He suddenly pulled her into a side alley, where it was even darker, although the moonlight cast enough light for him to guide her through the narrow, winding passageway. At the end of the alley he crouched down and she did the same, watching as he peered cautiously into the street beyond. Suddenly he pulled back into the shadow, and turning round he silently touched a finger to her lips to indicate she should stay quiet.
She nodded, and a moment later heard hooves clopping slowly on the cobblestones. Leaning her face slightly out of the shadow, she peered past his shoulder into the street beyond where two horses and their riders were silhouetted against the night sky. Steam rose from the horses’ nostrils and moonlight glimmered on the burnished spikes of the cavalrymen’s helmets as the two riders, carbines held above the heads of their animals, twisted in their saddles and scanned the street ahead. The ears of the horses swivelled, but the animals were mostly silent apart from a gentle snort or the clop of a hoof being repositioned on the cobbles.
Elspeth slowly – so very slowly – pulled her face back into the shadow but kept the cavalrymen men in view, holding her breath as she watched them scrutinise the street ahead. Then she saw the spurs on the boot of the nearest rider dig into the flank of his animal, and both men and horses continued their slow walk forward, eventually breaking into a trot, and then cantering down the street. She heard Gabriel exhale – he must have been holding his breath as well, she thought – before he turned to her.
‘It’s alright, they’ve gone,’ he whispered. He took hold of her hand and gently gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze: she squeezed back to let him know she was fine. Then he led her out into the street again.
After several tense minutes of hiding and running, they arrived at an intersection with the avenue she knew led directly to the station. The smell of burning timber filled her nostrils as Elspeth crouched behind an overturned cart on the street corner, Gabriel beside her as they peered between the spokes on one of the wheels. Halfway along the left side of the avenue she saw a house ablaze: coils of smoke were spiralling up in the gentle night breeze, orange flames licking out from under the exposed roof timbers, the buildings on the opposite side of the avenue brightly lit by the fire.
Elspeth could hear a faintly distant hiss of steam and looking towards the far end of the avenue saw the outline of the station building, less than a hundred yards away. Silhouetted against the night sky above the building was a faintly drifting plume of smoke, which she knew must be from the train waiting at the platform.
But for how much longer? She knew there was very little time left and was filled with the desperate urge to get there as quickly as possible, to join Dr Inglis and the others and not be left behind. But the stretch of avenue leading up to the station was brightly illuminated, and anybody hiding in the pockets of shadow on the left side of the street would spot them immediately.
And then the blast of a steam whistle pierced the air and Elspeth knew that the train’s departure was imminent.
Gabriel turned to her, his cheekbones darkly under shadowed by the flickering light from the flames. ‘I’m worried at how exposed we’ll be,’ he whispered, ‘but we’ve no choice if you’re to make the train. You go first; I’ll be close behind. Stay tight to the houses on the right and move as fast as you can.’
She needed no further bidding and slid out from behind the upturned cart. And then, holding the hem of her skirt, she began to run up the pavement on the right side of the avenue, sensing Gabriel close behind her as they hurried towards the station.
They were half way along the avenue and level with the burning house when from across the street Elspeth heard a cry – ‘Halt!’ – followed an instant later by the flash and roar of a gun. She felt the wind of the bullet pass a few inches in front of her nose and slam into the wall of a house to her right, the shock of it causing her to skid to a halt and drop to the pavement. The strength seemed to leave her legs as she squatted in a doorway, her eyes closed, praying that whoever had shot at her would not shoot again…
***
Gabriel’s heart hammered in his chest. He had almost fallen over Elspeth when the shot had been fired and she had ducked into the doorway. As he stood and regained his balance, he looked across the street and saw four men emerge from shadow beside the burning house. All wore German army steel helmets and three had rifles pointed at him, while the fourth – an officer, Gabriel presumed – held a handgun.
Slowly, Gabriel straightened up. ‘Nicht Schiessen, Nicht Schiessen, Nemoj Pucanje,’ he shouted, pointing at the Red Cross armband on the sleeve of his greatcoat. ‘Doktor, Arzt, Hirurga.’
