by Dick Hardman
Love is the death of me
Written by Dick Hardman
Version 1
Edited 3-5-2017
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2017 Dick Hardman
All rights reserved.
Contents
Dear Reader,
Prologue. England 1943
Peenemünde Rabbit. Mid-day, June 2nd 1943
MI5 and Rabbit. 8th June 1943
Arrival in Alderney. 1st December 1943
Schwalm and Strom meet.
The encounter.
The first day. 2nd December 1943
A romantic evening.
Alderney Raven. 3rd December 1943
The challenge. 3rd December 1943
The training. 4th December 1943
Raven gets the message. 4th December 1943
Self-defence and spy craft. 5th December 1943
The Raven reports. 5th December 1943
Special delivery. 6th December 1943
Raven interruptus.
Andreas and Carina.
Raven goes underground.
An audacious plan. 7th December 1943
To catch a shadow.
A rock and a hard place.
Whitehall takes action. 8th December 1943
Gone in a flash. 9th December 1943
Otto returns. 14th December 1943
Goodbye. 16th December 1943
Regrets. 17th December 1943
S-125 causes concern.
The invention.
Breaking point.
Channel of hell!
Raven’s warning. 18th December 1943
Final journey. 18th December 1943
The net tightens. 18th December 1943
Safe house, London. 18th December 1943
The briefing. 19th December 1943
Davis gets lucky. 19th December 1943
Betrayal?
Scattered.
Code name Zebra.
Code name Ballerina.
Code name Arrow.
Code name Glass.
Change of plan. 20th December 1943
Compromised! 20th December 1943
MI5 make an arrest.
The robbery. Nearly midnight 20th December 1943
The aftermath. 21st December 1943
Message to Germany. Early morning 21st December
Sundown calls Germany. 21st December 1943
A busy day for Peter. 21st December 1943
Henryk has a date. 21st December 1943
Anna has a date. 21st December 1943
Peter’s despair. Evening 21st December 1943
Anna plays her hand. 21st December 1943
Manipulation.
An unexpected twist.
Henryk plays his hand. Late 21st December 1943
All consuming passion.
The morning after. 22nd December 1943
Peter gets a message. 22nd December 1943
Fate and Anna. 22nd December 1943
Fate and Henryk. 22nd December.
Caplin’s surprise. 22nd December 1943.
Anna’s surprise. Evening, 22nd December
Contingency plans. 22nd December 1943
Interrogation. 22nd December 1943
Anna’s reply. 23rd December 1943
Strike. 23rd December 1943
Captured! 23rd December 1943
MI5 in turmoil. Early morning. 23rd December 1943
The old couple. 23rd December 1943
Devastated.
Imposter? 23rd December 1943
The test beacon. Late afternoon 26th December 1943
London in shock. 27th December 1943
Anna reads the news. 27th December 1943
Peter tidies up. 27th December 1943
The homecoming. 28th December 1943
Peter has a shock. 28th December 1943
The wedding. 3rd January 1944
Henryk calls. 5th January 1944
Ambush. 5 o’clock that afternoon.
Message to Germany. 5th January 1944
A warning to others. 5th January 1944
The target. 10th January 1944
A cosy night in.
Tempus Fugit.
Henryk & Anna
Straddled.
Alderney. 20th January 1944
Hitler’s secret weapon found!
Dear Reader,
This is not a history of the war, or a guide book of Alderney. It is a fictional story for the purposes of entertainment. Some events and locations fit well with the story.
I intended there would be no winners or losers on either the German or British side. Both sides are very smart and equally ruthless. People are killed or injured on both sides in war and carry out the orders and tasks they are given, to the best of their ability. They would be executed if they didn’t. In this book, there are no super heroes or cowards just characters made as real as possible, for your enjoyment.
To keep the story short, fast paced with mystery and suspense all the way, great care was taken to carefully structure the book.
If you skim read, the book will be meaningless. Things are mentioned for a reason to keep you better entertained. If you jump to the ending, it will not resolve the questions that are raised and answered through the story. There is not a single ending on the last page, but several throughout the book.
I have done my best to provide a gripping story.
Many readers will like it and I would appreciate your reviews and support by telling others about it. My success depends on you spreading the word and encourages me with my next thriller.
Thank you so much of choosing this book.
Prologue. England 1943
He heard the echo of footsteps approaching along the narrow passage. The depressing light green brick walls and worn, dark red concrete floor reflected the sound. The hollow rattle and clink of keys at the steel door, as the two men opened it, sent a tremor of fear through the man who sat waiting with his back to the door, on the other side.
The large tot of whisky served to him in a white enamelled mug, fifteen minutes earlier, the only thing that had passed his dry lips for the last two days, was gone, leaving him light headed. Although he had no appetite, he had savoured every drop.
