by Adam J Watts
‘So what brings you to the Motherland my friend?' There was a distinct and weary element to his voice, but not one of exhaustion.
‘I’m looking for someone.’ Seb replied flatly.
He could hear Maxim moving on the old mattress before the large Russian spoke once more.
‘We are all looking for someone Seb. Sometimes we find them and on other occasions we remember that they are lost forever.’ There was a lengthy pause as if his host was deep in thought. ‘Would you care to be more specific?'
What had he got to lose? He knew Hackbeil was connected, but he doubted even he could infiltrate the deepest depths of the Red Army. Neverthe-less Seb decided to test the water first.
‘Okay Max, I will tell you my story, but first I have a few questions for you.’
The outburst of hushed laughter was unexpected, but it wasn’t the worst reaction Seb had envisaged. Obviously the marksman had found something amusing in what he had said.
‘You are a wise man; a man after my own heart it would seem,’ he said with a chuckle.
‘What's so funny?' Seb questioned, genuinely interested.
‘Not funny, simply strange how we think alike.’
‘Thinking like me isn’t necessarily a good thing Max. You wouldn’t be the first to do so and let me tell you, it doesn’t always end well.’
Seb waited while his newfound friend analysed this latest snippet of information.
‘Very well, but I think I will take my chances. I will answer three questions and then it is your turn…’
Seb thought he could make out a smile playing across his comrade’s lips in the flickering light of the candle.
‘…And I want to know everything.’
‘Has anyone ever informed you of your overly theatrical approach?' Seb said jokingly.
‘Yes. I am the genie and these are your three wishes,’ another hushed chuckle bounced around the walls of the sleeping quarters.
He didn’t need long to think. Seb knew of three crucial things he wanted to ask Max.
‘Firstly, was it you who shot the German earlier today?'
‘I shoot many Germans comrade…’
‘The one behind the machine gun, that was about to shoot me.’
‘Yes. I had been ordered to provide covering fire for the advancing men. Although when I arrived it would seem someone had beaten me to it.’
‘Second question: Do you know anything about a man called Hackbeil?'
‘Unfortunately not. He is definitely in Russia?'
‘As far as I know. The problem I have is that the trail has gone cold.’
A low, steady hum radiated from the Russian’s bunk.
‘There is someone who may know of the man you seek my friend. Tomorrow we will go to him.’
At last a lead. Finally there was something to work with.
‘I don’t expect you to do this favour for nothing Max. If there is anything I can help you or your fellow soldiers with while I am here…’
‘Strange you should mention that’ the big man said with a nervous laugh.
‘Whatever it is, I am sure we can work something out,’ Seb proclaimed.
Maxim nodded and lay on his elbows in anticipation of the next question.
Seb was aware of the time and the need for rest, but he decided to push on anyway. It was imperative he built up an understanding of his new associate.
‘Last question’ he said, ‘I’d like to know a little more about you Max. I can see your English is very good and you don’t strike me as a labourer, despite your stature.’
‘Good question,’ the Russian replied.
Seb did not speak; instead he gave his host the time he needed to articulate his response. He had a feeling the story might not be an easy one to tell.
‘I was chief engineer before war reached Russia. I used to be labourer, but eventually I worked way up ladder.’
‘Useful skills to have around here I should imagine.’
‘Yes very, but I do not like how I become tool of Stalin. I feel like nothing more than a cog in one of the machines I used to fix as a boy.’
Seb tossed him the lighter again, as Max removed another of his prized cigarettes from the case. The light from the flame died away at the back of his retina and Seb heard the big man continue with his story.
‘Soon I save enough money to obtain professional qualification. I move to England in summer and stay for one year. Whilst in London I develop taste for literature and try to learn language.’
‘You did a very good job. It took me a long time to learn Russian.’
‘Perhaps, but I have not always done good job.’ Again the room fell silent.
Seb decided to help the conversation along a little.
‘What went wrong?' He probed. His silence was answer enough for Seb. ‘You don’t have to tell me any more. I think I understand.’
Suddenly the big Russian sat upright on the bed.
‘How could you understand?’ He said with an angry intonation.
‘Do you remember the friend who gave me the lighter?’ Seb reminded him.
‘Yes, but that is hardly the same as losing your family.’
A few minutes passed before Seb sheepishly ventured back into the exchange.
‘I’m sorry Max. I did not mean to upset you.’
‘No, I am sorry Seb. I should not jump to conclusions and impose my grief on you.’
‘Don’t worry about it, but so you know… I have lost more than friends myself.’
***
To Seb the rising sun was a sign of hope. No matter what had happened the previous day, the burning ball of solar gas rose to face another morning. It’s bright light, an optimistic smile in the face of adversity; it’s heat a source of inspiration to those who toiled beneath it.
It had been almost an hour since the pair left the safety of the underground lair. Progress had been slow, as they weaved across the barren landscape a thousand shades of grey.
Suddenly Max came to an abrupt halt and signalled to his compatriot to take cover.
No words were exchanged, merely glances and gestures of the hand. It would appear that the big Russian had spotted something up ahead and waiting was the sensible thing to do.
Upon closer inspection Seb could see exactly what it was. In the distance was an armoured convey.
People get the wrong impression when it comes to conflict. The greatest military men are not those who charge into battle all guns blazing. War is a waiting game and one only the greatest tactician will win.
Take for example the fighting in Asia. Between the marines and the emperor's men, who has the most casualties? As cruel and morally misguided as the Japanese might be, their methods cannot be faulted.
Stealth and cunning are the only ways to survive out here. Aside from those tactics, it is only the lucky who will make it back home in one piece.
Soon they had reached a decrepit outbuilding on a long since departed farmer’s land. It was decided that this would be as good a place as any to take a short break.
