Winter's Bullet (17 page)

‘What are they doing here?'

Alisa glanced over at them for a moment. ‘Pieter thinks we need every single person we can get our hands on – that convoy is going to be very well armed. We could lose a lot of people.'

Tygo listened, finally realizing what a deadly undertaking was being planned. So did the others, he could see that too. Steely faces, determined, listening intently as Pieter assigned each of them their own task in the ambush. All except Ursula, who stuck her tongue out at Tygo when he caught her eye. It made him grin; perhaps they would have stayed friends if things had been different for him and his family.

Alisa was standing beside him, and Tygo could see from the way she glanced at Pieter that there was
something between them. He realized he was beginning to feel a bit like that about Willa. The briefing was drawing to a close. Pieter and Alisa had agreed beforehand not to tell the other members who the target was, but only to say that it was a very high-ranking member of the German Army.

‘Any questions?' Pieter asked.

There were a few murmurs, but everyone seemed to know what they had to do. The briefing broke up and most people hurried from the building. Time was short.

‘See you out there, Frettchen.' It was Ursula, her two sidekicks beside her.

‘Can we call a truce, Ursula?'

She looked at him. ‘I have neither the time nor the inclination,' she said pompously, and pushed past.

Tygo shook his head and hurried over to his sister. ‘You ready?' he asked, anxious to be on his way to the airbase.

‘Yes, but we need you to take out the driver. After that we'll take the car, and you'll have to get us through any checkpoints, to the arms dump at Haarlem. We can load what we need from there and bring it to the bridge.'

‘After that, you can do what you like,' Pieter added.

Tygo felt a surge of relief. The Red Queen was burning a hole in his pocket.

Günter never saw it coming. With a cheery greeting, Tygo clambered into the back of the car, wearing brass knuckledusters which Pieter had loaned him for the purpose, and hit him just behind his left ear. Günter slumped forward over the wheel, unconscious, the horn blaring momentarily
till Tygo could haul him back off it.

Pieter opened the driver's door, and together they bundled the comatose soldier into the printing works. Once inside they stripped him of his uniform and left him tied up, watched over by a Resistance guard who had stayed behind. Pieter pulled on the driver's uniform. It just managed to fit, although the sleeves were too short. He jammed the grey forage cap on.

‘Quickly now, we need to make a couple of stops in the city.'

The three of them hurried out, Tygo taking the trouble to re-lock the door. Out in the street, Alisa climbed into the boot while Tygo and Pieter got into the front seats. Pieter started the car, and they were away.

They drove out through the city slowly and cautiously. They were almost clear when they ran into a mobile checkpoint: a field police Kübelwagen had been placed across the road. Pieter slowed the vehicle.

‘Checkpoint!' he shouted back to Alisa. She had a Sten gun in the boot with her, and she would cock it now.

‘Where are you going?' the military policeman asked, leaning in.

‘I have orders here from Oberst Krüger.' Tygo handed the man the letter Krüger had written him, together with his Gestapo warrant disc.

The man studied them, then looked inside the car. Tygo sat still, staring straight ahead.

‘Where are you going?' the man repeated, handing the papers back.

‘My destination is secret. If you wish to contact Oberst
Krüger's office they will be happy to confirm that.' Tygo's heart was going
thump, thump, thump
.

The other police officer was walking around the car, his submachine gun pointed at them. ‘This is Oberst Krüger's car,
ja
?' he said.

Tygo nodded. ‘I am acting under his orders, like I said.'

‘Then where is Günter?'

It was just Tygo's bad luck to run into a policeman who actually knew Krüger's driver.

‘He's sick today; this is Klaus, his replacement.'

Pieter nodded to the men. The lead policeman looked at his colleague, who shrugged.

‘All right, on your way.'

Pieter put the car into gear and they pulled away. Tygo looked in the rear-view mirror; the two policemen were staring after them.

They drove on without meeting any further patrols or checkpoints. After a short while they were passing through the outskirts of Haarlem and then back into the countryside, overtaking the occasional cyclist and pedestrian as they struggled with carts filled with foraged kindling. The countryside had been picked clean of anything that could be eaten or burnt, and the rest was covered in snow and ice.

Pieter made a right turn up a farm track and the Opel bounced and bumped over the rutted frozen mud, the wheels spinning until Pieter dropped the car into a lower gear. At the end of the track was an abandoned farmhouse, brick-built with traditional Dutch gables. A
windmill was behind it, bereft of its wooden slat sails, long ago taken for firewood. It made for an excellent hiding place, and it had not taken them long to reach it. Time was still on their side.

They all climbed out of the car, Alisa stretching out her freezing, cramped body. She kept the Sten gun slung over her shoulder. Tygo stamped on a frozen puddle with his boot. It made a star-shaped little crater like a bullet hole.

‘Let's be quick about this.' Pieter led them into the farmhouse. The sun was low in the sky and it was gloomy inside. They stood in the hallway for a moment, then walked through into the kitchen. ‘The cellar is through the pantry – you go back and keep a lookout in the hall, Tygo. Your sister and I will get the stuff.'

Tygo nodded and walked back into the hall. He rested his hand on the butt of the P38 stuffed into his waistband. The minutes ticked past. Tygo opened the front door and stepped outside through the covered porch. The sun was almost gone, the sky a purple bruise.

Snap!
It was the sound of a hammer being flicked back on a pistol, and it was right behind him. He spun around and found himself facing the military policeman from the last checkpoint. He must have been hiding by the side of the porch.

‘Take your pistol out and drop it on the ground.'

Tygo thought about trying to talk his way out of it, but he could see that the man was deadly serious. He drew the Walther out of his waistband and let it fall to the ground. There was a round in the chamber and the safety was off, perhaps there was a way . . .

