by Eddy Shah
'What's that?' asked Frick.
'I'll find out,' replied Kragan, picking up the phone on Frick's desk.
Frick turned back to Karl Schiller, the newest member of the Council who had replaced Mitzer. The banker was stunned with what Frick had just told him. He knew they were on a dangerous course, but had never expected anything so drastic.
'Only you and Klaus Buhle know of our plans. And a small team, specially trained by Kragan. Six in all. Nobody else will ever know.'
'What part do you wish me to play?' asked Schiller nervously.
'When it is over, there will be chaos. Everyone will blame everyone else. The business community will be nervous, will not know which way to turn. They all think highly of you. You must divert attention away from us. Spread the blame. Spread the fear. And then point towards a new order, towards our party, towards the past that will help make Germany great again. Convince them that we are the unity of the future. That will be your part.'
Schiller was relieved. 'Did you know I was invited to the ceremony?' he asked.
'Yes. I hope you accepted.'
'Yes.'
'Good. That will help. To have been there. To describe it to your colleagues. It is a moment you will never forget, Karl. Even when your estates are returned to you from the hands of the Jews.' Frick never let the pressure off. He knew greed was the banker's greatest motive. 'Even then, you will remember that you were there when the course of history was changed in our favour.'
'Do you think they will listen to me?'
'Of course. They are good patriotic Germans. Germany always comes first. Didn't Thyssen build arms factories for Saddam Hussein even though they had already signed an agreement not to do business with Israel? But they still did. And how many others helped in the manufacture and supply of chemical warfare plants? At the end of the day we must look after our own interests. We have always done that. That's why we have such greatness as a nation.'
Kragan slammed the phone down, his fury obvious.
'What's wrong?' asked Frick.
'They've escaped.' It was the last thing Kragan wanted to say, here, in front of Frick.
'The Englishman?'
'Yes. But they're in the compound. We'll find them quickly enough.'
He steeled himself for the torrent of abuse and vilification that followed, the usual harangue that Frick let loose when things went wrong. It lasted a full five minutes. Schiller was shocked, never having seen Frick in this manner. When it eventually died down, when Frick had expended himself, Kragan spoke.
'We'll find them. They can't be far.'
'They must not affect our plans.'
'They won't, Fuhrer. They have no idea of what we're doing. And it's too late now. Our men leave today.'
'Kill them!' shrieked Frick. 'Kill them and then we won't have to worry about them. Give that order now.'
Ch. 71
French Airspace
31,000 feet.
The Presidential Boeing 747, Air Force One, had settled into its cruise when the DDI was told there was a call for him on the High Frequency set.
He went forward into the cockpit and the engineer vacated his seat so that the DDI could take the call.
'It's London, sir,' said the engineer handing over his headset.
The DDI nodded and put the headset on.
'Yes,' he said into the microphone.
'It's Charlie,' came Coy's scratchy voice over the HF receiver.
'Hi,' the DDI replied. He wasn't worried about the conversation being overheard; he knew the HF system wasn't being recorded. But they would be overheard by the operator who had connected them through the international SELCAL network.
'Just wanted to confirm that everything's all right.'
'Great.' He knew that Coy had been speaking to their friend. Arrangements were obviously going ahead as planned.
'Anne....' that was Coy's wife's name. '...wanted me to thank you for the family pictures. But she thought some were missing from the folder.' So they still hadn't found the two agents.
'Sorry. I thought they were all there.'
'She gave me a real earful for not checking them with you.' Coy was letting the DDI know that he was under fire for releasing the picture of Adam. 'We made up, anyway. I said it won't happen again.'
The DDI laughed at Coy's pretend joke. 'Women, they're the same the world over,' he cracked back. 'Any idea where your kids are going on holiday?'
'Not yet.' Coy's answer told him that they had no idea where Adam and Billie had got to, or what their reason for running was.
'Used the crapper yet?' added Coy.'
'No comment.'
'Have a good trip.'
'So long.'
The DDI took off the headset and passed it over to the engineer, then went back to his seat, past the rows of media hounds.
What the hell were the two of them up to? Why had they run? Were they going to turn out to be the jokers in the pack, the wild cards that changed the game?
As he stared out of the window, Air Force One crossed into German airspace on its flight from Paris to the new capital of Germany, Berlin.
Ch. 72
Dresdener Heidi
Dresden.
'Shoes are too big.'
'So find a cobbler.'
'Got no change to pay him with.' Adam riposted back as he led her through the trees. He was heading towards the main complex; it wasn't where they would expect him to go.
He stopped suddenly and pulled her down into the undergrowth.
'Kind'a sudden, isn't it?' she whispered in his ear.
He shook his head in mock amusement as a group of storm troopers went past, at double march, towards the chalet. When Adam was satisfied they were clear, he rose and, with Billie following, moved towards the complex.
