Love is the death of me

by Dick Hardman

  “I will give you a requisition and you can draw it from the armourer.

  “When do you think you will be back, Herman has probably made up your old room and will provide necessities, I believe you travelled very light.”

  “I have a plan to expose the Raven, I cannot say more, because even I don’t know the details yet. I will be back at daylight tomorrow, as far as I can tell. Obviously this is strictly between you and me.”

  “Yes, I understand. I will simply say I don’t know where you are, but probably in the town chasing women.” There was a twinkle in his eye, although the reason was not clear.

  Pieter walked up to the armourer, who filled the requisition. He also asked if he could use some of the tools he needed, to test the gun and make adjustments. The armourer left him to do what he wanted; he had his own work to take care of.

  Pieter’s plan placed him at considerable risk. He removed a third of the propellant from each cartridge in one clip, replacing it with wadding. He intended to shoot the Raven, but hoped not to kill him. If Raven was armed, Pieter would be at a disadvantage until he swapped clips.

  Armed with the Luger, the torch and a large dark grey blanket, he went out to look around the island. He headed towards the cliffs where he last saw Raven. It was also where he made love to Anna, which made him feel sad and ashamed. He stowed the blanket in the hollow where Raven had passed by during their lovemaking, and would sneak back for it at dusk.

  The rabbit trails criss-crossed the area in relatively short tunnel-like narrow paths burrowed through the long grass. The cliff path was worn, and it kept well in from the cliff edge and the steep slopes to the sea below. However, there was one other trail of flattened grass, formed by a regular user. Sometimes the trail varied a little, like the user had wandered off course slightly and then got back on it again. It was also possible it was made by a courting couple walking side by side.

  Pieter looked along the path and observed that it headed for a distinctive tall lump of rock. A thrill ran through him, if he needed to reach a particular point along the cliff at night, the rock would show against the lighter grey of the sea. This begged the question, who would come here regularly at night?

  The Raven would!

  By following the poor trail, he crossed the worn path and now searched along it for a similar track. He spotted several faint ones that ultimately converged and he homed in on that point.

  He reasoned, if he were Raven, he would approach the target of his walk from different angles, so any trail would be hard to spot.

  The grass and vegetation were well compacted in one small area, like someone had lain down there.

  Apart from an old partially buried rusty pipe pointing out to sea, and a large flat stone, there was nothing here. It was inconceivable that anyone would lay here and sunbathe at this time of year; although a sunny day, it was bitterly cold.

  He idly lifted the flat stone, and swore in astonishment. There was a deep hole under it with something inside, wrapped in oilcloth to keep it dry. He eased it out carefully in case it was booby trapped. It was a powerful hand torch with a large lamp or reflector. It was a signalling device to someone across the sea, perhaps a boat, or even France itself.

  “Got you!” Peter muttered to himself. “Raven you are about to get caged.”

  Everything was carefully put back and nothing looked disturbed. He had to find a hiding spot for the night, close enough to pounce when Raven showed up. Apart from the little hollow, there was no other cover, so it would have to suffice.

  Pieter was confident Raven would report tonight, because he had arrived today. MI5 or MI6 would want to be informed, immediately. Resources there were scarce enough, without wasting manpower looking for someone who had left the country.

  ***

  It was 9.00pm, the wind was building and gusted icily over the headland. The long grass rustled loudly, drowning out the sound of the sea as it smashed into the cliff face, hundreds of feet below.

  Pieter was well prepared, he lay on his back under the blanket, facing the cliff. There were two large holes in the blanket pulled over his head, to look through. He didn’t want his white face to contrast with the dark grass. Shivering in the numbing cold and becoming drowsy, he pinched himself frequently to stay alert.

  His Luger was cocked and the safety was off, he could raise and aim in an instant. A body shot was all he needed, nothing vital like head or upper spine. The reduced power of the ammunition should prevent deep and damaging penetration. Raven had to be taken alive.

  It occurred to Pieter that it would be best to shoot after Raven had sent his message. He would stow the torch and then stand. A shot in the back might be cowardly, but being a spy was not an honourable profession. If Raven didn’t go down with the first hit, Pieter could get another off before he could turn and could shoot back.

  Pieter felt the vibration of footfalls as Raven ran in a low stoop to the cliff. He saw the cloaked figure float by, looking more like a moving rock than a man. A faint smell hung in the air, borne by the wind. He knew that smell.

  The shape had vanished as it lay out flat under its cloak, and proceeded to remove the torch. Pieter crawled slowly towards his foe.

  He was now close enough to hear the faint mechanical sound of the light switch, as it sent the coded message. Close though he was, the person was invisible in the darkness.

  With the transmission over, the torch was pulled out of the pipe and re-wrapped. The figure partly turned, hunched over the hole in the ground, to replace the torch and flat stone.

  Peter fired at the spot where he thought the buttocks would be, and the shape whirled round, lunging at Pieter with the flat stone as a weapon.

  The bullet must have passed through the folds of the cloak, because Raven was uninjured.

  The flat stone hurtled towards Pieter’s head. He instinctively fired again and rolled to one side. The bullet ricocheted off the stone, and Raven was on him.

