Cold Harbour

by Jack Higgins

  , produced his pass and was checked through by security. The place was already busy, but then, like the Windmill Theater, they never closed. He went up the back stairs two at a time and entered the Transport Office. His luck was still good. The night duty officer, still on till eight, was a retired infantry Major named Wallace, brought back for the war. Craig had known him since his early days with SOE.

  'Hello, Osbourne,' Wallace said in surprise. 'What brings you out so bright and early?'

  'Big flap on. Munro wants to go down to Cold Harbour. I'm meeting him at Croydon. Give me the usual authorisation for the RAF then phone through to Croydon to tell them to expect us. We'll need the Lysander.'

  'We're trying to win the war in a hurry again, are we?' Wallace opened a file, took out the appropriate document and filled it in.

  'Frankly, I think he might be more interested in the fishing.' Craig sat on the edge of the desk calmly and smoked a cigarette. 'Oh, you'd better give me a chit for the motor pool.'

  'Anything to oblige.'

  Wallace handed him the documents. Craig said, 'Marvellous. I'd better get moving then and you'll phone Croydon?'

  'Of course,' Wallace said patiently and reached for the phone as Craig went out.

  It was raining steadily at Croydon, but visibility was good as Craig, in the passenger seat of the jeep, was passed through the main gate. They drove straight to the usual departure point where the Lysander already waited, a couple of mechanics standing beside it. Craig dismissed his driver and went into the Nissen hut where he found Grant in his flying clothes having a cup of tea with the orderly officer.

  Grant said, 'Hello, old son, thought I was getting the day off. Where's the Brigadier?'

  'Change of plan.' Craig told him. 'He's going to come down later. There's your authorisation.'

  He passed it across and the orderly officer checked it. 'Fine. All in order.'

  'All right, old boy, might as well get going,' Grant said and he and Craig went out and ran together through the rain to the Lysander.

  ****

  It was nine-thirty, Arthur having been missed for his breakfast in the kitchen, when Baum went downstairs to see what was going on. He panicked then, sat in his study sweating with fear. It was ten o'clock before he plucked up courage and phoned through to the flat in Hasten Place

  .

  Munro had worked for most of the night, catching up on paper, was having a late breakfast when Carter joined him. The Captain stood looking out of the window, a cup of tea in his hand.

  'What do you intend to do about Craig Osbourne, sir?'

  'If the young fool won't see sense, I'll lock him up for the duration,' Munro said calmly as he buttered his toast. 'You don't like it, do you, Jack?'

  'It's a dirty business, sir.'

  The phone rang. 'Get that,' the Brigadier said.

  Carter picked it up, listened, then held the phone to his chest, the slightest trace of a smile on his face. 'Baum, sir. It would appear our Craig was more than a match for Arthur. He's on the loose.'

  'Dear God, that boy's worse than Houdini.'

  'What do we do, sir?'

  Munro flung down his napkin. 'Just tell Baum I'll handle it.' Carter did as he was told and Munro got up. 'One thing is clear. We can't have a fuss. That would never do.'

  'No, sir.'

  'Get the car, Jack. I'll change and we'll go round to Baker Street

  .'

  The canteen at Baker Street

  served an excellent breakfast, Wallace was still in the building and going down the stairs as Munro and Carter were coming up.

  'Morning, sir,' he said. 'Change of plans?'

  'What on earth are you talking about?' Munro demanded.

  So Wallace told him.

  ****

  Joe Edge stood outside the hangar at Cold Harbour and watched the Lysander lift off into the fog that was rolling in from the sea as Grant began the return journey to Croydon. The telephone started to ring in the small glass office in the hangar.

  Edge called to the mechanics, 'I'll get it,' went in and lifted the receiver. 'Yes?'

  'Is that you, Edge? Munro here.'

  'Yes, Brigadier.'

  'Any sign of Osbourne?'

  'Yes, sir, landed half an hour ago. Grant's just taken off on the return leg to Croydon.'

  'Where's Osbourne now?'

  Edge scented trouble, said eagerly, 'Hare picked him up in one of the jeeps. Julie was with him. They went down to the pub.'

  'Now listen carefully, Edge,' Munro said. 'I think Osbourne may have some wild idea of persuading Hare to make an unauthorised trip to France. You must prevent that.'

