Night Of The Fox

by Jack Higgins

  "Something like that."

  "And what about us?"

  Martineau glanced at his watch. It was just after seven. "You and Kelso keep to your schedule. Getting him out of here is what's important."

  "Now look here," Kelso began, but Martineau had already walked out.

  The Kubelwagen roared out of the courtyard. Kelso turned and found Baum pouring cognac into a glass. He drank it slowly. "That's really very good."

  "What goes on here?" the American demanded. "I was thinking of Martineau," Baum said. "I might have known that under all that surface cynicism he was the kind of man who'd go back for the girl. I was at Stalingrad, did you know that? I've had enough of heroes to last me for a lifetime."

  He pulled on his leather trenchcoat and gloves, twisted the white scarf around his neck, adjusted the angle of the cap and picked up his baton. "What are you going to do?" Kelso demanded. "Martineau told me that the important thing about being Field Marshal Erwin Rommel was that everyone would do what I told them to do. Now we'll see if he's right. You stay here."

  He strode through the courtyard into the road and the men leaning beside the personnel carrier sprang to attention. "One of you get Captain Heider."

  Baum took out a cigarette and fitted it in his holder. A sergeant sprang forward with a light. A second later Heider hurried out. "Herr Field Marshal?"

  "Get through to the airport. A message for Major Necker. I shall be a little later than I thought. Tell him also that I shall leave for France, not in my Storch, but in the mail plane. I expect it waiting and ready to go when I arrive, and I'd like my personal pilot to fly it."

  "Very well, Herr Field Marshal."

  "Excellent. I need them all, fully armed and ready to go in five minutes. You'll find a wounded sailor in Septembertide. Have a couple of men help him out and put him in the personnel carrier. And they can bring the corporal you loaned me with them, too. No sense in leaving him hanging around the kitchen."

  "But Herr Field Marshal, I don't understand," the captain said.

  "You will, Heider," the field marshal told him. "You will. Now send that message to the airport."

  Muller had drawn the curtains in his office and Sarah sat on a chair in front of his desk, hands folded in her lap, knees together. They'd made her take off her coat and Greiser was searching the lining while Muller went through the handbag.

  He said, "So you are from Paimpol?"

  "That's right."

  "Sophisticated clothes for a Breton girl from a fishing village."

  "Oh, but she's been around this one, haven't you?" Greiser ran his fingers up and down her neck, making her flesh crawl.

  Muller said, "Where did you and Standartenführer Vogel meet?"

  "Paris," she said.

  "But there is no visa for Paris among your papers."

  "I had one. It ran out."

  "Have you ever heard of the Cherche Midi or the women's prison at Troyes? Bad places for a young woman like you to be."

  "I don't know what you're talking about. I've done nothing," she said.

  Her stomach contracted with fear, her throat was dry.

  Oh, God, Harry, she thought, fly away. Just fly away. And then the door opened and Martineau walked into the office.

  There were tears in her eyes and she had never known such emotion as Greiser stood back and Harry put an arm around her gently.

  The emotion she felt was so overwhelming that she committed the greatest blunder of all then. "Oh, you bloody fool," she said in English. "Why didn't you go?"

  Muller smiled gently and picked up the Mauser that lay on his desk. "So, you speak English also, mademoiselle. This whole business becomes even more intriguing. I think you'd better relieve the Standartenführer of his Walther, Ernst."

  Greiser did as he was told, and Martineau said in German, "Do you know what you're doing, Muller? There's a perfectly good reason for Mademoiselle Latour to speak English. Her mother was English. The facts are on file at SD headquarters in Paris. You can check."

  "You have an answer for everything," Muller said. "What if I told you that a postmortem has indicated that Willi Kleist was murdered last night? The medical examiner indicates the time of death as being between midnight and two o'clock. I need hardly remind you that it was two o'clock when you were stopped on Route du Sud, no more than a mile from where the body was discovered. What do you have to say to that?"

  "I can only imagine you've been grossly overworking. Your career's on the line here, Muller, you realize that. When the Reichsführer hears the full facts he'll. ."