Another flash, another crack of gunfire: and this time the bullet passed slightly above Gabriel and into the wall behind his head, showering him with plaster dust as he ducked down again. He heard laughter and looked up to see the man who had fired the rifle, a smirking young private, pull the bolt back on his rifle and eject the spent cartridge, the brass glinting in the firelight and tinkling as it fell onto the cobbles below.
‘That’s enough, Schneider!’ The officer barked angrily in German. ‘You’ll bring every damned Chetnik down on our heads!’
A ribbon of smoke wafted from the rifle’s nozzle as the private scowled at the officer, snapping the bolt forward to chamber another round before returning his attention to Gabriel.
The four soldiers formed a semi-circle around Gabriel as he crouched in the doorway beside Elspeth. From the insignia on their uniforms Gabriel could see they were German infantry: two privates and a sergeant carrying rifles, the officer – a lieutenant – holding a luger. There was a cold-eyed indifference about all four as they stared at him, but it was the look in the eyes of the private who had fired the rifle that was most frightening: his manner towards the officer had been insolent, almost defiant, and he was looking at Gabriel with undisguised hostility. The lieutenant waved his pistol at Gabriel.
‘Get up.’
Gabriel slowly began to stand up, but Elspeth seemed shocked and was slow to move.
‘I said get up!’
Gabriel gently held Elspeth’s upper arm and helped her to her feet, brushing plaster dust from the shoulders of her cape as they stood.
‘Well, well: a Fraulein,’ the lieutenant said as Elspeth stood straight and looked him in the eye. He holstered the luger, then folded his arms across his chest and smiled at the sergeant standing beside him. Then he turned back to Gabriel.
‘Who are you? Do you have identity papers or—’
‘They’re spies, Lieutenant,’ the glowering private interrupted, ‘sneaking around out here in the dark.’
‘Yes, alright, Schneider,’ the lieutenant said. ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion.’ He looked back at Gabriel. ‘I repeat: who are you?’
Gabriel looked him directly in the eyes. ‘Lieutenant, I’m very relieved to see you. My name is Captain Bayer and I’m a military surgeon in the 6th Austrian Army. I was captured last December and have been a prisoner here since then.’
The lieutenant made no reply, his arms still folded.
‘This,’ Gabriel nodded to Elspeth, ‘is Dr Stewart, a Scottish surgeon who has been working under the auspices of the International Red Cross, caring for casualties from both sides. As a non-combatant she is entitled to your protection—’
‘If you’re an Austrian prisoner, why are you out on the streets?’ The lieutenant’s eyes were cold and hard, unwaveringly fixed on Gabriel’s face. ‘Why aren’t you in a prison camp?’
‘I was escorting her to—’
‘This is a waste of time, Lieutenant.’ Gabriel heard the impatience in the scowling private’s voice. ‘If he’s Austrian like he says he is, why he is creeping around with her, out here, in the dark? She’s working for the British army—’
‘No,’ said Gabriel with an assertive shake of his head. ‘No. She’s a Scottish doctor working for the Red Cross, not the British army—’
‘You shut your mouth, spy,’ Schneider said, stepping forward to poi
nt the rifle directly at Gabriel, the tip of the barrel only inches from his forehead. The lieutenant unfolded his arms and looked pointedly at the sergeant, who quickly stepped forward to push the barrel of Schneider’s rifle towards the ground. ‘Get back in line,’ the sergeant said, ‘or I’ll have you on a charge when we get back.’
Schneider glowered at the sergeant but took a step back. Gabriel had not flinched in the face of his hostility but knew the situation was on a knife-edge. He could see the tension in Schneider’s hands, his forefinger still in the trigger-guard, his eyes desperate for any excuse to shoot. The lieutenant nodded at the sergeant, then turned back to Gabriel and folded his arms again.
‘So you’re an Austrian…you say. Have you proof of your identity?’
Gabriel slowly lifted a hand and pulled the upper part of his greatcoat aside to reveal his faded blue uniform, then twisted the collar forward to show the three silver stars.
