Hellfire (2011)

by James Holland

‘Oh, Jack,’ she said, noticing him. ‘I am sorry to interrupt.’ She looked at Vaughan. ‘Alex,’ she said. ‘Please. I need to talk to you.’

  Vaughan sighed. ‘Excuse me a moment, chaps.’

  He led her away, towards the hotel entrance.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Farrer. ‘I always knew she was a pretty lass, but she looks incredible.’ He whistled.

  ‘She’s a stunner,’ agreed Tanner.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked de Villiers.

  Tanner shrugged. It wasn’t his place to tell them about those two.

  A few minutes later, Vaughan walked back to them, Tanja in tow. ‘Look,’ he said, brow creased, ‘I think I’m going to call it a night.’

  ‘Really?’ said Farrer. ‘What about dinner?’

  ‘Sorry, chaps,’ he said. ‘I’m done in. I just need a good night’s kip, if I’m honest.’

  He turned and left them, hurrying down the steps, but Tanja remained where she was, her hand to her mouth, looking – what? Looking scared, thought Tanner. ‘I’m going to bring her over,’ said Tanner. ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind?’ said Farrer. ‘Are you joking?’

  ‘Tanja!’ Tanner hurried over to her. ‘Come and join us. Please.’

  ‘I am sorry. I have ruined your evening.’

  ‘No, you haven’t.’ He led her to the table, and Farrer held her chair for her.

  ‘Tanja’s worried she’s spoiled the evening,’ said Tanner.

  ‘Nonsense,’ grinned Farrer. ‘You’ve improved it. Alex wasn’t exactly in the best of spirits anyway.’

  ‘If you are sure …’ Her eyes were flitting from one table to another. What is she so nervous about? Maunsell had told him to forget about her, to leave her handling to SIME, but Tanner could see her fear was real enough. Whatever Maunsell had put in place for her protection, clearly she did not think it was enough. She’d saved his life: he couldn’t forget that. And he was intrigued, too. Since he had cleared the air with Vaughan on the MTB, his friend had said no more on the matter, and Maunsell wasn’t telling, and yet he was sure Tanja was connected with the Cobra circuit – she’d almost admitted as much in Tobruk. Perhaps she was Marlin. Marlin and Apollo – a double-agent, Maunsell had admitted. Poacher turned gamekeeper. She wouldn’t be the first. The Russians had done it, after all.

  It was almost ten o’clock, and the curfew was upon them. Farrer and de Villiers were drunk, but Tanner had deliberately held back. Perhaps just a little bit tight. And Tanja? It was hard to tell, but she was certainly agitated again, glancing at her watch and looking around.

  ‘I’ll walk you back,’ he said.

  Her face visibly relaxed. ‘Thank you, Jack.’

  ‘I owe you that, at least, I reckon.’ He turned to Farrer and de Villiers. ‘Time to go.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Farrer, waving a finger, ‘not for us. We’re staying at this fine establishment.’

  ‘Well, we’re not and it’s almost ten,’ said Tanner. ‘Cheers, lads. And good luck.’ He patted them on the shoulder.

  ‘Don’t let him take advantage of you, Tanja,’ said de Villiers.

  She kissed them both. ‘I won’t,’ she promised.

  When they were clear of the hotel, Tanner said, ‘What are you so nervous about?’

  Tanja stopped. ‘Oh, Jack,’ she said, ‘I’m so frightened.’ She felt in her bag. ‘Here,’ she said, passing him a note. Tanner unfolded it. Watch out. You know what happens to pigs that squeal.

  ‘It was put under my door this afternoon. I opened the door and saw a boy running down the stairs. The bawaeb said he had never seen him before.’

  ‘And who is it from? Orca?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Tanja, I want to help you, but I don’t know what the bloody hell is going on any more. Are you Marlin as well as Apollo?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I think you’d better tell me everything,’ said Tanner.

  ‘All right.’

  Ah, so that’s it, thought Tanner, as the entire story emerged.

  ‘I told this to Alex,’ she said, ‘at Burg El Arab. I hoped he would understand. I do love him very much, you see.’

