Codename Eagle

by Robert Rigby

  “Minding our own business, Alain.”

  “Not looking for somewhere to graze cattle, are you?”

  “What?”

  Alain didn’t answer. His eyes, suspicious, flicked from Didier to Paul.

  Sitting astride his motorbike, Didier had a good view into the van. On the passenger seat was what looked like a small bundle of rags. But there was something else too, and Didier’s eyes widened in surprise as he glimpsed a short length of dull black metal poking out from beneath the rags.

  Alain was about to speak as he turned back to Didier, but he spotted him looking into the vehicle and hurriedly reached across and covered the metal with the rags.

  He gave the friends a contemptuous look, shoved the van’s gear stick into first, stood on the accelerator and roared away. Smoke belched from the vehicle’s exhaust as it rattled across the plateau.

  “Grazing cattle?” Paul said as they watched the van speed across the plateau. “What was that all about?”

  “I’ve no idea. But he had a gun on the passenger seat.”

  “A gun?”

  Didier nodded. “A pistol. Come on, get on.”

  He started the machine and Paul climbed onto the pillion seat. “Why would he have a pistol?”

  “I don’t know,” Didier said as he let out the clutch, “but he’s a strange guy.”

  They rode across the plateau, the sky darkening by the minute, and the first drops of rain began to fall as they entered the forest.

  Didier rode carefully; the narrow, twisting road could be treacherous in wet conditions. And the rain was getting heavier. They glimpsed tracks and narrow pathways cutting through the silver fir into the gloom of the forest.

  “Most of them go nowhere,” Didier shouted to Paul as they rode on. “Abandoned years ago. Used to be lots of sawmills up here.”

  “No houses?” Paul called back.

  “Not that I know of!” Didier yelled as they passed another track that was wider than most of the others. “It’s not a place to live, unless you’re a wild animal.”

  Somewhere in the distance a dog was barking, but their voices, the beat of rainfall on the road and the steady chugging of the engine combined to cover the sound.

  They leaned into the next tight bend, and as the bike disappeared from view Rudi Werner stepped from behind a tree and lowered the Karabiner 98k rifle that had been aimed at Didier’s head.

  Hauptmann Lau was taking no chances. The moment the Citroën reached the turning for the wood yard, he had ordered Werner out of the vehicle and told him to keep watch for a full thirty minutes.

  Werner followed his orders; now the thirty minutes were up. A few minutes earlier, he had fixed the rifle’s sights on the driver of an old blue van as it went by.

  Then it was Didier’s turn.

  The rain suddenly turned from heavy shower to downpour, slamming down like hammered nails. Rumbles of thunder rolled across the sky.

  Werner pulled up the collar of his jacket and shivered as water slid down his neck. He hurried up the track, the rifle’s barrel pointed towards the ground to keep it dry. Perhaps, Werner thought, as he splashed through the puddles quickly forming in the mud, the kids on the bike had just been out for a spin. Or perhaps they had ridden up to the plateau on an errand, or to visit someone. Perhaps. But perhaps not.

  Werner was still desperate to fire a weapon. It had been a long time.

  NINETEEN

  Lau’s face was darker than the thunderous sky as the twins, hands tied behind their backs, were dragged into the kitchen and pushed down onto chairs.

  “What the hell were you trying to do? Did you really think that two of you could get the better of one of my men? It would take ten of you! Twenty!”

  “We don’t want to see the woman hurt,” Eddie said, defiantly. “We think you should set her free.”

  “And when did what you think start to matter?” Lau yelled. “You’re being paid to do a job, and that’s all. How I operate is not your concern!”

  “We’ve made it our concern,” Gilbert said, sounding as fearless as his brother. “We should never have taken your money.”

  “Oh, so suddenly you’ve developed a conscience,” Lau said, his voice dropping in volume, but becoming deeper and even more threatening. “Well, it’s too late for that, my friends, much too late.”

