Air Bridge

by Hammond Innes

  Very conscious of Else’s presence in that room I returned to the couch and for a long time lay huddled under the blankets thinking about her and the peculiar relationship that was developing between the two of us. I tried to analyse my feelings, but I couldn’t and in the end I went to sleep.

  I didn’t get up until past midday. The sky was overcast, the battered buildings opposite black in the bitter cold. Overhead the airlift planes droned steadily, but I could not see them. The old woman brought me some food—bread and some soup that was chiefly potatoes. She didn’t attempt to talk to me. There was a barrier between us that was something more than a question of race. I found the answer in an old photograph album tucked away in a bookshelf, a picture of a little girl and an attractive, middle-aged nurse; underneath was written in an awkward, childish hand—Ich und Anna.

  By five o’clock the light was fading and I could no longer decipher the unaccustomed German print of the book I was reading. I began to pace the room, wondering whether Else would have found transport to take me into the Russian Zone. My mood was a queer mixture of impatience and fear. It was bitterly cold.

  Just after six I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. I checked in my pacing and listened. This wasn’t the clumsy sound of wooden clogs on bare boards. It was a man’s tread and he wore shoes. He didn’t belong to the building.

  The footsteps stopped on the landing outside and the old woman’s clogs shuffled to the bedroom door. “I do not know why she is not back already,” she said in German. “But you can wait for her in her room.”

  “Will she be long?” the man asked. His German was too lazy, too soft. In a panic I looked round for some place to conceal myself. But I was still standing in the middle of the room when the door opened.

  “She always return at five. I do not know what has happened.” There was a knock at the door and the old woman opened it without waiting for permission. “The gentleman here speaks your language. Perhaps you can talk to him while you are waiting for Fraulein Meyer.”

  I had backed away towards the window. The old woman stood aside and Else’s visitor came in. I saw his brown boots and the olive khaki of his trousers—an American. And then I looked at his face. “Good God!” I exclaimed. It was Harry Culyer—Diana’s brother. “How did you know where I was?”

  He stopped, staring at me. “What makes you think I did, Fraser?”

  “Didn’t Diana send you?” I asked.

  “Diana? No, of course not.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  “I might ask you the same question.” His gaze travelled quickly over the room, missing nothing and finally coming to rest on the Wehrmacht greatcoat I was wearing. “So this is where you’re hiding up. They told me at Gatow you’d disappeared from the sick bay.”

  “You’ve been to the airport—to-day?”

  He nodded. “I’ve just come from there.”

  “Did you see Diana?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “She knows the truth now, doesn’t she?” There was a puzzled frown on his face and I added quickly, “She knows Tubby is alive now. She knows that, doesn’t she?” My hands were sweating and I was almost trembling as I put the question.

  “Alive? You know as well as I do he’s dead.” He was leaning slightly forward, and his grey eyes were no longer friendly. “So it’s true what they told me about you.”

  “What did they tell you?”

  “Oh, just that you were a sick man. That’s all.” He had thrown his hat on to the couch and he lowered his long body down beside it. “When will the Meyer girl be back? I guess I must just have missed her at the airport.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Did you see Pierce or the I.O.?”

  “Yes, I saw them both.” He eyed me watchfully as though I was a strange dog that he was not quite sure of.

  “I sent Pierce a report—a written report. Did he mention it?”

  “No, he said nothing about a report.”

  “Did he mention me at all?”

  He lifted his eyes to my face. “Suppose you stop asking questions, Fraser.” His tone was abrupt, almost angry.

  “But I must know,” I said. “I must know what he said about me.”

  “All right—if you want to know—he said you were—ill.” He was watching me closely as he said this, like a doctor examining a patient for reaction.