  ‘Maybe he does understand,’ said Tanner. ‘But understanding and forgiveness are two different things, aren’t they? He’s broken-hearted, that’s obvious to any bloke, but his pride’s hurt too. He’s been humiliated by this, Tanja. And you were our enemy. You spied for Germany. I’m not going to judge you, but you’re expecting a lot if you think Alex can just put that to one side.’

  As they crossed to her street, the city seemed suddenly very quiet. It was after ten now, and all traffic had gone. Cairo was still once more, yet Tanner couldn’t help feeling they were being followed. Twice he looked back, but there was no one. Not even a cat. He chided himself – Tanja’s fears were making him paranoid, and yet the note was sinister.

  ‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘But I had hoped that if he knew my life was in danger then perhaps he would help protect me. I hoped he would not wish to see me dead.’

  ‘Did you tell Maunsell and Bowlby about your fears?’

  ‘Of course, and they’ve put a guard outside my apartment block. One Field Security officer.’

  Tanner thought a moment. ‘All right. Look, I’ll stay with you tonight, then tomorrow we’ll both go and see Maunsell. He told me he had plans for you. Maybe he can speed those up. Get you away from here. Or maybe we can just bloody well find out who Orca is and nobble the bastard.’

  Tanja took his hand. ‘Thank you, Jack.’

  ‘You saved my life,’ he said, ‘so I’ll try and make sure you keep yours.’

  They passed the FS guard, who sat in the entrance hall of the apartment block, reading a book, and went up to her flat, where she poured them both a Scotch.

  Tanner sat her table, wondering if she had sent all those signals to Cobra from it. What was it she had said as they’d walked back to her flat? Plenty of people have been killed in this war who did not deserve to die. She had mentioned the other officer Tanner had killed when he had shot Becker. Did Ganz deserve to die? Or all those you killed blowing up the fuel dump? Tanner did not take any pleasure in killing people, but his job was to help win the war. If people got killed in the process, then so be it. But perhaps she had a point. It all depended on which side you were on. If he’d been born a German – or if he had experienced what Tanja had experienced – then perhaps he, too, would have been fighting on the side of the enemy. But the Germans support the Nazis, and they’re evil. Yet she had told him, as they’d walked to her apartment, that the Stalinist regime was every bit as bad as the Nazis, and the British were now its allies. Tanner ran his hands through his hair. He’d told her he would not judge her. Nor would he.

  ‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said again, sitting down opposite him. ‘Really. I can see why Alex thinks so highly of you. You are a good man.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. I just don’t like seeing a lady in distress.’ He lit a cigarette, then leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘It must be possible to find Orca. Who the hell is he? I mean, he seems to know almost your every move, except that he didn’t know your real identity had been discovered when you boarded that train.’

  ‘If he had, Artus would have killed me.’

  ‘But who did Maunsell and Bowlby spin that story to? Who interrogated you when Sansom raided your flat?’

  ‘Sansom, to begin with. Then Maunsell arrived. He apologized. Told me it had been a mistake, then explained that only he, Bowlby and Peter Stirling knew who I was and that I was now working for the British. He told me that, however embarrassing and unfortunate, his men had acted quite correctly following a tip-off.’

  ‘A tip-off from me. But for Orca to know that you’d been released without charge, he must have known you’d been arrested in the first place. How many people knew that?’

  Tanja shrugged. ‘I do not know.’

  ‘Not many. Those involved in the raid. A few people at the
interrogation centre. Some of the SIME operatives. No one at GHQ. Why would anyone there need to know?’

  Tanja shrugged again.

  Tanner slammed his palm on the table, making Tanja start. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but, Tanja, Orca has to be someone at Red Pillars. Has to be. I’d put good money on it. Jesus,’ he said, suddenly realizing the enormity of what he was saying. ‘That’s why they’ve known everything all along.’

  ‘But who?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He looked up at her. ‘You’ve seen him once, you say.’

  ‘In a car, yes, but I did not see his face. I tried to, but it was dark. He was wearing a hat pulled low over his eyes.’

  ‘Did you see anything? Anything at all? A ring? A distinctive watch?’

  ‘He had a signet ring.’

  ‘Coloured in any way?’

  ‘I am not sure. I did not notice.’

  ‘A moustache? Beard?’

