Eagle Has Landed

by Jack Higgins

  ‘No problem there,’ Gericke told him. ‘I can take off blind. Not particularly hazardous in country as flat as this. The difficulty’s going to be at the other end. I can’t just drop those men and hope for the best. We could be a mile out to sea. I need to see the target, however briefly.’

  Bohmler opened the judas in one of the big hangar doors and peered in. ‘Herr Hauptmann.’

  Gericke moved to join him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘See for yourself.’

  Gericke stepped through, Bohmler had switched on the outside light and in spite of its dimness, Gericke could see the fog swirling in strange patterns. Something touched his cheek coldly. ‘Wind!’ he said. ‘My God, we’ve got wind.’

  There was a sudden gap torn in the curtain and he could see the farmhouse for a moment. Dimly, but it was there. ‘Do we go?’ Bohmler demanded.

  ‘Yes,’ Gericke said. ‘But it’s got to be now,’ and he turned and plunged back through the judas to tell Steiner and Radl.

  Twenty minutes later, at exactly eleven o’clock, Joanna Grey straightened abruptly as her earphones started to buzz. She dropped her book, reached for a pencil and wrote on the pad in front of her. It was a very brief message, decoded in seconds. She sat staring at it, momentarily spellbound, then she made an acknowledgement.

  She went downstairs quickly and took her sheepskin coat from behind the door. The retriever sniffed at her heels. ‘No, Patch, not this time,’ she said.

  She had to drive carefully because of the fog and it was twenty minutes later before she turned into the yard at Hobs End. Devlin was getting his gear together on the kitchen table when he heard the car. He reached for the Mauser quickly and went out into the passageway.

  ‘It’s me, Liam,’ she called.

  He opened the door and she slipped in. ‘What’s all this?’

  ‘I’ve just received a message from Landsvoort, timed eleven o’clock exactly,’ she said. ‘The Eagle has flown.’

  He stared at her, astonished. ‘They must be crazy. It’s like pea soup up there on the beach.’

  ‘It seemed a littler clearer to me as I turned along the dyke.’

  He went out quickly and opened the front door. He was back in a moment, face pale with excitement. ‘There’s a wind coming in off the sea, not much, but it could get stronger.’

  ‘Don’t you think it will last?’ she said.

  ‘God knows.’ The silenced Sten gun was assembled on the table and he handed it to her. ‘You know how to work these?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He picked up a bulging rucksack and slung it over his shoulders. ‘Right then, let’s you and me get to it. We’ve got work to do. If your timing’s right, they’ll be over that beach in forty minutes.’ As they moved into the passage, he laughed harshly. ‘By God, but they mean business, I’ll say that for them.’

  He opened the door and they plunged out into the fog.

  ‘I’d close my eyes if I were you,’ Gericke told Bohmler cheerfully, above the rumbling of the engines warming up as he made his final check before take-off. ‘This one’s going to be pretty hair-raising.’

  The flares to mark the take-off run had been lit, but only the first few could be seen. Visibility was still no more than forty or fifty yards. The door behind them opened and Steiner poked his head into the cockpit.

  ‘Everything strapped down back there?’ Gericke asked him.

  ‘Everything and everybody. We’re ready when you are.’

  ‘Good, I don’t want to be an alarmist, but I should point out that anything could happen and very probably will.’

  He increased his engine revs and Steiner grinned, shouting to make himself heard above the roaring. ‘We have every faith in you.’

  He closed the door and retired. Gericke boosted power instantly and let the Dakota go. To plunge headlong into that grey wall was probably the most terrifying thing he had ever done in his life. He needed a run of several hundred yards, a speed of around eighty miles an hour for lift-off.

  ‘My God,’ he thought. ‘Is this it? Is this finally it?’

  The vibrations as he gave her more power seemed unbearable. Up came the tail as he pushed the column forward. Just a touch. She yawed to starboard in a slight crosswind and he applied a little rudder correction.

  The roar of the engines seemed to fill the night. At eighty, he eased back slightly, but held on. And then, as that feeling flowed through him, that strange sixth sense, the product of several thousand hours of flying that told you when things were just right, he hauled back on the column.

  ‘Now!’ he cried.

