by Ian Andrew
Heinrich understood that Schern’s men had found the two surveillance team members, one wounded and one dead. Dietmar, who was operating callsign Warrior back at Northwood, would get Pascal to sort out the clean up and conduct interviews with the surviving member to find out if he could tell them anything useful.
As Heinrich entered the house Carl Schern was going through the small bureau cabinet in the downstairs lounge room.
“Anything?”
“No. Well, nothing to help us. Some bills and receipts but nothing of use.”
Heinrich nodded. It was what he had expected. “Carl, get the backup units to go round the neighbourhood. I need to know what she’s driving. If it was me I’d have ditched the Merc. See if we can find it. Also have a look for the surveillance team’s car. This bitch is clever and I wouldn’t put it past her to have swapped. If she has, get the details to Northwood.”
“Sir.” Schern nodded, stood up and was about to leave the room but delayed at the door.
“Standartenführer?”
“Yes?”
“Earlier; I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, you don’t know what I’m going to come up with as a punishment.” Heinrich looked at the soldier and saw his eyes look down again. “It’s okay Carl, I’m only joking. Let’s just say you owe me a favour.”
“Anything. You name it and if I can do it, it’s yours. But I still want to say thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go do what you do.”
***
It was 21:15 and Heinrich, Dietmar and Pascal sat in the briefing room in Northwood. They had put vehicle checks in place on most of the major roads out of Watford and further afield but to no avail. They knew she had swapped over to the surveillance team’s Volkswagen but hadn’t had one reported sighting of her. Assuming she was driving within the limits so as not to attract attention then her circle of opportunity was approaching almost 250-kilometres in radius. That put her within reach of a lot of coastline. Pascal sat looking over the various reports that were coming in from his checkpoints, all amounting to nothing. Dietmar was sitting with his eyes closed and Heinrich had sent Sturmmann Wiehaden to get him a coffee. When the young man came back in he apologised for the delay.
“Sorry Sir, but had I known the machines here needed change I would have brought some with me. I had to go borrow some from the duty watch.”
“No prob...” Heinrich stopped. Wiehaden looked slightly puzzled by the frown on his commander’s face.
“Fuck it! We’re thick!”
The young Sturmmann stepped backwards. “Sorry Sir?”
“No, sorry, not you Wiehaden. Dietmar, Pascal!” Heinrich was on his feet and his two colleagues looked up at him.
“What is it?” asked Dietmar who had obviously just been about to nod off.
“Forethought, planning. We didn’t even bring change for the coffee machine so she definitely didn’t put all of this together on a whim. She must have known that she might be tumbled eventually. She had to have planned an escape route and last night’s killing was not premeditated from what we,” he stopped abruptly realising that Wiehaden was still in the room and was not cleared for Thule.
“Sturmmann Wiehaden, can you go and retrieve my car please? I’ll be along momentarily. And thank you for the coffee.”
Wiehaden handed the cup over and saluted before hurrying out the door. As soon as the soldier had left Heinrich continued, “From what we saw earlier today, last night’s killing was on the spur of the moment. She had to have sat and planned her eventual escape and she would only have done that last night when she got home. If we’re lucky and I know we haven’t had one piece of luck so far, but if we’re lucky she might have done something to help us figure out her route. We can go back and see what she came up with. I’ve still got a GeoCord unit in my car. Dietmar get on the phone to Professor Lippisch and tell him to get his team back in. Pascal, ring Vogel and get him and Tensfeld in as well. We’ll go via Reid’s house and get the lat and longs and meet them back in Todt.”
Chapter 28
At 23:05 Heinrich watched the Time Observation Window reach stabilisation. The image focussed on the lounge room that Heinrich had stood in less than an hour before but the time stamp on the display showed 04:30 that morning. Mary Reid was sat at her bureau with a number of pieces of paper on the pull down leaf and what looked like a fairly generous shot of whiskey in a tumbler. She reached into the lower drawer and pulled a map out. After a few moments of folding and refolding she sat and studied it with the wrong end of a pencil tapping out an unsteady rhythm on the bureau.