  She put her hand to her head. ‘I could not see.’

  ‘Is there anything, Tanja? Anything at all?’

  ‘I have asked myself that question a thousand times, but no, there is nothing. Nothing but his voice.’

  ‘His voice?’

  ‘That was how he made contact. He would call and pretend to be my lover. “Hello, darling, will you meet me today? At the usual place? I cannot wait to see you.” That sort of thing. I always thought it a hateful voice.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was a soft voice. English. Perfectly normal in many ways. But there was something in the way he always said “darling” that made my skin crawl. But if I heard it again, I would know it. I would know it anywhere.’

  Tanner smiled. All he had to do was take her to Red Pillars. Abdu would let him pass. He could take her to Maunsell and get her introduced to the others working at SIME. So simple. If he was right, as soon as the mole opened his mouth, Tanja would know who Orca was.

  ‘Why do you smile?’

  ‘A voice,’ he said, ‘might be enough.’

  Vaughan had returned to his flat, poured himself a large glass of whisky, then sat on his bed and smoked. If he was honest, he had not been in the mood to spend an evening with Tanner, Farrer and de Villiers. He had gone because he had hoped they might take his mind off things, that with a few drinks inside him and some bonhomie, he might forget about Tanja for a while. But then there she was, imploring him to protect her, gazing at him with those beseeching eyes, and he had been overcome with a renewed wave of despair. He hated this. It was purgatory, a torment worse than any time he had been under fire. Yes, he had been scared – frightened witless, even – on occasion, but nothing had been as bad as the oppressive shroud of misery he now felt.

  And the damnable thing was that he wasn’t just mourning the end of their affair, he was still madly in love with her. Good God, she had looked stunning tonight, and he had remembered every curve of her body, and how, for a brief moment, his life had been so very nearly perfect.

  He poured another Scotch, picked up a book and tried to read, but it didn’t work. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. His feelings – they were such a conflicting mixture. He loved her still, yet the knowledge of what she had been was repugnant to him. It would, he thought, have been better to discover she had been a whore. Anything but this. For three years he had been fighting a war to rid the world of the Nazis, to help protect his mother and father, his younger sister and his friends, his home, his country. But by sleeping with Tanja he felt as though he had betrayed them all.

  Another whisky, and another after that, and then, exhausted and not a little drunk, he had fallen asleep.

  Some time later – several hours, he supposed – he awoke, fully clothed, the light still on in his room. He looked at his watch – nearly one in the morning – then sat up, intending to take a shower. An image of Tanja’s face – her anguished, imploring face – came to him, and it suddenly occurred to him that it was himself he was loathing; he felt self-disgust because he still loved her so deeply, while the ideals and values by which he lived told him this was profoundly wrong.

  It was what she had done, what she had been, that had offended his sensibilities so greatly, yet perhaps he had placed too great an emphasis on his ideals. Perhaps she had been right all along. Perhaps it was both priggish and pompous to take the moral high ground. Whose hands could ever really be clean in a time of war? And what had given him the right to judge her? He had not lost his home and family, for whom he had believed he was fighting. He had not lost a wife, as she had a husband. He had not been forced to trek, alone, across half of Europe with little more than the clothes he stood in.

  And perhaps she had told the truth. Perhaps she had risked all, in part, for him, for the person who had offered her a chance of happiness. She had told him she understood how he felt, that she had accepted their affair was over, but fear, real fear, had compelled her to find him and ask for his help. Those imploring eyes had been searching for a sign of compassion, and he had turned her away, consumed by self-loathing.

  ‘I’ve been such a bloody fool,’ he said out loud. He stood up, put on his cap, belt and pistol, left the flat and went out into the cool, deserted street. He would go to her now, ignoring the curfew, show her the compassion he should have given her earlier, and plead for her forgiveness. Vaughan quickened his pace. Having made this decision, he wanted to be with her now, not waste a minute walking the empty streets of Cairo. And with every step, his spirits began to rise.

