They paused to take stock and Devlin looked back and saw lights moving in the trees, 'Christ almighty,' he said. 'Don't they ever give up?'
They stumbled on towards the estuary across the sands and as the tide flowed in, the water grew deeper. At first knee-deep and then it was up to their thighs. They were well out into the estuary now and Ritter groaned suddenly and fell to one knee, dropping his rail. 'It's no good, Devlin. I've had it. I've never known such pain.'
Devlin crouched beside him and raised the S-phone to his mouth again. 'Wanderer, this is Eagle. We are waiting for you in the estuary a quarter of a mile off-shore. Signalling now.'
From the canvas bag he took out a luminous signal ball, another gift from the Abwehr by courtesy of SOE, and held it up in the palm of his right hand. He glanced round towards the shore, but the fog had rolled in now, blanketing everything back there.
.
Twenty minutes later, the water was up to his chest. He had never been so cold in his life before. He stood on the sandbank, legs apart, his left arm supporting Ritter, his right hand holding the luminous signalling ball high, the tide flowing around them,
'It's no good,' Ritter whispered. 'I can't feel a thing. I'm finished. I can't take any more.'
'As Mrs. O'Flynn said to the Bishop,' Devlin said. 'Come on, boy, don't give in now. What would Steiner say?'
'Steiner?' Ritter coughed, choking a little as salt water slopped over his chin and into his mouth. 'He'd have swum across.'
Devlin forced a laugh. 'That's the way, son, keep smiling.' He started to sing at the top of his voice, 'And down the glen rode Sarsfield's men all in their jackets green.'
A wave passed right over his head and they went under. Oh, Christ, he thought, this is it, but when it had rolled on, still managed to find his feet, his right hand holding the signalling ball high, although by now, the water was up to his chin.
It was Teusen who caught sight of the light to port and ran to the bridge instantly. Three minutes later, the E-boat slid out of the darkness and someone shone a torch down on the two men. A net was thrown over, four seamen clambered down and willing hands reached for Ritter Neumann.
'Watch him,' Devlin urged. 'He's in a bad way.'
When he went over the rail himself a couple of moments later and collapsed, it was Koenig who knelt beside him with a blanket, 'Mr Devlin, drink some of this.' He passed him a bottle.
'Cead mile Failte,' Devlin said.
Koenig leaned close. 'I'm sorry, I don't understand.'
'And how would you? It's Irish, the language of kings. I simply said, a hundred thousand welcomes.'
Koenig smiled through the darkness. 'I am glad to see you, Mr Devlin. A miracle.'
The only one you're likely to get this night.'
'You are certain?'
'As the coffin lid closing.'
Koenig stood up. 'Then we will go now. Please excuse me.'
A moment later, the E-boat swung round and surged forward. Devlin got the cork out of the bottle and sniffed at the contents. Rum. Not one of his favourites, but he swallowed deep and huddled against the stern rail looking back towards the land.
In her bedroom at the farm, Molly sat up suddenly, then moved across the room and drew the curtains. She threw the windows open and leaned out into the rain, a tremendous feeling of elation, of release filling her and at that very moment, the E-boat moved from behind the Point and turned out towards the open sea.
.
In his office at Prinz Albrechtstrasse, Himmler worked at his eternal files in the light of the desk lamp. There was a knock at the door and Rossman entered.
'Well?' Himmler said.
'I'm sorry to disturb you, Herr Reichsfuhrer, but we've had a signal from Landsvoort. The Eagle is blown.'
Himmler showed no emotion whatsoever. He laid down his pen carefully and held out his hand. 'Let me see.' Rossman gave him the signal and Himmler read it through. After a while, he looked up. 'I have an errand for you.'
'Herr Reichsfuhrer.'
'Take two of your most trusted men. Fly to Landsvoort at once and arrest Colonel Radl. I will see that you have all the necessary authorization before you leave.'
'Of course, Herr Reichsfuhrer. And the charge?'
