by Robert Rigby
“Yvette and Gaston? He killed them?”
“Yes,” Julia said, “Yvette and Gaston, those were the names.”
“Alain!” Paul said, shaking his head. “We never considered him, not even in the past couple of days.”
“I always thought he was all bluff,” Didier added. He glanced in the rear view mirror at Max and Julia. “And we’d never have known if he hadn’t told you.”
“And he wasn’t finished,” Max said. “He was still planning to have his revenge on all of you.”
Paul shook his head. “He almost started with me tonight.”
They fell silent, lost in their own thoughts as the road twisted on.
“What time is it?” Paul asked.
Didier glanced quickly at his watch. “Nearly eleven thirty, they’ll be waiting for us by now.”
“Are we close?”
“Getting there.”
Paul gazed out at the night sky. “I won’t get to see Josette after all,” he said quietly to Didier.
“I know.”
“I promised I’d go back to say goodbye, I wanted to. She’ll know I wanted to.”
“Of course.”
“But you’ll explain everything, won’t you?”
“Yes, and I’ll … I’ll give your goodbyes.”
Paul sighed. “And what about Max and Julia? Where will they go?”
Didier shrugged his shoulders. “Henri will work something out.”
They were descending quickly now, and as they passed the turning for the tiny village of L’Escale they rounded a long, sweeping bend and glimpsed the dark mass of Puivert Castle, resting serenely on its hilltop site and silhouetted against the night sky.
“We’ll make it now – let’s hope they’re waiting.”
Didier drove down into the village of Puivert and continued on through the winding main street.
“Do you know where the landing strip is?” Paul asked.
Didier nodded. “We’re almost there.”
Just outside the village, he turned the vehicle onto a mud track. There were trees on either side, and beyond the trees the landscape opened into a wide valley.
Didier turned off the headlights and continued down the track on sidelights. They reached what looked like a large shed. It was in darkness, but standing nearby they could just see the outline of two or three stationary vehicles.
Bringing the car to a standstill, Didier switched off the engine and they waited. A minute passed, two minutes, and then figures approached from the shadows.
Didier and Paul began to open the doors.
“Stay exactly where you are!” a voice ordered.
“We’ve come for Eagle,” Didier said without moving.
“Where’s Reynard?”
“He’s … he’s with his daughter. She was hurt in another operation.”
There was a brief whispered conversation among the shadowy figures.
“Where’s the passenger?” the same voice asked.
“Here. Next to me.”
“And the others, in the back?”
“They were the other operation,” Didier said. “We had to bring them.”
A few more brief words were exchanged outside.
“All right. Get out please, all of you.”
They climbed from the car and saw immediately that the person they had been conversing with was holding a sub-machinegun. “A present from our German friends,” he said as he saw Paul looking.
There were ten more men, some of them armed. They were all similarly dressed in belted jackets; dark, rough cotton shirts; serge trousers and heavy boots.
Paul found himself thinking that it looked like the beginning of some sort of uniform and was thrilled to realize that just as Henri had said, the Resistance movement was at last starting to take serious shape in southern France.
Didier went to speak. “I’m Di—”
“No introductions,” said the man who was obviously the leader of the group quickly. “We don’t need to know.”
Didier nodded. “Of course.”
Suddenly, the distant drone of an aircraft could be heard in the still night air, and instinctively they all looked upwards.
“He’s coming,” Didier whispered to Paul. “This is it.”
“Right on time,” the Resistance leader said. He turned to the other men. “Positions, everyone.”
The shadowy figures hurried away while the leader remained with Paul and the others.
“This has to be quick,” he said, “so be ready to run. He’ll be landing this way and coming towards us. As soon as he starts to turn, run for the plane; he won’t wait around. He’ll make the pick-up, taxi back and take off in the same direction as he landed.”
The plane was already turning for its landing approach.
“And there’ll be no time for long goodbyes,” the Resistance leader continued, “so you’d better say what you want to say while you can. I need to join my men. Remember, as soon as he stops, you start running.”
He moved quickly away into the field. Paul, Didier, Max and Julia waited.
Paul looked at Didier. “I don’t know what to say.”
“No, me neither.”
“But…”
“Yes?”
Paul shook his head. He reached for the letter in his pocket and took it out.
The drone of the single engine grew louder as the Lysander descended, and suddenly ten strong beams, five on either side, illuminated the grass landing strip.
They caught their first glimpse of the plane as it sank from the sky and passed to its right the ancient walls and turrets of Puivert Castle. The descent looked smooth and steady in the still night air. The Lysander touched down and came bouncing along the landing strip, moving quickly towards them until it came to a brief halt before starting to turn.
And then they were running, racing across the field towards the tiny plane.
Within two minutes the aircraft was climbing back into the sky, leaving Puivert, leaving France, heading first for Spain and then for Portugal.