  Bohmler, who had been waiting tensely, his hand on the undercarriage lever, responded frantically, winding up the wheels. Suddenly they were flying. Gericke kept her going, straight into that grey wall, refusing to sacrifice power for height, hanging on till the last possible moment, before pulling the column right back. At five hundred feet they burst out of the fog, he stamped on the right rudder and turned out to sea.

  Outside the hangar, Max Radl sat in the passenger seat of the field car staring up into the fog, a kind of awe on his face. ‘Great God in heaven!’ he whispered. ‘He did it!’

  He sat there for a moment longer, listening as the sound of the engines faded into the night, then nodded to Witt behind the wheel. ‘Back to the farmhouse as quickly as you like, Sergeant. I’ve got things to do.’

  In the Dakota there was no easing of tension. There had been none in the first place. They talked amongst themselves in low tones with all the calm of veterans who had done this sort of thing so many times that it was second nature. As nobody had been allowed to have German cigarettes on his person, Ritter Neumann and Steiner moved amongst them handing them out singly.

  Altmann said, ‘He’s a flyer, that Hauptmann, I’ll say that for him. A real ace to take off in that fog.’

  Steiner turned to Preston sitting at the end of the stick. ‘A cigarette, Lieutenant?’ he said in English.

  ‘Thanks very much, sir, I think I will.’ Preston replied in a beautifully clipped voice that suggested he was playing the Coldstream Guards Captain again.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Steiner asked in a low voice.

  ‘In excellent spirits, sir,’ Preston told him calmly. ‘Can’t wait to get stuck in.’

  Steiner gave up and retreated to the cockpit where he found Bohmler passing Gericke coffee from a Thermos flask. They were flying at two thousand feet. Through occasional gaps in the clouds, stars could be seen and a pale sickle moon. Below, fog covered the sea like smoke in a valley, a spectacular sight.

  ‘How are we doing?’ Steiner asked.

  ‘Fine. Another thirty minutes. Not much of a wind though. I’d say about five knots.’

  Steiner nodded down into the cauldron below. ‘What do you think? Will it be clear enough when you go down?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Gericke grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll end up on that beach with you.’

  At that moment Bohmler, huddled over the Lichtenstein set, gave an excited gasp. ‘I’ve got something, Peter.’

  They entered a short stretch of cloud. Steiner said, ‘What’s it likely to be?’

  ‘Probably a night fighter, as he’s on his own,’ Gericke said. ‘Better pray it isn’t one of ours. He’ll blow us out of the sky.’

  They emerged from the clouds into clear air and Bohmler tapped Gericke’s arm. ‘Coming in like a bat out of hell on the starboard quarter.’

  Steiner turned his head and after a few moments, could plainly see a twin-engined aircraft levelling out to starboard.

  ‘Mosquito,’ Gericke said and added calmly, ‘let’s hope he knows a friend when he sees one.’

  The Mosquito held course with them for only a few more moments, then waggled its wingtips and swung away to starboard at great speed, disappearing into heavy cloud.

  ‘See,’ Gericke smiled up at Steiner. ‘All you have to do is live right. Better get back to your lads and make sure they’re ready to go. If everything works, we sh
ould pick up Devlin on the S-phone twenty miles out. I’ll call you when we do. Now get the hell out of here. Bohmler’s got some fancy navigating to do.’

  Steiner returned to the main cabin and sat down beside Ritter Neumann. ‘Not long now.’ He passed him a cigarette.

  ‘Thanks very much,’ Steiner said. ‘Just what I needed.’

  It was cold on the beach and the tide was about two-thirds of the way in. Devlin walked up and down restlessly to keep warm, holding the receiver in his right hand, the channel open. It was almost ten to twelve and Joanna Grey, who had been sheltering from the light rain in the trees, came towards him.

  ‘They must be close now.’

  As if in direct answer, the S-phone crackled and Peter Gericke said with astonishing clarity, ‘This is Eagle, are you receiving me, Wanderer?’

  Joanna Grey grabbed Devlin’s arm. He shook her off and spoke into the S-phone. ‘Loud and clear.’

  ‘Please report conditions over nest.’

  ‘Visibility poor,’ Devlin said. ‘One hundred to one hundred and fifty yards, wind freshening.’

  ‘Thank you, Wanderer. Estimated time of arrival, six minutes.’