  Even a man in the dark would have the faint manifestation of limbs to grab. However, this amorphous shape offered no such possibility.

  As it reared up over him, Pieter fired twice. The shape let out a high pitched scream and collapsed on him. He couldn’t fire again, the gun was pinned between them.

  The person was still alive, the body moved, so he pushed up with all his strength to throw it off him.

  Pieter felt the sting and searing agony, he heard his own scream as a long knife blade slipped into his side, lacerating his liver.

  Raven quickly rolled away and vanished into the darkness.

  Pieter clutched at his wound and attempted to stem the flood of hot, sticky blood. He was panting and initially felt hot and shaky, but now as a greater darkness closed in on him, a chill emanated from his core, like nothing he had ever known before.

  Running feet were approaching him, but at the same time, drifting further away. A nonsense of course. Pieter felt for his Luger and gripped it. Willing himself to point the immense weight of it away from him, he pulled the trigger and managed two shots into the ground. Confusing torch light flashed in his face, and voices shouted things he knew, but couldn’t comprehend.

  He would be safe now, the guards had come and help would be on the way.

  He relaxed and let them get on with it.

  His fuzzy mind recalled the smell on the wind and where he had smelled it before. It had been present when he was talking to the Oberst, the aroma of cooking food.

  The high pitched scream that emanated from Raven when he fired, was a surprise. Could it have been a woman’s scream?

  The significance of the fleeting figure, the runt-like assistant cook, behind Helga as she had approached the Oberst, seemed to be so important now, but he hadn’t the strength to think about it.

  Helga? He still didn’t know where he stood with her. Would she like the rings he brought for her?

  Someone was pulling and pushing his body. He was being lifted, he was floating. What was happening to him?

  A
voice penetrated his consciousness… Helga, she was laughing and talking… at dinner. He could see her face now…. smiling at him… and he could feel the softness of her warm kiss caress his lips….

  ***

  It was 2.00am when the doctor who had attended to Pieter, arrived at Fort Clonque. He was greeted by the Oberst, who bore an expression of hope and with the fervent expectation of good news, displayed upon his face. It quickly dissolved into open mouthed disbelief, as he listened to Doctor Brandt’s grim conclusion.

  “I regret to report Herr Oberst, that Pieter Klein is dead.”

  “This is terrible news Herr Doctor Brandt. He was stabbed, I know, but tell me please, what was the actual cause of his death?”

  “His liver was sliced through and he died of exsanguination. There was no way of saving him, even if he had been close to a surgical team. He would have died peacefully and with no pain. His blood drained away, he would have just drifted into unconsciousness.”

  “There is some comfort in that, I suppose. As soon as I have your written report, I must inform Berlin. So much depended on this man, Herr Hitler will be disappointed to have lost him at such a crucial stage.”

  With a smart salute and click of his heels, Brandt turned and left. There was nothing more he could say and an appendectomy was urgently demanding his surgical skill.

  Herman said nothing as he watched the Oberst walk slowly out of the foyer and head for the stairs. His superior was in a daze, he had greatly admired Kline for his ability and courage. Germany would pay heavily for his loss.

  In the tranquillity of his bedroom the Oberst quietly undressed and gently eased into bed. Helga stirred and raised her sleepy head.

  “What has happened Dedrick? You are very quiet, it must be the early hours of the morning. Is it serious?”

  “Both serious and dreadfully sad, my little one. Pieter Klein has just died; we believe the Alderney spy, Raven, fatally stabbed him through the liver. He bled to death, out on the cliffs on the side facing towards France. The troops are again combing the island for Raven.

  “Pieter fired several shots and there are traces of blood leading away from the scene, so Raven may be badly wounded. I think that will be his undoing in the end.”

  Dedrick realised he had just been talking to himself. Helga’s head was buried deep under the thick bedcovers and she was trying to sob quietly. He could feel the mattress shuddering beneath him, as she wept uncontrollably. He said no more, lying very still alongside her, wondering if this was the moment of truth. Did Helga still harbour feelings of love for Kline? Had she returned to being his mistress until Kline came back for her, hedging her bets, in case he had died in England. Perhaps she was just upset at losing someone she knew. He hoped that was the truth, but deep inside, he was certain he had lost her for ever.

  ***

  When morning eventually arrived, Herman pulled back the curtains, letting the dim winter light fill the room. It was a dull day, which only added to his gloomy mood. Helga had drifted off to sleep and he decided to leave her there, to face the day as best she could.

  At breakfast, he noticed she had done a remarkable job with her cosmetics, but it was fooling no one.

  “Herr Oberst, I wish to be transferred back to Berlin. I have been away from my family for so long and I feel I need to be with them again. I beg of you, please grant permission.”

  It was a bolt out of the blue, he had not expected it, but there was no way of fighting this battle.

  He nodded; his chair screeched across the stone floor as he stood up smartly. She saw the tears well up in his eyes as he turned and strode out of the room.

  ***

  Hitler read through the detailed report from Oberst Schwalm. It outlined the circumstances surrounding Klein’s tragic death and the disappearance of Raven. He flew off into another savage rant.