‘That doesn’t prove anything,’ the lieutenant said. ‘You could have taken those off a dead Austrian. Do you have your identity card or pay-book?’
‘I lost my identity documents when I was captured.’
‘How inconvenient.’
Gabriel ignored the sarcasm. ‘I’m a surgeon. I was transferred from my prison camp to work in the military hospital. If we go there now—’
‘So you have no proof of your identity—’
‘—if we go there now,’ Gabriel persisted, ‘the hospital staff will confirm my identity.’
In the silence that followed, broken only by the snap of burning timbers from the house opposite, the lieutenant lifted a hand to massage his chin between thumb and fingers. As he pondered their fate, Gabriel saw the sergeant lean towards him.
‘I think he’s lying, Lieutenant—’
‘I’m not lying,’ Gabriel said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. ‘I’m an Austrian military surgeon.’
‘He speaks German with a strange accent,’ the sergeant continued, ignoring Gabriel’s plea. ‘He has no papers and we caught him red-handed helping a member of the enemy escape.’ His eyes flicked towards Elspeth. ‘Or he could be trying to desert. Either way, it’s a capital offence.’ Then he turned towards Elspeth again and this time his eyes did not leave her face. Gabriel saw the look and knew what he intended. Their only hope was for the lieutenant to remain in control of his men.
‘Lieutenant, my accent is Austrian. Please. We’re on the same side. We’re Allies, for heaven’s sake. If we go to the hospital—’
Another blast of a steam whistle pierced the night, followed a moment later by a loud hiss, and a moment after that by the rhythmic sound of a train beginning to move.
Gabriel glanced across at Elspeth, who was looking towards the station with dismay. He knew she had picked up enough German to follow most of the conversation, and he could tell from the ashen look on her face that she fully understood what the sergeant – possibly all of them – had planned for her.
The lieutenant cleared his throat. ‘Under the regulations of the emergency powers invested in me,’ he said to Gabriel, ‘I find you either guilty of desertion, or of helping a member of the enemy to escape. For both these offences the punishment is death.’
Gabriel blinked in disbelief as the lieutenant turned to the still scowling private. ‘Use the bayonet, Schneider. No more shooting. You’ve made enough noise as it is.’
A smile appeared on Schneider’s face and looking at the malevolence in the private’s eyes Gabriel felt a wave of fear run through his body. But his fear vanished in an instant when the lieutenant moved towards Elspeth; instinctively Gabriel stepped in front of her and stood between them. But there was a movement to his side, and as he turned towards it he saw a rifle butt approach his face: with a flash of light and an excruciating pain in the left side of his head, Gabriel found himself lying on his back on the hard cobbles, Schneider standing over him.
Trying to refocus his vision, he turned his head to see the sergeant kick at the door to the house behind him, which swung inward with a crack of splintering wood. And then – each man gripping her by an elbow –the lieutenant and the sergeant took hold of Elspeth and threw her through the shattered doorframe. In the light of the flames from the burning house, Gabriel saw the interior of the hallway with Elspeth sprawled on the floor, the lieutenant and the sergeant standing over her.
Gabriel tried to lever himself up off the cobbles, but the strength in his arms had gone and his vision was fading just as he heard the distinctive metallic click of a bayonet being fixed to a rifle. He looked up, and the last thing he saw before his vision faded completely was Schneider grinning as he pressed the tip of the bayonet into the notch at the base of Gabriel’s throat…
***
Elspeth – dazed, panicked – lay on her back on the floorboards, looking up at the lieutenant, who towered over her, straddling her body with his feet. She managed to roll over onto her front and tried to crawl away, but he sat down on her waist and grabbed hold of her arms, and then turned her onto her back. She tried to wriggle free, but he leant forward and, gripping her wrists, pinioned her arms to the floor above her head. His face was close to hers; his breath rank. She turned her face away from his, but then felt another weight on her legs as the sergeant sat on her knees. Again she tried to twist and arch her body, but try as she might she could not move, was powerless under their combined mass and strength. When she felt the sergeant lift her skirt she closed her eyes and turned her head away, realising there was nothing more she could do. This surely could not be happening…
***
A sudden burst of light and noise exploded into the confined darkness of the tiny hallway as a rifle was fired from the doorway…
***
Up until this point Elspeth had managed to resist crying out. But at the deafening sound of the gunshot, and the shock of the lieutenant falling on top of her, she screamed at the top of her lungs, then arched her back to try to push him away again…and now she was able to free her herself and push him aside, sliding out from underneath him, gasping for breath as she sat up against the wall of the hallway.