They orientated the image so they had as clear a view of the map as possible. The small desktop lamp that provided Mary with light also allowed an excellent resolution on the Projection. Mary began to run through various possible routes and unconsciously ran the pencil over the roads. Her hand moved out and back along the lines radiating from Watford. Each time she returned to her point of origin and went through another option, checking all four points of the compass. Eventually she stopped and put the map into the front pocket of a small backpack.
“Go back please, two minutes.” Heinrich stepped forward to the screen. When the image reset he watched Mary Reid use her pencil to point out the last route she had evaluated on the map.
“Freeze it there.” The group of scientists and military personnel looked at the image on screen. Mary Reid’s pencil had stopped on a small harbour in the west of Scotland.
“Where’s that?” asked Pascal.
“Portpatrick.” It was Jerome Mills who answered. They turned to look at him. “We used to go there on holiday, I had an Aunt that lived there,” said the scientist.
“Would there be boats capable of crossing over to north Antrim?” asked Pascal.
“Well, it’s small but on any given day there are going to be twenty plus boats alongside in its harbour. All of them would be capable of making that trip. It’s a great choice if you don’t know she’s going there.” Jerome paused.
“How do you mean?” it was Heinrich asking this time.
“She had to figure we wouldn’t know because the downside for her is there’s only one main road into the town. Once she got through the checkpoints in the south she must have reckoned for a straight run. If she’s heading to Portpatrick she’s driving down a one-way street into a cul-de-sac.”
“How long does it take to drive there?” asked Dietmar.
“Well, when I go home I go via Cairnryan, which is close enough distance-wise for estimating. It takes me about seven hours to get from here using the autobahns. It’s the last bit that takes the time, it’s not exactly the straightest of roads.” Jerome didn’t need to add that Mary Reid was unlikely to have used the autobahns so that gave them even more time before she got there.
Heinrich looked round to Dietmar and Pascal, “Tell Northwood to get two of the choppers in the air, full assault teams, but tell Lowther I want them in civilian clothes, overalls, jeans, jumpers, anything that will fit in with a harbour. We’ll go in covertly and take her down nice and quietly when she gets there. Also tell him I want Schern and his team to ride along but they’re out of a covert approach as they all met her last night. Get the aircrew to route one of the birds here to pick us up and also tell them to get a route sorted out that gets us into Portpatrick from the sea. I don’t want a formation of Special Forces helicopters over-flying a land route that she might be travelling. She’s already proved she’s not stupid. Pascal, we can’t let her just disappear, so get the local Kripo down to the harbour.”
“There’s not going to be Kripo up there. The best we’ll be able to do is the Schutzpolizei der Gemeinden.”
Heinrich grimaced at the thought of having to use the poorly trained and under resourced uniformed Police force but knew his options were limited by time and distance. “Okay, but brief them on who we’re looking for and make sure they fully understand they are not to engage her. Observation only, just so we know s
he doesn’t fade into the mist. I want them to list every boat in that harbour so if she does take one we’ll know what we’re looking for. Also, see if they can ID us a potential CP. Sturmmann Tensfeld.”
Hannah sat to attention at her desk.
“Can you please make sure all your transcripts and visuals are finalised for my review as soon as possible?”
“Of course Standartenführer.”
Finally Heinrich turned to the scientists, “Professor Lippisch, thank you again.”
As Heinrich made to leave he caught Leigh looking at him. The flurry of activity that was beginning around them, as the scientists shut down the Projection and Dietmar and Pascal handled the operational tasking, seemed to fade away as he held her gaze. He motioned for her to come into the main lab space with him.
“What is it Leigh?”
“You’re going with them?”
“Yes.”
“Heinrich she’s already killed two people that we know about and it’s doubtful we’re going to find her other administrators alive. I just want you to be careful.”
“It’s okay Leigh, there’s going to be four squads of Special Forces picking her up. I’m only going along to observe. I’m not going to be wandering up to her on my own.” He tried to smile to reassure her but could see a real worry in her eyes.
