“Is it bad?” Weiss asked.
“I’ll live,” Ryan said. He eased himself down onto the wooden bench, straining to keep the pain from showing on his face.
“Is this a more suitable place than the University Church?” Weiss asked. “It’s non-denominational, you know. Both of us are welcome here. What are you? Anglican, Baptist, Methodist?”
“Presbyterian,” Ryan said. “I don’t go to church much.”
“Me neither. I guess we don’t belong here after all. So how did your little meeting go?”
“I gave them twenty four hours to get Skorzeny to agree.”
“You think he will?”
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t know if his pride will allow it.”
“Yes, he’s stubborn and proud, but he’s also smart. He knows this isn’t a war worth fighting. Mark my words, he’ll have agreed by this time tomorrow.”
Ryan turned to look at Weiss. “Can you keep control of Carter and his men that long?”
“Of course I can. They’re a good team.”
Weiss looked up at the stained glass windows above the pulpit, his eyes betraying the doubt in his own words.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX
Weiss followed the single track road as the white sheet of sky overhead darkened to grey. The raindrops on his windscreen fattened. He flicked the wipers on. They smeared the water across the glass.
He had left Remak at the airport. A few days’ furlough, Weiss had said. Get some rest while he revised his notes for presenting to their superiors back in Tel Aviv. Next week, he told him, when they had final approval from the top, they’d move on Skorzeny. He’d booked the flight out of his own pocket. First class.
The cottage appeared through the trees ahead, a low tumbledown building, whitewash turned to grey and brown, the paint on the door reduced to a few flakes of green on bare wood. He pulled the car onto the small patch of clear ground in front of the house, alongside the Bedford van. When the engine shuddered and died, he heard the voices.
Hard, angry voices.
He recognised Carter’s first, the harsh barks, like a guard dog that had caught scent of an intruder. Then Wallace, his mocking tone, his arrogance.
Weiss put a hand to his pistol and climbed out of the car. He closed the door over, pressed it gently until it sealed shut. The voices rose in pitch and volume.
“He’ll shaft us.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I say what goes, and I say we wait it out.”
“You say what goes? Under what authority?”
“I’m your superior officer, I don’t need any other authority.”
“Superior officer? I’m not in your bloody army. You’ve got no bloody say over me or him.”
“If you want paid, you’ll do what I tell you.”
“Yeah, I want paid, but what with? Where’s the fucking money? Eh? You told me you’d make me rich, and I haven’t seen a bloody penny yet.”
Weiss opened the cottage door, stepped inside. The damp in the air fell on him like a chilled cloak.
Carter and Wallace stood toe-to-toe at the centre of the room. They both turned to look at Weiss, shame on their faces, like children caught in mischief. Gracey watched from the corner, weariness in his eyes.
Weiss took a wad of bills from his pocket, held tight by a money clip. He counted out five, ten, twenty of them and held the money out to Wallace.
“A thousand dollars,” Weiss said. “You want to be paid? Okay, then take it as a severance package and get the hell out of here.”
Wallace looked at the cash, then back at Weiss.
“Take it.” Weiss shook the bills at him. “Or shut the hell up.”
“So now you think you’re in charge, eh?”
“Captain Carter and I are running this operation. You don’t like it, here’s the money, there’s the door.”
Wallace sneered. “If I wanted the money out of your pocket, I’d kill you and take it. That’s not what this is about. I’m sick of sitting on my arse waiting for something to happen. If we’d stuck with the original plan, we’d have been out of this shit pile of a country weeks ago.”
“If you’d stuck with your original plan, you’d have got nothing, except maybe a bullet up your ass.” Weiss stuffed the cash back into his jacket pocket. “This is the only show in town. Either you’re with us or you’re out of here.”
Wallace took a step closer. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Might be I’m still considering Skorzeny’s offer. If I have to sit around here much longer, I might have to serve you bastards up to—”
Weiss snatched his pistol from its holster as he crossed the few feet between him and Wallace. Before Wallace could raise his hands, Weiss whipped it across his cheek. He felt the force of the blow in his wrist, charging up through his elbow to his shoulder.
Wallace spun around, staggered two steps, then landed hard on all fours. Weiss swung his shoe into the Rhodesian’s gut. He curled into a ball on the floor, face red, coughing.
“That’s enough,” Carter said.
Gracey straightened, his hand going to his trouser pocket. He produced a lock knife, flicked open the blade.
Weiss looked at Carter. “Tell your boy to put that knife away.”
Carter kept his voice steady. “Do as he says.”
Gracey hesitated for a moment, then closed the blade and returned it to his pocket. He kept his arms by his sides, hands open and ready, his weight on both feet.
Weiss knelt down beside Wallace. “Now let’s get something straight, my friend. You talk like that one more time, even as a joke, and I will kill you right where you stand. Are we clear?”
Wallace spat on the floor. “Jew bast—”
Weiss placed the Glock’s muzzle against Wallace’s eye. He froze.
“Are we clear?”
“Yes.”
Weiss stood upright. Wallace crawled away, reached the wall, rested his back against it as he rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand.
“All right,” Weiss said. “Now, if you ladies can keep from scratching each other’s eyes out for a couple days, then we might just see this thing through.”
Carter held Wallace in his hard gaze for a moment before turning to Weiss. “Well? What did your friend Ryan say?”
“He gave Skorzeny twenty four hours to agree to our terms or he’d quit the assignment.”
“And if he doesn’t agree?”
“Then we’re no worse off than we were before, are we?”
Wallace wiped spit and snot from his chin. “We should’ve got rid of Ryan. He’s going to shaft us.”
“Ryan’s tougher than you think,” Weiss said. “Carter put him through hell and he didn’t give me up. Frankly, I don’t give a shit if you trust him or not. That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“That’s the trouble, isn’t it? We’re the ones risking our arses. Not you.”
Weiss put his hands in his pockets. “Right now, Lieutenant Ryan is risking more than any of us.”
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN
From his window, Célestin Lainé watched the sun move across the sky, dipping closer the treetops. He had remained in his room, emerging only to fetch food for himself and the dog, and several bottles of wine, for the last few days.
The puppy whimpered with boredom almost constantly. A mound of excrement had gathered in the corner, and the smell had become unbearable. After a day of it, Lainé had resorted to scooping the foulness up and throwing it out of the window. He had stolen towels to soak up the urine.
Still the room stank, but until now, Lainé had no wish to venture out. To do so would have meant facing Skorzeny, and he felt sure the Colonel would see the betrayal written clear on his face.