London Calling
Page 29
Simon looked at him, his heart thumping in his chest, his throat suddenly constricted and dry. So this was it, after all this time. The numerous close shaves on the battlefield, the many times that Death had almost but not quite left his calling card, all those times that he had been spared while others around him had died, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly and in agonising, horrible pain. Now it was his turn. At least it would be quick.
He took a deep breath then stood up and eyed Menzies coldly. ‘So much for English justice,’ he said bitterly. ‘It was always something that impressed me the most when I lived here - the sense of fair play, don’t kick a man when he’s down. It was one of the most endearing aspects of English society. I suppose my mother instilled it in me when I was growing up. But perhaps it doesn’t apply now, not to men of your calibre. I’ve cooperated, told you everything I know, with no lies. You know how I feel about this war. And now you reward me with this?’ He laughed disgustedly. ‘But then you’re not English, not with a name like that.’ He looked at the telephone, then back at Menzies. ‘If you’re going to do it, do it now. That’s my request. I can’t stand this waiting around on tenterhooks business.’
There was a glint in Menzies eye as he assessed the man standing in front of him. He nodded imperceptibly at the other man, and picked up the ‘phone. A few moments later the two guards seized Simon and led him out of the room. They passed along a hallway and out of a large front door onto a drive. A path led around to the side of the house, where a gate opened into a secluded and walled garden. He could hear barking coming from nearby. Whatever chance of escape now seemed to have disappeared. He had considered it briefly, but his hands were still cuffed behind him and his two guards looked extremely fit and competent. He might be able to manage them, but he knew that he would never have got far, not with the dogs.
Four other men were standing in the garden, rifles in their hands. At the far end of the garden a tall wooden stake had been driven into the grass, just in front of the rear wall. Simon was led up to the post. His hands were un-cuffed, his arms pinned around the post, and then the cuffs were re-applied.
His guards smiled nastily at him, then turned to walk back towards where the others waited. As they turned away he saw Menzies and his colleague enter the garden. The smaller man walked over to where he stood.
‘Any last requests?’
Perhaps he was imagining it, but maybe he detected regret, even compassion and a touch of sympathy in the man’s face.
‘Yes. After you’ve won, when everybody’s regained their sanity, find my father - Oberst Mannfred Simon. If he survives, give him this message - tell him that I love him. The same for my mother and sister. If you can’t trace him, then I’ll give you my aunt’s address in Hannover. She’ll know where to find my family. Do you have a pen and paper?’The other man nodded, and busily wrote down the information. He looked up when he had finished.
‘Blindfold?’
‘No. I’d rather face what you bastards are going to give to me. Get on with it!’
The smaller man nodded, turned and walked back to where the others waiting. As he approached they formed a line, each holding a rifle in readiness. Menzies stood off to one side. Simon looked up at the sky, his heart hammering and straining in his chest. It was a beautiful afternoon, a few high clouds drifting serenely in the heavens, barely a breath of wind. There were a few regrets…Klarissa, his family, and how he would be unable to say goodbye. He was sorry he would never see Patricia again. In their brief time together she had given him hope for a better future, maybe a love that would last their lifetimes…Then he grimaced bitterly - only a fool would dream that someday they would find each other again, beyond the death and destruction that overshadowed their lives.
‘Ready.’ The shout rang out across the grass courtyard and echoed off the walls.
Not long now. His legs shook.
‘Aim’.
He kept his eyes fixed on the heavens, trying to still his raging heart. Perhaps he would see Klarissa soon…
‘Fire!’