  I slumped down on to the farther end of the couch. “So he doesn’t believe it even when he sees it in writing.” I felt suddenly very weary. It would be so much easier just to say no more, give myself up and go back to England to stand trial. “I must get Tubby out,” I murmured. “I must get him out.” I was speaking to bolster my determination, but of course he stared at me as though I was mad. “You’re waiting to see Else, are you?” I asked, and when he gave an abrupt nod, I added, “Well, since you’ve nothing to do whilst you wait you may as well hear what happened that night in the Corridor. I’d like to know whether you believe me.”

  “Why don’t you rest?” he suggested impatiently. “You look just about all in.”

  “Can I have a cigarette? I’ve finished all mine.”

  He tossed me a packet. “You can keep those.”

  “Thanks.” I lit one. “Just because you’ve been told I’m ill, it doesn’t mean I can’t remember what happened. The chief thing for you to know is this: Tubby is alive. And but for that bastard Saeton he’d be here in Berlin now. It’s a pity your sister can’t recognise the truth when she hears it.”

  I had his interest then and I went straight on to tell him the whole thing.

  I was just finishing when footsteps sounded on the stairs outside—Else’s footsteps. She looked damnably tired as she pushed open the door. “I’ve done it, Neil. We——” She stopped as she saw Culyer. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Culyer. Have you been waiting long?”

  “It hasn’t seemed long,” Culyer answered, rising to his feet. “I’ve been talking to Fraser here—or rather, he’s been talking to me.”

  Else glanced quickly from one to the other of us. “You know each other?”

  “We met the other day—out at Gatow,” Culyer answered. “I tried to catch you at the airport, Miss Meyer, but I guess you’d just gone.” He glanced awkwardly at me. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked her.

  Else spread her hands in a quick gesture of despair. “I am afraid this is the only room I have. You will not mind, Neil, if we talk about our own business for a moment, will you?”

  She turned to Culyer. “Have the British agreed? Shall I be permitted to go to Frankfurt?”

  Culyer glanced hesitantly at me. Then he said, “Yes, everything’s fixed, Miss Meyer. As soon as your papers come through we’ll fly you down to Frankfurt and then you can join Professor Hinkmann of the Rauch Motoren and get to work right away. Of course,” he added, “you must realise Saeton is a jump or two ahead of us. His engines are flying right now.”

  “Of course,” Else said. “What about patents?”

  “That is still undecided,” Culyer answered. “We’re pressing hard for refusal of patent on the grounds that it’s largely your father’s work. Mind you, Saeton’s developed them to the flying stage, but I think our case may be strong enough for the whole thing to be left to sort itself out in open competition. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you was that the British have agreed for you to come to Frankfurt, I thought you’d want to know that right away.”

  “Thank you—yes.” She hesitated and then asked. “No questions about the papers I had in England?”

  “No questions. They’ll forget about that.”

  Else turned and pulled off her beret. She stood for a moment staring at the large photograph of her father that stood above the huge oak tallboy. “He would have been glad about this.” She suddenly swung round to Culyer again. “It was Saeton who informed the British security officials about my papers, wasn’t it?”

  Culyer shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think we need concern ourselves with that, Miss Meyer.�
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  “No, perhaps it is not important.” She turned to me. “Saeton has requested the permission of the station commander to fly a plane to Hollmind.”

  “To Hollmind?” I stared at her, hardly able to believe my ears. “When?”

  “To-night.”

  “Are you certain?” I asked urgently. “How do you know?”

  She smiled. “I have friends at Gatow—a young officer of the R.A.S.C. tell me. Saeton is flying there to-night, just to make certain.”

  For a second I was filled with relief. Saeton had realised he had been inhuman. He was going to get Tubby out. And then Else’s choice of words thrust themselves into my mind. Just to make certain. In an instant the monster I had built of Saeton was there again in my mind. “Just to make certain,” I heard myself say aloud. “My God! It can’t be that. It can’t be.”

  “What’s that you say?” Culyer asked uneasily.

  But I was looking at Else, wondering whether she knew what was in my mind. “It must be to-night,” I said.