On the ground, those who remained stood and watched until the plane had disappeared from view and the sound of its engine had faded to silence.
FORTY-SIX
Day Five
Josette sat up in her hospital bed, a plasma drip in her arm. She looked pale and tired, but much better than she had a few hours earlier.
It was one-thirty in the morning, but Josette had refused to even attempt to sleep. She was in a single-bedded room, with her father seated on one side of the bed and her mother on the other.
“What time is it now?” Josette said to Henri irritably.
He sighed. “Ten minutes since you asked me last, Josette.”
“But what time is it?”
Henri looked at his watch. “It’s one thirty-two.”
“He’s not coming, is he?”
“Josette, if everything went to plan, by now he’ll be over Spain. Perhaps they’ve even landed to refuel.”
“But he promised he’d come.”
“Something must have happened; Paul would never deliberately break his promise. We can only hope that they’re safe. All of them.”
“Josette, will you please try to sleep for a little while?” Hélène added. “You’re very weak. The doctor said you needed rest.”
“I’m not weak. I’ve never been weak.”
The mood was tense; they were all as anxious as each other.
“Maybe you should go home, Mama,” Josette said. “Perhaps Didier has gone there and is waiting for us.”
Hélène ignored the comment, knowing perfectly well that Didier would come straight to the hospital when and if he could.
They lapsed into an uneasy silence. Josette was just about to ask her father the time yet again, when suddenly they heard footsteps approaching down the long corridor.
Josette looked at Henri.
“It’s the nurse,” Henri said, “come to check on you again.”
Josette shook her hea
d. “It’s not the nurse. She walks faster than that.”
The footsteps came closer. Henri slowly stood up and then Hélène got to her feet too. They all stared at the closed door.
There was a gentle tap.
“Come in!” Josette almost shouted.
The door opened and Didier appeared. He was smiling.
“Oh, Didier,” Josette breathed, “you’re safe.”
Henri clasped his hands together and Hélène crossed herself, looked to the heavens and whispered a few words of thanks.
“Yes, I’m safe,” Didier said, grinning.
“And Paul?” Josette said anxiously. “He’d promised he’d come. Is he all right?”
Didier shrugged his shoulders and Josette and her parents exchanged anxious glances.
“What do you mean, Didier?” Josette demanded. “Is he all right or not?”
Didier smiled again. “You’d better ask him yourself.”
He stood to one side and Paul walked into the room.
“Paul!” Josette screamed. “I knew you’d come, I knew it!”
“Paul,” Henri gasped. “How…?”
Hélène crossed herself again and muttered even more.
“But the plane,” Henri said. “Did it not arrive?”
“Oh, yes, it arrived,” Paul said, smiling. “The Bernards are on the plane. It won’t be a comfortable flight, but there was just about room for two passengers. I hope they like England.”
“The pilot was a bit confused,” Didier added. “He thought he was taking one passenger to Portugal, but we convinced him that Max and Julia were far more important to the British than Paul would ever be.”
“I think he just wanted to get back up into the air as quickly as he could,” Paul said, laughing.
“But your father’s plans,” Henri said, “and everything you have to tell the British…?”
“I wrote it all down in a letter, everything I know. There’s nothing more I can tell them. I gave the letter to Julia just before they got on the plane, so the British don’t need me now.”
“But we do, Paul,” Josette said, her eyes shining. “Is that why you changed your mind?”
“I knew last night, really,” Paul answered with a shrug. “That’s why I wrote the letter. I knew I didn’t want to leave” – he hesitated, blushing slightly – “I didn’t want to leave any of you.”
He sat on the bed close to Josette, then turned to Henri. “And besides, we saw the start of the real Resistance movement in Puivert tonight. There’ll be a lot for us to do in the next few months.”
WHO IS THE TRAITOR AMONG US?
Fleeing Nazi-occupied Antwerp, where his father has been shot and his mother arrested, Paul Hansen finds himself in a desperate flight through Belgium and France to the Pyrenees, aided by members of the Resistance.
But the deadliest challenge lies ahead. Does Paul have the wits, strength and will to survive the Eagle Trail?
“Action-packed – a gripping read.” – Andy McNab
Robert Rigby is the author of The Eagle Trail, as well as the co-author, with Andy McNab, of the best-selling Boy Soldier series. His other fiction includes the novelizations of the Goal! movies and a stand-alone novel in the series, Goal: Glory Days. He is the author of the four official London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic novels for children. Robert also writes for theatre, television and radio, and is a prolific songwriter and composer. He lives in Oxford.
You can visit Robert at www.robertrigby.co.uk
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published 2015 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
Text © 2015 Robert Rigby
Cover image of young man © Getty Images, Inc
Cover images of paratroopers and men in uniform
© 2015 Sergey Kamshylin / Shutterstock.com
The right of Robert Rigby to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-6641-9 (ePub)
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