  'How, sir?'

  'Good God, man, any way you know how. Use your initiative. As soon as Grant's back and refuelled, we'll be down there.'

  He rang off. Edge replaced the receiver, a smile on his face, not a nice smile, then he opened a drawer, took out his Luftwaffe issue belt and holster with the Walther inside. He went out quickly, got into his jeep and drove down through the village stopping some fifty yards from the pub. He went into the back yard and peered through the kitchen window. It was empty. He opened the door quietly and went in.

  ****

  The crew of the Lili Marlene leaned against the bar listening to what Hare was saying.

  'You've heard the facts. All you need to know. Miss Trevaunce is in about as bad a spot as she could be, and it's all Munro's doing. Now the Major and I intend to do something about that, but I've no authorisation. If any man here feels he can't come, say so now. I won't hold it against you.'

  'For God's sake, guvnor, what are we wasting time for?' Schmidt said. 'We've got to get ready.'

  'He's right, Herr Kapitan,' Langsdorff said stolidly. 'If we leave at noon, we'll be at Grosnez by six if you should wish to use the pier again.'

  Craig and Julie sat behind the bar, watching. In the kitchen, Edge could hear everything clearly.

  Hare said, 'A daylight crossing. That's always hazardous.'

  'We've done it before,' Langsdorff reminded him.

  Schmidt grinned. 'To the gallant lads of the Kriegsmarine, anything is possible.'

  Hare turned to Craig. There you go then.'

  Craig said, 'I'll take Julie up to the house. I need some things from costume and she can arrange a radio message to Grand Pierre.'

  Edge was already out of the back and running to his jeep. He got behind the wheel and drove away quickly as the crew emerged from The Hanged Man.

  As Craig and Julie got into the other jeep Hare smiled wryly. 'Oh well, there goes my career.'

  'What career?' Craig asked with a grin and drove away.

  From Julie's costume store, he selected the black dress uniform of a Standartenführer in the Charlemagne Brigade of the Waffen-SS.

  Julie came in. 'There's the SS identity card you wanted. I've made it out to Henri Legrande. Just for luck.'

  Craig folded the uniform. 'I prefer the black when the going gets rough,' he told her. 'It always puts the fear of God into everyone.'

  'What shall I say to Grand Pierre?'

  'He must be at the pier at Grosnez by six and he must provide me with the right kind of military transport. A Kubelwagen -something like that.'

  'All right. I'll take care of it,'

  Craig smiled at her. 'You realise Munro will have you shot or something when he gets here.'

  'To hell with Munro.'

  The door creaked and as they turned, Edge appeared, the Walther at the ready. 'Actually, old son, you aren't going anywhere. I've just had Brigadier Munro on the phone and he gave me strict orders to hang on to you.'

  'Is that a fact?' Craig said and swung the SS tunic on his hand, smothering the Walther. He smashed Edge's arm against the wall so that he dropped the weapon and at the same time punched him very hard on the side of the jaw.

  The pilot doubled over, Craig got him by the collar and dragged him across to the big work table. 'Pass me a pair of those handcuffs, Julie.' She did so and he handcuff
ed Edge's arms around one of the legs. 'Leave him there until Munro and Jack Carter get here.'

  She leaned up and kissed him. 'Take care, Craig.'

  'Don't I always?'

  He went out then, the door slammed and a moment later she heard the jeep start up. She sighed, left Edge where he was and went off to the Communication Room.

  It was half an hour later that she went out to the end of the garden from where she could see all the way down to the village. Fog rolled in from the sea. It was going to be a dirty crossing. As she watched, the Lili Marlene left harbour, the scarlet and black Kriegsmarine ensign on her jackstaff, vivid as she was swallowed by the mist like a ghost.

  FOURTEEN

  AS THE LILI MARLENE left Cold Harbour, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel was arriving at Chateau de Voincourt and Genevieve waited at the top of the steps to welcome him with her aunt and Ziemke and his staff, Max Priem among them.