  Outside, the dog had resumed its ferocious barking.

  The German officer frowned and turned to his radio operator, who stood next to Erich Steidle. “You did well, Berg, these idiots could have made the operation even more difficult than it is.”

  “I knew something was up when they came in for their meal; too many questions. When they fed their dog I watched from upstairs. I could see them plotting. I had my pistol at the ready when they made a rush for me.”

  “Perhaps you should have put a round into one of them,” Lau said, glaring at the twins. “Or both of them!”

  “I considered it, sir,” Berg said, “but I decided to await your orders.”

  The door to the yard opened and Rudi Werner bustled in, dripping water and leaving wet, muddy footprints on the floorboards. “What’s happened, sir?” he asked Lau.

  “These fools tried to jump Berg.” He paused before continuing slowly and deliberately. “But they already deeply regret their hasty actions, don’t you, gentlemen?”

  The twins remained silent.

  “And they are going to cooperate fully with us from now on,” Lau went on. His stare hardened. “Aren’t you, gentlemen?”

  This time Gilbert answered on behalf of both brothers. “You’ll get no more cooperation from us.”

  Lau gestured to Erich Steidle, who took a step forward and cracked Gilbert across the face with the back of his right hand.

  Gilbert’s head jerked to the right and his cheek reddened. Blood trickled from one nostril, but he didn’t make a sound as he stared defiantly at Lau.

  “Which one are you?” Lau asked.

  “Find out.”

  Lau nodded to Steidle and this time the stinging blow was delivered with much greater force. Gilbert’s nose spurted crimson and more blood appeared from a cut in his top lip.

  “He’s Gilbert!” Eddie shouted. “And I’m Eddie. And no matter how hard you hit him, or me, we won’t help you, not any more.”

  “Oh, yes, you’ll help, Eddie,” Lau said calmly. “You’ll go with one of my men to Lavelanet, in your lorry. And you’ll drive, as usual, so that everything looks normal and no one becomes suspicious.”

  “No,” Eddie said.

  Lau continued as though the twin had not spoken. “You’ll go to Forêt’s café and you’ll tell him to return here, at once, in his car. You’ll go, Eddie, and you won’t try any tricks.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “Oh yes, you’ll do it. And your brother will remain here to make sure that you do it.”

  “Makes no difference,” Gilbert said through bloodied lips, “we’ll do nothing more for you. You can’t force us.”

  The barking outside was becoming louder, angrier, as though the dog sensed that Gilbert and Eddie were in danger.

  Lau made eye contact with Werner and then glanced down at the rifle in his hands. He gestured with his head in the direction of the barking dog. Werner nodded, pulled up the collar of his coat and went outside into the rain.

  “So let me repeat, so that it’s perfectly clear to you,” Lau said to Eddie. “You’ll drive to Lavelanet with one of my men, and you’ll make certain Forêt comes back here with you, but in his own car.”

  The dog’s barking was suddenly frenzied and furious.

  Eddie turned quickly to his brother as he realized what was about to happen, but before either of them could speak a single shot rang out.

  And then the only sound from outside was the thud of raindrops beating against the window.

  Eddie sucked in a deep breath and stared with hatred at the German officer. “You bastard,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Th
e next round will be for the woman,” Lau told him calmly. “She is unimportant to me. And then it will be your brother. So, are you ready to drive to Lavelanet, Eddie?”

  Eddie said nothing, he just nodded his head.

  TWENTY

  As they rode down towards Bélesta, Didier suddenly pulled the motorbike to a halt. He turned excitedly to Paul to say that he did, after all, know of people living in the forest.

  “Seeing Alain Noury jogged my memory,” he said. “His two cousins, Gilbert and Eddie – they’re twins, they work the forest.”

  “And you know them?”

  “Only by sight. They’re identical. I think they live at the end of one of the tracks we passed.”