  “What must be tonight?” Culyer asked.

  “Nothing,” Else said quickly. “Please, Mr. Culyer. I am very tired and I have some things to do.”

  He looked uncertainly from one to the other of us and then picked up his hat. “Okay, Miss Meyer. I’ll be getting along then. As soon as the formalities are through I’ll contact you.”

  “Thank you.” She held the door open for him.

  He hesitated on the threshold and his gaze swung back to me. He was obviously puzzled.

  Else touched his arm. “You will not say anything—about Mr. Fraser. Please.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’s none of my business anyway.”

  But it was his business. He was Diana’s brother. “Will you be seeing your sister again?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “I’m going out to Gatow right now.”

  “Will you give her a message? Will you tell her Tubby will be all right—that it’s true what I said in that report, every word of it?”

  He glanced across at Else. “Do you know about this?”

  Else nodded.

  “And do you believe him? Do you believe Carter is still alive, the way he says he is?”

  “Of course,” Else said.

  Culyer shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what to think. But I’ll give her your message, Fraser. Maybe if Saeton’s flying out there——” He shrugged his shoulders. “Good-night, Miss Meyer. I hope we’ll have this thing all tied up very shortly now. This project has great possibilities and my headquarters….”

  He was still talking as Else lighted him to the stairs, but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking of Tubby out there in that farmhouse. Saeton was flying to Hollmind. That was the thing that was still in my mind. I turned to the window. I had to get out there right away. I had to get there somehow. The door of the room closed and I swung round. Else was standing there, staring at me. “Are you all right, Neil?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course I’m all right,” I answered irritably. “When you came in to-night—you started to say something?”

  “Oh, yes. I have found a truck that is going into the Russian Zone. It is all fixed.”

  “When for?” I asked. “It must be to-night. I must get there to-night.”

  She nodded. “Yes. It is to-night.”

  “Thank God!” I crossed the room and caught hold of her arms. “How did you manage it?” I asked.

  “Oh, I find out about it from one of the drivers at Gatow. We have to be at the corner of Fassenenstrasse and the Kantstrasse at ten-thirty.”

  “Not before?” I thought of the short time it would take to fly. “What time is Saeton leaving, do you know?”

  She shook her head. “That is something I cannot find out. But he will not dare to go till it is very late if he have to leave the plane on Hollmind airfield.”

  That was true. “How long will it take in this truck of yours?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “We do not go the direct way. There are things to be delivered, you understand. Two or three hours perhaps.”

  Two or three hours! I turned away. “Couldn’t the driver be persuaded to go there first?”

  “I do not think so,” she replied. “But I will talk to him. Perhaps if you have money——”

  “You know I’ve no money,” I cut in. “A few marks—”

  “Then we will see.”

  I stopped in my pacing and turned to her. “We?” I asked. “You don’t mean you’re coming into the Russian Zone?”

  “But of course.”

  I started to dissuade her. But she was quite determined. “If I do not come the driver of the truck will not take you. It is a big risk for him. If we are stopped by the Red Army then there has to be some story that they can understand. It is better if you have a German girl with you.” She turned to the bed. “Now please, I must rest. You also. I do not think you are too well.”

  Not too well! That phrase kept recurring to me as I lay sleepless on the couch.

  Else was asleep the instant she had climbed into her bed. But I had been resting all day. There was no sleep left in me and all the time I lay there, feeling the cold even through my clothes and listening to the sound of the airlift planes overhead, I kept on turning her words over in my mind. Was she herself uncertain of my story? Was that why she was coming—to see whether it was the truth or only the hallucinations of a sick man? I remembered how Culyer had reacted.

  I must have fallen asleep in the end, for I woke in a sweat of fear that Tubby was dead and that the authorities at Gatow had been right in believing the Russian report.