“I know, but,” she hesitated.
“Go on Leigh, what is it?”
“It’s silly Heinrich. I’ve known you for just over twenty-four hours, but,” Leigh looked up at him. She couldn’t phrase what she wanted to say, so instead she leant up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He put his hands on her waist and reciprocated the kiss. When she stepped back he still held her waist and looked into her eyes once more.
“I promise I’ll be back before you know it. Go home and try to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 29
The twin NH92 helicopters kept their rotors turning as the refuelling was completed. Straight line flying from London to Portpatrick was well within their range but they were routed over South Wales before hanging a dogleg out over the Irish Sea, passing west of the Isle of Man before a low level approach into Portpatrick harbour. They would only momentarily touch down to drop off the troops before transiting to the Luftwaffe base at Aldergrove, in the north of Ireland. They would wait there, far out of sight and sound for the pick up call or a redirect to track a boat if Mary Reid had beaten them to the punch again.
The total flying was right on the limit of the aircraft’s range so they had arranged to refuel at the Luftwaffe base that was attached to Swansea Civilian Airport prior to the ‘feet-wet’ transit. Heinrich was looking at the Air Loadmaster on the chopper who checked his watch and signalled with four fingers raised. The minutes seemed to drag by.
Dietmar leant across and raised his voice so he could be heard, “It’s okay, we’ll beat her there. We’ve got spare time.”
Heinrich nodded, but he also knew it would be tight. The chopper had lifted off from Todt at 23:40 and had flown at its top speed of 160 knots to Swansea. They had scheduled a fifteen minute refuel and were now overrunning that by four minutes. Heinrich ran the maths again in his head. Mary Reid could possibly be in Portpatrick by 02:00 but it was much more likely to be 03:00. It was now 01:00 and the transit to the small harbour was going to take Heinrich and his group eighty minutes. That put them on the ground at 02:20. It was going to be tight. As he was thinking about the time and distance calculations the aircraft began to taxi forward. The Loadmaster signalled him with an OK and then circled his index finger in an upward spiral. Heinrich nodded back.
One hour later he was able to look out of the starboard window and see the Isle of Man passing by. A quarter of an hour more and the Loadmaster waddled across the helicopter floor and handed Heinrich a headset that was already plugged into the aircraft communication system via a trailing long lead. He leaned down and yelled over the noise, “You’re callsign Golf 2.”
Heinrich put the set on and listened in to the conversation between the aircraft pilot and the lead Schutzpolizei Officer in the harbour.
“Jackal Control this is Golf 1, please confirm status, over.”
“Golf 1 this is Jackal Control, Tango Zero, I repeat, Tango Zero, over.”
“Jackal Control, I confirm Tango Zero, our ETA your location, minutes five. Golf 1 Out.”
“Golf 2, this is Golf 1, did you copy, over.”
“Golf 1, Roger.”
Heinrich took the headset off and handed it back to the Loadmaster. He turned to look at Dietmar, Schern and the assault team leaders and made a thumbs-up signal. Mary Reid hadn’t beaten them to the town. The eight men who would form one half of the arrest team checked their weapons. Carl Schern and his team did the same although they knew they would not be part of the arrest. Heinrich and Dietmar looked again at the imagery of Portpatrick harbour that Whitehall had provided to them before they left. As the aircraft began to bank for its final run in, the Loadmaster slid the side door open and what had been a cool and relatively noisy environment became a freezing cold cauldron of buffeting winds and intense noise. Heinrich could smell the sea and even in the pitch black he could make out the occasional white topped wave breaking in what was a sizeable swell. He had travelled in too many army transports to be even slightly queasy with the violent buffeting and sharp manoeuvres. He also never thought about the likelihood of dying in one of the flying taxis, figuring it was much more likely to be shot and killed by whomsoever he was flying towards.