  For the first time Muller almost lost his temper. "Enough of this. I've been a policeman all my life—a good policeman and I detest violence. However, there are those with a different attitude. Greiser here, for instance. A strange thing about Greiser. He doesn't like women. He would actually find it pleasurable to discuss this whole affair in private with Mademoiselle Latour, but I doubt that she would."

  "Oh, I don't know." Greiser put an arm around Sarah and slipped a hand inside her dress, fondling a breast, "I think she might get to like it after I've taught her her manners."

  Sarah's left hand clawed down his face, drawing blood, only feeling rage now, more powerful than she had ever known. As Greiser staggered back, her hand went up her skirt, pulling the tiny automatic from her stocking. Her arm swung up and she fired at point-blank range, shooting Muller between the eyes. The Mauser dropped from his nerveless hand to the desk; he staggered back against the wall and fell to the floor. Greiser tried to get his own gun from his pocket, too late as Martineau picked up the Mauser from the desk.

  Gallagher and Guido were sitting in the Morris on the other side of the road from the Silvertide when they heard the sound of approaching vehicles. They turned to see a military column approaching. The lead vehicle was a Kubelwagen with the top down and Field Marshal Erwin Rommel standing in the passenger seat for the whole world to see. The Kubelwagen braked to a halt, he got out as the soldiers, carried by the other vehicles in the column, jumped down and ran forward in obedience to Heider's shouted orders.

  "Right, follow me!" Baum called and marched straight in through the entrance of the Silvertide. A moment after Sarah fired the shot that killed Muller, the door crashed open and Baum appeared. He advanced into the room, Heider and a dozen armed men behind him. He peered over the desk at Muller's body.

  Greiser said, "Herr Field Marshal, this woman has murdered Captain Muller."

  Baum ignored him and said to Heider, "Put this man in a cell."

  "Yes, Herr Field Marshal." Heider nodded and three of his men grabbed the protesting Greiser. Heider followed them out.

  "Back in your vehicles," Baum shouted to the others and held Sarah's coat for her. "Can we go now?"

  Gallagher and Guido saw them come out of the entrance to the hotel and get into the Kubelwagen, Martineau and Sarah in the back, Baum standing up in front. He waved his arm, the Kubelwagen led off, the whole column following.

  "Now what do we do?" Guido asked. "Jesus, is there no poetry in you at all?" Gallagher demanded. "We follow them, of course. I wouldn't miss the last act for anything."

  At Septembertide, on the bed in the small room, Konrad Hofer groaned and moved restlessly. The sedative the doctor had given Martineau was, like most of his drugs, of prewar vintage, and Hofer was no longer completely unconscious. He opened his eyes, mouth dry, and stared at the ceiling, trying to work out where he was. It was like awaking from a bad dream, something you knew had been terrible and yet already forgotten. And then he remembered, tried to sit up and rolled off the bed to the floor. He pulled himself up, head swimming, and reached for the door handle. It refused to budge and he turned and lurched across to the window. He fumbled with the catch and then gave up the struggle and slammed his elbow through the pane.

  The sound of breaking glass brought the two soldiers Captain Heider had left on sentry duty at Hinguette next door running into the courtyard. They stared up, machine pistols at the ready, a young
private and an older man, a corporal.

  "Up here!" Hofer called. "Get me out. I'm locked in."

  He sat on the bed, his head in his hands, and tried to breathe deeply, aware of the sound of their boots clattering up the stairs and along the corridor. He could hear voices, saw the handle turn.

  "There's no key, Herr Hofer," one of them called.

  "Then break it down, you fool!" he replied.

  A moment later, the door burst open, crashing against the wall, and they stood staring at him.

  "Get Captain Heider," Hofer said.

  "He's gone, Herr Major."

  "Gone?" Hofer still had difficulty thinking clearly.

  "With the field marshal, Herr Major. The whole unit went with them. We're the only two here."

  The effects of the drug made Hofer feel as if he were underwater and he shook his head vigorously. "Did they leave any vehicles?"

  "There's a Kubelwagen, Herr Major," the corporal told him.

  "Can you drive?"

