Paul Cheval, the one man to survive the horror of Lidice, was in the room, a grim phantom of vengeance and retribution!
This was one development that von Bock hadn’t planned when he had set this little trap.
“It is nothing,” the girl said quickly. “I–I’ve been through so much in the last few hours that my nerves are jumpy. I thought I saw the figure of a man on the other side of the room.”
Both Troopers turned in the direction she indicated and at that same instant the stocky, black-browed figure of Paul Cheval materialized beside the girl. With a swift rush he lunged at one of the soldiers, ripped the Luger from his hand. He shoved the man away from him and swung the gun to cover the second Trooper.
“Drop your gun!” he said. His voice was like thin ice cracking. There was no mistaking the chilling intention in his hot, black eyes.
The soldier dropped his gun to the floor with trembling fingers.
Marie stepped quickly to Michael’s side and went to work on the belt that was strapped about his wrists.
“Hurry!” Paul Cheval snapped.
He swung one Nazi about and brought the barrel of his gun down across the man’s temple. He sagged to the floor like a damp sack of oats. The other Trooper opened his mouth to cry out, but Paul rammed his gun, butt-deep into the man’s stomach.
“One squeak and you die,” he whispered.
The Nazi’s eyes circled in terror, whites gleaming, but his mouth clamped suddenly shut.
Michael felt his bonds giving, but before he could slip his wrists free, the door of the office burst open and von Bock strode into the room. He was alone, but he held an unwavering Luger in his hand.
He saw Paul and his face went blank with amazement.
Paul jerked his gun up, but von Bock fired first. The bullet slammed into Paul, knocking him about in a halfcircle. He fell slowly to the floor, his face a mask of agony. Blood stained his shirt and his face was an ashen gray. Desperately he tried to raise the gun in his hand, but it slipped from his nerveless fingers as he slumped to the floor.
Von Bock swung around to cover Marie.
“So!” he snapped harshly. “You were in with him!”
He strode across the room on his thick, stubby legs, flushed with anger.
“I caught you attempting to free him,” he said. “For that you will die with him, Fraulein”
Without taking his eyes from the girl, he signaled to the Trooper who was still on his feet.
“Drag the swine I shot from the room. I don’t like the smell of fresh blood.”
The Trooper put his hands under Paul’s shoulders and dragged him across the floor and out of the room, slamming the door after him.
“Now,” von Bock said harshly, “we will see, Fraulein, if your tricks will work on me. We have been altogether too lenient in dealing with enemies of the Reich. From now on, we shall be more firm.”
He shifted his gun to his left hand as he spoke. Then he stepped forward and slapped the girl savagely across the cheek.
“That, Fraulein, is only the start.”
“You inhuman beast!” the girl cried.
Michael said nothing, but his face was set and pale. He was working desperately at his bonds. The girl had loosened them, but not enough to free his wrists. If only he had time...
Von Bock sauntered slowly over to him. His thick lips were smiling grimly.
“You have made quite a fool of me, Herr Faber,” he said. “My superiors are going to wonder how you were able to deceive me for over two years. It is possible that I may be demoted because of you. You were very clever. Many times you must have been laughing at me, Herr Faber.”
His face clouded suddenly with bitter rage and the veins at his temples throbbed visibly.
“Didn’t you laugh, Herr Faber?” he shouted, his voice hoarse and ragged.
Michael smiled and shook his head.
“I never laughed at you, Herr Marshal,” he said. “But many times I pitied you.”
“Pity!” Von Bock’s voice shook with insane rage.
He drove his right fist suddenly into Michael’s face. The unexpectedness, rather than the force of the blow staggered him and he slumped to his knees. Blood streamed from his lip.
But as he fell he strained desperately at the belt about his wrists and he felt it give slightly. On his knees before von Bock he slipped one hand free. As his other hand came loose he dropped his head to his chest to hide the elated expression on his face.
“That is a fitting posture for you,” von Bock snarled. “On your knees, head bowed before the Herrenvolk!”
He raised his booted foot, but as he kicked at Michael’s face, Michael shifted slightly and von Bock’s leg shot across his shoulder. Michael ducked swiftly and his hands shot out, grabbing the marshal’s other leg.
A savage jerk brought the German’s portly figure crashing to the floor. Michael lunged for von Bock’s gun hand, but the Luger had dropped to the floor in the fall. The marshal squirmed on top of Michael and dug his thumbs into his eyes.
“You dog!” he cried. “I’ll tear your eyes—”
A shot sounded. And the marshal’s voice faded into a cracked, choking bleat. He rolled off Michael’s body and his short legs pumped wildly, spasmodically for an instant and then they were still.
Michael climbed weakly to his feet.
Marie held the marshal’s Luger, and a wisp of smoke was trailing from the muzzle of the gun. She brushed a lock of hair from her white forehead and leaned limply against the desk.
“I shot him in the back,” she said dully.
Michael took her shoulders and shook her gently.
“Forget that,” he said quietly. “Never think of it. It was simply something you had to do. Now pull yourself together. We’ve got a million-to-one chance to get out of here, but we can’t waste a second.”
He dropped to his knees beside von Bock’s body and transferred the vital roll of film to his own pocket.
Then he led the girl to the door and opened it cautiously. The corridor was deserted. Michael’s chief worry was the Storm Trooper who had carried out Paul’s body. He should be back on the scene any minute.
“Come on,” he said. “This is our only chance.”
He closed the door and, with Marie at his side, strode down the long carpeted corridor to the double brass doors that led to the street. His heart was hammering in his throat.
Opening the door boldly, he stepped out into the cool gray dawn. Instantly two guards confronted him. One of them was the florid-faced soldier who had originally let them in.
Michael nodded casually to him and gave his arm to Marie.
“Glad to see you’re on the alert,” he said, smiling.
The guard made no move to let them pass.
“I heard two shots from inside,” he said. “The marshal instructed me to let no one into the building after he went in.”
“Quite right,” Michael said. “Important things have transpired here tonight. Do you realize the Heydrich slayer was here tonight?”
“No!” the guard gasped. He looked nervously about.
“He is dead now,” Michael said. “Our courageous marshal dispatched him himself. I am carrying the message to Himmler.”
He patted the guard on the shoulder. “You have done your work well. I have already mentioned your alertness to von Bock. Now keep up the good work. Let no one in or out until I return. Do you understand?”
“Yes. But what did the Marshal von Bock say about me?”