‘Yes.’ Bert looked at David. ‘You can handle a gun?’
‘I was in the Norway campaign, remember?’ He picked up the pistol and examined it. ‘I can use this.’ Then he grasped it firmly and put it in his pocket.
Bert turned to Sarah. He said quietly, ‘What about you, Mrs Fitzgerald?’
She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. Anyway, I wouldn’t know how.’ She took a deep breath, then reached into her pocket and pulled out the pellet David had handed her earlier. She held it out. ‘But I’ll use this, if I have to.’
‘We all must,’ Ben said quietly.
‘Is there anything else we need to discuss before we leave?’ Natalia asked. She looked round them all, her gaze lingering on Sarah. ‘Because from now on we have to be completely focused on our escape, on getting away.’
Sarah nodded. ‘I know.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I’m ready.’
They left the hotel at half past ten, in the car. They drove out of Brighton, past the Pavilion, its domes outlined against the starry sky. Natalia was the driver, Ben beside her. David sat in the back, Frank between him and Sarah.
They drove north out of Brighton, into the empty, frosty countryside. For a while there was silence. Then Ben said, ‘The news says the fog’s gone in London. But the casualty departments are full of people with asthma and bronchitis, animals died at the Smithfield cattle show. There was more about that than what’s happening in Germany. They just say Goebbels is in charge. There’s windy weather coming in tomorrow apparently, there’s going to be heavy snow in Scotland.’
‘I went to school there,’ Frank said quietly.
Sarah turned to him. He looked very pale and frightened. But he was calm, not really like a lunatic at all though there was something odd, off-key, about him. She spoke to him gently. ‘And after that you went to Oxford, met David?’ She could imagine David looking after Frank, protecting him.
‘Yes. I’m sorry I’ve got you both in this mess.’
‘You got caught up in this by chance,’ David said. ‘Though it’s just an extension of the madness the whole country, the whole world, has ended up in, isn’t it?’
Frank turned and looked at David. ‘You’re the best friend I ever had in my life,’ he said, suddenly.
‘Come on, Frank,’ David said jokingly. ‘You’re embarrassing me.’
Frank turned back to Sarah, his eyes glinting in the dark interior of the car. ‘No, it’s true, and this may be my last chance to say it. Your husband is a good man. He looks after people, protects them. There’s not one in a hundred like him.’
Silence descended again. After a while they turned south, heading back towards the sea.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
THEY DROVE INTO ROTTINGDEAN, past some large houses to a village green with a pond in the centre, a skin of ice on its surface, and a tall war memorial, a stone column topped with a cross. On a hill to the right Frank saw a large windmill, outlined against the starry sky. To the left the ground rose up to an ancient church. Frank remembered the kind, brave vicar in London; if it hadn’t been for him, he knew, he would have wandered about in the fog until he was caught, and then – he took a long, deep breath.
A few cars were already parked outside the large houses surrounding the green, and Natalia drew quietly to a halt between two of them. They stepped out into the freezing air. There were a couple of streetlights, but nobody was in sight and the windows of all the houses were curtained and dark.
Natalia told them not to talk, just follow her, as quietly as possible. Frank felt his heart begin to pound as he walked beside David. Sarah and Ben were behind him and Natalia in front. They turned into a narrow street with shops on either side, some Christmas decorations in the windows. Beyond the end of the street, moonlight shone on the sea.
Frank remembered his talk with Natalia, when he had asked to see her that afternoon. In her room he had asked her, haltingly, to give David the chance to rebuild his marriage.
He had thought she might be rude or contemptuous, but she only said, in a kindly but definite tone, ‘You don’t understand.’
He answered, ‘I suppose that’s true in a way. But I can see Sarah loves him, even though she’s so angry now. And he has feelings for her, I’m sure he has.’
Natalia lit a cigarette, inclined her head. ‘What if he feels more for me than for her?’
‘If he just abandoned her in America, think of the guilt he’d feel. David doesn’t forget people. He didn’t forget me, remember, when you asked him to get me out of the asylum.’
Natalia smiled sadly. ‘You are so like my brother. Your problem is not that you don’t understand things, it’s that you see too much. But you must leave me and David to decide what to do.’
‘I know,’ he answered quietly. Natalia looked out of the window, her arms crossed, her pose thoughtful, then turned back to face him.
‘Don’t say anything to the others, please. We all have to concentrate on our escape now.’
Frank said, ‘I won’t.’ He took a long, deep breath. ‘But there was something else I wanted to ask. About tonight.’
Natalia turned into a tiny street of little cottages fronted with dark flint. She approached the second cottage. Like all the other buildings they had passed it was in darkness. But when she went up to the door it opened a crack; someone had been watching. She whispered the mission password, ‘Aztec.’
The door opened wider and Natalia went in, the others following. For a moment they were in complete darkness. Then a light was switched on and they saw they were in a small room with battered furniture, photographs on the mantelpiece. A stocky man in his forties in a heavy blue jersey stood in the middle of the room. His face was lined and weatherbeaten, stubble on his seamed cheeks, but his small, dark eyes were sharp and alert as he looked them over. ‘Any problems?’ he asked quietly. His deep voice had a strong country accent.
‘None,’ Natalia said.
‘Anyone about?’
‘Nobody.’
‘We’ll go through to the back.’
They followed him into an untidy kitchen, smelling strongly of fish. He drew a pair of dirty curtains shut and waved them towards a wooden dining table where hard chairs and a couple of stools had been drawn up. ‘Sit down.’ He joined them at the table, gnarled hands clasped together.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Give me your first names.’
They told him. ‘I’m Eddie. I’m a fisherman,’ he said. ‘I’m going to row you out to the submarine. I’ve a big old rowing boat, I’ve left it down at the beach. Some of you will have to help me row, we’re going out about a mile. I’ve got the bearings and a red torch to flash out to sea, when we get near. You’ll see the sub as we approach; it’s big. They’re expecting us at one a.m., we need to get rowing out by twelve thirty. It’s only just gone half past eleven, we’ve plenty of time.’ He nodded to the darkened kitchen window, and gave them a gap-toothed smile, his first sign of friendliness. ‘You need to know exactly where you’re going if you’re in a boat, there’s an old submerged pier out there. I’ve fresh clothes for you here, heavy dark clothes. You’ll need them, it’s going to be very cold out at sea. Understand?’
They all nodded silently.
‘We’ve had people walking up and down on the cliffs since morning with binoculars, there’s no sign of anything unusual out to sea. And the village has been quiet all day.’ He looked round them once more, his eyes lingering on Frank, as most people’s did. ‘Is everyone ready?’
‘Yes,’ Natalia said.
‘Has anyone any experience of rowing?’
David said, ‘I rowed for Oxford. Haven’t done much since, but it’ll come back.’