When the meal was done he summoned the aide de camp who had been charged with providing a change of clothes for Gregory and told him to see that his guest had everything he needed until he could start on his journey. Then, as they went out into the corridor he shook Gregory warmly by the hand.
"Good luck, my dear fellow. It's been a pleasure to see you here and when the war is over you must come and stay. We'll kill some more bottles of Marcobrunner, and I really can offer you some excellent shooting."
"Thanks. I've enjoyed myself enormously," Gregory said politely, and was inwardly tickled by the fantastic idea which flashed into his mind that possibly his host expected him to write a bread and butter letter. Obviously the Marshal had completely forgotten for the time being that at just about that hour his guest would have been led out to die at his orders had it not been for that guest's own wits and determination to save himself.
The A.D.C. took Gregory to a suite where he bathed, shaved and changed. He retained his own shoes and took the opportunity to slip the typescript he had stolen into the false sole of one of them, where he still had most of the money he had brought into Germany. He then rejoined the A.D.C., who led him downstairs and through a long corridor to an underground aerodrome.
Charlton was there, haggard and weary eyed. He had been given dinner, but after that the poor fellow had been left all night in the waiting room and owing to his acute anxiety he had not been able to get one wink of sleep. Yet when he saw Gregory he smiled and nodded cheerfully towards the Belgian plane which now carried the red, white and blue British circles.
"Nice little bus, isn't she?"
"Yes," Gregory nodded. "The Marshal's giving it to us as a parting present. I managed to entertain him rather well at dinner last night."
Freddie grunted. "You might at least have sent down to let me know that things were all right. I suppose for the last eight hours you've been sleeping your head off?"
"Not all the time. As a matter of fact, the Marshal kept me up pretty late but he was so hospitable that I found it a little difficult to get away."
"You old devil " Freddie laughed. "Anyhow. I'm mighty glad to see you er looking so fresh," he added as an afterthought.
"Thanks. I'm sorry you had such a dull time last night, but I see you've had a shave so I take it they looked after you this morning?"
"Oh, yes; they couldn't have been nicer bath, slap up breakfast, everything they even produced a change of underclothes when I hinted that mine were due for the long service medal."
"Good And the Air Officer gave you all the particulars you require for our flight to Finland?"
"Yes. I've got it all here." Freddie held up a small, fat wallet. "And orders have been telephoned through to Anti Aircraft Headquarters that they're not to interfere with a small Belgian Sabina plane bearing British markings which will be flying over North Eastern Germany for a special purpose."
"Yes. I fixed that with the Marshal. So long as you stick to the route you've been given we're ensured a clear run out of the country."
The plane had been fuelled to capacity as it was desirable to. avoid any questioning which might have arisen by breaking their journey at air ports along the route, but with only two people on board, instead of the four for which it was built, the Sabina was easily capable of carrying enough petrol for a 700mile non stop flight. Directly it was reported ready Gregory and Freddie got into it.
Gregory put his big packet of papers on his knees and felt in his pocket to make quite certain that his two passports and Goering's letter were there all right. The head mechanic signalled to Freddie and the engine sprang to sudden life, making a deafening roar in the underground air port. They waved good bye to the Air Officer and mechanics, then the plane
ran smoothly up the long slope out into the daylight and across the grass. A moment later it was in the air.
"So you've got us out and the gift of a plane into the bargain," Freddie said, the moment he had taken off. "You certainly are a wizard."
"No just a worker," Gregory replied. "And, my God, it was a fight I had to wrestle with Satan in person for about five hours and work for another six, so I'm about all in. I'll tell you the story later but I've been through the hell of a strain and I'm going to try to get some sleep now."
He closed his eyes and lay back in the comfortable passenger seat beside the pilot. It was not until ten minutes later that he suddenly noticed how cold it had become, and opening his eyes again he saw that the altimeter registered 8,000 feet.
"It's darned cold up here," he remarked. "Surely we don't need to fly as high as this?"
"Oh, yes, we do," Freddie grinned. "I'm going much higher as high as the plane will take us without our conking out through lack of oxygen." '
"But why?" Gregory protested. "You've got your route and the anti aircraft people have been told to let us through."
"Yes; but that's only along a lane over North Eastern Germany."
"Naturally since we're going to Finland."
" Finland?" gasped Freddie. "Surely you didn't really mean to go there?"
Gregory sat up with a jerk. "Of course. I've been entrusted with a special mission by Goering so I've got no option."
"Good God, you are crazy 1 Finland? My foot Thanks a lot for the plane, but now I've got it I'm going home "
Chapter XII
The Red Menace
GREGORY closed his eyes and sighed. After having worn down the most dynamic man in Europe by hours of skilful flattery, well timed bullying and reasoned argument, it seemed a bit hard that, tired out as he was, he should now be called upon to cope with his pleasant but pigheaded young friend.
Experience had taught him that the better the quality of the drink the less likelihood of a head the following morning, but even with the very best of liquor quantity will tell, and he now had a first class hang over. Breakfast and a bath had only stalled off the evil hour. His brain had begun to feel like cotton wool, his eyes were heavy and he had a rotten taste in his mouth, but it was mental exhaustion, much more than the alcohol he had drunk, which had got him down. Moreover, he was a night bird by nature and always at his very worst in the morning, when most other people were setting off to tackle the day's work; yet the effort had to be made, so he said slowly:
"Why not Holland, as that girl of yours is there?"
"I'd make it Holland," Charlton said sharply, "but for two reasons. Firstly, as a British Air Force officer the Dutch would intern me the moment I landed. Secondly, it's my duty to report to my C.O. at the earliest possible opportunity and if you've forgotten your duty I haven't forgotten mine."
"Oh, Freddie, you make me tired," said Gregory wearily. "D'you honestly think I'm the sort of chap who would sell myself to the enemy and that I've taken on this job to help the Nazis win the ruddy war?"
"No-no, of course not. I didn't mean that really; but when you said you were doing the job for Goering what the hell else was a fellow to think?"
"Thanks for the somewhat dubious vote of confidence. Now, listen to me. I'm going to give you two very good reasons why you're not going home before you've flown me to Finland. After that you can do as you damned well choose. The Finns won't intern you, because at the moment they're much too occupied pith their own affairs to bother their heads about minor infringements of their neutrality; so if you don't want to stay you an buy a suit of civilian clothes, and it shouldn't be difficult for you to get a ship home from one of the Norwegian ports."