He’d decided on a change of scene however that Thursday afternoon, and the pair and their escorting MPs had this time boarded a motor torpedo boat that had taken them out into the Flow, past Cantick Head and South Walls, and on into the Pentland Firth. A two-hour cruise at moderate speed along the eastern coast of South Ronaldsay had followed, continuing on past Mainland and beyond into Stronsay Firth, north-east of Shapinsay. They docked at a long, stone pier on a small ‘hook’ of coastline at the south-east end of Eday Island, close to the village of Backaland. A battered old 1913-model Rover 12 sedan borrowed from one of the locals carried them west along a narrow, country lane, past Backaland and then through the village of Stenaquoy as it turned and headed north.
As they made the five kilometre trip along the island’s north-south axis, Ritter realised that part of the long, open fields of heather drawing ever nearer ahead was actually a long, wide strip of well-designed camouflage netting. It didn’t take much effort to realise the covered strip stretching out into the distance to the north could only be a landing strip of some kind, although it occurred to Ritter than the length would possibly rival the huge concrete runway being constructed at St. Omer at the time they’d left.
At the nearer, southern end of the strip, huge ‘mountains’ of similarly-patterned netting rose from the surface of the earth to form a series of strange, uneven peaks and plateaus that were at some points as high as twenty metres from the ground. The netting was thick and appeared to be comprised of at least two overlapped layers, and from a distance it was impossible to determine exactly what might actually be hidden underneath. Taking into account the nature of that camouflage and the excellent colouring and patterns, there was every chance in Ritter’s opinion that very little would be visible at all from anything but very low level, and the lack of flak weapons suggested the British were relying more on keeping what was beneath hidden rather than keeping sufficient defences present in the event of discovery.
It was a situation that became clearer to the Luftwaffe pilot as his logical mind began to gather more information regarding his surroundings. There were absolutely no anti-aircraft weapons he could see, and there’d almost certainly be some tell-tale signs if any were present, no matter how well those emplacements might be hidden… assuming of course they weren’t concentrated beneath the netting itself… yet people were taking great pains to conceal whatever was beneath that camouflaged covering.
The Rover pulled off onto the grass verge opposite a small abandoned farmhouse, at a point where the lane entered into a shallow, sweeping bend and back again as it continued north. The southern end of the landing strip was just 250 metres west of them at that point across a flat expanse of featureless heather, and as all four of them climbed from the car, Ritter couldn’t see another living soul as he looked about in every direction.
He’d not been handcuffed or had his hands tied — something that he’d taken careful note of — and even though the pistol at Thorne’s belt was still visible beneath the open combat jacket he wore, none of them seemed to show any real concern that the Luftwaffe pilot might actually be a threat. It was the first time Ritter had met the Australian out of his official uniform, and the man seemed markedly different in a more generic and less official military dress… far more comfortable and relaxed.
“Herr Ritter,” Thorne began he motioned for Ritter to walk with him. “I’ve got something to show you that I think you might find very interesting.” As the pair moved off across the field, Thorne held a hand behind his back that clearly indicated the two guards should remain by the car, an instruction they immediately obeyed.
“Most of the things we’ve discussed over the last few days have been interesting, Mister Thorne,” Ritter countered in a friendly tone, “and I expect this meeting to be no different…” But the pilot couldn’t help but noticing an underlying nervousness in the Australian’s tone that suggested the conversation that afternoon might well be something more out of the ordinary than he’d experienced so far.
“In a moment, we’re going to step beneath the camouflage netting you can no doubt see directly ahead,” Thorne continued, a hardened edge momentarily creeping into his voice that was also quite clear. “There are things hidden here that I and my colleagues here at Scapa Flow simply cannot afford to have damaged in any way whatsoever. If you give your word you’ll not consciously do anything to sabotage the equipment inside, I’ll trust you, however I still need to advise you as a matter of course that if you do make any attempt to cause trouble, I will shoot you dead… is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Ritter replied with serious honesty, completely convinced of the sincerity and intent behind the man’s statement.
“Then I’ll not mention it again. Do I have your word you’ll make no effort to sabotage anything under these nets?”
Ritter thought long and hard about his answer. These people were enemies, and as such, any promise made was meaningless and not bound by his word of honour… some might even argue — reasonably — that as a German officer it would be his duty to do whatever he could to hurt an enemy of The Reich, whenever the opportunity presented itself. But Ritter was also a man of his word and always had been, and he could tell by the tone in the Australian’s voice that, if he couldn’t give the requested promise, Thorne would have him taken back to his cell and their ‘discussion’ would proceed no further… and Ritter very much wished to see what was beneath the masses of camouflage up ahead.
“You have my word that whatever I see within, I shall lift no hand to cause any damage or hindrance,” he said finally, and in the end it was the amount of thought and the amount of time taken before giving his answering that made it easy for Thorne to believe him.
“Excellent!” Thorne said simply without missing a step. “Let’s get a move on then… we’ve one hell of an afternoon ahead of us!” Secretly, Max knew that if he wanted to have any chance of making use of Ritter as he planned, he had to trust the man and take him at his word. He also needed the man to see what he’d prepared beyond the netting: the rapport they’d begun to build over the last few days still needed reinforcement, and words alone weren’t going to be enough to enable Thorne to drive a wedge between Carl Ritter and his country of his birth and allegiance.
They reached the netting within a few minutes, and during the whole approach, the angle of the afternoon sun and the darkness beneath the nets made it impossible to make out any detail from the outside. As Thorne lifted the edge of those nets and they bent to step inside, Ritter could never have imagined in his wildest dreams that the huge shapes beneath were just three aircraft, two of which put the ‘Raptor’ he’d shot down the Saturday before to shame in terms of sheer, breathtaking size.
“Mein Gott,” he breathed softly, reverting to stunned German as he stared at the gargantuan shapes of the KC-10A Extender and C-5M Galaxy; the F-35E Lightning II standing in their shadow seeming puny by comparison. They’d entered the covering beneath a ‘tent’ created as the netting sloped down to the ground from the Galaxy’s starboard wing to the ground, and there was just enough light inside to make out detail at close to medium range.