‘Move!' The man spoke urgently but quietly. Tygo wondered where his partner was, why he hadn't heard their vehicle. The policeman was shoving him back into the house, the barrel of the gun jabbing Tygo's back.

‘Stop,' the policeman hissed, once they were in the hall. Before Tygo could say anything, Pieter suddenly appeared from the kitchen carrying a heavy-looking wooden box in both hands.

‘Hey, Tygo, give your . . .' he began, then he saw the policeman and his voice died.

‘Stay where you are!' the policeman barked. He put his arm around Tygo's neck and pulled it tight, jamming the gun into his cheek.

‘Of course, no problem.' Pieter stood there, holding the box.

Thank God, thought Tygo, Pieter hadn't said the word sister! As far as the policemen knew it was just the two of them.

‘Hans!' he yelled now. ‘Cover me!' He started to back out of the house, using Tygo as a shield. ‘You!' he said to Pieter. ‘Come to me, keep hold of the box!'

Pieter walked towards them slowly as they stepped outside. When they were a few metres outside the policeman stopped.

‘Hans, what are you doing hiding behind our car?' Pieter called out.

‘Be silent!' the policeman ordered, but now Tygo knew where the other man was, and hopefully so did Alisa.

‘Very slowly, put the box down,' the policeman said.

Tygo felt the arm around his neck begin to relax. He
glanced down on the ground and saw his pistol lying in the snow a few metres away. He looked back up and saw Pieter was staring at him as he lowered the box to the ground. He nodded his head ever so slightly.

‘Okay, now put your hands up.'

Pieter raised his hands in the air. Tygo saw a flicker of movement behind him in the house. So did the guard.

‘Hey!' he said, letting go of Tygo's neck.

‘Now!' yelled Pieter.

Tygo slammed his elbow back as hard as he could into the policeman's ribs and then dived to his left, rolling towards his pistol. As he did so, submachine guns burst into life. His right hand found the pistol, and he swung up and round on to one knee.

The first policeman was spinning back towards the car, his machine gun firing wildly into the air, his body bucking from the bullets hitting him. Tygo saw Alisa in the doorway, the Sten at her hip, her left hand gripping the magazine.

Pieter was lying flat in the snow.

The second policeman suddenly appeared from behind the car. He leant forward on the bonnet, aiming his submachine gun. Tygo fired three shots; the last hit the policeman in the shoulder and he fell back, the machine gun sliding off the bonnet.

Pieter ran forward across the snow. The first policeman was lying still, dead. He reached the second one, who was on his back, pushing himself along the ground with his legs, one arm useless, but desperately trying to draw his pistol from his holster with his good arm.

‘Stop, don't!' said Tygo, but the man continued.

‘I said stop or I'll shoot.' Tygo was almost pleading.

The man got the pistol free, raised it.

There was a single gunshot, but it wasn't Tygo's or the man's. A red hole the size of a cherry appeared in the man's forehead and he fell back, lying still. A crimson corona quickly haloed around his head.

Alisa was standing next to Tygo, smoke curling from the end of her Sten. She switched out the magazine, tossing the old one aside and slotting the new one in. She snicked the bolt. Her expression was blank.

‘I was going to shoot,' Tygo said thinly. Alisa nodded and put her arm around his shoulders. He thought he might cry.

‘I'm sorry, it's my fault,' said Tygo. ‘I didn't hear them coming.'

Pieter joined them.

‘They must have left their car up the track,' said Alisa.

‘We have to move fast,' Pieter said. He appeared to be grinning. ‘We'll take their vehicle as well. Every cloud has a silver lining. We can double up the amount we can bring.' Tygo was amazed at how relaxed Pieter was being, as if they were going on a picnic and there was extra ginger beer. ‘Come on now, help your sister!'

He set off at a jog up the farm track to retrieve the policemen's Kübelwagen. Tygo and Alisa ran back to the house.

Minutes later Tygo was loading cases of ammunition, grenades and explosives into the boot of the Opel. Alisa reappeared, carrying a couple of German MG 42 machine
guns. Tygo took them and tried to find a space for them.

‘Put them on the back seat,' his sister said.

‘Have you killed a lot of people?' Tygo asked as he slid the guns across the back seats.

Alisa took a moment to answer. ‘I've shot a lot of people, don't know how many I've killed.'

Tygo nodded. Alisa glanced down at the body of the dead policeman. He didn't look very old, in his twenties probably. He was somebody's son, perhaps even somebody's father.

‘It's a terrible thing, Tygo, to take a person's life.' Alisa's eyes were wet, but perhaps it was just the biting cold. ‘Maybe after tonight, if we succeed, then everyone can stop killing each other for good.'

Tygo suddenly had an awful feeling inside, like a premonition. ‘Don't die, Alisa,' he said, and he felt tears on his cheeks.

Alisa leant forward and kissed him quickly on his forehead, like a mother.

‘I won't.'

CHAPTER 23

K
rüger left the girl under guard in his tent and headed through the trees to the radio truck. It was a few minutes before six o'clock, time for the hourly radio check with the Führer's convoy.

Krüger pulled himself up the metal ladder and into the back of the truck. It was warm inside from all the electronics and was lit with dull red bulbs screwed into the ceiling. Two radio operators were sitting on metal chairs, headphones over their ears and large horn-shaped Bakelite microphones around their necks. The sound of constant radio traffic filtered in. Beside the radios were two Enigma machines.

Krüger checked his watch; the second hand was
closing in on the twelve. He nodded to the operator, who flicked a couple of dials and then spoke into the microphone.

‘New Moon calling Night Wolf, New Moon calling Night Wolf, are you receiving?'

There was crackle and a hiss of static. ‘Night Wolf receiving,' came a voice back to them.

Krüger grabbed a set of headphones and a hand microphone.