to stretch out slowly towards the pistol with a hand which shook uncontrollably, as though its overstretched arm was already bearing an invisible weight too great for it.
‘ Amos!’ Audley’s voice cracked. ‘ Amos – ’
Thump! This time the bullet crumpled de Souza dummy4
instantly, throwing him sideways, half on his back, with his legs kicking out like a pole-axed steer.
‘That was a pity.’ The RSM spoke slowly, his words all the more menacing for the hint of genuine regret in them. ‘Because it was not necessary as well as useless.’
‘You . . . b-b-b-bastard!’ Young Audley’s stutter was shrill with rage. ‘In the b-b-back, you fucking bastard!’
‘You want it in the front, Mr Audley?’ The RSM took the boy’s acting rank from him contemptuously. ‘I can oblige you now if you wish – ’ he made an unhurried adjustment to the sub-machine-gun ‘ – I can cut you in two before you can take another step, Mr Audley. And I will if I have to, if you want to be a hero too, like the adjutant.’
Fred’s mind began to race. They had their man now, albeit at a terrible and unnecessary cost. But now, also, they had to survive to tell the tale. So this was no moment for subaltern heroics. ‘Stand still, David.’ He looked up the track quickly. ‘And shut up.’
‘No good, sir. I have sent Sergeant Devenish and Driver Hewitt away.’ The RSM caught the look. ‘They are both guarding the road junction until I come to relieve them. And we shall not be leaving by that route.’
‘I see.’ It was no good trying to play games with the man when he was as quick as that. So what could he dummy4