Gunther sat next to Syme in the back. Kollwitz drove. His blond hair was cropped and shaved a third of the way up his neck in the SS style; Gunther saw he had a spot coming. Beside him, Syme was cheerful. ‘They’re talking about that new job for me,’ he told Gunther. ‘We’re going to have a new, nationwide police intelligence service. MI5 are going to be integrated with us. About time. They’ll scream like fuckin’ stuck pigs but we uncovered the bleeding Civil Service spy ring for them.’ The Cockney accent was strong again, perhaps a sign of underlying stress in Syme, as the moment of truth approached. Gunther himself felt quite cool. Syme went on, ‘Looks like I could get promotion to superintendent, as well as a posting up North.’ He smiled, tapping the fingers of one hand up and down on his knee.
‘Well done.’ But remembering the discussion with Gessler earlier, Gunther found it difficult to meet Syme’s eye.
‘You’ll have to come back and visit me,’ Syme continued. ‘Tell you what, come over see the Coronation in the summer. How’s that?’
‘Yes,’ Gunther said. ‘Perhaps.’ Syme, for all his sharpness in other ways, had no idea that Gunther had always disliked him. Or perhaps he just didn’t care.
They stepped from the cliff path out onto the promenade; it was small, less than a hundred yards long and perhaps two hundred and fifty wide. There were no lights, only the half-moon to guide them, but their eyes were accustomed to the dark now and they saw the promenade was deserted. On the landward side there was a high concrete wall, and behind that a little grassed area sloped gently up to a large building they had been told was the White Horse Hotel. There were no lights on there. Gunther saw there was a gap in the concrete wall where a steep paved path, perhaps a hundred yards long, led up to the coast road. On the other side of the path was another concrete wall and beyond that the cliffs began again, startlingly white.
Steps led down from the promenade to the beach, a strand of pebbles. Nearby a high stone groyne sloped gently down into the sea. In the dark lee of the groyne, a tiny light flashed three times. A pencil torch. It was the prearranged signal; the other three SS men were already there. Gunther sighed with relief.
Gunther, Syme and Kollwitz walked down the steps onto the beach. The big round pebbles scrunched beneath their feet; there was no way of avoiding the noise. Borsig and Hauser and Kapp stepped away from the groyne to meet them. They were also dressed in heavy black camouflage. Kapp smiled, a brief flash of white teeth – he was enjoying this. ‘Heil Hitler,’ he said quietly. In Berlin, Goebbels had just commanded that Hitler’s name was to continue to be used as the National Greeting for all time. Nonetheless, Kollwitz added quietly, ‘And Heil Himmler.’
‘All quiet?’ Gunther asked.
‘Yes. We walked along the path from Saltdean. When we got out of the car we saw a woman with a dog walking along the cliffs, looking out to sea. Probably Resistance. But she wouldn’t see or hear us on that Undercliff path. We’ve been here half an hour; no sign of anyone.’
‘Too cold for lovers,’ Kapp murmured.
Gunther nodded. Nobody in their senses would come here on this bitter night. He shivered in the breeze from the sea, a little stronger here. The tide was well in, the thin line of gently hissing white surf surprisingly close. He glanced at his watch. Five past eleven.
Syme was also looking out to sea. He said, ‘Any chance the sub could see us from out there?’
‘They’re a mile out,’ Kollwitz answered. ‘I’d guess all they can see of this through a periscope is the dark gap in the cliffs. Besides, if they did see us take Muncaster’s people they’d cut and run, they wouldn’t want to cause a major diplomatic incident.’
Borsig said, ‘We’ve found something. Come and look at this.’
He led them down the side of the groyne. Near the surf they saw a large, humped shape, covered with a heavy grey tarpaulin. Borsig and Kapp lifted the cover; underneath was an upturned rowing boat. ‘That’s big enough for six. There are oars underneath. This is the boat they’re going to use,’ Kapp said, triumphantly.
‘Yes.’ Gunther looked back up the beach, to the path where the British party would descend onto the noisy pebbles.
Borsig said, ‘If three of us get under the boat, and the other three crouch down behind it under the tarpaulin, between the boat and the groyne, when they arrive they’ll walk right into our hands.’
Gunther nodded, then smiled. ‘Yes, it’s ideal. Who goes under?’
‘You and Syme and Kapp,’ Borsig suggested. ‘Kapp and Syme are the thinnest, and if you dig away some of the pebbles you’ll get a view of them coming down, then you can give the command signal. We’ll all hear them coming, once they’re on the beach, so when they arrive at the boat I suggest you knock on the side and we push it over onto them, you from below and us from behind. They’ll be completely startled. Then we all jump out and grab them, one each, before they can move.’
‘Yes. Yes, that sounds right.’ Gunther looked at Borsig and Kollwitz. ‘You’ve planned ambushes before.’
‘Yes. In the East.’
‘I have too, in the Gestapo. But only in cities, usually against civilians. I’ll be guided by you.’
‘Thank you. Now, let’s lift the boat up.’
‘It’ll be a bloody cold wait,’ Syme observed.
Kollwitz answered. ‘This is nothing. Try waiting in ambush in the Russian winter.’
They took off the tarpaulin and lifted the boat. It was big and heavy but Borsig and Kollwitz lifted it easily enough. Kapp and Syme slipped under, moving the oars that had been placed under the boat to one side. Gunther felt his muscles protest as he lay down and scrabbled underneath.
‘I’ll give the side of the boat a kick as a signal,’ he said. ‘It’s heavy. You three push hard.’
Gunther dug away at the pebbles until he managed to make a small space between them and the bottom of the boat, enough for him to see through if he lay flat on his stomach. He looked up towards the path to the beach, a dark gap in the promenade. Under the boat it was pitch dark and there was a strong smell of seaweed. Already Gunther’s feet felt like ice. Next to him Syme shifted his bony form, an elbow digging into his ribs. Always some part of Syme had to be twitching or moving. Gunther said, ‘Keep still, for God’s sake. They’ll hear the pebbles if you move about.’
‘All right. Sorry.’
Gunther took off his watch to lay it next to his face. The luminous dial read 11.45. Three quarters of an hour to go until Muncaster’s party arrived.
Chapter Fifty-Six
THAT AFTERNOON, FOLLOWING the meeting with Bert, David went downstairs, back to the empty lounge. Jane, sitting at her desk in the hall, gave him an anxious smile as he passed.
He sat in an armchair and looked out of the window. What was he going to do? Sense and decency and old, bone-deep affection told him he belonged with Sarah. But would she have him now? And it was Natalia who offered him excitement, the chance of something new. More than that, she was someone who understood his past, his true origins.
After a while he went back upstairs, to the room he shared with her. He turned the handle, but the door was locked. He had a feeling Natalia was in there, but there was no sound, no answer to his knock. Then Sarah’s door opened and she stood there, looking at him.
‘Sarah.’
She turned and went back into her room, but left the door open. He followed her in. She sat on the bed, looking at him bleakly. ‘Please don’t say you’re sorry again. I don’t think I could stand that.’