As he turned the door handle to enter the building he saw a storm trooper come out of one of the side rooms. He stepped back quickly and slipped into the darkness. He traversed along the long wall, keeping in the shadows.
He wasn't sure whether the klaxon blared first or the perimeter floodlights snapped on, saturating the clearing with harsh blinding light. He must have triggered off one of the alarm beams that ran along the side of the chalet. No wonder they didn't need lights, the alarm system was warning enough. As he ran into the trees, he heard the chalet door open and the shouts of those coming out to investigate. He kept going, didn't stop to see what his hunters were up to.
'Over here,' shouted one of the Stermabeitalung and the others, six to start with, but soon joined by more from inside the building, ran to where he had found the tripped alarm.
'That way. Look,' said one, pointing at Adam's deep footprints in the mixed sand and snow.
The men started to follow when Kaas shouted after them. 'Wait. Get some weapons.' His own revolver was already in his hand. 'And spread out. Oberlieutenants, take charge of your groups. Spread out and find him.' The footprints told him it was only one person. 'And I want him alive. Get going.'
As his men fanned out, Kaas went back into the building and called the east and west gatehouses on the internal phone. Once he had warned them, he contacted Kragan in the main house.
Two minutes later, as Kaas joined his men in the forest, the klaxon alarm sounded at the barracks and canteen buildings. At the same time, the forest path and road lights were switched on and lit up vast tracts of the Heidi.
Adam was under one of the lamps as it burst to life. He moved deeper into the trees. The distant klaxons told him the whole camp was being mobilised. He knew they'd be armed. He dropped the brown bag and took out the Heckler and Koch MP5K sub-machine gun. He pushed a clip into it and rammed four more into his jacket pockets. The Browning was already holstered under his shoulder. He took out the remaining hand grenade that Frankie had given him in New Orleans and slipped that into his inside pocket.
Okay, Marcus. Let's give as good as we get. Time to take the initiative.
He changed direction and started to move north. He could hear vehicles moving along the road, dropping storm troopers off at regular intervals as they started to search the forest. There was a lot of shouting, helping him pinpoint where the search parties were. They had too many people out; there was a good chance they would trip over each other.
He worked his way northwards, back the way he had come. They wouldn't be expecting that. Very soon he had retraced his steps and was back at the wooden chalet.
He kept clear of the sanded clearing and the alarm beams and by-passed all the inhabited areas. He could hear people shouting in the distance and knew that they had gone chasing in the opposite direction.
The helicopter coughed, sneezed and wound up when he was only two hundred metres from the airfield. He had reached the open area of the tank trails when the helicopter's lights blazed on and it started to lift into the sky. Adam was trapped in the open and he sprinted towards a deep tank track as the aircraft swung towards him, nose low as it gathered speed. He threw himself, face down, into the two-foot-deep trench and lay still. Within seconds the whole trench was lit up. He tightened his grip on the sub machine gun, waited for the helicopter to slow and swing towards him. But it passed by, the crew too involved with the early flight of their craft and not expecting to find any intruders this close to the runway. It gathered speed and raced towards the built-up complexes.
When he was certain it was out of range, Adam rose from the trench and made his way towards the hangars, taking care in case there were any further helicopters being readied. There was nothing to alarm him, no activity in the building at the end or near the hangars. He presumed those who had been on duty there had all gone in the helicopter to help the others.
The hangar doors on the first building had been opened to bring out the helicopter. Checking all was clear, he went in. There was little point in going further. The two twin engined aeroplanes were trapped behind the Citation Jet. It had been a fanciful idea, flying out of there, and he laughed at his own foolishness. Jenny Dale's lessons would have to be used another day.
He quickly ran over to the next hangar. The big door was still shut. He eased himself in through the side door. No-one there. He surveyed the Jeeps. The keys were in them.
He went to the side door and checked outside, still no obvious movement.
He re-entered the hangar and searched for the switch to slide the double doors open electrically. He found it on the far side, punched the red button and watched the big metal doors start to open.
He climbed into the Jeep and turned the key. The vehicle was slow to start, coughing with a metallic grind as the fuel refused to fire. He cursed, pumped the accelerator, hoping not to flood the engine, and turned her over again. The Jeep fired up and he slipped it into gear, released the clutch and edged it forward. The doors had opened wide as he reached them.
'Achtung! Wie gehts?' shouted a voice from the darkness. Adam looked up and saw a storm trooper running towards him, waving his hand. When the German realised that Adam was not one of his colleagues, he stopped and reached for the revolver in his belted holster.
At fifteen metres distance, he was no match for the Browning. The 9mm slug cut through his neck before he had unholstered his pistol.
Shit, Marcus. Now it starts. Now it fucking starts.
Adam felt the blackness race through him as he saw the storm trooper fall. He switched on the lights and drove down the tank paths towards the front gate. They wouldn't expect him to be in a vehicle.
The blackness was still with him, the depression of a life taken. Why the fuck am I here, Marcus? Why's it always me in the shit?
Hope you're okay, Billie. Five minutes. No more. Please do as I told you.
He saw the first group of storm troopers in the forest to his left. They were moving towards the perimeter wall. One of the men waved in his direction and he waved back, kept his head down and hurtled on down the track.
The helicopter was now working an area to the left, near the chalet, its strong searchlight playing through the trees. A group broke cover in front of him, but his headlights were on full beam and blinded them, protected him as he drove past. One of the men tried to jump on board, but couldn't make it as the Jeep was travelling too fast. Adam heard him curse and the others laugh at his misfortune.
The track he had chosen turned into the forest. He would rather have stayed in the open, where they weren't searching for him, but he had to return to the gatehouse. It was his best way out.
He had to slow down, there were too many men crossing the road in the forest in front of him. They had torches, heavy weapons slung over their shoulders. But somehow he got through. Nobody shone a torch at him, nobody recognised the stranger in their midst.
His headlights picked out Curly Top in the black uniform. He stood in the middle of the road, his arm outstretched in a signal for the Jeep to stop.
Bastard's tired of walking, Marcus. Can't stop now.
Adam slowed to a crawl, as if stopping for him. The bright headlights confused Curly Top, who now held his hands up to shield his eyes. He waved to Adam to turn off the lights.
Adam grinned, his blackness gone as danger touched him.
He gunned the engine when he only had a few metres to go, felt the Jeep claw at the hard ground and hurtle forward.
Curly Top dived out of the way, grabbing at his revolver as Adam drove past.