The helicopters flew in just to the north of the two inner harbours that housed the small fishing boat fleet and the occasional leisure craft that were moored there. The planned LZ was next to two municipal tennis courts and was normally the local lawn bowling green. The pilots had assured Heinrich they wouldn’t leave so much as an indent as they hovered just off the surface. Heinrich watched the barely visible horizon pitch to a very peculiar angle as the NH92 flared out and performed a classic assault approach. The SF troops deplaned and deployed out into a fan formation, weapons drawn and moving towards the car parks that catered for the boat crews. As Dietmar’s foot left the helicopter the aircraft ascended again and cleared the LZ in time for the second helicopter to perform the same manoeuvre. Both aircraft had dropped off their cargo in less than sixty seconds. Even the noise of their rotors disappeared into the winds of the Irish Sea within no more than two minutes.
Heinrich’s ears adjusted to the quiet that surrounded the small harbour. The street lights that illuminated the car park and the quaysides weren’t very bright but provided enough light for him to survey the LZ and he saw the pilots had been true to their word, there was not so much as one wheel indent in the flat surface of the bowling green. Carl Schern, carrying a briefcase that held a command network radio system, led his three colleagues over at a trot and joined Heinrich, Dietmar and the local Schutzpolizei unit at the north-eastern end of the car park that abutted the bowling green.
“Hauptwachtmeister Soria, I’m Standartenführer Steinmann. Thank you for your time in doing this for us. I took it from you transmission to the aircraft that you have seen nothing of our target?”
“No Standartenführer, nothing and we’ve been here since midnight. She’s not shown up. Also, I’ve talked to Kriminalrat Debouchy and we’ve arranged for you to use a room in a hotel as your command point. It’s the three storey building just along the road and the owner is retired Kriegsmarine, a Fregattenkapitän Muller.” The Police officer indicated the hotel about 400-metres away.
“Excellent, thank you again. Go home and have a good sleep.”
The police officer saluted Heinrich and then signalled for his two colleagues to meet him at their patrol car. As they drove off Heinrich looked around the harbour and watched as Johan Lowther and his SF troops set about their preparations. Their first task was placing a four-man detachment onto the road leading down to the harbour whilst the rest of the men deployed to their various observation points that they had picked o
ff the Whitehall imagery. Heinrich was satisfied that if Mary Reid turned up, the four-man team on the access road would spot her and the other twelve soldiers deployed around the harbour would be well placed to arrest her. He led Dietmar and Schern’s team to the small hotel on the waterfront. Heinrich rapped on the front door and it was opened almost as soon as he had knocked.
“Fregattenkapitän Muller?”
“Yes, but it’s been a while since anyone called me that. Please call me Tobias. You must be Standartenführer Steinmann?”
Heinrich nodded.
Tobias turned and began to walk along the hallway. Heinrich and the rest followed the elderly hotel owner who still bore himself in a manner that marked him as a career military officer.
“I have the front room on the first floor ready for you. The bed has been taken out and I’ve moved a few chairs and a table in there for you.”
“Thank you for the trouble you’ve taken,” said Heinrich but Tobias just waved his hand over his shoulder dismissively.
“No trouble, rather exciting really.”
They climbed the stairs and as Tobias showed them into the room Heinrich could see that the older man had been to quite a lot of trouble. Not only were the table and chairs there, but a platter of sandwiches was set on a small sideboard along with two full coffee pots and various cups, milk, sugar and even a plate of biscuits. Before any of them got a chance to say anything, Tobias merely smiled at them and said, “I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen. Don’t scrimp on eating or drinking as I’ll bring you fresh rations every so often if that’s okay?” His new guests nodded their happy agreement with the plan.
“Happy hunting gentlemen.” Tobias rendered a semi-formal naval salute and exited from the room.
Heinrich pulled an encrypted mobile phone from his pocket and punched a speed dial, “How are we doing Johan?”
“All in position Sir. Two of the OPs had no direct line of sight so we’ve relocated them. Other than that we’re good. We’ll make sure the most likely vessels are controlled by us.”