The Furies (29 page)

‘I'm sorry, sir,' he whispered to Gabriel. ‘I've tried to make her go, but you know how stubborn she can be—'

‘Careful, Huber,' Elspeth said, without lifting her head as she placed the final suture. ‘My German may not be perfect, but it's good enough for me to understand most of what you say.'

Gabriel watched Elspeth tie the suture and snip the ends off. Then she straightened up and pulled down her surgical mask

‘Well, hello, Dr Bayer,' she said, as if she had only just noticed him. ‘I must say we were expecting you to arrive a little earlier—'

‘Elspeth, please.' His voice was gentle but urging. ‘If you're to catch the train, you must leave now' – and then, remembering the danger of the journey he had just undertaken, he added – ‘or maybe you should stay and accept being taken prisoner—'

‘It's alright, Gabriel.' Her voice was calm. ‘I know what I must do. I'm going to finish this as quickly as I can, then I'll hurry across to the station to try and make the train. And if I miss it…well then, I'll accept my fate and hand myself over to the Germans when they arrive.'

‘But—'

‘No.' She help up a gloved hand in front of his face, a pair of suture forceps poised delicately between thumb and forefinger. ‘I've made my decision. Now, you can either help me, or delay me further by arguing. Which is it going to be?'

He sighed. Then he quickly slipped out of his greatcoat, walked across to the scrub bench at the side of the room, and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. And as he walked back to the operating table, Huber looked at him and shrugged his shoulders as if to say: see what I mean?

***

It took them ten minutes to finish. Gabriel watched Elspeth dissect the skin wound over the skull fracture, and then with his help she peeled back a flap of scalp to reveal the underlying bone. A piece of metal shell casing was lodged in the depressed skull fragment, and grasping it with a forceps she used it as a shrapnel handle to lever the bone upwards. Underneath the bone there was a blood clot, which Gabriel washed out with saline to reveal the membranes surrounding the brain: excellent, he thought; they did not appear to have been breached. The contours and grooves of the brain looked healthily pink and shiny, with only one area of redness where the depressed bone had caused a minor contusion. Elspeth prised the piece of shrapnel out of the bone fragment and then – like fitting a last piece of jigsaw – she anchored the fragment in place, level with the surrounding skull. Huber had used up the last of the chloroform and the soldier began to wake as they placed the final stitches. It was satisfying for Gabriel to hear the soldier accurately count the number of fingers that he held up in front of his eyes.

As Gabriel peeled off his gloves, he saw Elspeth hurry over to Huber. The old Austrian sergeant put his hand out for her to shake, but she ignored it and instead put her arms around him and pulled him forward into a hug. As they parted, Gabriel saw tears in the eyes of the veteran soldier.

‘Please be careful, Dr Stewart,' Huber said, ‘you are like a daughter to me.'

She nodded and then went to fetch her coat and cape. Watching her, Gabriel felt a knot of tension build in his stomach.

‘Elspeth, I think it's too dangerous—'

‘I'd rather not fall into German hands if I can,' she interuppted, fastening her cape as she waited by the door. ‘But you don't have to come with me if you don't want to.'

He put his greatcoat back on and crossed to her. ‘How could you even
think
I would let you go out there on your own?'

‘I hoped you would say that,' she replied with a smile.

***

Elspeth's sense of duty to her patients was so strong, that when she made her decision to stay and operate on the last case she hadn't worried whether she would make the train or not, hadn't fully considered all the consequences of her decision. But now, as she and Gabriel ran through the gates and out into the street, she felt the first stirrings of worry at the position she had placed them both in, because the sounds of fighting were now very loud. A distant volley of gun-fire echoed through the darkness and she began to feel guilty that Gabriel had felt obliged to accompany her. At the same time she was glad he was by her side, holding her hand as they hurried through the unlit streets towards the station.

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 6
^th
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 point 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—'