“Cyanide. It's a cyanide ampoule. It kills in less than a minute.”
Leni looked at it, horrified. “Why do you have it?”
“Why do you think?”
“For Angelika?” Leni felt sick.
“MacPherson told me I was to give it to her if things got really bad. He handed it to me the afternoon we left, when you went upstairs to write a letter. Under no circumstances was she to fall back into enemy hands. Those were his words and he said they were an order from the very top.”
“You mean the Prime Minister?”
“I don't know, I suppose so.”
“Oh my God,” Leni said, her face very pale.
Otto shook his head. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but he gave me another order. That you were not to know. He said you'd get too emotional, that it was up to men to make the tough decisions. Or something like that.”
“And what decision have you made?” Leni looked at him intently, at the vial still resting in his palm.
After a moment or two, Otto closed his fist and hurled it out into the darkness.
“The right one.”
Leni smiled with relief and for a second she wanted to hug him.
“Yes, you have. You'll see, it's for the best.”
“Maybe,” replied Otto, tentatively.
Leni stepped towards him until they were almost touching. “Thank you,” she said, softly.
Otto touched her arm. “I should be thanking you, for coming back to save me.”
Angelika trotted back to them, saw them standing close together. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Of course,” said Leni. “But Otto wants to say thank you.” She turned to him. “It was Angelika who insisted we come back for you.”
“You did?” said Otto, staring at her.
Angelika shrugged self-consciously, then nodded.
“Why did you do that?”
Angelika looked back at Otto pensively. “I didn't want you to die.” She said it quietly but firmly.
Otto stepped forward and hugged the girl. “Thank you, with all my heart,” he said.
Leni felt as though she might cry.
CHAPTER 39
LOSING TIME
Heydrich paced up and down outside the village inn, trying to keep his anger and frustration in check. Almost two hours had elapsed since the children had escaped and he still hadn't been able to communicate with the other units. The girl had taken one motorcycle combination; the other had crashed, in pursuit of the children, it seemed; and it was impossible for the Flettner to fly at night. His short-wave radio had been comprehensively ruined along with his prized Mercedes, and the girl had taken the precaution of cutting the lines of the only telephone in the hamlet, the one at the inn. They had been well trained, that was for sure. His only option had been to send one of the soldiers west on the innkeeper's horse to catch up with his SS units and alert them to the news.
He glanced across at his remaining soldiers, still dowsing the fires, before he stepped back inside the shattered inn and went in search of Straniak. As he made his way towards the back room he looked at his watch for the fifth time in so many minutes. Every minute that was lost would make his job harder. They had to be near the mountains now, and if they left the roads and headed into them it was going to be a very difficult undertaking to flush them out. The only consolation was that the Flettner had not been damaged and Straniak was just about in one piece. It was not over yet by any means, Heydrich resolved.
He found Straniak skulking in the back room, suffering from nothing more serious than a bloody nose. He had wedged cotton gauze up his nose to staunch the bleeding, and there was a sticking plaster holding his glasses together. He was holding his pendulum over the map once more, but it appeared to be swinging aimlessly.
Heydrich walked behind the bar, selected a clean glass and poured himself a beer. He drained it in a single draught. “I trust you will have something for me soon,” he said.
Straniak looked cross. “It's impossible!” he complained. “There is a terrible ringing in my ears, all my senses are damaged. My work, if it is to be successful, requires absolute calm and peace.”
Heydrich walked over to Straniak. He leant down slowly, grasped the top of Straniak's shirt and pulled him up from his seat.
“I understand that, and I want you to understand something, too,” he whispered. His face was centimetres from Straniak's. “We are undertaking a personal – and I stress the word personal – mission for the Führer himself. Your failure to provide me with information will be a taken as an act of treachery to the Reich. And I have no need to explain how we deal with traitors.”
Heydrich let him go and Straniak massaged his neck.
“Forgive me,” he said hoarsely. “The explosion must have clouded my judgement. I am honoured to be able to help the Führer and I will redouble my efforts.” He pulled the cotton plugs from his nose and saluted stiffly. “Heil Hitler!”
Heydrich let him go back to his work, and strode towards the front door to await the arrival of his men. As he reached the door he noticed the innkeeper's dog, some sort of Bavarian hound, sniffing at the boy's backpack, which they had retrieved from the barn. There was probably some food in it, thought Heydrich.
Then he had another thought. A good one.
CHAPTER 40
21 JUNE – DAY THREE
MacPherson shifted uncomfortably in his seat. In spite of the loud drone of the Grumman's engine he had managed a few minutes of fitful sleep here and there. But he was wide awake now. They must be getting close to the Bodensee. He glanced up through the clear canopy of the cockpit, but could make nothing out in the blackness.
Then the plane suddenly banked, and MacPherson could see the outline of the lake. Commander Bracken straightened up and cut the engine. In the ensuing silence MacPherson could hear nothing but the wind whistling through the struts and wires, but he felt the plane gently slip down in a long, shallow glide. This way, it was hoped, they would be able to land on the water without raising any alarm from either the German or the Swiss authorities.