  The convoy was surprisingly small considering the importance of the visitor. Three cars and four military policemen on motor cycles. Rommel was in an open Mercedes, a short, stocky man in leather greatcoat, a white scarf loosely knotted at his neck, the famous desert goggles he affected, pushed up above the peak of his cap. Genevieve watched him salute and shake hands with General Ziemke and Seilheimer, the SS Brigadier, and then Ziemke introduced her aunt. A moment later it was Genevieve's turn.

  His French was excellent. 'An honour, Mademoiselle.' He looked straight into her eyes as if sizing her up and she was conscious of the power, the enormous drive. He inclined his head, raised her hand to his lips.

  They moved into the hall. Hortense said to Ziemke, 'We'll leave you now, General. You have important matters to discuss, I don't doubt. Field Marshal - we meet again this evening, I believe?'

  'I look forward to it, Countess.' Rommel saluted courteously.

  As they went up the stairs, Genevieve said, 'In 1942, certain sections of the great British public were asked to name their choice as the most outstanding General around. Most of them chose our friend down there.'

  'Now you know why,' Hortense said. 'I want to talk to you, but not inside. The old summerhouse in fifteen minutes.'

  She went to her room. When Genevieve opened her door, Maresa was just finishing making the bed. 'I'm going for a walk,' Genevieve said. 'Find me something warm to wear. There's a nip in the air.'

  Maresa went to the wardrobe and produced a hunting jacket with a fur collar. 'Will this do, Mamselle?'

  'I think so.' The girl was very pale, her eyes sunk into their sockets a little. Genevieve said, 'You don't look well. Are you all right?'

  'Oh, Mamselle, I'm so frightened.'

  'So am I,' Genevieve told her, 'but I will do what I have to and so will you.'

  She held her firmly by the shoulders for a moment. Maresa nodded wearily. 'Yes, Mamselle.'

  'Good,' Genevieve said. 'You can lay out the white evening dress. I'll wear that tonight.'

  She left her there, looking thoroughly miserable, and went out.

  ****

  It was pleasant in the garden with a hint of spring in the air, green grass under the trees, the sun filtering through in odd patterns, turning the leaves to gold. An unexpected moment of peace. She went through an archway in the grey stone wall and found Hortense sitting on the edge of the fountain, the white summerhouse behind her. There was green moss on its walls, a couple of windows were broken.

  'I used to be happy here,' Genevieve said. 'When we were very small you would give us tea in the summerhouse.'

  'Everything passes.'

  'I know. It's very sad.'

  'Give me a cigarette,' Hortense said. 'I think I prefer it in decay. That moss, for instance. Dark green on white. It creates an atmosphere that wasn't here before. A sense of things lost.'

  'Philosophy in your old age?'

  There was a gleam of amusement in her aunt's eyes. 'Stop me if it happens again.' One of the prowler guards passed a few yards away, a machine pistol slung from his shoulder, an Alsatian straining on a steel chain. 'You heard what happened last night?'

  'I saw it.'

  'A bad business. Philippe Gamelin from the village. He's been poaching the estate for years. I asked Ziemke to go easy on him, but he insists they must make an example in the interests of future security.'

  'What will they do to him?'

  'Oh, he'll be sentenced to some labour camp, I suppose.' She shivered in distaste. 'Life becomes daily more unpleasant. I wish to God the Allies would hurry up and make this landing we've all been promised for so long. Still - what about tonight? You know exactly what you are about?'

  'I think so.'

  'Not think, child. You must know.' Hortense shaded her eyes and looked up to the front of the house and the Rose Room. 'From your balcony to the terrace is what? Twenty feet? You are certain you can manage it?'

  'Since I was ten years of age,' Genevieve assured her. 'And in the dark. The brickwork beside the pillar stands out like the steps in a ladder.'

  'Very well. The ball is supposed to commence at seven. They don't want to be too late as Rommel is driving to Paris overnight. I shall come down just before eight. I suggest you slip away to your room as soon after that as you can.'

  'Maresa has arranged to meet Eric here in the summerhouse at eight.'

  'Well, whatever her charms, I wouldn't count on her holding him for more than twenty minutes,' Hortense said. 'Chantal will be waiting in your room to give you any assistance you need.'

  'If everything works, I should be in the library, take my pictures and out again inside ten minutes,' Genevieve said. 'Back downstairs at the ball by eight-thirty, the safe locked behind me and nothing missing and no one will know a thing about it.'

