‘For fear of this wine being poisoned, the squadron’s Commanding Officer had advised them not to drink any of it. Instead, he decided to string it up outside the mess, and vowed that the pilot who shot down Reinhardt, would have the honour of smashing it. The next move, almost got me a court-martial. I had secretly arranged a return compliment to the base of the Black Wolves, which according to the Allied Intel, was deep in a specially constructed clearing, near the village of Auenheim, just across the Rhine. On discovering this, I had got his fellow pilots together, and planned to carry out a retaliation mission. While on a combat air patrol on the border, we had managed to find the secret base, and decided to give the Germans a bit of their own medicine. Anyway, after flying through the gauntlet of anti-aircraft fire, they had only got one of their very well camouflaged FW-190 fighters. Then, to return the nice gesture of the Germans, I had thrown out a bottle of French wine with a note in German that read:
To the Black Wolf Squadron,
Many thanks for the wine.
We accept your offer, so we will be waiting
Please enjoy your last drink — Yours truly 2ATAF.
‘Unsure if the German language picked up the underline, I was sure that Reinhardt had got the message; what they had done with the wine, I had no idea. Two days after that stunt, while on the way back from escorting American bombers to Stuttgart, we were bounced by the Black Wolves, and a dogfight ensued, high in the skies above Strasbourg. Reinhardt was on my tail and followed me down into my dive, with his cannons blazing. After what seemed an age trying to delude him, I had eventually shook him off, and then managed to manoeuvre to get a clear shot at the German ace’s port side.’
Higgins explained, that usually, he would just wait for an accurate shot at his target. However, because of the arrogance of his opponent, he had started firing at the front of the German’s engine; the first burst entering the mouth of his hungry wolf, then leaving his gun button pushed in, watched, as the shells just ripped into the powerful little Nazi fighter. ‘I saw the German pilot raise his arms, as the debris hit his face. Reinhardt’s cockpit just disintegrated before my eyes Alex. The poor blighter, didn’t stand a chance. Anyway, I followed him down, and suddenly his plane exploded, and the wings flew off in opposite directions. Then I saw a burning body hanging half out of the cockpit, as the remains of the aircraft plunged down into some woodland, near the village of Vendenheim. I landed back at Nancy, then with everyone standing around me outside the mess, I whacked that bottle of Hock. The bloody thing didn’t shatter, so I hit it again. It was only after the third go at it, and after exchanging the C. O’s old drill pace stick, for a hammer, I broke the bottle, and covered everyone in white wine. So, there you are, Alex, my boy. That’s how, I got the ‘Hammer’ monocle. I could hammer a moving Focke Wulf travelling at 350 miles an hour, but until I used a hammer, couldn’t shatter a bottle of bloody wine, three feet in front of me.’
Swan laughed. ‘What an incredible tale. You can definitely put me down for a copy of the book, when it’s published.’
‘Don’t worry Alex, you’ll get a free copy and I’ll sign it for you, dear boy.’
Higgins noticed the carrier bag in Swan’s hand. ‘What the devil have you got there?’
Swan opened the bag. ‘A get well and thank you present.’ Seeing that you’re going to be recovering for a while, thought you might like to have a bash at a model of the Vickers Vimy, I do recall you mentioning it, when we were up in the GPO Tower.’
He smiled, in appreciation to Swan’s gesture.
‘Thank you, Alex, I’ll be able to get stuck into it as soon I get out of here, and rest at home. Mind you, I don’t think that Lady Higgins will thank you though, she hates the smell of the little tube of cement, and always confines me to the garden shed, to build my models.’
Swan laughed. ‘Well, it’s the least I can do, given the circumstances. Oh, Janet said she placed a note inside the box for you.’
Higgins fumbled the lid, opened it and read the note.
To a true hero,
I would like to thank you, Sir Alistair from the bottom of my heart, for saving my beloved Alex, from what would have been certain and instant death.
I will be grateful to you, now and always.
Please get well soon, so we can all look back at this, with celebration, that you too, have come through this terrible ordeal.
My sincere thanks and love
Janet x
Higgins sighed. ‘How very sweet. I must say, your lady friend is a real credit to you, my boy.’ He placed the lid back over the base of the box of loose plastic parts and allowed it to rest on his lap. ‘So, how is our dear assassin then?’
Swan relaxed himself in the leather armchair. ‘Oh, he’s in Five’s hands, now, Dennis Martin’s Terror Team, are dealing with him. Of course, Janet will give me the full SP, as she has to transcribe Martin’s interrogation notes. One thing we are having a problem with, is apprehending your German Air Attaché friend, you introduced me to, at the Post Office Tower, yesterday.’
Higgins’s eyes suddenly widened with surprise. ‘Who, Ernst?’
‘Yes, Ernst Hoffenberg,’ Swan confirmed. ‘He knew where I was going to be, and it is my suspicion, he informed the assassin. How else could that killer have been at St Pancras?’
Higgins shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it. I’ve known Ernst since the Kestrel trials at West Raynham, four years ago. I can’t believe he would be involved with this man. Surely, you’re making a mistake Alex?’
Swan displayed his certainty. ‘There’s no other explanation, Sir Alistair, Hoffenberg is in with it.’
‘So, what do you intend to do?’
‘Well, this is the thing. He’s claiming diplomatic immunity. So, we have to go through the Foreign Office, to get him, but there is not a lot of evidence, it all being just circumstantial. So, our hands are pretty much tied, until Stratton talks to his Director General, and Sir Donald then approaches the Foreign Secretary. It probably looks as though the Home Secretary, will have to be involved, too.’
Higgins shrugged. ‘I daresay the PM himself, will have to be informed.’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, what a mess. Ernst Hoffenberg, I still can’t believe it.’
Chapter 34
As the sun set over the Baikonur Cosmodrome, Dieter Muller took his team out to the N1 launch pad for the final checks, prior to the launch. It had been decided that a night launch would be more appropriate to prevent the American spy satellites, from viewing it.
Muller assigned his team to climb the gantry ladders, situated either side of the immense four-stage rocket, to check for the most miniscule of cracks in the space vehicle’s casing. The site was well lit with clustered floodlights, everyone bathed in an array of high watt lamps that illuminated the site, like a football stadium.
Technician, Sergei Gureavich, had spent the last half hour walking slowly up the ladder, scrutinising the metal casing. A quarter of the way up, just before the second stage separation line, he paused. Leaning over for a closer inspection, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a torch.
Muller saw the light, and looked up at him. Armed with a loudhailer, he held it up to his lips. ‘Is everything alright, Sergei?’ His electronically produced voice, was easily heard around the launching area.
Gureavich holding the torch, waved his hand from side to side.
Muller instantly knew from standard procedure, there was a problem. He put the loudhailer on the ground, and climbed the gantry, until his head was just below the feet of the technician. ‘What is the problem, Sergei?’