Where Eagles Dare

There was a brief and uncomfortable silence, then Kramer nodded to Anne-Marie who put down her glass and moved off to a side door leading off the gold drawing-room. It was obvious to everyone that Anne-Marie wasn't feeling in the least uncomfortable: the half-smile on her face was as near to that of pleasurable anticipation as she could permit herself in the presence of Rosemeyer and Kramer.

Again Smith and Schaffer exchanged glances, no longer thoughtful glances, but the glances of men who know what they have to do and are committed to doing it. Carefully, silently, they eased themselves up from the choir-stalls, adjusted the straps of their shoulder-slung Schmeissers until the machine-pistols were in the horizontal position then started slowly down the stairs, well apart and as close as possible to

They were half-day down, just beginning to emerge from the dark gloom of the gallery, when Anne-Marie re-entered the room. She was carrying a small stainless steel tray: on the tray were a glass beaker, a phial containing some colourless liquid and a hypodermic syringe. She set the tray down on an occasional table close to Jones and broke the phial into the narrow beaker.

Smith and Schaffer had reached the foot of the stairs and were now advancing towards the group round the fire-place. They had now completely emerged from the shadows, and were in full view of anyone who cared to turn his head. But no one cared to turn his head, every seated person in the drawing-room was engrossed in the scene before him, watching in varying degrees of willing or unwilling fascination as Anne-Marie carefully filled the hypodermic syringe and held it up to the light to examine it. Smith and Schaffer continued to advance, their footfalls soundless on the luxuriously deep pile of the gold carpet.

Carefully, professionally, but with the trace of the smile still on her lips, Anne-Marie swabbed an area of Jones's forearm with cotton wool soaked in alcohol and then, as the watchers unconsciously bent forward in their seats, picked up Jones's wrist in one hand and the hypodermic in the other. The hypodermic hovered over the swabbed area as she located the vein she wanted.

'Just a waste of good scopolamine, my dear,' Smith said. 'You won't get anything out of him.'

There was a moment's frozen and incredulous stillness, the hypodermic syringe fell soundlessly to the floor, then everyone whirled round to stare at the two advancing figures, carbines moving gently from side to side. Predictably, Colonel Kramer was the first to recover and react. Almost imperceptibly, his hand began to drift to a button on a panel beside his chair.

'That button, Colonel,' Smith said conversationally.

Slowly, reluctantly, Kramer's hand retreated from the button.

'On the other hand,' Smith went on cordially, 'why not? By all means, if you wish.'

Kramer glanced at him in narrow-eyed and puzzled suspicion.

'Drop the gun?' Schaffer stared at him in shock and baffled consternation. 'What in the name of God -- '

Smith stepped swiftly forward and, without altering his grip on his gun, lifted the barrel sharply upwards and drove the butt of the Schmeisser into Schaffer's stomach. Schaffer grunted in agony, doubled forward with both hands clutched over his midriff, then, seconds later, obviously in great pain, began to straighten slowly. Glaring at Smith, the dark eyes mad in his face, he slipped the shoulder strap and the Schmeisser fell to the carpet.

'Sit there.' With the muzzle of his gun Smith gestured to a chair half-way between Rosemeyer's and the couch where the three men were sitting.

Schaffer said slowly, painfully: 'You goddamned lousy, dirty, double-crossing -- '

That's what they all say. You're not even original.' The contempt in Smith's voice gave way to menace. 'That chair, Schaffer.'

Schaffer lowered himself with difficulty into his chair,

rubbed his solar plexus and said, 'You --. If I live to be a hundred -- '

'If you live to be a hundred you'll do nothing,' Smith said contemptuously. 'In your own idiom, Schaffer, you're a punk and a pretty second-rate one at that.' He settled himself comfortably in a chair beside Colonel Kramer. 'A simple-minded American,' he explained carelessly. 'Had him along for local colour,'

'I see,' Kramer said. It was obvious that he did not see. He went on uncertainly: 'If we might have an

Smith waved him negligently to silence.

'All in good time, my dear Kramer, all in good time. As I was saying, my dear Anne-Marie -- '

'How did you know her name was Anne-Marie?' Kramer asked sharply.