She saw that both men were lying beside her, the lieutenant obviously dead – pieces of skull and brain fragments hung from a gaping hole in the back of his head – while the sergeant writhed on the floor behind him, clutching at the front of his neck, trying to hold back a torrent of blood, which spurted between his fingers.
Too shocked to do anything but stare, Elspeth watched him jerk and spasm, his movements weakening until eventually his hands fell away from his throat. He twitched once and then stopped moving completely. She could see that the bullet which had killed him must have passed all the way through his neck and out into the back of the lieutenant’s head. But who had fired the shot? Squinting against the glare of the flames, she saw the outline of a huge, bear-like figure framed in the doorway. The figure stepped into the hallway, boots crunching on broken glass, and after a moment of silence Elspeth heard a deep, booming, bass voice.
‘Ah: Virginesh.’
***
Gabriel felt as if he was at the bottom of a deep ocean, struggling to reach the surface against the weight of water pushing him down. And then reality broke through as he became aware of a painful throbbing in the side of his head, hard cobblestones beneath his body and someone calling his name.
‘Gabriel. Wake up, Gabriel.’
He recognised Elspeth’s voice before opening his eyes, and, when he finally managed to focus, saw her kneeling beside him.
‘Elspeth,’ he croaked, suddenly remembering what had happened. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Elspeth said, cupping his chin with one hand as she inspected a cut on his forehead. ‘But you took a bit of a knock.’ She wiped a streak of blood away with her thumb.
‘I’m alright.’ Behind her he could see three other figures outlined against the flames: chetniks, each man dressed in a sheepskin jacket, long leather boots, and tubular woollen hats.
They stood over the body of Schneider, who lay in a widening pool of blood, staring open-eyed at the sky, his throat cut from ear to ear. The body of the other private lay nearby, his throat also cut.
Another Chetnik appeared behind Elspeth and stood over her, and Gabriel looked up in astonishment. ‘Luka?’
The big Chetnik grinned as he pointed at his left eye and spoke to Gabriel in pidgin German. ‘I see very good now, Hirurga. I see you creeping through streets and we follow you here. Then we hear shots and see German patrol. I see they will kill you and so…’ He glanced at the body of Schneider, made a throat slitting gesture with his finger, and then turned back to Gabriel. ‘You helped me, Hirurga, so now I help you.’ He turned to Elspeth. ‘And you too, Virginesh.’ And then he laughed, clearly delighted at the turn of affairs.
Gabriel recalled seeing the chetnik patrol on his way to the women’s hospital, not for one moment suspecting that Luka might be amongst them. Luka was still grinning as he extended a hand and pulled Gabriel to his feet, then clapped him gleefully on the shoulder. But a moment later, when another gunshot echoed from nearby, the grin vanished. ‘German patrols everywhere,’ Luka muttered. ‘We must go.’
‘Can you take Dr Stewart with you?’ Gabriel asked Luka. ‘She was meant to take the train to Krusevac but missed it.’
Luka frowned, then sagely nodded his shaggy head. ‘Yes. The rest of my Cheta waits near the station. We must leave now. Too dangerous, too many Germans. Virginesh cannot stay here. If Germans find, they rape, then kill. We walk south on railway line.’
‘To Krusevac?’ Gabriel said. ‘To where the other Scottish women have gone?’
‘Yes.’ He turned to Elspeth and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Virginesh, you come with Cheta?’ he said in Serbian, pointing towards the station.
Gabriel saw that Elspeth did not understand. ‘Luka will take you with him, Elspeth. It’s your best chance of getting to safety—’
The Furies Page 28