The fog helped; the visibility was down to twenty metres. The sun wasn't going to burn it off; it was too cold and there was too much cloud cover overhead. The damp from the bushes and moisture in the air helped cleanse the rest of the salt from his wounds. It was a cooling sensation and it was a welcome relief from the pain he had endured through the night. When they reached the complex, they found it was packed with storm troopers being marshalled into search parties. There was no way out in that direcvtion.
'Come on,' he said, taking her hand. 'Change of plan.'
He worked his way round the complex and to the north, towards the hangars.
It took twenty minutes, twenty minutes of ducking and diving through the undergrowth before he reached the building he had targetted.
It was the second of the hangars and they went in through a small side door.
'What's this?' asked Billie, looking round the building that was stacked with large wooden crates.
'Our safe house.' He walked deep into the hangar until he found a crate that was big enough for them both. With his gun butt, he levered the top off to reveal army jackets.
'Come the revolution,' she said behind him.
Adam then opened a second crate; this one was also packed with jackets. He swung round and emptied most of the contents from the first crate into the second, packed them down tight and then sealed it up again. He repeated the deed twice more until he had created enough space in the first crate for the two of them. In the third crate he had uncovered army trousers and he picked a pair that were his size. He tried a few more of the smaller cases until he found some khaki shirts, and he chose one of those also.
There was a commotion outside and he slammed the smaller box shut, then signalled Billie to climb into the first of the crates he had opened.
'In there?'
'In!' he snapped.
She climbed in and he followed, slipping the top over them as the door at the end opened and a group of Stermabeitalung entered to search the hangar.
It took five minutes; the searchers were not as diligent as they should have been. In time Adam and Billie were left on their own. After another ten minutes, when Adam had checked that they hadn't left a guard, he
settled back into the crate.
'I like this,' she said, snuggling up to him in the cramped area. 'What a way to spend our honeymoon.'
'I know. I really take you to the best places.' He winced in some pain as she squeezed against him, but he said nothing. He wanted her to relax, knew that she was frightened and was trying to lift herself out of her fear. 'You really are incorrigible.'
'How long do we stay here?'
'Until it's dark.'
'That's the rest of the day.'
'Till four. Unless we get a chance before then.'
'Any ideas on how we pass the time?'
'I'm sure we'll think of something.'
She heard him chuckle in the darkness.
'Shouldn't we be thinking about how we get out of here?' he said.
'You know us older women. Once we find something we want...' she trailed off seductively as she spoke. 'Especially if we're going to spend the next eight or nine hours stuck in a small, confined space like this. How's the pain?'
'It'll hold out. You?'
'God knows. Terrified. At least we’re together, even if it's in a shoebox. Wondering what's next.'
All that mattered was that they were together.
And they lay like that, hardly moving, sensing everything, until they allowed their exhaustion to send them into a shallow sleep.
She woke suddenly, her left arm wrapped round his shoulder. She shuddered as she moved it, the pain shooting through it as she tried to slide her arm from under him.
'Pins and needles,' he said.
'Ow,' she complained as the pain refused to go away.
'Keep moving it around. It's the only way.'
'I know, I know.' She did as he told her, but the pain took nearly a full minute before it started to subside. 'What now?' she asked, still pumping her arm up and down.
'How long to go?' she asked eventually.
'Six hours.'
'You didn't sleep, did you, tough guy?'
'No.'
'We can't sit here for six hours.'
'Sat in worst places for longer.' He sensed her brooding and knew that the tension of doing nothing was getting to her. She was beginning to appreciate what funfair duck in a shooting gallery felt like. 'Whatever they're up to, Curly Top said they were leaving today.' It was time to get her grey matter working, switch her thinking away from the trepidation that was churning her stomach.
'Curly Top?'
'Blondie. The chap who enjoyed his work so much.'
'Kaas.'
'That's his name?'
'That's what one of them called him.'
'I missed it.'
'At least I'm good for something. Don't you think they're going to get here and search this place?'
'Probably.'
'So why we staying here till dark?'
'Because they'd find us quicker somewhere else.'
'Whatever it is they're planning, it's obviously very important.'
'Curly Top said the Tiergarten wouldn't wait forever.'
'When?'
'Just before we got away.'
'That's in Berlin.'
'I've heard the name. What is it?'
'A park. Like Central Park. In the middle of Berlin. It doesn't take much to work out that's where they're going.'
They got no further than that, even though Adam made Billie run over what she knew about the Tiergarten. It wasn't much, just that it was a big park and that it had been bombed heavily during the War. She remembered a story that all the trees had been cut down by the Berliners for fuel after the War and that it ran up to where the Wall had cut across the city. She recalled that a vast Japanese Embassy had stood there and that Hitler had held his biggest rallies in the park. There was also a Victory column in the middle that was partly built with canon barrels used during the Franco Prussian War. '1873, if I remember correctly,' she recalled. Then she laughed. 'That's really interesting stuff, isn't it? Some way of getting us out of here.'
The muffled banging in the distance alerted them.
He pulled her to him, then reached down and moved the HK54 into a position where he could use it quickly.
The banging continued, still at a distance. Occasionally, someone would shout, but the words were lost through the thickness of the crate.