  "Of course, sir. Where does the Herr Major wish to go?"

  "The airport," Hofer said. "And there's no time to lose, so help me downstairs and let's get moving."

  SIXTEEN

  AT THE AIRPORT, the Luftwaffe honor guard waited patiently as darkness fell. The same group of officers who had greeted the field marshal on his arrival now presented themselves to say goodbye. The Storch was parked on the far side of the JU52, which awaited its illustrious passenger some fifty yards from the terminal building. Necker paced up and down anxiously, wondering what on earth was going on. First of all that extraordinary message from Heider at Mont de la Rocque about the mail plane and now this. Twenty minutes past eight and still no sign.

  There was the sudden roar of engines, the rattle of a halftrack on concrete. He turned in time to witness the extraordinary sight of the armored column coming around the corner of the main airport building, the field marshal standing up in the Kubelwagen at the front, hands braced on the edge of the windshield.

  The column made straight for the Junkers. Necker saw the field marshal wave to Sorsa in the cockpit, who was looking out of the side window. The center engine of the plane coughed into life, and Rommel was turning and waving, barking orders. Soldiers leaped from the trucks, rifles ready. Necker recognized Heider and then saw a bandaged sailor being taken from the personnel carrier by two soldiers who led him to the Junkers and helped him inside.

  The whole thing had happened in seconds. As Necker started forward, the field marshal came to meet him. It was noisy now as the Junkers' wing engines also started to turn. To Necker's further astonishment he saw, beyond the field marshal, Standartenführer Vogel and the French girl dismount from the personnel carrier and go up the short ladder into the plane.

  Baum was enjoying himself. The ride up from the Silvertide had been truly exhilarating, and he smiled and put a hand on Necker's shoulder. "My deepest apologies, Necker, but I had things to do. Young Heider was good enough to assist me with his men. A promising officer."

  Neeker was truly bewildered. "But, Herr Field Marshal…" he began.

  Baum carried on. "The chief medical officer at the hospital told me of this young sailor wounded in some convoy attack the other night and badly in need of treatment at the burns unit in Rennes. He asked me if I'd take him with me. Of course, in the state he's in we'd never have got him into the Storch. That's why I need the mail plane."

  "And Standartenführer Vogel?"

  "He was going back tomorrow anyway, so I might as well give him and the young woman a lift." He clapped Necker on the shoulder again. "But we must be off now. Again, my thanks for all you've done. I shall, of course, be in touch with General von Schmettow to express my entire satisfaction with the way things are in Jersey."

  He saluted and turned to go up the ladder into the plane. Necker called, "But, Herr Field Marshal, what about Major Hofer?"

  "He should be arriving any minute," Baum told him. "He'll leave in the Storch as arranged. The mail plane pilot can fly him across."

  He scrambled inside the plane, the crewman pulled up the ladder and closed the door. The Junkers taxied away to the east end of the runway and turned. There was a deepening roar from the three engines as it moved faster and faster, a silhouette only in the gathering gloom, and then it lifted, drifting out over St. Ouen's Bay, still climbing.

  Guido had parked the Morris a couple of hundred yards along the airport road. Standing there beside it, they saw the Junkers lift into the evening sky and fly west to where the horizon was tipped with fire.

  The noise of the engines faded into the distance and Guido said softly, "My God. they actually pulled it off."

  Gallagher nodded. "So now we can go home and get our stories straight for when all the questioning starts."

  "No problem," Guido said. "Not if we stick together. I am, after all, an authentic war hero, which always helps."

  "That's what I love about you, Guido. Your engaging modesty," Gallagher told him. "Now let's move. Helen will be getting worried."

  They got into the Morris and Guido drove away quickly, a Kubelwagen passing them a moment later coming the other way, driving so fast that they failed to see Hofer sitting in the rear seat.

  At the airport, most of the officers had dispersed, but Necker was standing by his car talking to Captain Adler, the Luftwaffe duty control officer, when the Kubelwagen came around the corner of the main airport building and braked to a halt. They turned to see Hofer being helped out of the rear seat by the two soldiers.

  Necker knew trouble when he saw it. "Hofer? What is it?"

