London Dawn (21 page)

“He dies. The commandant dies. Any guards with us in the commandant’s office die. We drive away very quickly and get across the border into France.”

“If we aren’t quick enough…”

“We die too.”

“Jolly good. I’m glad you have a plan.”

Kipp smiled. “Let’s get into our uniforms and wake up Charles.”

“I doubt he sleeps. I think he sits in that room with his back ramrod straight and his eyes wide open all day and all night. Do I get a monocle?”

“No one gets a monocle.”

“Pity that.”

Charles didn’t smile or flicker an eye when they opened his door in their uniforms. He used the washroom and put his on without a murmur. A staff car had been parked behind the hotel for them. They drove it out of Berlin and toward the concentration camp. They lost their way twice but still were able to reach the camp just after ten in the morning. The sentries were expecting them and opened the gate to the section of the camp where
the German soldiers and officers had their quarters. Harrison parked in front of an office building draped with Nazi flags.

As soon as the car pulled up, Baron von Isenburg stepped out and saluted. He was still in his black winter uniform. “
Heil
Hitler!”

Harrison, Kipp, and Charles returned the salute, lifting their arms. “
Heil
Hitler!”

“
Kommen in, bitte.
”

Harrison remained at attention by the staff car. Kipp and Charles entered the office behind the baron. The commandant was standing by his desk. He gave them the stiff-armed salute, which Kipp and Charles returned.

“
Sie wird hier in einem Augenblick
—She will be here in a moment,” said the commandant. He glanced out the window. “
Naturlich, war sie im Stammlager
—Of course, she was in the main camp.”

“
Sind da nur Deutsch Gefangenen hier
—Are there only German prisoners here?” asked Kipp in a brisk tone.

“
Nein
,” responded the commandant. “
Wir haben die Juden auch
—No, we have Jews as well.”

Kipp offered him the transfer papers. The commandant merely glanced at them and nodded, continuing to look out the window.

“
Ah
.” The commandant turned from the window to face the door. “
Hier ist sie
.”

The door opened. Eva came into the office first, followed by two female guards. She was dressed in simple prison camp clothing that consisted of a shirt and pants and round cap. Her hair was cut down to her skull, her cheekbones were sharp, her blue eyes were dark with dark smudges under them. Her lips were pale and thin. She was not the woman Kipp had studied in photographs, and he had to force himself not to react in anger or revulsion. He glanced at the baron quickly. The baron did not flinch, and his face was like rock.

It was Charles who spoke out loud. “
Was haben Sie getan mit diese Frau
?—What have you done to this woman?”

The commandant’s eyes were blank. “
Sie ist ein Verräterin des Reichs
—She is a traitor to the Reich.”

Charles looked at the baron. “
Aber ist das nicht Ihre Tochter
?—Isn’t this your daughter?”

The baron showed no emotion. “
Setze sie Auto
—Put her in the car.”

She sat between the baron and Charles. Kipp was up front next to Harrison. They drove through the gate and back down the road.

“We’re not using a normal border crossing into France.” The baron leaned forward and spoke to Harrison in English. “Follow my directions.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charles kept looking at Eva and trying to get her to speak, but she stared straight ahead. Harrison had taken on more fuel at the camp, and they drove to the border without stopping. The baron directed him down a dirt track, where field guns and soldiers were hidden under camouflage netting. Finally they pulled in by a group of officers and a small French sedan with French plates. The officers gave normal army salutes with their hands at their foreheads, and everyone in the staff car but Eva gave the stiff-armed Nazi salute.

“You are English tourists,” said the baron, handing out sets of clothes to Harrison and Charles and Eva. “There is a picnic basket in your sedan. The car is a rental. There are French troops all around this area. Pretend you are lost if you get stopped.”

Harrison and Charles changed quickly but Eva made no move to remove her camp clothing. The baron took her into the trees and undressed her, gently replacing the camp shirt and pants with a skirt and blouse and sweater.

“Go to the civilian docks in Calais, Harrison,” said Kipp. “There is a British boat called
Pea Porridge Hot
, a small cargo ship. The captain knows who you are. He will get you safely into Dover.”

“All right.”

“Road maps and identification papers are in the sedan. Head straight for Calais. You are crossing over the Channel at night. All should go well. I’ll return from Berlin with the RAF contingent in a couple of days and look you up at Kensington Gate.”

“Right.”

Kipp shook his hand. “God bless, Harrison, and best of luck.”

“Thank you.”

The baron gathered his daughter in his arms. “I love you. God go with you. Someday you will understand.”

She stared at him after he released her. Then she spat in his face.

Charles took Eva by the hand, and they sat in the backseat of the French car. Harrison started the engine and nursed the sedan forward
along the track. A high section of barbed wire had been rolled to the side, and he drove through the gap. German soldiers saluted, and Harrison, in a tweed jacket and cap and dark brown pants, nodded his head. The track twisted back and forth on the French side and often looked as if it had disappeared entirely. Harrison nursed the car through a large cluster of bushes and onto a wide dirt road.

“Which way to Calais?” he asked out loud.

Neither Charles nor Eva responded.

He turned right. It came to a dead end and three French tanks. The soldiers leaning against the tanks stared.

“Calais?” asked Harrison. “Calais?” He waved a map he had found under his seat.

Several of the soldiers wandered over to the car, speaking French rapidly. They took the map and turned it around. One of them marked a circle near the German border and said, “
Ici
,
ici
,” and then jabbed at the coastline where Calais was printed in bold, black letters. He drew a line along various roads from the border to the coast.

“
Merci
.” Harrison smiled and turned the car around.

One of the soldiers slapped the hood. “Get away from the frontier, eh? You should not be here.”

