True genius resides in the capacity for evaluation of uncertain, hazardous and conflicting information.
Winston Churchill
- 0 -
Midday
The road between Lille and Dunkirk, France
Schneider's driver slowed down and hooted impatiently as a horse cart filled with coal plodded along and barred the narrow road. The cart pulled into the first available space and allowed them to pass, and Schneider looked at the two dirty occupants with distaste. He'd passed the man and the boy hauling their coal towards Dunkirk many times, and derived some pleasure from their submissive, resentful postures. The boy never even looked at him, keeping his head bowed instead. These lazy Frenchmen did not deserve this country – once the war was over, Germany would build this fertile land into what it should be, and it would be the envy of the world.
- 0 -
Harry kept the horse's pace steady until there was a gap in the hedge flanking the road, and turned the coal cart into it. He glanced at the man in the back as the car pulled level, making sure that his expression matched those he had seen on the locals whenever they encountered German soldiers. The car roared past and he guided the horse back into the road.
"That was Von Salmuth's Chief of Staff," he murmured, and urged the horse to increase its pace.
Ruth didn't respond, and he looked inquiringly at her. What little of her skin was visible under the soot seemed unnaturally pale. Her hair had been stuffed into a peaked cap and she was swathed in a bulky jacket which effectively hid her feminine curves from all but the most curious eyes. Harry was counting on the familiar silhouette of the coal cart and its association with the man and boy driving it to fool their enemies. Her silence worried him and he wondered whether the unrelenting tension might be getting to her; she had never before endured such prolonged stretches under extreme duress, whereas he'd had many years of experience at it in the Light Dragoons.
"Have some water." He shoved the water bottle at her, fearful that she would be sick.
She took a few mouthfuls and drew in a shaky breath.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"No need," he said crisply. "You're doing incredibly well, Ruth," he added in a warm tone. He wanted to say more, to be effusive in his praise and encouragement, but the words wouldn't come. There would hopefully be time for such things later – after the operation.
"We're almost there. Then we can rest for a few hours before the target arrives," he said instead, before lapsing into watchful silence.
During the next three hours they were regularly passed by military traffic, but no-one gave them a second glance. The sun was high in the sky and sweat trickled down his face; the heat was considerable. It was with some relief that he swung the cart into the courtyard of a small inn about six miles outside Dunkirk. They had easily bought the man's cooperation and silence with the gold bracelet, and had agreed to leave the cart at the inn for the owner to collect later. Harry led the horse towards the water trough outside and resisted the urge to plunge his head into the cool water. After making sure that the horse was securely fastened, he helped Ruth down and shouldered the duffel bag, and they set off across the field at the back. Ruth could see a chateau on a rise in the distance, and soon realised that that's where they were headed. It seemed the Resistance had rich connections. When they reached it Harry led her around to the back door, where he knocked assertively. A maid opened the door and her eyes widened at the sight of the dirty, bedraggled travellers standing before her. Harry thrust a package at her.
"Give this to your mistress. We'll wait here."
The maid closed the door on them and Harry turned to sweep his eyes over the landscape.
"The owner of this place is part of the Resistance?" Ruth asked, surveying the neat backyard. Her eyes were gritty with fatigue and she'd never felt so dirty in her life.
Harry nodded. "The place belongs to a once prominent family. The estate was in financial trouble so the eldest daughter was married off to an English businessman, Andrew Shaw. She lived with him in England for five years and developed a love for our country and its people. The marriage turned out not to be a happy one and as providence would have it, she moved back here shortly before the war broke out."
The door swung open and a tall, elegant woman appeared. She and Harry looked at each other and something unspoken seemed to pass between them, and then Harry said, "Hello, Juliette."