The heavy door swung open, the worn hinges screeched like fingernails on a chalkboard. He was thankful that never again would he hear that chilling sound. The poorly ventilated room stank of recent defecation, and the cold sweat of fear.
Two burley men grabbed the man’s arms firmly and lifted him to a standing position, as a third secured his wrists with a worn leather strap. They briskly propelled him out of the room and down the passage. It was all happening too quickly, he thought, as yet another door ahead of him swung open. He had no time to take in his surroundings. Through the door they went, into a harshly lit, large whitewashed room. The restrained man paused a moment and looked around. The floor was cut timber, like a stage, but flush with the main concrete floor. Beyond that, a small audience sat on hard wooden chairs, facing him. None of them looked as if they would enjoy the coming performance.
The floorboar
ds sounded hollow underfoot, as the three men walked towards the middle, where Albert Pierrepoint stood waiting. With practiced speed and dexterity, Pierrepoint came from behind and placed a thick black hood, reeking of vomit, over the prisoner’s head. Now a hangman’s noose slipped over the hood and a brass ring, through which the loop of rope passed, was positioned expertly under the hinge of the prisoner’s jaw.
The clink of a metal buckle sounded loud to the prisoner’s heightened senses, as his ankles were strapped together. The two burley men still supported the condemned man, at arms’ length, as he swayed unsteadily. Death was close now, he thought, as the realisation actually hit him, and a massive surge of adrenalin pumped through his body. His legs were trembling and about to fold, his almost empty bowels and bladder surged violently, and bile rose in his throat. He was freely standing now and suddenly weightless. A microsecond of unbelievable pain hit him, as the carefully placed brass ring at his jaw yanked around under his chin, at the bottom of the drop. It forced his head back and snapped his neck.
Although his body was quite dead, his brain continued to function for a few seconds. After the initial explosion of firing synapses, he was in a state of total peace, as a permanent blackness engulfed him. Apart from a brief twitch of the legs, the show was over.
Another German spy ceased to exist, in Pentonville Prison.
Peenemünde Rabbit. Mid-day, June 2nd 1943
Karl Strom ambled away from the Peenemünde Army Research Centre, lost in deep thought. As he headed towards his regular lunchtime spot, a tranquil lake at Cammerer See, his stomach rumbled impatiently. He quickened his pace, eager to devour the sandwiches and lager he carried in the canvas bag slung over his shoulder. He did his best problem solving down at the lake shore; just as well, the brilliant team of scientists and technicians working under his direction had just thrown him another challenge.
Karl and his team worked long and stressful hours in a large windowless room that served both as a laboratory and a small scale workshop. The air was heavily polluted by the fumes from portable furnaces used for melting glass and metal, mingled with the pervasive smell of machine oil of the instrument lathes and drills.
Outside, it was another fine summer day. Karl knew that with the warm sun on his back and the gentle cool breeze blowing off the lake, he would be re-energised. The scent of wild flowers and the sound of birds chirping in the distance would calm him.
Weeks ago, Adolph Hitler had tasked him personally with a secret project. In Karl’s opinion, it amounted to doing the impossible with next to nothing, reflecting the state of the country at this point in the war.
Karl was chosen for his broad electronic and mechanical engineering background; a vital amalgam of skills that brought practical form and function to his creations. The man was obsessive, thriving on challenge and problem solving, and worked relentlessly until he had achieved his objective. Such a person was needed to drive a group of scientists and technicians to complete the task in the limited time available. Ultimately, their creation had to be deployed and used in the field. His remarkable ability as a spy was on record, he understood the difficulties faced by soldiers and spies, and this would ultimately shape the end result.
To everyone's amazement, Karl conceived the perfect solution. In the laboratory the secret prototype now sparked and hummed into life.
Its astounding simplicity caused many to question why no one had thought of it before. Perhaps they had, but technology at the time meant it was in the realms of day dreams, or magic even. Like so many ground breaking inventions, if you know the answer the solution is simple. The few Germans who were aware of this device, not even a weapon in its own right, believed Germany would now win the war, in months.
Karl passed through the small village, on his way to his usual spot by the lake. Everyone was at lunch, apart from a young woman and Ernst Huber, the 22 year old Gestapo agent shadowing them both. Ernst knew the woman worked as a cleaner at the research centre. She had become part of the routine over the last week and he had reported her as seeming suspicious. Although instinctively aware of the woman behind him, Karl was no longer an active spy and did not need to worry about such things these days; that was Ernst’s job.
The lad had taken a keen interest in spy craft and had often consulted Karl on the subject. It was because of such tips that Ernst seldom had the same appearance on two consecutive days. As Karl pointed out, most spies can spot the typical Gestapo agent from afar. If the agent is tailing someone, the spy need only follow the agent; they would all end up at the same destination, but the spy would remain undetected.