Minutes later and the pilot set the plane's central float down on the surface of the lake, sending up a great wave. The spray slammed into MacPerson's canopy. But at least they were down in one piece. Before take-off, MacPherson had instructed Bracken where to land, and it looked as though he'd managed it perfectly. Ahead of them was a large villa set back in the trees, its lights blazing from the ground floor and, more importantly, a launch racing towards them from a large boathouse by the lake's edge.
MacPherson had unstrapped and slid back the canopy by the time the boat pulled alongside. He slotted the little metal ladder into the lugs on the side of the fuselage, and climbed down. The boat was riding up and down gently beside the plane. MacPherson jumped on to it. He had never been so happy to be out of the air and on the water.
A young woman with blonde hair was standing at the launch's wheel. She was wearing short Alpine trousers and a thick woollen shirt. In the moonlight, Macpherson could see the butt of a pistol poking out from her calfskin shoulder holster.
“Hello, Admiral. Safe trip?” Her voice was low and cool. She flicked her cigarette away into the darkness.
“Yes. Thanks for meeting us, Durand.”
The woman expertly attached a tow-line to the steel eye on the front of the plane. Then she brought the engines up and the line snapped taut.
“There's plenty of room in the boathouse for the plane. No one will be any the wiser you're here.”
“Well, if it all goes to plan, we'll be gone in a few hours,” said MacPherson.
It was a little after midnight and they had to be away before three. Otherwise it would be too light and they would have to wait for the following night to make the flight. He was desperate to set eyes on this girl and even more desperate to get her back to London. What a prize she would be.
With the plane safely moored and the boathouse doors firmly locked, MacPherson and Durand took
their seats in the launch once more. Bracken had been left inside the boathouse, with some sandwiches and coffee. MacPherson had given him strict instructions to contact his office every thirty minutes on the radio in case of new information. The boathouse had a speedboat if he needed to get to MacPherson for just such a reason.
“All right, take me to the rendezvous point,” MacPherson said.
The woman spun the wheel and flung the launch out across the water. As the lake itself was neutral territory, boats were constantly crossing it from the Third Reich and Switzerland, and they passed quite a few in the darkness, their running lights just visible.
They were heading for a little swimming platform a few kilometres out from Bregenz. Durand had selected it as an ideal rendezvous point. The two of them rode in silence. MacPherson was happy merely to smoke his pipe and feel the cool air against his face.
“Admiral,” the woman said, hesitantly, “may I ask who these children are?”
“No,” MacPherson replied firmly, “you may not ask.”
The silence returned.
CHAPTER 41
BACK ON THEIR TRAIL
It was two in the morning when they reached the end of the road. Literally. Leni had driven the bike up a small mountain track as far it would go. Fortunately they had not met any roadblocks or patrols. Perhaps the German forces were still being concentrated at the border, Otto thought.
With Otto and Angelika pushing the sidecar, they managed to run the bike into a small gully and out of sight. They snapped some low-hanging branches from the fir trees around them, and used them to brush the tyre marks from the track leading back to the road.
Otto then led them off the road and squatted down with the map.
“Seems to me we're about here.” He pointed to a spot well south of Weiler, south too of the Bodensee. “If we want to reach the rendezvous point we need to go north.” He pointed again, this time to a place on the south-east corner of the lake. The border was clearly marked.
“You're right,” nodded Leni, “but that's not what we want to do, is it?”
Angelika, who was listening intently, frowned. “Why don't we?”
Otto could see Leni was still just as determined that they should decide the girl's fate rather than MacPherson. He was not sure that breaching orders was wise, either. But they could have this discussion again once they'd crossed the border into Switzerland. Heading straight west now would be much quicker. It would mean the border was at least twenty kilometres closer.
“Excuse me, I did ask a question,” Angelika piped up again.
“Because the frontier here,” Leni marked the spot with her finger, reading Otto's mind, “is much closer. Once we're in Switzerland we can make our way to where we're meant to meet.”
Angelika nodded, satisfied by Leni's logic. Otto folded the map away quickly. They started walking up through the foothills. It would be first light in a couple of hours and then they would have to keep out of sight, but for the moment they made good progress through the woods.
Otto walked ahead of the two girls, picking a path. He thought about Angelika, about what Leni wanted to do.
Leni was certainly right that no one had the girl's best interests at heart. For the British she would be used ruthlessly to win the war. But then, as MacPherson had said, their job was to carry out the mission and not concern themselves with anything else. Was that right? How could that be right? If he thought that way, he would be no different from the Nazis who had taken his family. They had just been obeying orders, but what they had done was wrong. Deeply wrong. What finally settled the matter for Otto was Angelika herself. She had made Leni go back and rescue him. He owed her his life. He would do all he could to protect hers. He looked back at the two girls.
“Come on, let's see if we can go a little faster,” he said, almost cheerfully.
“Can I have a piggyback?” asked Angelika.
“Hop on!”
He felt Angelika jump up, and then she was wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist.