'Treason against the state. That should do for a start. Report to me as soon as you get back.' Himmler picked up his pen and started to write again and Rossman withdrew.
.
Just before nine o'clock Corporal George Watson of the Military Police ran his motor-cycle into the side of the road a couple of miles south from Meltham House and pushed it up on its stand. Having ridden from Norwich with almost torrential rain the whole way, he was soaked to the skin, in spite of his long dispatch rider's coat - bitterly cold and very hungry. He was also lost.
He opened his map case in the light of his headlamp and leaned down to check it. A slight movement to his right made him look up. A man in a trenchcoat was standing there. 'Hello,' he said. 'Lost, are you?'
'I'm trying to find Meltham House,' Watson told him. 'All the way from Norwich in this bloody rain. These country districts all look the same with the damned signposts missing.'
'Here, let me show you,' Steiner said.
Watson leaned down to examine the map again in the light from the headlamp, the Mauser rose and fell across the back of his neck. He lay in a puddle of water and Steiner pulled his dispatch case over his head and examined the contents quickly. There was only one letter heavily sealed and marked Urgent. It was addressed to Colonel William Corcoran, Meltham House.
Steiner got hold of Watson under the armpits and dragged him into the shadows. When he re-appeared a few moments later, he was wearing the dispatch rider's long raincoat, helmet and goggles and leather gauntlets. He pulled the sling of the dispatch case over his head, pushed the motor-cycle off its stand, kicked the engine into life and rode away.
.
At the side of the road they had a spotlight set up and as the Scammel recovery truck's winch started to revolve, the Morris came up out of the march on the bank. Garvey stayed up on the road, waiting.
The corporal in charge had the door open. He peered inside and looked up. 'There's nothing here.'
'What in the hell are you talking about?' Garvey demanded and he moved down through the trees quickly.
He looked inside the Morris, but the corporal was right. Lots of stinking mud, a certain amount of water, but no Steiner. 'Oh, my God,' Garvey said as the full implication hit him and he turned, scrambled up the bank, and grabbed for the mike on his jeep's radio.
.
Steiner turned in at the gate of Meltharn House, which was closed, and halted. The Ranger on the other side shone a torch on him and called, 'Sergeant of the Guard.'
Sergeant Thomas came out of the lodge and approached the gate. Steiner sat there, anonymous in helmet and goggles. 'What is it?' Thomas demanded.
Steiner opened his dispatch case, took out the letter and held it close to the bars. 'Dispatch from Norwich for Colonel Corcoran.'
Thomas nodded, the Ranger next to him unbolted the gate. 'Straight up to the front of the house. One of the sentries will take you in.'
Steiner rode up the drive and turned away from the front door, following a branch that finally brought him to the motor pool at the rear of the building. He stopped beside a parked truck, switched off and pushed the motor-cycle up on its stand, then turned and followed the path round towards the garden. When he'd gone a few yards, he stepped into the shelter of the rhododendrons.
He removed the crash helmet, the raincoat and gauntlets, took his Schiff from inside his Fliegerbluse and put it on. He adjusted the Knight's Cross at his throat and moved off, the Mauser ready.
He paused on the edge of a sunken garden below the terrace to get his bearings. The blackout wasn't too good, chinks of light showing at several windows. He took a step forward and someone said. 'That you, Bleeker?'
Steiner grunted. A dim shape moved forward. The Mauser coughed in his right hand, there was a startled gasp as the Ranger slumped to the ground. In the same moment, a curtain was pulled back and light fell across the terrace above.
When Steiner looked up, he saw the Prime Minister standing at the balustrade smoking a cigar.
.
When Corcoran came out of the Prime Minister's room he found Kane waiting. 'How is he?' Kane asked.
'Fine. Just gone out on the terrace for a last cigar and then he's going to bed.'
They moved into the hall. 'He probably wouldn't sleep too well if he heard my news, so I'll keep it till morning,' Kane told him. They hauled that Morris out of the marsh and no Steiner.'