  And then I saw that Else was dressing and everything seemed suddenly normal and reasonable. We were going out of Berlin in a black market truck and in a few hours we should be coming back with Tubby. I was glad then that she was coming. If Tubby were dead, or if he didn’t survive the journey back, then she would be witness to the fact that he had been at the farmhouse at Hollmind, that he had been alive.

  We had some food and by ten-thirty we were at the corner of the Fassenenstrasse and the Kantstrasse. The truck was late and it was very cold. By eleven o’clock I was becoming desperate, convinced that something had gone wrong with her arrangements and that it would not come. Else, however, seemed quite resigned to waiting. “It will come,” she kept saying. “You see. It will come.”

  Three-quarters of an hour late it ground to a stop beside us, one of those ugly, long-nosed German vehicles driven by a youth who was introduced to me as Kurt and whose jaw bore the purple markings of a bad burn. An older man was with him in the cab. We bundled into the back, climbing over packing cases piled to the roof to a cramped and awkward space that had been left for us. The gear cogs fought for a hold on each other, oil fumes seeped up from the floor, the packing cases jolted around us as we crawled out of Berlin.

  We were nearly three hours in the back of that truck. We were cold and we both suffered from waves of nausea owing to the fumes. Periodically the truck stopped, packing cases were off-loaded and their place was taken by carcases of meat or sacks of flour. I cursed those delays, and at each stop it seemed more and more urgent that I should reach the farmhouse before Saeton.

  At last all the packing cases had been off-loaded. We made one more stop, for poultry—there must have been hundreds of dead birds—and then at last through a rent in the canvas cover I saw that we had turned south. Shortly afterwards the truck stopped and I was told to get out and sit with the driver to direct him. We were then on the outskirts of Hollmind.

  It was difficult to get my bearings after being cooped up in the body of the truck so long. However, I knew I had to get to the north of Hollmind and after taking several wrong turnings I at last found myself on a stretch of road that I remembered. By then the driver was getting impatient and he drove down it so fast that I nearly missed the track up to the farm and we had to back. The track was narrow and rutted and when he saw it the driver refused to take the truck up it. Else got down and
did her best to persuade him, but he resolutely shook his head. “If I go there,” he told her, “I may get stuck. Also I do not know these people at the farm. The Red Army may be billeted there. Anything is possible. No. I wait for you here on the road. But hurry. I do not like to remain parked at the side of the road too long—it is very conspicuous.”

  So Else and I went up the track alone, the ice crackling under our feet, the mud of the ruts black and hard like iron. “How far?” she asked.

  “About half a mile,” I said. My teeth were chattering and there was an icy feeling down my spine.

  The lane branched and I hesitated, trying to remember which track I had come down that night that seemed so long ago.

  “You have been here before, haven’t you, Neil?” Else asked and there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

  “Of course,” I said and started up the left-hand fork. But it only led to a barn and we had to turn back and take the other fork. “We must hurry,” Else whispered urgently. “Kurt is a nervous boy. I do not wish for him to drive away and leave us.”

  “Nor do I,” I said, thinking of the nightmare journey I had had into Berlin.

  We were right this time and soon the shape of the farm buildings was looming up ahead of us against the stars. “It’s all right,” I said as the silhouette of the outbuildings resolved itself into familiar lines. “This is the place.”

  “So! The farm does exist. Your friend is alive.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I told you——”

  “I am sorry, Neil.” Her hand touched my arm.

  “You mean you weren’t sure?”

  “You were hurt and you look so ill. I do not know what to think. All I know is that it is urgent for you to come and that I must come with you.”

  I could see the faint shape of her head. Her eyes looked very big in the darkness. I took hold of her hand. “Come on,” I said. “I hope to God——” I stopped then, for we had turned the corner of a barn and I saw there was a lamp on in the kitchen of the farmhouse. It was nearly two, yet the Kleffmanns hadn’t gone to bed. The shadow of a man crossed the drawn curtains. I hurried across the yard and tapped on the window.