  It was something to go on. So they rode back, and as they hid the motorbike in the trees, they heard a dog barking furiously. Tyre tread marks and what looked like recent footprints were clearly visible in the wet track.

  Using the trees for cover, they moved into the forest, treading lightly and staying off the track to avoid leaving their own tell-tale footprints.

  Then, half a kilometre into the trees, came the sudden crack of the gun.

  Paul and Didier instinctively hit the ground at the sound of the single shot that came echoing through the trees. The forest floor was spongy with compressed damp leaf litter and fir needles; the smell of rotting wood, mould and decay filled their nostrils.

  The two friends lay rigid, half expecting further gunfire or shouted voices and approaching footsteps. But there was nothing: only the rain, steady and constant.

  Paul raised his head just enough to turn to Didier, who was staring back at him, rain streaming down his cheek.

  “Stay down,” Didier whispered through a mouthful of water.

  They waited as the rain pounded down, seeping through their clothes.

  “I think it was a rifle, not a shotgun,” Didier whispered again.

  Paul nodded. “I reckon we’ve found them.”

  “Yeah, so do I.”

  The forest was silent now apart from the sound of the rain, which suddenly began to ease. The mountain downpours could last for just a few minutes or they could go on for hours. Fortunately for Paul and Didier, this one seemed as though it was going to be brief.

  “It was the dog,” Paul whispered. “Someone shot the dog.”

  The minutes passed and the rain stopped completely.

  Birdsong returned to the woodland, but still they waited. Shafts of weak sunlight speared through gaps in the canopy.

  Finally, sensing they were safe, they nodded to each other and cautiously got to their feet. Tiny twigs and blackened leaf litter stuck to their faces, hands and clothes.

  “Go on or go back?” Didier whispered, knowing full well what Paul’s answer would be.

  “On,” Paul said, gently brushing himself down. “We have to.”

  Edging forward, alert for sudden danger, they moved on, following the sweep of the mud track from the cover of the trees. Even under clearing skies, the thick forest remained a dark and mysterious place.

  It was a long, uncomfortable walk in cold, wet clothes, but eventually they made out the shape of a large wooden building. They paused by a pile of stacked logs and waited again, glimpsing the roof of a second, taller building standing on the far side of the first.

  “That must be the Nourys’ place,” Didier said speculatively. “With some sort of barn behind the house.”

  A man’s voice cut sharply through the still air and an engine rumbled into life. Paul and Didier dived behind the logs.

  Peering through the trees towards the buildings, they watched a heavy lorry with a canvas covered back lumber into view from behind the house. As it passed their hiding place, they caught a quick glimpse of two men in the cab.

  “The driver is one of the Noury twins,” Didier breathed to Paul. “I don’t recognize the passenger.”

  The lorry splashed on through muddy puddles and deep ruts and disappeared around a bend in the track.

  “So what now?” Didier said as the sound of the engine faded.

  “We go on to make certain,” Paul said with sudden authority. “We saw three men in the police car.” He gestured towards the house. “If one of those was in the lorry, it means there are at least two more in the house. They wouldn’t leave Max’s wife on her own.”

  “If we’re right about the car, and if they have Max’s wife.”

  “We’ll find out.”

  “And if they are German soldiers…”

  “They are,” Paul said, interrupting.

  “Then they’ll be armed,” Didier said, “which is more than we are.”

  “We’ll be careful, but let’s find the car. Then at least we’ll have something to report back to Henri. It’s got to be on the far side of the house.”

  Didier thought for a few moments and then nodded. They crept on, moving wider to skirt around to the back of the house.

  But as the yard and the rear of the house came fully into view, there was no sign of the police vehicle.

  The huge barn stood face-on to the house, the two buildings forming an unconnected right angle. The barn was larger than the house and built in the same way, with overlapping, wide planks of rough wood under a red-tiled roof. But it had no windows. The entrance was near the closest end of the front wall. There were no doors, but the space was high and wide enough for a cart or even the recently departed lorry to pass through.

