He fingered the crushed and shattered pieces that once had been a sophisticated radio transmitter. American make. It was now utterly useless for anything except corroboration that the man in the railroad yard had indeed been an enemy saboteur. Undoubtedly one of the two agents who, he was now certain, had infiltrated near Langenwinkel. His men had found a yardman, a switching operator, lying unconscious at the bottom of a ladder to a tower station, his one leg broken.
This man had given them a description of the fugitive that tallied with the one given by the farmer Eichler, the goddamned fool…. The yardman had also told them how the saboteur had left the area, and had steered them to the spot where the radio had been dropped.
Darkly he contemplated a bit of twisted and flattened metal from the Schwarzsender—the illegal radio. It was so completely smashed there was no way even to guess what it had once looked like.
He had a sudden twinge of uneasiness. He did not like the feeling at all. It was totally unfamiliar. The two enemy agents should not have been able to get this far. Certainly they should have been apprehended by now. Had he — underestimated them? It could not be allowed. Were they — his betters? It was unthinkable….
Nonetheless, he would double his efforts to catch them.
Dirk watched the Storp house from the little park across the street. He was deeply shaken. His arm hurt. As soon as he had cleared the railroad switching-yard area, he had dropped off the train and made his way back to town.
There had been no activity at all at the house. No light showed through the blackout curtains. There was no way of telling if everything was okay — or if the place was crawling with Gestapo men….
What had gone wrong?
They had come for him. Obviously. They had known where he was. What he was doing.
How?
The enormity of the whole thing struck him.
A couple of hours before, he had been supremely confident that their presence in the town was known to absolutely no one except Oskar and Gisela — and Himmelmann.
Now
Was it Himmelmann?
Had they been betrayed?
He closed his eyes. Tightly. He had agonized over the same bleak puzzle again and again. There was no ready answer.
The answer lay waiting in the little one-story house across the street.
He would have to seek it there.
23
Dirk reached for the ornate brass handle on the door.
He hesitated.
If his friends were there, the door would be unlocked. It always was.
He pressed down the handle. The door opened.
The hallway beyond was pitch dark. For a moment he listened. He could hear nothing.
He stepped into the hall.
Suddenly two strong arms grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his side, making him gasp. He heard the door slam shut behind him.
Instantly, as he had been taught, he bent his knees and threw himself forward in an attempt to dislodge his assailant and send him flying over his head. But the man behind him crouched down with him, giving him no leverage The iron bear-hug held.
Suddenly the light in the hallway blazed on — and Dirk found himself staring into the black-holed muzzle of a gun.
Almost at once the crushing grip around his chest relaxed. In a glance Dirk took in the scene.
Before him stood Sig, Oskar's Luger trained at his gut. At the light switch stood Gisela, eyes wide with alarm. Behind him stood Oskar, astonishment on his face. For a moment there was stunned silence. Then Dirk said dryly:
“Some welcome!” He looked at Sig. “You can put the gun away, Siggy baby. We're on the same side.”
Sig lowered the gun. He stared at Dirk.
“Jesus Christ,” he said fervently, “am I glad to see you! We — we thought—” He looked at Oskar. “We were told they killed a man at the railroad yard. We thought—”
“Eichler,” Dirk said, his face grim. “The poor bastard got himself shot.”
“Holy Jesus,” Sig whispered.
Dirk took a deep breath. It felt good. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders and legs begin to tremble as the tension that had gripped them ebbed. He walked to a settee and sank down on it.
“To be honest with you, Sig,” he said quietly, “I wasn't sure what — or whom — I'd be running into here. I–I thought they'd nabbed you.” He looked at them, one at a time “I sure am glad I was wrong.”
He suddenly frowned.
“Shit!” he said heavily. “The radio I—”
“We know,” Sig said.
Dirk looked up in surprise. “Something sure as hell has gone wacky, Sig,” he said worriedly. “I can't figure it. They knew just where I was They—”
“No,” Sig interrupted. “They didn't.”
Dirk looked at him questioningly.
“It just — happened,” Oskar said. “I heard about it at the yard. There was quite a commotion. A slimy little creature we call the Raupe was bragging that he started the whole thing. I was told they had found your radio….”
“Did you get the message off?” Sig asked anxiously.
Dirk shook his head wearily “Hell, no. Didn't even get the damned set warmed up.”
Sig frowned. “Now that they have it, they can use it. Send false information.”
Again Dirk shook his head “I've got good news for you,” he said ironically. “Along with the bad. The set is squashed. Fini. Flattened under the wheels of a railroad car. Nobody's going to transmit on it. Not they. Not we!”
Sig stared at him.
“Jesus!” he said. “That's right. How do we contact Corny?”
“We don't.” Dirk sounded bitter. “We don't know who Otto's contact is in Stuttgart, or we could have tried him. And we sure as hell can't risk trying to buy the parts to build a new set Not in this burg. Or anywhere else in the Fatherland, for that matter.”
“They told me the town is sealed up,” Oskar said “Tight. Even I was questioned when I left the yard. That never happened before.”
Dirk nodded slowly. He felt utterly weary. He looked at Sig.
“We're on our own, Siggy baby,” he said evenly. “You and me.”
Sig frowned. For a moment everyone was silent, each engrossed in his own gloomy thoughts.
“What the hell do we do?” Sig asked finally.
Dirk shrugged. “We lie low for a couple of days. Till the glow wears off the fun and games. Then — we try to get out. Back to our own lines. Back to Corny. And hope we won't be too late….” He stood up. “Right now — I'm going to flake out. I'm beat. But good…”
He was lying on his bunk in the stuffy little basement room. He could not sleep. His mind was churning. They'd gotten the information. Vital information that should reach Washington at once. And no earthly way of getting it out… The whole fucking mission had caved in around their heads. It wasn't going to be easy to get out — and cross the lines.
He tensed at a small sound at the door. Slowly, cautiously it was pushed open. In the doorway stood Gisela, a tray in her hands.
She looked at him uncertainly.
“I–I did not know if you would be asleep,” she said, her voice low. “I did not want to disturb you.” She held out the tray. “I made you some hot soup. It will be — comforting.”
He smiled at her.
“You bet,” he said. “Really hit the spot!”
Gisela looked puzzled. “You would like it, yes?” she asked.
“I'd like it, yes,” he said He sat up.