The water was only about a foot deep here, for the tunnel sloped downwards steeply, and the smell was not unpleasant, like old leaves and autumn on the river in a punt.
'Keep going,' Canning said. 'From what I found out from that gardener, we emerge into the main sewer pretty quickly. From there, it's a straight run down to the Inn.'
'I can smell it already,' Birr told him.
A few minutes later the tunnel did indeed empty into the main sewer in a miniature waterfall. Birr flashed his torch at the brown foam-flecked waters which rushed by several feet below.
'My God, just smell it, Hamilton. This really is beyond a joke.'
'Oh, get in there, for Christ's sake.' Canning gave him a shove and Birr dropped down, losing his balance and disappeared beneath the surface. He was on his feet in an instant and stood there cursing, still clutching his torch. 'It's liquid shit, Hamilton. Liquid shit.'
'You can have a wash when we get to the river,' Canning said and he lowered himself down to join him. 'Now let's make time.'
He started down the tunnel, torch extended before him, and Birr followed for perhaps sixty or seventy yards and then the tunnel petered out in a blank wall.
'That's it then,' Birr said. 'And a bloody good job too as far as I'm concerned. We'll have to go back.'
'Not on your sweet life. The water's got to go somewhere.' Canning slipped his torch into his pocket, took a deep breath and crouched. He surfaced at once. 'As I thought. The tunnel continues on a lower level. I'm going through.'
Birr said, 'And what if it's twenty or thirty yards long, you idiot — or longer? You'll not have time to turn and come back. You'll drown.'
'So I'll take that chance, Justin.' Canning was tying one end of the rope about his waist now. 'I want out — you understand? I've no intention of sitting on my ass up there in the castle waiting for the Reichsfuhrer's hired assassins to come and finish me off.' He held out the other end of the rope. 'Fasten that round your waist if you want to come too. If I get through, I'll give it a pull.'
'And if not?'
'Winter roses on my grave. Scarlet ones like those Claire cultivated in the conservatory.' He grinned once, took a deep breath and disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
Justin Birr waited. The electric torch gave only a minimal light, barely sufficient to pick out the slime on the ancient stone walls or the occasional rat that swam past in the dark water. The stench was frightful — really most unpleasant — and by now the cold had cut through to his very bones, or so it seemed.
He was aware of a sudden tug and hesitated, wondering for the moment whether it was simply imagination. There was another tug, more insistent this time. 'All right, damn you,' he said and extinguished the torch and put it in his breast pocket. His hands felt under the water for the edge of the arched roof. He took a deep breath and went down.
His feet banged against the stonework, but he kicked desperately, aware of the rope tugging at his waist, and then, just when he was convinced he couldn't keep going any longer, he saw a faint light ahead and surfaced, gasping for breath.
Canning, crouching out of the water on the side of a larger tunnel, reached down to pull him up. 'Easy does it.'
'Really, Hamilton, this particular small jaunt of yours is getting out of hand. I smell like a lavatory gone wrong and I'm frozen into the bargain.'
Canning ignored him. 'Listen — I can hear the river. Can't be far now.'
He set off at a fast pace, slipping and sliding on the slope of the tunnel, and Birr got to his feet wearily and went after him. And then Canning was laughing excitedly and running, splashing knee-deep in the brown water.
'I can see it. We're there.'
'Indeed you are, gentlemen. Indeed you are.'
A brilliant spot was turned on, flooding the tunnel with light. Birr hesitated, then went forward and dropped on his hands and knees beside Canning who crouched at the large circular grille which blocked the end of the tunnel. Schneider knelt on one knee at the other side, several armed men behind him.
'We've been waiting for you, gentlemen. Magda was growing impatient.'
His Alsatian bitch whined eagerly, pushing her muzzle between the bars. Canning tugged at her ears. 'You wouldn't hurt me, you silly old bitch, would you?'
'All right, Sergeant-Major,' Justin Birr said. 'We'll come quietly.'
Oberstleutnant Max Hesser leaned back in his chair, got out his cigarette case and opened it one-handed with a skill born of long practice. Oberleutnant Schenck waited at the other side of the desk. He was dressed for duty, a pistol at his belt.
'Extraordinary,' the colonel said. 'What on earth will Canning get up to next?'
'God knows, Herr Oberst.'
'And the note you received telling you that the escape attempt was to take place. You say it was unsigned?'
'As you may see for yourself, Herr Oberst.'
He passed a slip of paper across and Hesser examined it. '"Canning and Birr escaping through the main sewer tonight." Crudely done in pencil and block capitals but perfect German.' He sighed. 'So there is a traitor in the camp. One of their friends betrays them.'
'Not necessarily, Herr Oberst, if I might make a suggestion.'
'But of course, man. Carry on.'
'The general's knowledge of the sewer and drainage system must have been gained from somewhere. One of the soldiers or a servant, perhaps.'
'Ah, I see your point,' Hesser said. 'Who took a bribe, then slipped you that anonymous note to make sure the escape attempt would prove abortive.' He shook his head. 'I don't like it, Schenck. It leaves a bad taste.' He sighed. 'Anyway, I suppose I'd better have them in.'
Schenck withdrew and Hesser stood up and moved to the drinks cabinet. He was a handsome man in spite of the deep scar which bisected his forehead, curving into the right eye which was now glass; the uniform was trim and well-fitting, the empty left sleeve tucked into the belt.
He was pouring himself a brandy when the door opened behind him. He turned as Schenck ushered Canning and Birr into the room, Schneider behind them.
'Good God in heaven,' Hesser said.
They indeed presented a sorry sight, barefoot, covered in filth, water dripping on to the carpet. Hesser hurriedly filled another two glasses.
'From the looks of you, I'd say you needed it.'
Canning and Birr slopped forward. 'Very civil of you,' Birr said.
Canning grinned and raised his glass. 'Prosit.'
'And now to business.' Hesser went back to his desk and sat down. 'This is a nonsense, gentlemen. It must stop.'
'The duty of an officer to make every attempt to achieve his liberty and rejoin his unit,' Canning said. 'You know that.'
'Yes, under other circumstances I would agree with you, but not now. Not on the 26th of April, 1945. Gentlemen, after five and a half years, the war draws to a close. It's almost over — any day now. All we have to do is wait.'
'What for — an SS execution squad?' Canning said. 'We know what the Fuhrer told Berger when he asked about the prominenti. He said shoot them. Shoot all of them. Last I heard, Himmler agreed with him.'
'You are in my charge, gentlemen. I have tried to make this plain many times before.'
'Great,' Canning said. 'And what happens if they drive up to the front door with a directive from the Fuhrer? Will you pull up the drawbridge or order us to be shot? You took the soldier's oath, didn't you, just like everyone else in the German armed forces?'
Hesser stared up at him, very white, the great scar glowing angrily. Birr said gently, 'He does have a point, Colonel.'
Hesser said, 'I could put you gentlemen on short rations and confine you to your cells, but I won't. Under the circumstances and considering the point in time at which we all stand, I shall have you returned to prisoners' section and your friends. I hope you will respond in kind to this gesture.'