- 0 –
Ruth had had a bath, and even though the water had been lukewarm, it had done wonders to restore her flagging morale. She put on a clean set of clothes and went downstairs looking for the others. Harry and Juliette were in the drawing room. They were in earnest conversation, standing close together. Ruth hesitated in the door and watched them. It was obvious to her that they had known each other for a long time, and, she suspected, had been lovers at some stage. There was a physical ease between them that only came from knowing each other intimately. Harry lifted his head and his eyes found her, and once again she saw his face soften. Juliette glanced between Harry and Ruth speculatively as she approached, and Ruth wondered what this chic, self-assured French woman made of her.
"Feel better?" Harry asked solicitously and Ruth was reminded of the strained atmosphere between them earlier.
She gave him a small smile. "Yes." She turned to Juliette. "Thank you, I actually feel human again."
They sat down, Juliette deliberately settling next to Harry on the sofa.
"I have done as you instructed," she told him. "Tonight I have a party for the senior German officers in the area."
"They all accepted?" Harry asked.
"No." Juliette took a cigarette from a silver case on the table and waited until Harry offered her a light. She inhaled and looked at him. "Helmut Schneider declined. He gave no reason."
Harry turned to Ruth. "The officer that passed us on the road. What do you make of that?"
Ruth was still trying to get her head around the idea that a member of the Resistance would hold a party for German officers, and she answered somewhat distractedly, "He's probably decided to take control of the operation himself. He will want to receive Tiberius personally. Whoever ensures that those plans get through safely will gain significant personal mileage from it. Also, he's probably not all that impressed that we were able to get through three of their roadblocks without anyone noticing."
Everything she'd just said had already occurred to him, she saw. So why ask her in the first place? Was he testing her? He watched her fingers fiddle with her skirt and she realised, no, he was trying to put her at ease. The thought warmed her.
"I agree. So. It seems obvious that Schneider will be there to welcome the boat, no doubt with some reinforcements. That means we'll have to set off early."
He looked at his watch. "Three hours until sunset. We'll move as soon as it's dark. Ruth, will you let Malcolm know?"
When Ruth had left the room, Juliette reached out and stroked Harry's arm with long fingers. He looked at her in surprise and she gave him an inviting smile.
"Do you want to come to the bedroom? I can relieve some of your stress – it'll be like old times."
Harry was taken aback, but then she had always been direct. The skill with which she had seduced him all those years ago was still fresh in his memory and for a moment he was tempted; he had not been with a woman since he'd been wounded at Dunkirk. But a pair of blue-grey eyes swam to the front of his mind and he felt again the softness of her skin under his touch, and he shook his head.
"Thank you for the offer, but I can't afford any distractions."
It was a lame excuse and Juliette, apparently, also knew it. She smiled sardonically.
"So you have fallen for her."
Harry's head snapped round and his eyes flashed dangerously. "What?"
"Ruth. You're in love with her."
"I barely know her," Harry protested, but Juliette waved it away.
"You once told me that when one lives with the knowledge that you could die any day, like all spies in enemy territory during wartime do, it sharpens and intensifies experiences and emotions. We tend to know what we want. And you, my darling, want her."
"And you are on very thin ice," Harry said testily.
Juliette gave him a long look before she shrugged and got up. "Everything you have asked for is in the stables; you can rest there until it is time to go."
At the door she turned and looked at him fondly. "Harry, she fancies you as well, so don't let this opportunity pass you by."
He said nothing, but her words evoked a surge of hope so strong that it left him breathless.
"Be safe tonight," Juliette said sincerely, and he smiled.
"You too, Juliette."
- 0 –
Harry and Ruth decamped to the stables where a simple meal and two mattresses had been laid out for them. Ruth looked longingly at the beds, but when she saw the food she realised how hungry she was. They sat down to eat and Harry poured her a glass of red wine. When she lifted an eyebrow, he shrugged.
"Might as well," he said philosophically, and she understood his meaning all too well. Who knew what the night would bring?
"I take it the aim of tonight's party is to keep the German officers out of the way whilst we intercept Hoffhausen." She paused, and added casually, "Juliette's a brave woman."