The sun came up to a colder morning. Large clouds were passing over the mountain's peaks and the wind had continued to stiffen from the north. They all felt the chill in the air, getting colder still as they climbed higher. The going was getting harder. Otto had to drop Angelika from his back and instead helped her over the fallen tree trunks and large boulders. She grasped his good hand firmly, humming a tune. After a few moments, Otto recognised it.
“That's ‘Blood Red Roses’, isn't it?” It was a very popular romantic song, always on the radio.
Angelika shrugged. “Is it?”
“Where did you hear that?” he asked. “At the convent?”
Angelika shook her head. “No, it's just always been in my head.” She thought for a moment. “Perhaps my mother sang it to me when I was a baby.”
Otto could see the prospect of actually meeting her parents was now becoming more real to Angelika. He felt bad knowing that there would be no family reunion on the other side.
They walked for another half an hour before stopping for a break. It was then that they heard the distant sounds. The baying of dogs.
Otto scanned the valley below with binoculars. A large pack of hounds was racing in their direction, foot soldiers running to keep up. Behind them were special alpine jeeps, their rear wheels converted to caterpillar tracks. Otto immediately recognised Heydrich in the lead vehicle. Somehow or other he had managed to pick up their trail.
“It's as though they know where we are,” said Leni, panicking.
Otto felt his stomach sink as he put two and two together. “My pack back at the village. It's given them my scent.”
There was no possibility of rest now. They had to keep moving if they were to make it to the border.
Leni refilled the water bottle from a mountain spring. She'd also found the last of the boiled sweets and shared them out. They needed all the energy they could get.
Otto squinted through the binoculars again, saw Heydrich staring up, almost directly at him. He estimated the distance at no more than fifteen kilometres. He felt the fear rising. A part of him had begun to believe they had slipped the net, but now it was tightening again. He glanced at the girls. Both of them looked exhausted.
“We have to go.” He stuffed the binoculars into the remaining pack and hefted it on to his shoulders.
“They'll have to follow on foot eventually and we've got a good start,” Leni said, but her face was white. She must also have realised that their position was almost hopeless against such a determined enemy.
A fox gets a head start but he still ends up being torn to shreds by the hounds, Otto thought.
Angelika gave a sob, then another. “They're going to catch us, aren't they?” She seemed on the edge of terror.
Leni grabbed her and shook her. “Listen to me, Angelika, no one's going to catch us!” The harshness in her voice made Angelika stop crying.
“Leni's right. We're fast and clever and we've got you, Angelika, to help us.” Otto looked at her sternly. “Now come on!”
“Do you really think that?” asked Angelika.
“Of course he does,” said Leni.
“Take my hand.” Otto held out his good hand for Angelika and together they set off, climbing as fast they could, higher into the mountains.
Ten minutes later and they were already panting for breath. Leni looked back down into the valley. The dogs and vehicles were still heading their way.
“They're gaining on us,” she said, flatly.
“Quiet,” said Otto in reply and suddenly dropped down to the ground. The other two copied him and edged up to where he was. “Look!” he said.
About three hundred metres ahead and a little below them was a large clearing in the trees. Mountain pasture led down to the valley. A circle of tents was pitched in the centre of the clearing around a large communal fire. A flag was flying from a handmade pole. On it was a winged man, Icarus, with a swastika at his feet: the emblem of the
NSFK, just like the one painted on the side of the truck back at Prien. And there, just above the tents, was a glider. It was staked to the ground at the top of the clearing, ready to skim down the hill and soar up into the sky.
“It's a gliding club, like the one we met in Prien,” Otto said. “There are lots of them in the mountains at this time of year.”
Leni followed his gaze. “We couldn't. I mean . . .” she began.
“Look down there.” Otto pointed to the dogs and the vehicles making their relentless progress towards them. “What do you suggest we do?”
“But we don't know how to fly.”
“I do, I mean, I read a book on it once at school.”
“You read a book?” Leni was looking sceptically at him.
“We could make the border in ten minutes – maybe less. Come on, Leni, we've run out of options and you know it.”
The baying of the hounds was louder now, the sound of the vehicles too. The whole place would be alive in the next couple of minutes. It was now or never. Otto looked around the encampment. It was still quiet. But that would change in a trice. Angelika pushed in between them.
“How would you like to go flying, Angelika?” asked Leni.
Angelika gazed at Otto, eyes wide with wonder. “Really?” she said.
Otto looked back at her for a moment. Was he mad taking such a young girl on a flimsy glider? But better a mad flight ending in disaster than a bullet in the back of the head, he thought.
Leni began emptying the contents of her pack. Otto passed her the gun and grenade, with two spare clips of ammunition. He stuffed the compass and map into his pockets, and slung the binoculars around his neck. He handed the water bottle and a whistle attached to a strong black cord to Angelika. She smiled, hung the bottle across her body and the whistle round her neck. He could hear the sound of the hounds getting louder. Any minute now they would rouse people in the camp.
“Quick on your feet. We don't have any time left. Give me your knife, Leni.”
She passed it to him and Otto sprinted for the glider. It was a two-seater with the wing behind the open cockpit. A rope had been tied to the metal skid at the tail of the plane, and the other end was staked to the ground. The glider itself was sitting on a four-wheeled launching cart, which was pointing downhill.
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