  Devlin shoved the S-phone into Joanna Grey’s hand. ‘Hang on to that while I lay out the markers.’

  Inside his rucksack he had a dozen cycle lamps. He hurried along the beach, putting them down at intervals of fifteen yards in a line following the direction of the wind, switching each one on. Then he turned and went back in a parallel line at a distance of twenty yards.

  When he rejoined Joanna Grey he was slightly breathless. He took out a large and powerful spotlight and ran a hand over his forehead to wipe sweat from his eyes.

  ‘Oh, this damn fog,’ she said. ‘They’ll never see us. I know they won’t.’

  It was the first time he’d seen her crack in any way and he put a hand on her arm. ‘Be still, girl.’

  Faintly, in the distance, there was the rumble of engines.

  The Dakota was down to a thousand feet and descending through intermittent fog. Gericke said over his shoulder, ‘One pass, that’s allI’ll get, so make it good.’

  ‘We will,’ Steiner told him.

  ‘Luck, Herr Oberst. I’ve got a bottle of Dom Perignon back there at Landsvoort on ice, remember. We’ll drink it together, Sunday morning.’

  Steiner clapped him on the shoulder and went out. He nodded to Ritter who gave the order. Everyone stood and clipped his static line to the anchor cable. Brandt slid back the exit door and as fog and cold air billowed in, Steiner moved down the line checking each man personally.

  Gericke went in very low, so low that Bohmler could see the white of waves breaking in the gloom. Ahead was only fog and more darkness. ‘Come on!’ Bohmler whispered, hammering his clenched fist on his knee. ‘Come on, damn you!’

  As if some unseen power had decided to take a hand, a sudden gust of wind tore a hole in the grey curtain and revealed Devlin’s parallel lines of cycle lamps, clear in the night, a little to starboard.

  Gericke nodded. Bohmler pressed the switch and the red light in the cabin flashed above Steiner’s head. ‘Ready!’ he cried.

  Gericke banked to starboard, throttled back until his airspeed indicator stood at a hundred and made his pass along the beach at three hundred and fifty feet. The green light flashed, Ritter Neumann jumped into darkness, Brandt followed, the rest of the men tumbled after them. Steiner could feel the wind on his face, smell the salt tang of the sea and waited for Preston to falter. The Englishman stepped into space without a second’s hesitation. It was a good omen. Steiner clipped on to the anchor line and went after him.

  Bohmler, peering out through the open door of the cockpit tapped Gericke on the arm. ‘All gone, Peter. I’ll go and close the door.’

  Gericke nodded and swung out towards the sea again. It was no more than five minutes later that the S-phone receiver crackled and Devlin said clearly, ‘All fledglings safe and secure in the nest.’

  Gericke reached for the mike. ‘Thank you, Wanderer. Good luck.’

  He said to Bohmler, ‘Pass that on to Landsvoort at once. Radl must have been walking on hot bricks for the past hour.’

  In his office at Prinz Albrechtstrasse, Himmler worked alone in the light of the desk lamp. The fire was low, the room rather cold, but he seemed oblivious of both those facts and wrote on steadily. There was a discreet knock at the door and Rossman entered.

  Himmler looked up. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’ve just heard from Radl at Landsvoort, Herr Reichsführer. The Eagle has landed.’

  Himmler’s face showed no emotion whatsoever. ‘Thank you, Ross-man,’ he said. ‘Keep me informed.’

  ‘Yes, Herr Reichsführer.’

  Rossman withdrew and Himmler returned to his work, the only sound in the room the steady scratching of his pen.

  Devlin, Steiner and Joanna Grey stood together at the table examining a large-scale map of the area. ‘See here, behind St Mary’s,’ Devlin was saying, ‘Old Woman’s Meadow. It belongs to the church and the barn with it which is empty at the moment.’

  ‘You move in there tomorrow,’ Joanna Grey said. ‘See Father Vereker and tell him you’re on exercises and wish to spend the night in the barn.’

  ‘And you’re certain he’ll agree?’ Steiner said.

  Joanna Grey nodded. ‘No question of it. That sort of thing happens all the time. Soldiers appear either on exercises or forced marches, disappear again. No one ever really knows who they are. Nine months ago we had a Czechoslovakian unit through here and even their officers could only speak a few words of English.’

