Where Eagles Dare

'Finished.' Smith sighed. 'You just had to come to meet us, hadn't you, Colonel? This was the last door to life left open to you. In my final broadcast I told the Admiral "I have it all". He told you what that meant -- all the names, all the addresses. We could never have got at you through Carraciola, Christiansen or Thomas -- they were too close to you in M.I.6, you were too cagey and they never knew who they were working for. You used intermediaries -- and all their names are in that book. You knew they'd put the finger on you -- when it's a choice between taking a walk to the gallows and talking -well, it's not much of a choice, is it?'

Wyatt-Turner didn't answer. He turned to Carpenter and said: 'Lay off a course for Lille airport.'

'Don't bother," Smith said.

Wyatt-Turner lined his Sten on Smith. 'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you now.'

'I can do that,' Smith nodded. 'Why do you think that Admiral Holland accompanied you to the airport. He never has before.'

'To make quite certain that you took that Sten and only that Sten with you. Tell me, can you see two parallel scores where the stock meets the barrel?'

Wyatt-Turner stared at him for a long moment then glanced down quickly at the Sten. There were two unmistakable parallel scratches exactly where Smith had said they would be. Wyatt-Turner looked up again, his face contorted, desperation replacing the sickness in his eyes.

That's right,' Smith said. 'I personally filed off the firing pin exactly thirty-six hours ago.' With his left hand Smith reached awkwardly under his tunic flap and brought out his silenced Luger. Wyatt-Turner, with his Sten lined up on Smith's head and the muzzle less than three feet from Smith's face, squeezed the trigger time and again, and each convulsive contraction of his forefinger was rewarded by a dry and empty click. With a stunned almost uncomprehending expression on his face, Wyatt-Turner slowly lowered the Sten to the floor, then quickly whirled in his seat, jerked open the door and threw the note-book out into the night. He turned and smiled bleakly at Smith.

'The most important document in Europe, I believe I called it.'

'So you did.' Smith handed his gun to Schaffer, reached under his tunic and brought out two more books. 'Duplicates.'

'Duplicates!' The smile slowly faded from the heavily-jowled face, leaving it frozen in defeat. 'Duplicates,' he whispered. He looked slowly around them all and then finally back at Smith, who had retrieved his gun from Schaffer. He said: 'Are you going to shoot me?'

'No.'

Wyatt-Turner nodded, slid back the door to its widest extent and said: 'Can you really see me in the Tower?' He stepped forward into the doorway.

'Mind the step,' said Schaffer. His voice was cold and empty, his face was carved from stone.

'Well, now, time to make a call.' Smith slid shut the door, scrambled painfully into the co-pilot's seat and looked at Mary. 'The Admiral must be getting worried by this time.'

'Time to make a call,' Mary repeated mechanically. She stared at him as if seeing a ghost. 'How can you sit there -- just after -- how can you be so calm?'

'Because it's no shock to me, silly. I knew he was going to die.'

'You knew -- of course, of course,' she murmured.

'Now then,' Smith went on, deliberately brisk-voiced as he took her hand. 'You realise what this means, don't you?'

'Do I realise what what means?' She was still ashen-faced.

'You and I are all washed up,' Smith explained patiently. 'Finished. In Italy, in north-west Europe. I won't even be allowed to fight as a soldier because if I were captured I'd still be shot as a spy.'

'So?'

'So, for us, the war is over. For the first time we can think of ourselves. O.K.?' He squeezed her hand and she smiled shakily in reply. 'O.K. Wing Commander, may I use your radio?'

Smith's voice crackled over the earphone. 'Everything, sir.'

'Magnificent, magnificent! I have all the police forces in the country alerted. As soon as we get that book... There's a car waiting for you at the airport. See you in an hour.'

'Yes, sir. There's one thing, sir, a small thing. I want to get married this morning.'

'You what?' Grey bushy eyebrows lifted towards the mane of white hair.

'I want to get married,' Smith explained slowly and patiently. 'To Miss Mary Ellison.'

'But you can't,'Holland protested. 'This morning! Impossible! There are such things as banns, permits, the registrar's office will be shut today -- '

'After all I've done for you,' Smith interrupted reproachfully.

'Blackmail, sir! You play on an old man's gratitude. Downright blackmail!'Holland banged down the phone, smiled tiredly and u picked up another phone. 'Operator? Put me through to the Forgery Section.'