  He held a meeting to discuss Klein’s replacement. Eventually it was agreed that, although they might well find someone to lead another trained team to England, by the time others already living there were trained, it would delay the planned V-1 attack, and that most definitely must not be postponed.

  As a result of Klein’s tests, the British had been alerted to the guidance system and by now, every target would be heavily guarded to prevent a beacon being placed. They had lost this precious advantage, so now London would be levelled by indiscriminate bombing. The loss of civilian life, buildings and infrastructure was the price the British Government would now have to pay. This was Hitler’s revenge, in its cruellest form.

  ***

  Later that morning, Helga slipped away to the mortuary and Doctor Brandt pulled back the sheet covering Pieter, to allow her to see the body. Someone had done the decent thing, washed his face and tidied his hair. She was surprised at the pale yellow pallor of his skin, and the shock went some way to holding back the flood of emotion that brimmed within her.

  She had never seen a corpse before, and expected it to look more like a person sleeping. It looked just like Pieter, but did not seem real. His shrunken skin made him look 15 years older and accentuated his facial hair as if he had not shaved for a day or two. His nostrils looked unpleasantly large, because of her viewing angle. When they had lain together, their heads were almost side by side, and the feature was not as pronounced or disturbing.

  Brandt walked away and she was alone now. Calm settled upon her and she spoke to Pieter in a whisper.

  “I regret not giving you a smile when I saw you earlier in the Oberst’s office, but I was not sure if you still loved me, now that you were back safe. I did not want to jeopardise my relationship with Dedrick, if you had changed your mind. I had hoped to speak to you alone to tell you how much I loved you, and how each hour away from you was the worst pain I will ever feel.

  “I did not expect you to return when you did. I was in a turmoil. I just didn’t know what I should do. I saw the hurt on your face when I appeared to ignore you, but it told me that you still cared and that you still loved me. Seeing you here like this is the cruellest pain of all, knowing I will never be in your arms ever again, or be able to tell you how much I love you.

  “I believe your spirit can hear me Pieter, and now you know the truth. You know that I am leaving Dedrick to return to Berlin. I will never forget you and no one will ever take your place, in my heart. I may meet someone, perhaps marry, but you are my first and only true love.”

  Helga leaned over and kissed Pieter’s slightly warm, but clammy lips, for the last time.

  ***

  When Helga returned to her office, Herman came in. He was carrying an envelope, which he handed to her and left, without uttering a word. She could see her name written on it, but what was inside?

  There was a letter. She pulled it out and read it with trepidation.

  20th December 1943

  My darling Helga,

  I have every reason to believe I will never see you again, because we have all been betrayed and have just slipped away with only seconds to spare. I have put this letter in a safe place in case I am captured and in due course, I believe someone will find it and get it to you.

  I want you to know that I love you with every fibre of my being and if I do manage the impossible and get back to you, I want you to come away with me to a safe country where we can marry, live a happy life and raise a family. I fervently hope you feel the same way about me and that you will want to spend the rest of your life with me.

  Things are grim here and my belief that you will want me if I get back to Alderney is the only thing that drives me onwards.

  With all my boundless love,

  Pieter.

  P.S. 21st December. I enclose the token of my love and devotion. Win or lose, know that I have made this irrevocable commitment, come what may.

  I think of you endlessly. You fill my dreams and every waking moment. Having you with me in thought, gives me the strength to fight on and complete all the commitments I took on, before I met you. It would be tempting to just give up an
d rush back to you, but I know you would think less of me, for that.

  Forever yours,

  Pieter.

  Helga felt for the small, hard lump in the bottom of the envelope. Whatever it was, Pieter had wrapped it in paper to stop it breaking through the brown paper around the letter, and being lost.

  She ripped away the wrapping to reveal the token, her heart beating fiercely with emotion. Pieter had lovingly enclosed this item with only the thought that one day, she would see it and know how he felt about her.

  The outer wrapping was torn free, leaving two items enfolded in tissue. Her heart would burst at any moment. The square parcels contained something that was not square. She instinctively knew what they were, but at the same time denied that possibility.

  She saw them and let out a loud and unfettered scream, that tailed off to a wail of abject misery. Sinking slowly to the floor she cried like never before. The whole fort heard it!

  Before her very eyes there was an exquisite engagement ring. The three small diamonds threw off a brilliance that any girl would treasure in such a token of love. The polished gold band was pristine, free of the finger prints or scratches that always occur the moment someone touches it.

  The wedding ring was a matching gold band, also pristine. Apart from the jeweller, no one else had ever touched them, they were made just for her, and no one else.

  Still on the floor sobbing, she tried them on. They were a perfect fit.

  Herman stood in the doorway, having guessed what the commotion was about, and helped her up into her chair. He pulled out the clean white handkerchief he knew she kept up her sleeve and gave it to her to dry her eyes.

  All sobbed out, she thanked him and pulled herself together. He smiled warmly to show he understood and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  ***

  The cook and his runt assistant were in the foyer, wondering what the commotion was all about. They ducked back at the sight of Herman.

  Herman grabbed the runt, who gasped with pain.

  ”You are bleeding through your shirt” Herman snapped. “Why is that?”