"Hmm. I seem to be surrounded by those." Harry watched her over the rim of his glass, this time not bothering to hide his admiration for her.
Ruth looked down, unaccustomed to such direct praise, and Harry couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch her hand briefly.
"I mean it, Ruth."
She looked into his eyes then, and the air around them became charged. Desire coursed through her and settled deep in her stomach, and she knew it must show on her face.
"Ruth..." Harry murmured, her name an endearment as his fingers flexed around the stem of the glass. If only they had more time.
She smiled in acknowledgement and cleared her throat. "What do you need me to do tonight?"
- 0 –
Three hours later
They were ready to leave. The sounds of the party drifted towards them from the main house, and they could hear laughter and music interspersed with the clinking of glasses. Harry was dressed in dark trousers and jersey, and Ruth couldn't help but admire the way it moulded to his chest. He was carefully loading the Sten submachine gun and two spare clips, and then he moved on to the Mauser. Once he was done, he handed it to her and she stuffed it carefully into the pocket of her skirt. She thought again about the plan: they would drive to within two miles of the drop-off point, from where Harry would work his way alone through any cordon Schneider may have set. He would kill or disable Tiberius, get the plans, and try to get back to the truck. It wasn't much of a plan and she knew the chances of Harry making it out alive were minuscule, but she couldn't think of anything better. Although she wanted to beg him not to go, she didn't, because she understood why he had to. But as he coasted the old truck Juliette had provided down the hill without starting it, the tears burned behind her eyelids and she had to blink them away. He had been quiet for the last hour, gradually withdrawing into himself as the time approached for them to leave. And she had let him be, had suppressed her urge to talk to him, to make the most of the time they had together. They both understood that this was bigger than them, that the outcome of the war was more important than two people finding each other.
The truck reached the bottom of the hill and Harry started it. He drove towards their destination via back roads, which eventually petered out into a faint track that ended against the dunes. He parked the truck in a clump of trees, facing away from the beach. He switched off the engine and in the sudden silence she could hear the waves crashing onto the shore. Harry sat immobile, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and his breathing fast and harsh. Ruth could not imagine what must be going through his mind – what did men think about when they were about to go to almost certain death? It lasted only a few seconds, and then his hands visibly relaxed. He turned towards her and fished an envelope out of his pocket.
"Here."
She took it reluctantly, aware of the way her hand shook.
"It's instructions for a rendezvous. If things go wrong tonight, you go there, and the Resistance will get you out of France safely."
"Harry…" Ruth wanted to give it back, but she could see a hint of desperation in his face. So she nodded, determined to allow him the small comfort of knowing she would get out safely.
He breathed a sigh of relief. "I better get going. Remember, if you hear shots, you get out of here. Do you understand?"
"I understand." She couldn't quite keep the quiver out of her voice, and he suddenly leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. His lips lingered there, and she felt his fingers caress her neck before he eventually pulled back.
He gave her a crooked smile and she hoped he couldn't see her tears in the dark, and then he was gone.
- 0 –
Harry knew he had four hours to work his way to the drop-off point. He was certain Schneider had cordoned off the area, so he had to find a way inside that cordon. It was the sort of thing reconnaissance soldiers specialised in and the concept was not new to him. However, he couldn't help but wish that he was ten years younger and didn't have a dodgy knee. It was going to be one of the most difficult things he had ever done.
