Where Eagles Dare

'Into the cable-car, you two.' Carraciola waited until they had boarded, walked across the floor until he was directly under the smashed skylight and called: 'Boss!' Schaffer's silenced Luger was in his hand.

On the roof above Smith stiffened, handed the trembling Carnaby-Jones -- his eyes were still screwed shut -- over to the care of Mary, took two steps towards the skylight and stopped. It was Wyatt-Turner who had said of Smith that he had a built-in radar set against danger and Carraciola's voice had just started it up into instantaneous operation and had it working with a clarity and precision that would have turned Decca green with envy.

'Schaffer?' Smith called softly. 'Lieutenant Schaffer? Are you there?'

'Right here, boss.' Mid-west accent, Schaffer to the life. Smith's radar-scope went into high and had it been geared to warning bells he'd have been deafened for life. He dropped to hands and knees and crawled soundlessly forward. He could see the floor of the station now. The first thing that came into his vision was a bank of batteries, then an outflung hand, then, gradually the rest of the spread-eagled form of Schaffer. Another few inches forward and he sensed as much as saw a long finger pointing in his direction and flung himself to one side. The wind from the Luger's shell rifled his hair. Down below someone cursed in anger and frustration.

'That's the last chance you'll ever have, Carraciola,' Smith said. From where he lay he could just see Schaffer's face -- or the bloody mask that covered his face. It was impossible to tell whether he was alive or dead. He looked dead.

'Wrong again. Merely the postponement of a pleasure. We're leaving now, Smith. I'm going to start the motor.

Want Schaffer to get his -- -- -- Christiansen has the Schmeisser

'You make for that control panel,' Smith said, 'and your first step into my line of vision will be your last. I'll cut you down, Carraciola. Schaffer's dead. I can see he's dead.'

'He's damn all of the kind dead. He's just been clobbered by a gun butt.'

I'll cut you down,' Smith said monotonously.

'Goddam it, I tell you he's not dead!' Carraciola was exasperated now.

'I'm going to kill you,' Smith said quietly. 'If I don't, the first guards through that door surely will. You can see what we've done to their precious Schloss Adler -- it's well alight. Can't you guess the orders that have gone out -- -shoot on sight. Any stranger, shoot on sight -- and shoot to kill. You're a stranger, Carraciola.'

'For God's sake, will you listen to me?' There was desperation in the voice now. 'I can prove it. He is alive. What can you see from up there?'

The signal strengths of Smith's danger radar set began to fade. He said: 'I can see Schaffer's head.'

'Watch it, then.' There was a thud and a silenced Luger bounced to a stop a few inches from Schaffer's head. A moment later Carraciola himself came into Smith's field of vision. He.looked up at Smith and at the Schmeisser muzzle staring down at him and said: 'You won't be needing that.' He stooped over Schaffer, pinched his nose with one hand and clamped his other hand over the mouth. Within seconds the unconscious man, fighting for the air that would not come, began to move his head and to raise feeble hands in the direction of his face. Carraciola took his hands away, looked. up at Smith and said: 'Don't forget, Christiansen has still that Schmeisser on him.'

Carraciola walked confidently across to the control panel, , made the generator switch, released the mechanical handbrake and engaged gear, pushing the lever all the way across. The cable-car leapt forward with a violent jerk. Carraciola ran for it, jumped inside, turned and slammed the door of the cable-car.

'Well, that's it, then,' Mary said. Her voice was unnaturally calm. 'Finish. all finish. Operation Overlord -and us. If that matters.'

'It matters to me.' Smith took out his silenced automatic and held it in his good left hand. 'Keep an eye on Junior here.'

'No!' For perhaps two dazed, incredulous seconds that were the longest seconds she had ever known, Mary had quite failed to gather Smith's intention: when shocked understanding did come, her voice rose to a scream. 'No! No! For God's sake, no!'

Smith ignored the heart-broken voice, the desperate clutching hand and walked to the end of the flat section of the roof. At the lower edge of the steeply sloping roof section the leading edge of the cable-car had just come into view: a cable-car with, inside it, three men who were exchanging delighted grins and thumping one another joyously on the back.