Macurdy had been only mildly concerned about planes. A couple walking along a road didn't seem terribly suspicious. A couple on a mountain trail had been another matter, but they were over with now. And with a road that led directly to a border crossing, it made sense to use it, even though it ran mostly through open ground, with occasional villages.
He traveled with Lotta sharing his cloak, holding her hand or carrying her. Presumably, hopefully, Edouard and Berta wouldn't attract attention, but even so, approaching and passing through villages they'd played it safe, all four clustered under Macurdy's cloak. It was awkward, requiring coordination, but near the border, where candidate routes narrowed to a few crossings, they'd play it safe. The truck had probably been found by now, a compelling clue to their route.
Three times in the past hour or two he'd heard a plane, and twice had seen one, perhaps the same one. It worried him, perhaps needlessly. He could have been written off as unlikely to cause further harm, and not worth committing German manpower to hunt down. Or perhaps the truck hadn't been found after all. Something might even have happened to Manfred.
But it seemed more likely that Manfred had talked to the SS, that the truck had been found, and that the SS wanted very much to nail him, along with any presumed accomplices.
Then surely they'd have warned the authorities to watch for them, not only as a foursome, but as separate individuals. They'd have descriptions, and if he were one of those authorities, he'd have notified village storekeepers and constables to watch for them. Perhaps even warned the local population by radio, those who had electricity.
Meanwhile all four were limping again, Berta worst of all. He'd healed blisters and muscles each night, and treated them at breaks during the day. Without the healing they'd have been much worse, but even so, they limped.
There'd been more forest the last couple of miles, providing cover for breaks, but Macurdy was waiting for a brook or creek. There they'd have a real rest. He'd work on their feet, then they'd nap until dusk, and continue to Feldkirch after dark.
And reach the border crossing that night. There'd be guards, of course, but with a little luck, they'd get across in a tight group, cloaked.
The road was passing through wide hay meadows, their grass knee high, when a movement caught his attention from a tongue of forest some eighty yards ahead. "Stop," he said quietly, and gestured the others back. They stopped, and for a moment nothing happened, then uniformed men stepped from behind trees, weapons aimed toward them, or at least toward Edouard and Berta.
"All four of you!" one shouted. "Do not move. You are under arrest!"
All four! They saw him then! Slowly he set Lotta on the ground as the men started toward him. "When I say down," Macurdy murmured, "I want you all to fall flat on the ground." He gave them a second to digest the order, then snapped 'Down!'
And dropped himself, not quite flat, his left elbow holding his upper torso off the ground, his right hand raised as gunfire erupted ahead of him. Two-centimeter plasma charges pumped from his slightly cupped right palm, quick as bullets but without gunshots. And more accurate, as if they sought their targets.
The gunfire stopped, and he rolled from the roadside into the shallow ditch beside it, then looked at Lotta lying on the shoulder a few feet away, her eyes wide with fear. "Lotta!" he hissed. "Roll into the ditch! Now!"
He hadn't been sure she would, had thought she might be frozen with fear. He was partly right; she didn't roll. She stood half up, then threw herself almost on top of him.
And no one fired!
He looked back. Edouard and Berta still lay on the road, seemingly unhit, eyes as wide with fear as Lotta's, though theirs were on the forest, not on him. "Edouard, Berta," he husked, "roll to the ditch!"
As soon as they moved, the silence was torn by three or four seconds of gunfire that made Macurdy press his cheek against the ground. When it was over, he looked up again. The men ahead had moved back into the concealment of tree trunks.
From behind him, Berta called, "Kurt! They have shot Edouard," and looking back, Macurdy saw the professor lying on the shoulder, doubled at waist and knees, making tiny grunting sounds: "Uh, uh, uh!"
Macurdy dismissed it for the moment-there was nothing he could do about it-and gave his attention to something else: The enemy hadn't fired when he'd rolled, or when Lotta had gotten up. "Berta, listen to me," he said tautly. "I. am going to cloak you, you and Edouard, but you must stay where you are. Do not move! The cloaks cannot follow you. And stay as flat as you can; cloaks don't fool bullets."
After casting his sell he stood up, slowly, carefully, arms above his head as if surrendering. Nothing happened. He lowered his arms; still nothing. They don't see me, he thought. They only assume there are four of us. But how did they know he was there? Manfred! Manfred had told them he could make himself invisible, and they'd believed him!
Then someone emerged from behind a pine,- holding a submachine gun. Macurdy froze, then lowered himself to the ground again. After a moment, three others stepped from the woods, guns ready, and all four began advancing. As they drew near, Macurdy made out the leader's collar patch-a lieutenant and after a few more yards, saw the color of the intent eyes. Blue. They flicked around as if seeking.
Macurdy raised both palms, pumped plasma charges toward the approaching men, then flattened himself against the ground, peering through the roadside grass. All four were down, dead.
It took a moment; as if the troopers left behind hadn't fully grasped what they'd seen. There'd been no gunshots, and in the afternoon sunlight, they shouldn't have spotted the darting plasma charges. Certainly not at that distance. Then a voice called from the forest: "lieutenant! Are you all right?"
When there was no answer, a tentative rifle shot was fired, then another. When that brought no response, they let loose an intense flurry of gunfire, lasting three or four seconds.
After that it was quiet again. It had to be damned spooky for them; presumably they couldn't see Edouard or Berta any longer either. For a long half minute he didn't move, then turned onto his side and now cast a separate cloak over Lotta, lying beside him in the grass. "Lotta," he said, "do not get up. They cannot see you if you stay where you are, and the bullets won't hit you if you lie flat." He hoped.
Again he got up, and again no one fired. Slowly, watchfully, he started toward the woods, but had gone only about a dozen yards when four more troopers dashed from the sheltering trees, staying low, well dispersed, to hit the ground a few yards into the field.
At that same instant, Macurdy hit the ground too. A moment later the four were on their feet again, this time covered by a flurry of gunfire from the woods. When it stopped, he raised his head. A moment later the four were up and dashing another few yards, again with covering fire. This time Macurdy kept his head up enough to watch. The fire came from four men, in the forest somewhat off to his right, and having drawn no return fire, they didn't retire so completely behind their sheltering tree trunks when they finished.
Again the four on the ground dashed forward, bolder now, covering ten or twelve yards before hitting the ground. Again they had covering fire from the woods. The instant the covering fire stopped, Macurdy rose to his knees, pumping silent plasma charges toward the men who'd shot, then dropped prone again. At almost the same moment, the men on the ground got up and dashed forward once more, as if they hadn't noticed his return fire.