'I already have and lost it in the finding,' Devlin told him..
'Then from now on, nothing really matters,' Steiner said. 'A dangerous situation. You will have to take care,' and he turned and went back to the ruined cottage.
They got Ritter out of the car and pushed it to where the track started to slope to a five-barred gate, the road on the other side. Steiner ran down and opened it, pulling a six-foot length of rail off the fence which he gave to Ritter when he got back.
'How's that?' he asked.
'Fine,' Ritter said bravely. 'Do we go now?'
'You, not me. There are Rangers down there on the road. I thought I might arrange a small diversion while you get across. I'll catch up with you later.'
Ritter grabbed his arm and there was panic in his voice. 'No, Kurt, I can't let you do this.'
Steiner said, 'Oberleutnant Neumann, you are undoubtedly the finest soldier I've ever known. From Narvik to Stalingrad, you've never shirked your duty or disobeyed an order of mine and I haven't the slightest intention of letting you start now.'
Ritter tried to straighten up, bracing himself against the rail. 'As the Herr Oberst wishes,' he said formally.
'Good,' Steiner said. 'Go now, please, Mr Devlin, and good luck.'
He opened the car door and Ritter called softly, 'Herr Oberst.'
'Yes?'
'A privilege to serve with you, sir.'
'Thank you, Herr Oberleutnant.'
Steiner got into the Morris, released the brake and the car started to roll down the track.
.
Devlin and Molly went through the trees, Ritter between them, and paused at the side of the low wall. Devlin whispered, 'Time for you to go, girl.'
'I'll see you to the beach, Liam,' she said firmly.
He had no chance to argue because the car engine started forty yards up the road and the Morris's slotted headlights were turned on. One of the Rangers took a red lamp from under his cape and waved it. Devlin had expected the German to drive straight on, but to his astonishment, he slowed. Steiner was taking a coldly calculated risk, something designed to draw every last man there. There was only one way he could do that. He waited for Garvey's approach, his left hand on the wheel, his right holding the Mauser.
Garvey said as he approached. 'Sorry, but you'll have to identify yourself.'
He switched on the torch in his left hand, picking Steiner's face out of the darkness. The Mauser coughed once as Steiner fired, apparently at point blank range, but a good two inches to one side, the wheels skidded as he stamped on the accelerator and was away.
'That was Steiner himself, Goddammit!' Garvey cried. 'Get after him!' There was a mad scramble as everyone jumped to get on board, Garvey's jeep was away first, the other hard behind. The sound dwindled into the night..
Devlin said, 'Right, let's get out of it then,' and he and Molly helped Ritter over the wall and started across the road.
.
Built in 1933, the Morris was still on the road only because of the wartime shortage of new cars. Her engine was virtually worn out and although she suited Vereker's requirements adequately enough, they were not those of Steiner that night. With his foot flat on the boards, the needle hovered on forty and obstinately refused to move beyond that point.
He had minutes only, not even that, for as he debated the merits of stopping suddenly and taking to the woods on foot, Garvey, in the lead jeep, started to fire its Browning. Steiner ducked over the wheel, bullets hammered through the body, the windscreen dissolved in a snowstorm of flying glass.
The Morris swerved to the right, smashed through some wooden railings and lumbered down a slope of young firs. The braking effect of these was such that the speed was not very great. Steiner got the car door open and tumbled out. He was on his feet in a moment, moving away through the trees into the darkness as the Morris went into the flooded waters of the marsh below and started to sink.
The jeeps skidded to a halt on the road above. Garvey was first out, going down the bank fast, the torch ready in his hand. As he reached the bank, the muddy waters of the marsh closed over the roof of the Morris.
He took off his helmet and started to unbuckle his belt and Krukowski, sliding down after him, grabbed him by the arm. 'Don't even think it. That isn't just water down there. The mud in some of these places is deep enough to swallow a man whole.'
Garvey nodded slowly. 'Yes, I suppose you're right.' He played his torch on the surface of the muddy pool where bubbles broke through, then turned and went back up the slope to radio
.
Kane and Corcoran were having supper in the ornate front drawing room, when the corporal from the radio room rushed in with the signal. Kane looked at it briefly then slid it across the polished surface of the table.
'My God, and he was pointing in this direction, you realize that?' Corcoran frowned in distaste. 'What a way for such a man to go.'
Kane nodded. He should have been pleased and felt curiously depressed. He said to the corporal, 'Tell Garvey to stay where he is, then get the motor pool to send some sort of recovery vehicle out to him. I want Colonel Steiner's body out of there.'
The corporal went out and Corcoran said, 'What about the other one and the Irishman?'
'I don't think we need worry. They'll turn up, but not here.' Kane sighed. 'No, in the end it was Steiner on his own, I think. The sort of man who never knows when to give up.'
Corcoran went to the sideboard and poured two large whiskies. He handed one to Kane. 'I won't say cheers because I think I know how you feel. A strange sense of personal loss.'
'Exactly.'
'I've been at this game for too long, I think.' Corcoran shivered and downed his whisky. 'Will you tell the Prime Minister or shall I?'
'Your privilege, I fancy, sir.' Kane managed a smile. 'I'd better let the men know.'
When he went out of the front door it was pouring with rain and he stood at the top of the steps in the porch and shouted, 'Corporal Bleeker?'
Bleeker ran out of the darkness within a few moments and came up the steps. His combat jacket was soaked, his helmet shiny with rain and the dark camouflage cream on his face had streaked.
Kane said, 'Garvey and his boys got Steiner back along the coast road. Spread the word.'
Bleeker said, 'That's it then. Do we stand down, sir?'