  A strange scuffling sound woke him. Tanner opened his eyes, struggled to focus, and cursed his stupidity for sharing more than half a bottle of whisky with Tanja. He sat up on the sofa, grabbed his Sauer and listened, but there was nothing. Switching on the light, he paused by the door to Tanja’s bedroom, heard her breathing, then tiptoed into the hallway, and paused. Was that something? Yes – more scuffling. He switched on the hall light, walked slowly to the front door and listened again. Nothing. A cat perhaps, or maybe even a rat. Or a lizard. He was about to turn, when he heard it again, outside the door. He shook his head, cocked the pistol, unbolted the door and turned the handle.

  The movement was so quick, he had no time to react or see what was coming: a dark shape, pushing open the door, a gloved hand reaching out and, with lightning speed, smashing him in the side of the head. Tanner staggered backwards, his vision greyed. Then something hard cracked the top of his head, the light went out and he was falling, falling … And then nothing.

  Vaughan knew, with a sickening, quickening heart, that something was wrong when he saw the front door of the apartment block was open and no sign of the bawaeb or the FS guard. Hurriedly climbing the stairs, he reached the corridor only to see the light in Tanja’s flat on and the door ajar. No – please, no. A mounting sense of dread accompanied every step he took towards the door. Swinging it open, he saw Tanner lying on the floor. Bending down, he felt his friend’s neck. A pulse. That was something. He straightened and hurried along the hallway to Tanja’s bedroom.

  He knew the worst before he switched on the light, but he had not been prepared for what he saw. Tanja lay on her bed, eyes open, with a deep, vicious gash across her throat.

  ‘No!’ he said. ‘No, no, no!’ He ran to her, and saw her blink. She lifted a hand and touched his face.

  ‘Tanja, no!’ he cried. ‘Please. Please don’t die.’

  She blinked again, a faint smile on her face.

  ‘No,’ he said again. ‘Tanja, I’m so sorry. Please, please, don’t leave me.’

  But it was too late. She had gone.

  ALAMEIN

  October and November 1942

  27

  Friday, 23 October. A never-ending day. The men of A Company, the Yorks Rangers, were edgy, fidgety. Tanner had smoked almost incessantly, while the brew can seemed to be almost constantly on the boil. Waiting in their assembly area some fifteen miles to the east of the front line, the Rangers found themselves surrounded by the massed vehicles of 1st Armoured Division. T
here was constant activity. Jeeps and trucks tore back and forth, while a little way off, clusters of tanks and lorries huddled together.

  Tanner felt uneasy to see so many vehicles and troops jammed into one area. He had become used to operating freely in the desert, for the company – or his own truck – to have the space to move at will in the vastness. This was more like a military pageant. He kept scanning the skies, expecting to see enemy aircraft at any moment. At least they were well prepared, he thought. Every man knew what he had to do, which in itself was something new. He was not sure what to make of Montgomery. The general had visited them four weeks earlier when they had been training near Burg El Arab. A small man, with a reedy, nasal voice, who couldn’t pronounce his Rs properly but who had spoken with authority, with enthusiasm, with self-belief. Rommel had been dismissed as unimaginative, a man with an un-enterprising and repetitive battle strategy. Eighth Army’s old habits were to be consigned to the dustbin: no more defended boxes as there had been at Gazala and when they’d first reached the Alamein Line; they had been defensive in concept, which had inhibited flexibility and balance.

  Well, Tanner had agreed with that, all right. He’d always thought defensive boxes were a hopeless tactic. Neither would there be any more operating in penny packets. From now on, Montgomery had told them, they would make the most of their superior strength in arms and armour and operate in force. Again, Tanner agreed wholeheartedly. From now on, there would also be greater understanding between the armour and the anti-tank guns, for which the Rangers had been training. Ill-disciplined tank charges across the desert were also a thing of the past. And Montgomery wanted the men to be fit, and to be ready for a gruelling and hard-fought battle.

  The Rangers and the rest of the 7th Motor Brigade had been moved, after two years, from the 7th Armoured Division to the 1st Armoured, part of X Corps, specifically created by Montgomery to be his main battle strike force, what he termed the corps de chasse. It had meant changing the jerboa emblem of the Desert Rats to a new logo, a rhinoceros, and had caused much grumbling among the men, who were proud of the jerboa and what it stood for. Yet this aside, most felt, as Tanner did, that at last they had a strong commander who seemed to have a clear and sensible idea of what was needed.