“Yes, yes, thank you very much indeed.”

“
Allez.
”

They did not see soldiers or tanks again, but Harrison noticed tread marks on the dirt road as they headed north and west. In half an hour he steered onto a paved road with no shoulders and saw signs with Reims, Paris, and Calais painted on them.

“The country to our right will soon be Belgium, not Germany,” Harrison said.

Once again there was no response from the backseat, where Charles sat in his shirt and pants and sweater, Eva beside him in her skirt and blouse and headscarf.

Eventually they began to drive past farms and carts pulled by horses and oxen. Men and women were walking with their children to and from church. Some waved, and some ignored the car. Traffic was heavier as they approached Reims, and Harrison thanked God when he got through Reims to the other side.

“The French drive like madmen!” he practically shouted. “Did you see that? Even on a Sunday! And Easter Sunday at that!”

Soon after they had gone past the towns of Laon and Cambrai the road split, the right heading to Dunkerque, the left to Calais.

“It won’t be long now.” Harrison glanced at the backseat. “Are you two all right?”

“How do you expect two people who are being abducted to feel?” snapped Charles.

The sun had dropped into the fields, and shadows swarmed over the sky and land as Harrison steered into Calais. After taking a number of wrong turns and asking for directions to the docks half a dozen times, he guessed correctly and made his way to the waterfront. Stars were coming out when they left the sedan and walked from ship to ship, looking for
Pea Porridge Hot.
They took ten minutes to find it. The captain was on deck and read the letter Harrison presented him from Kipp, looked all three of them over, and jerked his thumb at the bow.

“Make yourself comfortable up there. There’ll be a sea chill, so I’ve piled a few woolen blankets by the cargo we’ve got netted down on the deck. Mind your heads. We’ll be shoving off soon enough. She’s a slow boat but sturdy. It’ll take us a little under three hours to cross to Dover.”

“Are French authorities going to want to talk to us?” asked Harrison.

The captain grunted. “No French officials are going to come near this boat. Your friends in high places made sure of that, didn’t they?”

Pea Porridge Hot
was moored with its stern to the dock. Harrison and Charles and Eva walked forward to the bow. Charles gave two blankets to Eva and helped her wrap them around her body. He drew one over his own shoulders and left the last two for Harrison. Then he stood beside Harrison and looked out at the dark waters.

“I’m surprised you got us this far without killing us,” said Charles.

“There won’t be any killing. Just a homecoming.”

“Neither of us is going home. What do you intend to do with Eva?”

“I expect she’ll stay with Lord and Lady Preston. They’re good friends of the baron.”

“Why can’t she stay with my mother and Lord Kipp?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“Is it possible?”

“You’ll see Lord Kipp in a few days. You can ask him. Or ask your mother tonight. We’ll be going from Dover straight into London.”

“Why don’t you ask me instead?”

Harrison turned quickly at the voice. Even in the dark he knew Lord Tanner was standing behind him.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Harrison.

“You mentioned a homecoming a few moments ago. That is why I’m here. To take my son and Eva von Isenburg back to Berlin.”

“But father…” Charles’s face was white in the blackness. “We gave an oath.”

“And I’ve kept it. But Harrison here met with an unfortunate accident at the Calais waterfront. He drowned. The captain refused to take two young people across the Channel. I was contacted by the French authorities since I’m your father. I had no recourse but to bring the pair of you back to Berlin. I will explain all this to the SS.”

“Father, they won’t believe you.”

“Of course they’ll believe me. The French will make sure they believe me because they’ll produce the body and explain the situation on my behalf.”

Two tall men appeared on either side of Lord Tanner.

“The captain’ll not let you get away with this,” protested Harrison.

“Of course he will. I’ve given him twenty quid. He’ll stay below till Charles shouts man overboard. I’ll wait until French officials have contacted German authorities and then drive up. I was in Calais on business, you see.”

“Father—”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Charles. The SS will be fine. Trust me.” He pointed with the silver head of his walking stick. “Take the young lady around to the port side. No doubt Harrison will put up a fruitless struggle, and she doesn’t need to see that.”

“It won’t be fruitless.” Harrison squared his shoulders.

Lord Tanner laughed and turned his head to one of his men. “Kill him and pitch him over the side. A sharp blow to the head is what’s needed. Use your clubs and—”

Harrison threw himself at the man on Lord Tanner’s left, knocking him flat and seizing his head swiftly in his large hands and banging it twice against the steel deck so that he went limp. Then he struck out with
his legs and took Tanner off his feet. The other man swung at Harrison with his club and hit his left arm a hard blow. Harrison winced but propelled himself at the man headfirst, hurling him over the side of the boat into the water.

“I don’t need dockyard thugs.” Tanner was back on his feet. “I’ll kill you myself.” He drew the sword from his cane. “Where’s your shotgun, Harrison?”

Harrison tore off his jacket as Tanner lunged and snagged the sword with it. As Tanner struggled to pull his blade free, Harrison punched him twice in the face and slapped his arms around Tanner’s neck from behind, squeezing as he kicked and squirmed until the brawny Scotsman collapsed. He expected Charles to do something, but the young man remained where he was, one arm around Eva.

Harrison turned to face Charles. “Are we all right? Or do you want to mix it up?”

“I gave an oath,” was all Charles said in reply.

“I haven’t killed him.”

Harrison dragged Tanner off the boat and tossed him on the dock. Then he did the same with the man he had knocked unconscious. When he looked around for the one he’d thrown into the water he spotted a tall figure, water pouring off its back, half running and half limping along the waterfront. Harrison went below, grabbed the captain by the front of his shirt, snarled at him and his crew, and told him to get the ship to Dover before midnight.