***
Over the last fortnight, the attractive 30 year old woman following Karl had practiced and visualised what she was about to do. On the face of it, the task was simple and she was convinced, by what she had been told, that there was no appreciable risk to her. After all, she had responsibilities at home, a young daughter and a husband to take care of.
Up until two weeks ago, she had delivered only sketches and hand drawn maps to a dead drop. Then, unexpectedly, she had been approached by a German speaking man as she walked alone to her garden gate. At that point everything changed for her.
The secretive man arranged to meet her in the nearby woods on her day off, and it was then he told her what she had to do for him. It was not a request, of that there was no doubt. He could force her to do whatever he wished; she had been spying for the British and now there was no way out.
The man explained about the crucial timings and why they were of such importance. He also showed her the place where it had to happen and why. She had no desire to see the result of the plan, only to make her escape and vanish. That was all she cared about. To perfect the plan required considerable practice on her part, and exercises to strengthen her arm muscles.
***
Strom’s walking pace varied, depending on what occupied his mind. Today he was thoughtful and he walked slowly, which would challenge the accuracy of what she now had to do.
There would be no witnesses. The young man keeping pace with her on the opposite side of the road would probably die along with Strom; a pity, but she would not be there to see it.
As she approached the optimum position along the street, a wave of panic swept over her. This was real, there was no turning back. Her life, and the outcome of the war, were about to change.
Ernst noticed the woman take something from her shopping bag and lob it underhand, high into the air. She instantly darted up an alley between buildings, and vanished.
The heavy, fist sized metal object thudded onto the pavement, right next to Karl.
The British hand grenade rolled past and smacked into the side of a projecting stone step, just ahead of him.
With no form of cover from the blast, Karl was certain the next few seconds would be the rest of his life.
He yelled out in panic, as he dived into the deep roadside gutter, seeking the illusion of protection in the hollow. Instinctively he turned his face from the grenade, protected his head with his arms and opened his mouth. A couple of nerve wracking seconds of his life passed like a slice of eternity, and the grenade blasted.
The shockwave flipped Strom’s concussed and shrapnel torn body like a rag doll, out into the road. The stone step had directed much of the shrapnel away from him, towards Ernst. The blast left Ernst Huber totally stunned. He was oblivious to the spray of searing fragments peppering his face and body.
Fearing the worst, he ran to help Karl.
From shoulder to buttock on the blast side was blood-drenched, shredded and smoking clothing. Ernst could only stand and stare at the appalling mess, as residents appeared from their homes to see what had happened.
Somebody ran for the doctor, who arrived minutes later and quickly checked for Karl’s pulse. It was strong but irregular; fortunately the victim was still breathing. Examining the wounds overwhelmed the poor village doctor, there were so many. He realised blood loss was the first problem to overcome, so he cal
led for clean towels. To some extent, the searing hot fragments had cauterised many blood vessels and the clothes were acting as a crude bandage. The towels would only serve as a mask, to hide the gore.
A military ambulance soon arrived, with soldiers and Gestapo agents questioning everyone. Karl and Ernst were rushed away in the ambulance, back to the medical centre.
Ernst knew he was in big trouble and would become the centre of the investigation into what had happened. It was his responsibility to protect Strom. “Why hadn’t he?” they would ask.
Ernst decided to seek advice from his father, Franz Huber, an SS General. Their relationship had been strained and distant up till then, but he listened carefully to his son.
“Father, I am in serious trouble and I hope you can offer some advice.”
“Have you made some stupid girl pregnant?”
“No father, I would not trouble you with that sort of thing. This is serious enough to have some impact on you.”
“How so? We are thousands of miles apart, we have no normal familial contact and your life is your own.”
“You know how high command love to gossip and the rumour soon becomes larger than the truth. Fate has dealt me a bad hand and it will be twisted to involve you, by association, if nothing else.”
“Tell me everything Ernst. I will see what I can do to help you.”
“Thank you sir. There was an assassination attempt, less than an hour ago, on the person I have been ordered to protect. I am actually phoning from the medical centre, waiting to be treated.”
“So you were there and have been wounded. Are you going to be alright?”
“It was a grenade attack, I was sprayed with shrapnel, but I am fine, no lasting damage. Thank you for asking. No need to worry mother, in case you decide to mention it.”
“I am pleased you are intact, a few scars will not be a hindrance with your career, or women. I have always thought you were a bit too pretty for a man. You got that from your mother.
Please get to the point.”
Ernst described what happened, sticking to the facts, with no embellishments, but never mentioned who the victim was, or what part he played here at Peenemünde.