Where Eagles Dare

Von Brauchitsch, his gun-hand resting helplessly on his thigh, turned slowly round and looked over his shoulder. There was indeed a gun pointing at the middle of his back, a Lilliput .21 automatic, and the hand that held it was disconcertingly steady, the dark eyes cool and very watchful. Apart from the small trickle of blood from her cut lip and rather dishevelled hair, Mary looked singularly little the worse for wear.

“It's every parent's duty,” Schaffer said pontifically, “to encourage his daughter to take up Judo.” He took the gun from von Brauchitsch's unresisting hand, retrieved his own Schmeisser, walked across to the main door and locked it. “Far too many folk coming in here without knocking.” On his way back he looked through the opened door of the room, whistled, grinned and said to Mary: “It's a good job I have my thoughts set on someone else. I wouldn't like to be married to you if you lost your temper. That's a regular sickbay dispensary in there. Fix the Major's hand as best you can. I'll watch them.” He hoisted his Schmeisser and smiled almost blissfully: “Oh, brother, how I'll watch them.”

And he watched them. While Mary attended to Smith's injured hand in the small room where Anne-Marie had so lately met her Waterloo, Schaffer herded his six charges into one of the massive couches, took up position by the mantelpiece, poured himself some brandy, sipped it delicately and gave the prisoners an encouraging smile from time to time. There were no answering smiles. For all Schaffer's nonchalance and light-hearted banter there was about him not only a coldly discouraging competence with the weapon in his hand but also the unmistakable air of one who would, when the need arose and without a second's hesitation, squeeze the trigger and keep on squeezing it. Being at the wrong end of a Schmeisser machine-pistol does not make for an easy cordiality in relationships.

Smith and Mary emerged from the side room, the latter carrying a cloth-covered tray. Smith was pale and had his right hand heavily bandaged. Schaffer looked at the hand then lifted an enquiring eyebrow to Mary.

“Not so good.” She looked a little pale herself. “Forefinger and thumb are both smashed. I've patched it as best I can but I'm afraid it's a job for a surgeon.”

“If I can survive Mary's first aid,” Smith said philosophically, “I can survive anything. We have a more immediate little problem here.” He tapped his tunic. “Those names and addresses here. Might be an hour or two before we get them through to England and then another hour or two before those men can be rounded up.” He looked at the men seated on the couch. “You could get through to them in a lot less than that and warn them. So we have to ensure your silence for a few hours.”

“We could ensure it for ever, boss,” Schaffer said carelessly.

“That won't be necessary. As you said yourself, it's a regular little dispensary in there.” He removed the tray cloth to show bottles and hypodermic syringes. He held up a bottle in his left hand. “Nembutal. You'll hardly feel the prick.” Kramer stared at him. “Nembutal? I'll be damned if I do.” Smith said in a tone of utter conviction: “You'll be dead if you don't.”

9

Smith halted outside the door marked RADIO RAUM, held up his hand for silence, looked at the three scowling captives and said: “Don't even think of tipping anyone off or raising the alarm. I'm not all that keen on taking you back to England. Lieutenant Schaffer, I think we might immobilise those men a bit more.”

“We might at that,” Schaffer agreed. He went behind each of the three men in turn, ripped open the top buttons on their tunics and pulled the tunics down their backs until their sleeves reached their elbows and said in the same soft voice: “That'll keep their hands out of trouble for a little.”

“But not their feet. Don't let them come anywhere near you,” Smith said to Mary. “They've nothing to lose. Right, Lieutenant, when you're ready.”

“Ready now.” Carefully, silently, Schaffer eased open the door of the radio room. It was a large, well-lit, but very bleak room, the two main items of furniture being a massive table by the window on the far wall and, on the table, an almost equally massive transceiver in gleaming metal: apart from two chairs and a filing cabinet the room held nothing else, not even as much as a carpet to cover the floorboards.