  ‘Another thing, Vereker was a paratrooper padre in Tunisia,’ Devlin added, ‘so he’ll be leaning over backwards to assist when he sees those red berets.’

  ‘There’s an even stronger point in our favour where Vereker’s concerned,’ Joanna Grey said. ‘He knows the Prime Minister is spending the weekend at Studley Grange which is going to work on our behalf very nicely. Sir Henry let it slip the other night at my house when he’d been drinking a little bit too much. Of course Vereker was sworn to secrecy. Can’t even tell his own sister until after the great man’s gone.’

  ‘And how will this help us?’ Steiner asked.

  ‘It’s simple,’ Devlin said. ‘You tell Vereker you’re here for the weekend on some exercise or other and ordinarily he would accept that at face value. But this time, remember, he knows that Churchill is visiting the area incognito, so what interpretation does he put on the presence of a crack outfit like the SAS?’

  ‘Of course,’ Steiner said. ‘Special security.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Joanna Grey nodded. ‘Another point in our favour. Sir Henry is giving a small dinner party for the Prime Minister tomorrow night.’ She smiled and corrected herself. ‘Sorry, I mean tonight. Seven-thirty for eight and I’m invited. I’ll go only to make my excuses. Say that I’ve had a call to turn out on night duty for the WVS emergency service. It’s happened before, so Sir Henry and Lady Willoughby will accept it completely. It means, of course, that if we make contact in the vicinity of the Grange, I’ll be able to give you a very exact description of the immediate situation there.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Steiner said. ‘The whole thing seems more plausible by the minute.’

  Joanna Grey said, ‘I must go.’

  Devlin brought her coat and Steiner took it from him and held it open for her courteously. ‘Is there no danger for you in driving round the countryside alone at this hour of the morning?’

  ‘Good heavens no.’ She smiled. ‘I’m a member of the WVS motor pool. That’s why I’m allowed the privilege of running a car at all, but it means that I’m required to provide an emergency service in the village and surrounding area. I often have to turn out in the early hours to take people to hospital. My neighbours are perfectly used to it.’

  The door opened and Ritter Neumann entered. He was wearing a camouflaged jump jacket and trousers and there was an SAS winged dagger badge in his red b
eret.

  ‘Everything all right out there?’ Steiner asked.

  Ritter nodded. ‘Everyone bedded down snugly for the night. Only one grumble. No cigarettes.’

  ‘Of course. I knew there was something I’d forgotten. I left them in the car.’ Joanna Grey hurried out.

  She was back in a few moments and put two cartons of Players on the table, five hundred in each in packets of twenty.

  ‘Holy Mother,’ Devlin said in awe. ‘Did you ever see the like? They’re like gold, those things. Where did they come from?’

  ‘WVS stores. You see, now I’ve added theft to my accomplishments.’ She smiled. ‘And now, gentlemen, I must leave you. We’ll meet again, by accident, of course, tomorrow when you are in the village.’

  Steiner and Ritter Neumann saluted and Devlin took her out to her car. When he returned, the two Germans had opened one of the cartons and were smoking by the fire.

  I’ll have a couple of packets of these myself,’ Devlin said.

  Steiner gave him a light. ‘Mrs Grey is a remarkable woman. Who did you leave in charge out there, Ritter? Preston or Brandt?’

  ‘I know who thinks he is.’

  There was a light tap on the door and Preston entered. The camouflaged jump jacket, the holstered revolver at his waist, the red beret slanted at just the right angle towards the left eye, made him seem more handsome than ever.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Devlin said. ‘I like it. Very dashing. And how are you, me old son? Happy to be treading your native soil again, I dare say?’

  The expression on Preston’s face suggested that Devlin reminded him of something that needed scraping off his shoe. ‘I didn’t find you particularly entertaining in Berlin, Devlin. Even less so now. I’d be pleased if you would transfer your attentions elsewhere.’

  ‘God save us,’ Devlin said, amazed. ‘Who in the hell does the lad think he’s playing now?’

  Preston said to Steiner, ‘Any further orders, sir?’

  Steiner picked up the two cartons of cigarettes and handed them to him. ‘I’d be obliged if you’d give these out to the men,’ he said gravely.

  ‘They’ll love you for that,’ Devlin put in.