  “The car must be in there,” Paul said quietly.

  “We can’t be sure,” Didier answered. “And it’s too risky to cross the open ground to take a closer look.”

  “I’ll risk it,” Paul said, and before Didier could argue or stop him, he was hurrying away, treading lightly over the forest leaf litter.

  “Paul, wait!” Didier hissed. But it was too late; Paul had already reached the front of the tree line and was moving along its covering edge.

  Short of chasing after his friend and dragging him back to safety, there was nothing Didier could do.

  As he watched, Paul burst into open ground and went sprinting towards the barn. In a few brief seconds he covered thirty metres and hurtled through the wide entrance into darkness.

  “Idiot,” Didier breathed, relieved that Paul had at least made it to cover without being spotted.

  And then the back door of the house swung open and two men emerged and strode purposefully towards the barn.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Paul had only seconds to react. He was peering into the police Citroën parked close to the rear wall of the barn when he heard loud laughter. It was enough to save him from immediate discovery.

  By the time the two men entered the building, Paul had dashed to the back of the vehicle and was crouching down against the bumper, making himself as small as possible.

  The men were speaking German, the final and absolute confirmation that Paul had been seeking. He didn’t speak the language, but it was close enough to Dutch and Flemish for him to understand much of what was being said. The men had come to collect shovels or spades to bury the dog. And one of them had shot the animal: the one who had laughed as they approached the barn.

  “A good shot,” Paul thought he understood him to say. “He was going for me, but I hit him right between the eyes.”

  This time the other man laughed. “You just like to kill, Rudi.”

  The Germans were at the front of the car, only a couple of metres from Paul, and they seemed in no hurry to get on with the task of burying the dog.

  The vehicle sank on its suspension as one of the men leaned against the radiator grille. Then Paul heard the sound of a match striking, followed by the smell of smoke.

  Paul breathed slowly, telling himself to stay calm. There was no need to panic. He was in a difficult position, but that was nothing new: he’d been in tight spots before. If he remained focused on exactly what the Germans were saying, he might well pick up snippets of important information.

  As the Germans smoked their cigarettes he listened intentl
y, not understanding everything, but getting the gist of their conversation. The mission was not going as planned. Both men wanted it over with and to get back to the north. A plane was coming for them. Soon. They were holding Max’s wife, Julia; she was in the house. But they still had to find and capture Max. Then there was something about the twins, betraying the Germans, trying to free Julia and failing. That’s why the dog had been killed, as a warning.

  “You did well, Otto,” Paul heard one of them say.

  The other man laughed. “I don’t only operate a radio, I had to know how to fight to get into the Brandenburgers.”

  Paul heard the word Brandenburgers clearly. He had no idea what it meant.

  “We’d better bury that animal,” the man called Otto said, and then Paul heard him grind the stub of his cigarette into the hard mud floor of the barn.

  But then the other German said something else. Paul didn’t grasp exactly what he said, but two words sprang out. A name. It made Paul freeze.

  The conversation continued for another minute, with Paul trying desperately to comprehend the meaning of what he was hearing, or what he thought he was hearing.

  Then the second man put out his cigarette with the heel of his boot. “Where did the twin say the tools were kept?”

  “Hanging on the back wall.”

  Paul swung his head around and saw to his horror that a row of tools, including spades and shovels, hung directly behind him.

  And the Germans were about to step around the car to get them.

  Paul had just seconds to move and only two choices. He could make a dash for the entrance, hoping that surprise would give him the advantage as he sprinted for the forest, or he could somehow squeeze his body under the vehicle and pray that he wouldn’t be heard or spotted.

  He raised himself up on his haunches and discovered that his legs had gone slightly numb after crouching for so long. That didn’t help, but he was going to make a dash for it: it was the better of two bad options.

  He heard a footstep and went to run.

  Then a loud snorting noise stopped him in his tracks.

  It stopped the Germans too. “What the hell was that?”