Corcoran said. 'Are you suggesting he got away? How do you know he isn't still down there? He might have been thrown out or something.'
The front door opened and Sergeant Thomas came in. He unbuttoned his coat to shake the rain from it. 'You wanted me, Major?'
'Yes,' Kane said. 'When they got the car out, Steiner was missing. We're taking no chances and doubling the guard. Nothing to report from the gate?'
'Not a damn thing since the recovery Scammel went out. Only that military policeman from Norwich with the dispatch for Colonel Corcoran.'
Corcoran stared at him, frowning. That's the first I've heard of it. When was this?'
'Maybe ten minutes ago. sir.'
'Oh, my God!' Kane said. 'He's here! The bastard's here!' And he turned, tugging at the Colt automatic in the holster at his waist and ran for the library door.
Steiner went up the steps to the terrace slowly. The scent of the good Havana cigar perfumed the night. As he put foot on the top step it crunched in gravel. The Prime Minister turned sharply and looked at him.
He removed the cigar from his mouth, that implacable face showing no kind of reaction, and said, 'Oberstleutnant Kurt Steiner of the Fallschirmjager, I presume?'
'Mr Churchill.' Steiner hesitated. 'I regret this, but I must do my duty, sir.'
'Then what are you waiting for?' the Prime Minister said calmly.
Steiner raised the Mauser, the curtains at the French windows billowed and Harry Kane stumbled through, firing wildly. His first bullet hit Steiner in the right shoulder spinning him round, the second caught him in the heart, killing him instantly, pushing him back over the balustrade.
Corcoran arrived on the terrace a moment later, revolver in hand, and below in the sunken garden, Rangers appeared from the darkness on the run, to pause and stand in a semi-circle. Steiner lay in the pool of light from the open window, the Knight's Cross at his throat, the Mauser still gripped firmly in his right hand.
'Strange,' the Prime Minister said. 'With his finger on the trigger, he hesitated. I wonder why?'
'Perhaps that was his American half speaking, sir?' Harry Kane said.
The Prime Minister had the final word. 'Whatever else may be said, he was a fine soldier and a brave man. See to him, Major.' He turned and went back inside.
20
As regards the historical characters involved in this story, the whole world knows of the events in the Fuhrer-bunker in Berlin during those last few mad days in April, 1945. Admiral Wilhelm Canaris finally fell from grace when the Abwehr was dissolved in February 1944 and was arrested with hundreds of others during the wave of hysteria following the attempt on Hitler's life of July, 1944. Less than a month before the end of the war, after a summary SS trial at Flossenburg concentration camp, he was dragged from his cell naked on 9 April and hanged.
Heinrich Himmler tried to lose himself in the chaos that was Germany in the days immediately after the end of hostilities, wearing a black eyepatch and private's uniform. Apprehended by the British, he-committed suicide by swallowing a vial of potassium cyanide concealed in his gums.
Rossman fared rather better. He survived the war and was an officer of the Hamburg Police Department for several years until 1955, when on the arrest and trial of former colleagues, particularly those involved in the execution of Canaris and others at Flossenburg, he dropped out of sight and was transported to South America by the 'Odessa' organization of ex-members of the SS. The documents relating to the execution of Major General of Artillery Karl Steiner were found, with similar records, at Prinz Albrechstrasse. They are now on file at Ludwigsburg with the Central Federal Agency that attempts, with a rather conspicuous lack of success, to do something about crimes committed during the Nazi era.
Jurgen Stroop, that monstrous creature whom Steiner faced on the platform at the railway station in Warsaw that memorable day, was convicted at Nuremburg, the only evidence necessary being the beautifully bound book he'd prepared for the Fuhrer entitled The Jewish Ghetto in Warsaw No Longer Exists in which he described in meticulous detail, in diary form, exactly what he had done. A record he was obviously proud of, therefore it is hardly surprising that he fails to mention a German colonel named Steiner and his men who had so disgraced themselves.