'No, but you can phase the guard system now. Work it so you get some time off in turns for a hot meal and so on.'
Bleeker started down the steps and vanished into the darkness. The Major stayed there for quite some time, staring out into the rain and then finally turned and went back inside.
.
The cottage at Hobs End was in total darkness as Devlin, Molly and Ritter Neumann approached. They paused by the wall and Devlin whispered. 'It looks quiet enough to me.'
'Not worth the risk,' Ritter whispered.
But Devlin, thinking of the S-phone, said stubbornly, 'And bloody daft we'd be and no one in the place. You two keep moving along the dyke. I'll catch you up.'
He slipped away before either of them could protest, and went across the yard cautiously and listened at the window. All was quiet, only the rain falling, not a chink of light anywhere. The front door opened to his touch with a slight creak and he moved into the hall, the Sten gun ready.
The living room door stood ajar, a few embers from the dying fire glowing redly on the hearth. He stepped inside and knew instantly that he had made a very bad mistake. The door slammed behind him, the muzzle of a Browning was rammed into the side of his neck and the Sten plucked from his hand.
'Hold it right there,' Jack Rogan said. 'All right, Fergus, let's have a little light on the situation.'
A match flared as Fergus Grant touched the wick of the oil lamp and replaced the glass chimney. Rogan put his knee into Devlin's back and sent him staggering across the room. 'Let's have a look at you.'
Devlin half-turned, a foot on the hearth. He put a hand on the mantelpiece. 'I haven't had the honour.'
'Chief Inspector Rogan. Inspector Grant, Special Branch.'
'The Irish Section, is it?'
'That's right, son, and don't ask for my warrant card or I'll belt you.' Rogan sat on the edge of the table, holding his Browning against his thigh. 'You know, you've been a very naughty boy from what I hear.'
'Do you tell me?' Devlin said, leaning a little further into the hearth, knowing that even if he got to the Walther his chances were of the slimmest. Whatever Rogan might be doing. Grant was taking no chances and had him covered.
'Yes, you really give me a pain, you people.' Rogan said. 'Why can't you stay back there in the bogs where you belong?'
'It's a thought,' Devlin said.
Rogan took a pair of handcuffs out of his coat pocket. 'Get over here.'
A stone crashed through the window on the other side of the blackout curtain and both policemen turned in alarm. Devlin's hand reached for the Walther hanging on the nail at the back of the beam that supported the chimney breast. He shot Rogan in the head, knocking him back off the table, but Grant was already turning. He got off one wild shot that caught the Irishman in the right shoulder and Devlin fell back in the easy chair, still firing, shattering the young inspector's left arm, putting another bullet into the shoulder on the same side.
Grant fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He seemed in deep shock and gazed across the room uncomprehendingly at Rogan lying on the other side of the table. Devlin picked up the Browning and stuffed it in his waistband, then went to the door, took down the carrier bag and emptied the potatoes on the floor. The small canvas bag at the bottom contained the S-phone and a few other odds and ends and he slung it over his shoulder.
'Why don't you kill me as well?' Fergus Grant said weakly.
'You're nicer than he was,' Devlin said. 'I'd find a better class of work, son, if I was you.'
He went out quickly. When he opened the front door, Molly was standing against the wall. 'Thank God!' she said, but he put a hand to her mouth and hurried her away. They reached the wall where Ritter waited. Molly said, 'What happened?'
'I killed a man, wounded another, that's what happened,' Devlin told her. 'Two Special Branch detectives.'
'I helped you do that?'
'Yes,' he said. 'Will you go now, Molly, while you still can?'
She turned from him suddenly and started to run back along the dyke. Devlin hesitated and then, unable to contain himself, went after her. He caught her within a few yards and pulled her into his arms. Her hands went to his neck, she kissed him with a passion that was all-consuming. He pushed her away. 'Go now, girl, and God go with you.'
She turned without a word and ran into the night and Devlin went back to Ritter Neumann. 'A very remarkable young woman,' the Oberleutnant said.
'Yes, you could say that,' Devlin told him, 'And you'd be making the understatement of the age.' He got the S-phone out of the bag and switched on to channel. 'Eagle to Wanderer. Eagle to Wanderer. Come in please.'
On the bridge of the E-boat where the S-phone receiver had been situated, his voice sounded as clearly as if he was just outside the door. Koenig reached for the mike quickly, his heart beating. 'Eagle, this is Wanderer. What is your situation?'
'Two fledglings still in the nest,' Devlin said. 'Can you come immediately?'
'We're on our way,' Koenig told him. 'Over and out.' He put the mike back on its hook and turned to Muller. 'Right, Erich, switch to silences and break out the White Ensign. We're going in.'
.
As Devlin and Neumann reached the trees, the Irishman glanced back and saw car headlights turn out of the main road and move along the dyke path. Ritter said, 'Who do you think it is?'
'God knows,' Devlin told him.
Garvey, waiting a couple of miles along the road for the recovery vehicle, had decided to send the other jeep back to check on the two Special Branch men.
Devlin got a hand under Ritter's arm. 'Come on, son, we'd better get out of this.' He cursed suddenly at the searing pain in his shoulder now that the shock was beginning to wear off.
'Are you all right?' Ritter asked.
'Bleeding like Mrs. O'Grady's pig. I stopped one in the shoulder back there, but never mind that now. Nothing like a sea voyage to cure what ails you.'
They went past the warning notice, picked their way gingerly through the barbed wire and started across the beach. Ritter was gasping with pain at every step. He leaned heavily on the rail Steiner had given him, yet he never faltered. The sands-stretched wide and flat before them, fog rolling in on the wind, and then they were walking on water, only an inch or two at first, rather more in the depressions.