He slipped through the trees quietly, the Sten in his hands, and thought about the woman he'd left behind. He'd tried to convince her to drop him off and immediately retreat, but she had refused point blank. When he'd stated bluntly, and perhaps a little cruelly, that he had about a one percent chance of making it back, she had stubbornly retorted that it was better than nothing, and that she and the truck would be there waiting. He stepped into a hole and jarred his left knee, and had to grit his teeth not to grunt in pain. It was a reminder that now was not the time to think about Ruth and the fact that for once he actually might have something wonderful to live for. He reached the end of the trees and lowered himself onto his stomach, and waited. Successful reconnaissance was dependent on endless patience. He lay there, unmoving and watchful, looking for anything that was out of place. Twenty minutes later he was rewarded when he saw a brief flare of light five hundred yards to his right as someone lit a cigarette. Harry estimated that he was about a mile south of the place where the boat would come in, so it was likely that the man that had lit the cigarette was the southernmost end of the cordon. He took a breath and began to work his way forward through the long grass, angling away from where he knew the man was. His plan was to get to the water and to approach the beach from the ocean's side. He was a good swimmer and swam regularly, as it was the only exercise he could do that didn't strain his knee. He suspected that the Germans would have the beach covered, but not the water. It was his only chance of getting close. Keeping his face down he inched his way forward, careful not to make the grass move too much. It was exhausting work and sweat trickled down his forehead and stung his eyes, but he kept going. Whenever he felt like giving up, he reminded himself of the Prime Minister's words – that he was protecting a secret on which the forces of good and evil would turn, and that failure was not an option. He gritted his teeth and soldiered on. Two hours later he reached the sand dunes. He paused and listened and watched carefully, but everything was quiet. Taking a chance, he got to his feet and made a run for the water. He reached it without incident and slipped into it, and began to swim.
- 0 –
Ruth sat in the truck, waiting for the longest four hours of her life to pass. She had moved behind the wheel as soon as Harry had left, the Mauser gripped in her hand. Her mind could not settle and she turned everything that had happened in the last few days over again and again. She analysed events from the moment that Harry had walked into Hut Seven, wondering what they could have done differently. And the more she thought about the operation, the less sense it made. How could the British know about the mail boat, but not know where it picked up the German agents? Why had they not closed it down? How had Tiberius managed to escape – surely he would have been closely guarded, seeing as he was one of the best German spies they'd captured? And then there was the message sent by the other agent to alert the Germans about their presence. How had he learnt that two British spies would go to France to intercept Tiberius? Only a handful of people knew about the operation, and only Harry, herself and Malcolm knew all the details. She simply could not make the pieces fit. Unless…
Connie's words came back to her: "Harry's job is to catch German spies and to turn them, and to play them back against their own country."
She drew in a sharp breath. "Oh, you brilliant, devious man," she said out loud.
- 0 –
Harry emerged from the water behind some rocks and quietly removed the Sten from its waterproof wrapping. He could hear a small boat approaching and knew that it would all be over in a few minutes. He peered around the rock and scanned the beach, but it was deserted. Schneider was holding off and Harry suspected that he wanted to kill two birds with one stone – get the plans Tiberius carried and capture the British spies. That suited Harry, as it would give him an opportunity to get close enough to do what he had to. There was a low rumble as the small boat beached and he could make out the silhouettes of three men, one of which jumped out and strode through the shallow water towards dry sand. The small boat reversed, turned and disappeared. Harry took a deep breath, got to his feet and swiftly approached the lone figure on the beach.
He called out, "Gunther!"
The German spun around, a package in his hand.
Harry could hear exclamations and people scurrying around somewhere to their right, but he couldn't see anything. He lifted the Sten and pointed it at Hoffhausen just as a powerful spotlight came on. It illuminated them, and Harry saw Gunther's confused expression. The German looked around and then back at Harry. He took an uncertain step towards him and stopped again.
"Harry?" he said uncertainly. "I did everything you asked-"
Behind them, angry German voices were raised, and one called out, "Drop your weapon! You are surrounded!"
Regret flitted momentarily across Harry's features, but he pulled the trigger without hesitation. The German agent crumpled to his knees slowly, a look of incredulity and betrayal on his face. The package slipped from his hand onto the sand and Harry made a move towards it.
"Shoot him!" came the command, and several shots were fired simultaneously.
tbc
