The moon went behind a cloud.
Slowly, stiffly, Schaffer lowered his gun. Schaffer, once again, wiped sweat from his forehead. He had the feeling that he wasn’t through with brow-mopping for the night.
Smith reached the window, clambered over the sill, gave the rope two tugs as a signal for Schaffer to start climbing and passed into the room. It was almost totally dark inside, he’d just time to make out the iron bedstead which had been dragged to the window as anchorage for the rope when a pair of arms wound tightly round his neck and someone started murmuring incoherently in his ear.
‘Easy on, easy on,’ Smith protested. He was still breathing heavily and needed all the air he could get, but summoned enough energy to bend and kiss her. ‘Unprofessional conduct, what’s more. But I won’t report it this time.’
She was still clinging to him, silent now, when Lieutenant Schaffer made his appearance, dragging himself wearily over the sill and collapsing on the iron bedstead. He was breathing very heavily indeed and had about him the air of one who has suffered much.
‘Have they no elevators in this dump?’ he demanded. It took him two breaths to get the words out.
‘Out of training,’ Smith said unsympathetically. He crossed to the door and switched on the light, hurriedly switched it off again. ‘Damn. Get the rope in then pull the curtains.’
‘This is the way they treated them in the Roman galleys,’ Schaffer said bitterly. But he had the rope inside and the curtains closed in ten seconds. As Smith was manoeuvring the bed back into its original position, Schaffer was stuffing the nylon into their canvas bag, a bag, which, in addition to snowsuits and Schmeissers, contained some hand grenades and a stock of plastic explosives. He had just finished tying the neck of the bag when a key scraped in the lock.
Smith motioned Mary to stay where she was as he moved quickly to take up position behind the door: Schaffer, for all his alleged exhaustion, had dropped flat to the floor behind the bed with all the speed and silence of a cat. The door opened and a young Oberleutnant strode into the room, stopping short as he saw Mary, her hand to her mouth. His face registered astonishment, an astonishment almost immediately replaced by an anticipatory half-smile as he stepped forward beyond the opened door. Smith’s arm came down and the young officer’s eyes turned up in his head.
Smith studied the plans of the castle given him by Mary while Schaffer trussed up the Oberleutnant with the nylon, gagged him with tape and shoved him, jack-knifed, into the bottom of the cupboard. For good measure he pulled the top of the bed against the door.
‘Ready when you are, boss.”
That’s now. I have my bearings. First left, down the stairs, third left. The gold drawing-room. Where Colonel Kramer holds court. Complete with minstrels’ gallery.’
‘What’s a minstrels’ gallery?’ Schaffer enquired.
‘A gallery for minstrels. Then the next right-hander takes us to the east wing. Down again, second left. Telephone exchange.’
‘Why there?’ Schaffer asked. ‘We’ve already cut the lines.’
“Not the ones between here and the barracks, we haven’t. Want them to whistle up a regiment of Alpenkorps?’ He turned to Mary. ‘Helicopter still here?’
‘It was when I arrived.’
‘The helicopter?’ Schaffer showed his puzzlement. ‘What gives with the whirlybird, then?’
“This gives with the whirlybird. They could use it either to whip Carnaby out of here — they might just be nervous if they think we’re on the loose — or they might use it to block our getaway.’
‘If we get away.’
There’s that. How are you on immobilising helicopters, Lieutenant Schaffer? Your report states that you were an up-and-coming racing driver and a very competent mechanic before they scraped the bottom of the barrel and dragged you in.’
‘I volunteered,’ Schaffer said with dignity. ‘About the competence, I dunno. But give me a four-pound hammer and I’ll sure as little fishes immobilise anything from a bulldozer to a bicycle.’
‘And without the four-pounder? This is not a boiler-makers’ convention.’
‘I have been known to use finesse.’
Smith said to Mary: ‘How can we get a sight of this machine?’
‘Just five paces that way.’ She pointed to the door. ‘Every passage window in the Schloss Adler opens on to the courtyard.’