‘How much further?' Seb ventured, as he stared longingly at his canteen in the hope that the warm water would suddenly evolve into a cup of tea.
‘Another hour perhaps,’ he winced, ‘Providing we don’t encounter any further problems.’
Seb admired Max. The man was a rock and one with a moral compass. He was sure that underneath that composed exterior there were inner demons, but for now he had an ally.
‘Tell me about Africa Seb; the thought of warmer climes will help take our minds off the cold,’ he chuckled.
‘What do you want to know?'
‘Start at the beginning my friend’ he smiled a tired smile, ‘perhaps how you came to be there?'
Seb had to pause for thought. It was almost four years ago and a lot had happened since. He cleared his throat, for what he knew would be a lengthy tale.
‘I suppose I was on the run…’
‘Pardon my interruption, but you do not usually run
towards the enemy when you are fleeing,’ with this he smirked, but remained silent in anticipation of his friend’s response.
‘True, but it is the last thing anyone would suspect... It was unbearably hot. It was always hot. Except at night, when it could get as cold as it is today.’
Max fumbled for a cigarette with numb fingers and Seb held out the lighter, carefully shrouding the flame with the other.
‘My guide – a shifty native by the name of Nadir – and I were holed up outside an airbase. You could say that North Africa was the place my search began, almost four years ago.’
‘The search for the German?'
‘Yes.’
‘I’d heard a rumour that he was now a part of Rommel’s Desert Core and since his little mishap, the relationship had become icy.’
‘Despite the African sun.’
Both men could not help laughing at this statement, before Seb eventually regained his composure and continued with the story.
‘From what I understand, the plan was to kill us both in the Channel Islands and steal the documentation.’
‘That does sound like the German way. After all, why pay for something when you could just take it?'
‘Exactly, but something went wrong. I still had fifty percent of the paperwork and all Hackbeil had succeeded in doing was kicking up a fuss.’
‘So the German got nothing from the exchange?'
‘Oh no, far from it.’ Seb looked Max dead in the eye, ‘That is why I need to find him.’
Max could not hide his look of concern.
‘I believe it is time you told me the whole story. What exactly do those dogs have in their possession?’
Seb didn’t like sharing government secrets with people he hardly knew, but it was time for a split-second decision.
‘They have the potential to develop a new kind of targeting system.’
‘Be a little more specific.’
‘The schematics we had in our possession were only in their early stages, but with some considered development the idea could be made very effective indeed.’
Max scratched his head before continuing.
‘Why is it always cloak and dagger with you British?'
‘Sorry my friend. Force of habit. Imagine if you could not only see, but pinpoint the location of your enemy, before you encounter them.’
The hut fell silent, as the Russian weighed up the possible scenarios.
‘How flexible is the system?'
‘Extremely. I already believe the Axis forces to be utilising a version at sea and I have heard murmurs about the air force working on something too. I believe they want to extend the range of the technology and use it in conjunction with the V2 project.’
Suddenly, what little colour Max had left in his frozen face disappeared.
He had obviously heard about such research.
‘This is serious.’
‘Very.’ Seb agreed solemnly.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Max was on his feet.
‘The stories will have to wait my friend. We have somewhere to be.’
Chapter Twenty-One: Questions & Answers ~ Spring, 1940
'So you knew Gerald would double cross me. Sell his own country down the river?'
'I only had my suspicions. Unfortunately, they were recognised the moment C got the call from the Jersey police,' he grimaced. Seb could not hide his look of derision.
'Don't channel -- if you'll pardon the pun -- your anger at me old boy. There was little a lowly scientist like me could have done. Those 'upstairs' took a vote and decided that the best course of action would be to...'
'Find a scapegoat.’
The aging inventor -- whom Seb now knew as Henry -- carefully pushed aside a beaker.
'As I am sure you are aware, these are testing times and extremely sensitive matters. The powers that be only did what they thought was best to maintain a prolonged state of equilibrium.’
'You mean; if one person could be blamed -- rather than the least popular nation in Europe -- things might not heat up as quickly?'
'Yes. Take for example this beaker. What do you think is in there?'
Even after peering inside, Seb had no idea.
'It looks like a mined mineral.’
'You're halfway right... This is a relatively new discovery from France. I thought it might be ironic if we could develop a weapon for use against the Germans that came from the country they now possess.’
'Quaint... What does it do?'
Carefully Henry picked up a tiny sliver with a pair of tongues and manoeuvred himself over to a Bunsen burner.
'Imagine that this Francium is occupied Europe. You are the flame...'
Placing the sample into the flame a bright, purple flare was briefly emitted.
'Very nice.’
'Quite. You have caused a stir, but nothing that the general public won't forget by the end of the week. Now for the alternative course of events.’
This time Henry proceeded to remove an even smaller slice of the mineral.
'Be a dear and fill this glass bowl with water would you? Only a few inches mind.’
Seb did as he was told and returned moments later with the bowl of water.
'Thank you. Now, if you would be so kind as to stand at the far side of the room.’
'You're joking surely?'
'I never joke about my work Mr. Beasley.' His tone was deadly serious, so Seb obliged.
Suddenly he realised that Henry was following him.
'What about the sample?'
'Oh it's going in. Just not while I'm that close.’
'What is this stuff?'
'We don't know exactly, but it's impressive... One of the alkali metals one would presume. Get behind the screen.’
What happened next was nothing short of sensational.
In what can only be described as a reaction of epic proportions, there was a bright light, some quick fizzing, a loud bang and shards of glass propelled across the room.
'Wowzer!' Seb exclaimed.
'Indeed. That little experiment was a demonstration of the second scenario. What would probably happen if we pointed the finger at Harry Hun.’
'You mean retaliation?'
'Naturally and one for which Britain is not yet prepared.’
Seb still felt aggrieved. He couldn't help it.