Jackdaws

Hans Hesse walked out of the shadows, escorting a young woman. She might have been beautiful, but her face was ghastly white, her hair lay in greasy strands, and she had sores on her lips. She seemed weak, walking with difficulty.

It was Gilberte.

Michel gasped.

Dieter repeated his question. “Where will the plane land, and when?”

Michel said nothing.

Dieter said, “Put her on the train.”

Michel moaned.

A guard opened the gate of a cattle car. While two others kept the women in with bayonets, the guard pushed Gilberte into the car. “No,” she cried. “No, please!”

The guard was about to close the gate, but Dieter said, “Wait.” He looked at Michel. Tears were pouring down the man’s face.

Gilberte said, “Please, Michel, I beg you.” Michel nodded. “All right,” he said.

“Don’t lie again,” Dieter warned.

“Let her out.”

“The time and place.”

“The potato field east of Laroque, at two a.m.”

Dieter looked at his watch. It was twelve-fifteen. “Show me,” he said.

Paul said, “I’m single.” He looked at Flick.

She shook her head. “I intended to ask Michel for a divorce… but how could I, in the middle of an operation?”

“So we’ll wait until after the war to get married,” Paul said. “I’m patient.”

’typical man, Flick thought. He slips marriage into the conversation like a minor detail, on a level with buying a dog license. So much for romance.

But in truth she was pleased. It was the second time he had mentioned marriage. Who needs romance? she thought.

She looked at her watch. It was one-thirty. “lime to go,” she said.

Dieter had commandeered a Mercedes limousine that had been outside the château grounds and so had survived the explosion. The car was now parked at the edge of the vineyard next to the potato field at Laroque, camouflaged with leafy vines torn from the ground. Michel and Gilberte were in the backseat, bound hand and foot, guarded by Hans.

Dieter also had with him the two corporals, each armed with a rifle. Dieter and the riflemen looked into the potato field. They could see clearly in the moonlight.

Dieter said, “The terrorists will be here in the next few minutes. We have the advantage of surprise. They have no idea that we’re here. But remember, I must have them alive-especially the leader, the small woman. You have to shoot to wound, not kill.”

One of the marksmen said, “We can’t guarantee that. This field must be three hundred meters wide. Let’s say the enemy is a hundred and fifty meters away. At that distance, no one could be sure of hitting the legs of a running man.”

“They won’t be running,” Dieter said. “They’re meeting a plane. They have to form a line, pointing electric torches at the aircraft to guide the pilot down. That means they’ll be standing still for several minutes.”

“In the middle of the field?”

“Yes.”

The man nodded. “Then we can do it.” He looked up. “Unless the moon goes behind a cloud.”

“In that event, we’ll turn on the headlights of the car at the crucial moment.” The Mercedes had huge dinner-plate lamps.

The other marksman said, “Listen.”

Five kilometers from Laroque, the village of L’Epine was asleep. Bright moonlight silvered the big church. Behind the church, Moulier’s meat van was parked inconspicuously next to a barn. In the deep moon shadow thrown by a buttress, the surviving Jackdaws sat waiting.

“What are you looking forward to?” said Ruby.

Paul said, “A steak.”

Flick said, “A soft bed with clean sheets. How about you?”

“Seeing Jim.”

Flick recalled that Ruby had had a fling with the firearms instructor. “I thought…” She stopped.

“You thought it was just a casual shag?” Ruby said. Flick nodded, embarrassed.

“So did Jim,” Ruby said. “But I’ve got other plans.” Paul laughed softly. “I’ll bet you get what you want.” “What about you two?” Ruby asked.

They fell silent. A motor vehicle was approaching. They all knelt. Despite the moonlight, they would not be visible against the dark mass of the vines, provided they kept their heads down.

A van came along the road from the village with its lights off It pulled up by the gate to the potato field. A female figure jumped out and swung the gate wide. The van pulled in and its engine was silenced. Two more people got out, another woman and a man.

“Quiet, now,” Dieter whispered.

Suddenly the hush was shattered by the blare of a car horn, incredibly loud.

Dieter jumped and cursed. It came from immediately behind him. “Jesus!” he exploded. It was the Mercedes. He leaped to his feet and ran to the open window of the driver’s door. He saw immediately what had happened.

Michel had sprung forward, leaning across the front seat, and before Hans could stop him he had pressed on the horn with his bound hands. Hans, in the front passenger seat, was now trying to aim his gun, but Gilberte had joined in, and she was lying half over Hans, hampering his movements so that he kept having to push her away.