  'Except us,' Hortense said with a cold smile, 'and that, my love, I find eminently satisfying.'

  ****

  It was just before six, the light fading as the Lili Marlene sailed boldly in towards the deserted pier at Grosnez. There was a slight mist, but the sea was calm and the Kriegsmarine ensign hung limply from the jackstaff. Langsdorff was at the wheel and Hare checked the shore with glasses.

  'Yes, there they are.' He laughed softly. 'Now there's cheek for you. He's brought two vehicles. Looks like a Kubelwagen and a black sedan and they're in uniform.

  He passed the glasses to Craig who focused them on the pier. There were three men in German Army uniforms standing by the Kubelwagen. Grand Pierre leaned against it, smoking a cigarette.

  'He's got style, this one, you have to admit that,' Craig said. 'I'd better go below and change.'

  He left the wheelhouse and Hare said to Langsdorff, 'Dead slow.'

  He went down to the deck where the crew were already at battle stations, all guns manned, and went below. When he went into the tiny cabin, Craig was buttoning the tunic of the Waffen-SS uniform.

  Hare lit a cigarette. 'You feel okay about this?'

  Craig said, 'In all those books I read In my teens, the hero always went back for the girl. It kind of programmed my thinking. Doesn't really leave me with much choice.' He was ready now, a belted Walther at his waist, the silver SS buckle gleaming. He put on his cap. 'Will I do?'

  'Who in the hell from a military policeman on the road to a gate guard is going to query you in uniform like that?' Hare said and led the way out.

  As they coasted in to the lower jetty, Grand Pierre came down the steps to meet them, as disreputable as usual. He smiled, 'Good heavens, takes me back to costume parties when I was at Oxford. You do look dashing, Osbourne.'

  'I want to make one thing clear,' Craig said. This one's a private affair. We've come for the girl on our own initiative.'

  'Save it, old son. Julie Legrande managed to put me in the picture. To be honest, my people weren't too keen to get involved. I mean, the life of one young woman, British agent or otherwise, is of little importance to them. They're used to a rather high body count that includes their own families on occasion. Still I do have certain powers of persuasion. I've got you a rather nice
Mercedes and a Kubelwagen with three of my lads in uniform to escort you. Nice touch that. They'll peel off when you get to the Chateau.'

  Craig said, 'You're going to hang around?'

  'Why, yes, up there in the woods with some of my rascals. Does the boat stay?'

  Hare turned to Langsdorff. 'Some sort of engine repair, I think?'

  Langsdorff nodded. 'Dark soon, anyway, Herr Kapitan.'

  'God knows when we'll get back,' Craig said.

  'We'll be here.' Hare smiled.

  The crew waited silently. Craig gave them a punctilious salute. '.Men,' he said in English. 'It's been an honour to serve with you.'

  Those on deck sprang to attention. Only Schmidt replied. 'Good luck, guvnor. Walk all over the bastards.'

  They went up the steps to the upper level and approached the cars. Grand Pierre said in French to the three in German Army uniform, 'Right, you rogues, look after him. If you cock it up, don't come back.'

  They grinned and got in the Kubelwagen. Craig slid behind the wheel of the Mercedes.

  Grand Pierre said, 'Take care now. Off you go. It's a ball they're having tonight, by the way. Sounds fun. Wish I could join you, but I don't have my dinner jacket with me.'

  The Kubelwagen moved away and Craig switched on the ignition of the Mercedes and followed, Grand Pierre growing smaller in the driving mirror, disappearing altogether as he started up the hill.

  ****

  The dress was really beautiful, some sort of white silk jersey material that was more than flattering. Maresa helped Genevieve into it then placed a towel round her shoulders as she sat down to finish making-up.

  'Have you seen Rene today?' Genevieve asked her casually.

  'I don't think so, Mamselle. He wasn't in the servants' hall for his evening meal. Shall I send someone to look for him?'

  'No, it's not important. You've got enough to think about. You know what you have to do? You're sure?'

  'Meet Eric in the summerhouse at nine and keep him there as long as I can.'

  'Which means at least twenty minutes,' Genevieve said. 'Anything less is no good.' She patted the girl's cheek. 'Don't look so worried, Maresa. A joke we're playing on the General, that's all.'