Smith opened the door, glanced up and down the passage and crossed to an opposite window. Schaffer was by his side.
The comings and goings of the moon made no difference to the state of illumination in the Schloss Adler courtyard. Two big overhead arc lamps burned by the heavily-barred entrance gates. A third burned at the opposite end of the courtyard, over the main doorway leading into the castle itself. At a height of about ten feet, four waterproof storm lamps were fastened to the east and west walls of the courtyard. Lights burned from a dozen windows on the east and northern sides. And the brightest light of all came from an arc-lamp that had been rigged above the helicopter and under the temporary protection of a stretched tarpaulin. A figure in green overalls and a high-peaked cap was working on the helicopter’s engine. Smith touched Schaffer’s arm and they moved back into the room where Mary was waiting, closing the door behind them.
‘Seems a straightforward operation,’ Schaffer said. ‘Fixing it so that the chopper doesn’t fly again, I mean. I cross to the main gates, overpower the four men on guard, strangle the four Dobermann pinchers, knock off two or three other characters — armed characters — who appear to be patrolling the place all the time, overpower about twenty soldiers who appear to be drinking beer in some sort of canteen across the way, dispose of the guy who’s working on the engine and then immobilise the chopper. I mean, just immobilising the chopper itself wouldn’t be anything, really, would it?’
‘We’ll think of something,’ Smith said soothingly.
‘I’ll bet you think of something,’ Schaffer said moodily. ‘That’s what- I’m afraid of.’
‘Time’s a-wasting. We won’t be needing those any more.’
Smith folded the plan, handed it to Mary, then frowned as she put it in her bag. ‘You know better than that. The Lilliput: it should be on your person, not in the bag. Here.’ He handed her the Mauser he’d taken from Colonel Weissner. ‘This in your bag. Hide the Lilliput on you.’
‘When I get to my room I will,’ she said primly.
‘All those leering Yankee lieutenants around,’ Schaffer said sadly. ‘Thank heavens I’m a changed man.’
‘His mind is set on higher things,’ Smith explained. He glanced at his watch. ‘Give us thirty minutes.’
They slipped cautiously through the doorway then strode briskly and confidently along the passage, making no attempt to conceal their presence. The bag with the Schmeissers, rope, grenades and explosives Smith swung carelessly from one hand. They passed a bespectacled soldier carrying a sheaf of papers and a girl carrying a laden tray, neither of whom paid any attention to them. They turned right at the end of the passage, reached a circular flight of stairs and went down three floors until they came to the level of the courtyard. A short broad passage, with two doors on either side, took them to the main door leading out to the courtyard..
Smith opened the door and looked out. The scene was very much as Schaffer had feelingly described it, with far too many armed guards and police dogs around for anyone’s peace of mind. The overalled mechanic was still at work on the helicopter’s engine. Smith quietly closed the door and turned his attention to the nearest right-hand door in the passage. It was locked. He said to Schaffer: ‘Keep an eye open at the end of , the passage there.’
Schaffer went. As soon as he was in position, Smith brought out skeleton keys. The third key fitted and the door, gave under his hand. He signalled Schaffer to return.
With the door closed and locked behind them, they looked around the room, a room faintly but for their purposes adequately lit by the backwash of light shining through the un-suited window from the courtyard. It was, quite apparently, the fire-fighting H.Q. of the castle. The walls were hung with drums of rolled hoses, asbestos suits, helmets and fire-axes: wheeled handpumps, CO, cylinders and a variety of smaller cylinders for fighting oil and electrical fires took up much of the floor space.
Ideal,’ Smith murmured.
‘Couldn’t be better,’ Schaffer agreed. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘If we leave anyone in here,’ Smith explained, ‘he’s unlikely to be discovered unless there’s an actual outbreak of fire. Agreed? So.’ He took Schaffer by the arm and led him to the window. ‘The lad working on the chopper there. About your size, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Schaffer said. ‘And if you’ve got in mind what I think you have in mind, then I don’t want to know, either.’