  Hofer slumped against the Kubelwagen. "Have they gone?"

  "Less than five minutes ago. The field marshal took the mail plane. He said you'd follow in the Storch. He took his own pilot."

  "No!" Hofer said. "Not the field marshal."

  Necker's stomach contracted. So many things that had worried him and yet… He took a deep breath. "What are you saying?"

  "That the man you thought was Field Marshal Rommel is his double, a damn traitor called Berger who's thrown in his lot with the enemy. You'll also be happy to know that Standartenführer Max Vogel is an agent of the British Special Operations Executive. So is the girl, by the way. The wounded sailor is an American colonel."

  But Necker, by now, was totally bewildered. "I don't understand any of this."

  "It's really quite simple," Hofer told him. "They're flying to England in the mail plane." His head was suddenly clearer and he stood up. "Naturally, they must be stopped." He turned to Adler. "Get on the radio to Cherbourg. Scramble a night fighter squadron. Now let's get moving. There's no time to lose." He turned and led the way to the operations building.

  The Junkers was a workhorse and not built for comfort. Most of the interior was crammed with mail sacks and Kelso sat on the floor propped against them, legs outstretched. Sarah was on a bench on one side of the plane, Baum and Martineau on the other.

  The crewman came out of the cockpit and joined them. "My name is Braun, Herr Field Marshal. Sergeant observer. If there is anything I can get you. We have a thermos flask of coffee and…"

  "Nothing, thank you." Baum took out his cigarette case and offered Martineau one.

  "And Oberleutnant Sorsa would take it as an honor if you would care to come up front."

  "You don't have a full crew? Just the two of you?" Martineau inquired.

  "All that's necessary on these mail runs, Standartenführer."

  "Tell Oberleutnant Sorsa I'll be happy to take him up on his offer a little later. I'll just finish my cigarette," Baum said.

  "Certainly, Herr Field Marshal."

  Braun opened the door that went back into the cockpit. Baum turned to Martineau and smiled. "Five minutes?"

  "That should be about right." Martineau moved across to sit beside Sarah. He gave her his lighted cigarette. "Are you all right?"

  "Absolutely."

  "You're sure?"

  "You mean am I going through hell because I just kill
ed a man?" Her face was very calm. "Not at all. My one regret is that it was Muller instead of Greiser. He was from under a stone. Muller was just a policeman on the wrong side."

  "From our point of view."

  "No, Harry," she said. "Most wars are a stupidity. This one isn't. We're right and the Nazis are wrong. They're wrong for Germany and they're wrong for everyone else. It's as simple as that."

  "Good for you," Kelso said. "A lady who stands up to be counted. I like that."

  "I know," Martineau said. "It's wonderful to be young." He tapped Baum on the knee. "Ready?"

  "I think so."

  Martineau took his Walther from its holster and gave it to Sarah. "Action stations. You'll need that to take care of the observer. Here we go."

  He opened the cabin door and he and Baum squeezed into the cockpit behind the pilot and the observer. Oberleutnant Sorsa turned. "Everything to your satisfaction, Field Marshal?"

  "I think you could say that," Baum told him.

  "If there is anything we can do for you?"

  "There is actually. You can haul this thing round and fly forty miles due west until we are completely clear of all Channel Islands traffic."

  "But I don't understand."

  Baum took the Mauser from his holster and touched it against the back of Sorsa's neck. "Perhaps this will help you."

  "Later on when I call you, you'll turn north," Martineau said, "and make for England."

  "England?" young Braun said in horror.

  "Yes," Martineau told him. "As they say, for you, the war is over. Frankly, the way it's shaping up, you're well out of it."

  "This is crazy," Sorsa said.

  "If it helps you to believe that the field marshal is proceeding to England as a special envoy of the Führer, why not?" Martineau said. "Now change course like a good boy."

  Sorsa did as he was told and the Junkers plowed on through the darkness. Martineau leaned over Braun. "Right, now for the radio. Show me the frequency selection procedure." Braun did as he was told. "Good. Now go and sit down in the cabin and don't do anything stupid. The lady has a gun."