'What if they...?' she asked, alarmed as the sounds got closer.
'It's random. They won't have time to search every box. We'll be okay' he comforted her. But the HK54 next to him was armed and ready.
The searchers missed them, left them safe in their bolt-hole. Then the sounds were gone. The hangar returned to silence.
Twenty minutes later, Adam eased himself out of their tight shelter. There was no one in the hangar and he worked his way carefully across towards the door through which they had entered, dodging behind the crates for cover in case anyone suddenly entered the building. When he reached the door, he listened for any movement outside before turning the handle and opening it slightly.
It was a busy scene.
The runway area was guarded by armed Stermabeitalung. The two Jet Ranger helicopters had been pulled out of the far hangar and sat parked next to the Citation Jet, one of the twin engined Pipers and the single engined Cessna. A fuel bowser had just finished refuelling the second helicopter and was now backing away from the row of aircraft as two jeeps and a black Mercedes came up the road from the main complex and stopped at the ramp, next to the parked aircraft.
Curly Top sat in the first Jeep and he swung out and walked back to the black Mercedes. His colleagues in the Jeeps, five of them, followed and lined up next to him, as a guard of honour for the passengers in the car. Adam noted that they were all out of the uniforms; that they wore civilian suits and overcoats.
Curly Top leant forward and opened the rear door of the Mercedes.
Adam recognised the first man who came out. It was Curly Top's superior, the bastard who'd kicked him round the room before they'd taken him off to be tortured. He saw the men salute him, then turn and wait for the next passenger.
Adam didn't know this one, but sensed he was important, that he was the man. The storm troopers round the perimeter area snapped to attention, the guard of honour saluted in the old Nazi style. The Fuhrer, as Adam dubbed him, returned the salute and walked towards the helicopters. The others fell in step behind him. When they reached the aircraft, the Fuhrer turned to his men as they formed a semicircle round him.
They were over sixty metres from where Adam watched through the small gap in the door, too far to be overheard. But he could tell it was important, that the listeners hung on the Fuhrer's every word. When the speech was over, he stepped forward and shook the hand of each member of the guard of honour, six of them including Curly Top.
The Jet Rangers started to turn their rotors as the final words were spoken. Then Curly Top and two of the men climbed into one helicopter, the other three into the second.
As the helicopters wound up their rotors and lifted into the air, tilted to their left and swept away towards the north, the Fuhrer and his deputy crossed over to the CitationJet and clambered in.
Four minutes later the small jet lifted off the runway and also banked to the north.
'No point hanging round here,' Adam said to Billie when he had returned to their hideaway. ‘Game’s over. Time to move on.'
'What about, wait until it's dark?'
'Somebody changed the rules.'
'How do we get out of here?'
He grinned. 'With the birds.'
The runway perimeter was deserted when they got to the entrance. He led her out of the hangar and towards the line of planes, keeping under the protection of the hangar walls. They could hear the roar of motor engines in the distance and the occasional shout, but no one approached as they made their way to the ramp.
'You're putting me on,' she said, holding back as he took her arm and led her towards the aircraft.
'I've had lessons.'
'Lesson.'
'That was with two eng
ines. This bird's only got one. Piece of cake.'
‘You’re crazy, Adam,' she said, digging her heels in and stopping him. 'But I'd like us to have a chance at living our lives. I don't think this is a good idea.'
'It's the only idea'
'Damn you, tough guy. This isn't a game.' She instantly regretted her words. 'You really take this 'til death us do part' stuff seriously.'
'Come on,' he reassured her, knowing the fear had returned now she was out in the open. 'It's the easiest way out of here.'
He opened the door of the single-engined Cessna, a Skyhawk 172. He searched the panel and saw the key inserted in the starter switch. It looked similar to the Seneca he had flown with Jenny. Only this time there was only one throttle and one mixture control instead of the two that had confronted him on the twin. 'Come on,' he urged her, stepping back and helping her into the right hand seat. Then he climbed in the left hand one and pulled the door shut.
He knew time was against him. If the engine didn't start immediately, the sound would alert any storm troopers in the vicinity. He tried to remember what Jenny Dale had taught him.
Battery. He hit the master switch and saw the instruments come to life. The fuel gauge read low, but enough to fly them out of here.
Magnetoes. He found the switch and turned them on.
Starter. Turn the key and bring the engine to life. He looked out of the window to check there were no storm troopers nearby. Satisfied that they were safe for the moment, he leant forward and turned on the key.
Grunch, grunch. Metal on metal. The engine turned but nothing happened. He looked across at Billie, but she was busily scanning the area for any intruders. Grunch, grunch, grunch. He turned it again, but the engine still refused to start.
Shit, Marcus. It's got to start. What have I forgotten?
'There's someone coming,' warned Billie, pointing to the south.
He looked up and saw two Stermabeitalung about two hundred metres away. They were walking slowly towards the hangars, unaware of what was happening in the small plane.
Grunch, grunch.
'They're coming...'. The alarm was building in her voice.
Grunch, grunch.
What is it, Marcus? What...?