The call-back signal from Staverton was due at any moment. It sounded as if the Archangel emergency was finally over. A coded message to say their mission had been terminated was all that he had received, but he took that as good news.
The phone bell was on its third ring when he picked up the handset.
“Robert?” The voice at the other end was faint but unmistakable.
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
There was an interminable pause. Fleming thought the line had gone dead. When the AVM spoke again, the words came rapidly.
“Guardian Angel, Robert, it’s gone horribly wrong.”
“This is an open line, sir, don’t you think—”
“There’s no time for security precautions. He’s got to be stopped.”
“Who?”
“Kruze. We’ve been trying to raise Nazareth for the past three hours to tell our man it’s off. Shaposhnikov has got chemical weapons beside his HQ in Branodz. And Kruze has not acknowledged the termination signal.”
“Chemical weapons—”
“As you said, Robert, this is an open line. Think about it afterwards, work out the permutations. I’m telling you we can’t take any chances. We’ve got to stop Kruze in his tracks.”
“Isn’t it possible he might still call in?”
“SOE is monitoring all channels, just in case. But if there is no word — and we should have heard by now — I want the Meteors to go in as planned. Is there any chance of pulling it forward, destroying all — and I mean all — the aircraft on the ground before 0600?’
“The strike was timed to coincide with first light. It would be immensely risky sending the Meteors in any earlier.”
“See that it’s done.” A pause, then: “You’ll be going with them, Robert.”
“What?”
“You’re the only one who knows just how important it is that Kruze does not get through. You’ve flown the Meteor, haven’t you?”
“A couple of sorties at Farnborough, but—”
“Good, then lead them in. I want no aircraft left on the ground at Oberammergau for Kruze when he arrives there at dawn tomorrow.”
“He might already be dead, or captured. If he hasn’t called in…”
The seconds ticked by before the static was broken and Staverton gave his reply.
“I have to brief the special advisers in an hour. Robert, Kruze is still out there, I know it. He must be stopped, at all costs. That’s an order.”
With that, he hung up.
“I wouldn’t give much for your chances of concluding this deal,” Kruze said, breaking the silence that had hung between them since Herries turned the Mercedes into the wood and switched off the engine.
“Is that some sort of threat?” Herries’ tone was mocking. “Do you have orders to kill me, flyboy, is that it?”
“Not me,” he said. “But if you make it back to England, you’ll have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life. I wouldn’t count on that being a very long time.”
“It’s a distinct possibility, but look at my options. I never amassed the sort of wealth my ex-colleagues did by pilfering from the vaults and art galleries of Europe. The only money I’ve got is locked up in my father’s estates. When you’re cashless, dear boy, South America is an awfully hot, sticky and unpleasant place. It had to be England. Archangel gave me the excuse to come back and claim what was rightfully mine.”
“There was I thinking that you’d just got sentimental about a warm pint of English beer the last time you were in Berlin,” Kruze said.
“Go fuck yourself, flyboy. From what I heard you’re no angel either. Fancy knocking off Fleming’s wife. He seemed like such a nice man, too.”
Herries knew he’d caught him off guard and moved in for another jab.
“Luftwaffe accommodation is so cheap, such thin walls.’ He smiled. “It’s remarkable what you overhear sometimes.”
“Don’t push me, Herries.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to unsettle you, old boy. I want you in tip-top condition when we go into Oberammergau. You’re the one who signs my end of term report, remember? I do hope you haven’t forgotten the code word.” He rubbed his legs, massaging some feeling back into them after the long drive from Munich. “And you and I will be heroes when we return — not perhaps the sort that make the newspapers, but heroes nonetheless. You’re Whitehall’s last hope, the only man who can stop the Red Army from marching across Europe. And when you pull it off, with my help, they’ll be kissing the ground we walk on. I think that my past misdemeanours will soon be forgotten in all the excitement.”
“You seem very confident in my abilities.”
“They tell me that you are the best. Why should I disbelieve them? The difficult part will be getting into the airfield, but I know I can do it. After that it’ll be downhill all the way. Shaposhnikov will be dead in under four hours and Archangel with him.”
Kruze swung round to face him.
“Then let me inject a little realism into this conversation. I’m to take an Arado jet bomber, the only aircraft in the world that stands a chance of getting through the Russians’ air defences — so I have got that going for me. But there are just one or two minor problems to overcome first.’ He let the words hang between them for a moment. “I’ve never flown the Arado 234, so even if I make it to the aircraft, I still have to familiarize myself with the controls before some observant Kraut realizes that I’m not the bloke who’s meant to be in the cockpit. Then there’s the matter of the engines. German turbojets have a nasty habit of blowing up — shedding their turbine blades if you want to get technical. I know, because it happened to me once at Farnborough when I was flying a Messerschmitt 262. Then, even if I manage not to get blown up on the ground by one of the Meteors, I still have to contend with Allied and Soviet aircraft trying to shoot me out of the sky all the way to the target. Finally, when I’m over Branodz, I’ve got to find Shaposhnikov’s HQ on the first run-in, because that’s the only way I’m going to catch him with his trousers down.”
He studied Herries carefully in the moonlight and saw a thin bead of sweat trickle from his hairline down his forehead. “Still think I can do it?” he asked.
“Perhaps I’d better hand you over to the Luftwaffe at Oberammergau,” Herries whispered.
“You’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do,” Kruze said.
“So would you.”
Kruze reached over slowly and gripped the coarse material of Herries’ jacket. “If you show any sign of putting this mission in jeopardy by pulling a stunt like that, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
“Fighting talk, flyboy. Keep that spirit up and I’m home and dry.” Herries pulled away and looked at his watch. It was 0330. He turned the ignition and gunned the engine into life.
“We’d better be on our way,” he said.
CHAPTER SIX
The Mercedes bumped along the tree-lined approach road, its black-out lights picking up nothing to indicate the presence of the airfield, even though their map told them they were there. The next moment a tower rose up out of the predawn mist, its legs throwing eerie shadows as the car headlights played over its criss-crossed supporting structure.
In almost the same instant, night turned into day.
Herries swore, shielding his eyes with one hand from the searchlight beam that illuminated them from the watch-tower.
The light went out, leaving spots dancing before Kruze’s eyes. The next thing he saw was the striped red and white barrier at the foot of the tower. Herries began to slow the car.
“Remember,” the traitor said, “not a word unless you’re spoken to and even then, keep it simple. If they’re regular army or a Luftwaffe field regiment this will be a piece of cake. If they’re neither, that leaves the SS…”