"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."
A, ñs. 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 Hei-der 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, Standartenfuhrer 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 Silver-tide 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."
Necker 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 Standartenfuhrer 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 oouple 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 flre
The noise of the engines faded into thp 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 Standartenfuhrer 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 Marttneau 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, Standarten-fuhrer."
"Tell Oberleutnant Sorsa 111 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 and 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 killed 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. Ober-leutnant 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 baek of Sorsa's neek. "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 Fuhrer, 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."
The boy squeezed past him, and Martineau got into the copilot's seat and started to transmit on the frequency reserved by SOE for emergency procedure.
In the control room in the tower at Jersey Airport, Hofer and Necker waited anxiously while Adler spoke on the radio. A Luftwaffe corporal came up and spoke to him briefly.
Adler turned to the two officers. "We've still got them on radar, but they appear to be moving due west out to sea."
"My God!" Necker said.
Adler talked into the microphone for a moment, then turned to Hofer. "All night fighters in the Brittany area were scrambled an hour ago for operations over the Reich. Heavy bombing raids expected over the Ruhr."
"There must be something, for God's sake," Hofer said.
Adler waved him to silenee, listening, then put down the mike and turned, smiling. "There is. One JU88S night fighter. Its port engine needed a check and it wasn't finished in time to leave with the rest of the squadron."
"But is it now?" Nerker demanded eagerly.
"Oh, yes." Adler was enjoying himself. "He's just taken off from Cherbourg."
"But can he catch them?" Nerker asked.
"Herr Major, that old crate they're flying in can do a hundred and eighty flat out. The JU88S with the new engine boosting system does better than four hundred. He'll be with them before they know it."
Necker turned in triumph to Hofer. "They'll have to turn back, otherwise he'll blow them out of the sky."
But Hofer had been thinking about that, among other things. If the mail plane returned, it would mean only one thing. Martineau and the others would be flown to Berlin, and few people survived interrogation in the cellars of Gestapo Headquarters at Prince Albrechtstrasse. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Berger knew about Rommel's connection with the generals' plot against the Fuhrer, and so did Martineau. Perhaps he'd even told the girl.
Hofer took a deep breath. "No, we can't take a chance on their getting away."
"Herr Major?" Adler turned inquiringly.
"Send an order to the pilot of that night fighter to shoot on sight. They musn't reach England."
"As you say, Herr Major." Adler picked up the microphone.
Necker put a hand on Hofer's shoulder. "You look terrible. Let's go down to the mess and get you a brandy. Adler will call us when things start to warm up."
Hofer managed a weak smile. "The best offer I've had tonight." And they went out together.
Dougal Munro was at his Baker Street desk working late when Carter came in with the signal and passed it across. The brigadier read it quickly and smiled. "Good God, this is extraordinary, even for Harry."
"I know, sir. I've alerted Fighter Command about receiving them. Where do you want them to put down? I suppose Cornwall would be closest."
