Necker was truly bewildered. “But, Herr Field Marshal…” he began.
Baum carried on. “The chief medical officer at the hospital told me of this young sailor wounded in some convoy attack the other night and badly in need of treatment at the burns unit in Rennes. He asked me if I’d take him with me. Of course, in the state he’s in we’d never have got him into the Storch. That’s why I need the mail plane.”
“And Standartenfuhrer Vogel?”
“He was going back tomorrow anyway, so I might as well give him and the young woman a lift.” He clapped Necker on the shoulder again. “But we must be off now. Again, my thanks for all you’ve done. I shall, of course, be in touch with General von Schmettow to express my entire satisfaction with the way things are in Jersey.”
He saluted and turned to go up the ladder into the plane. Necker called, “But, Herr Field Marshal, what about Major Hofer?”
“He should be arriving any minute,” Baum told him. “He’ll leave in the Storch as arranged. The mail plane pilot can fly him across.”
He scrambled inside the plane-, the crewman pulled up the ladder and closed the door. The Junkers taxied away to the east end of the runway and turned. There was a deepening roar from the three engines as it moved faster and faster, a silhouette only in the gathering gloom, and then it lifted, drifting out over St. Ouen’s Bay, still climbing.
Guido had parked the Morris a oouple of hundred yards along the airport road. Standing there beside it, they saw the Junkers lift into the evening sky and fly west to where the horizon was tipped with flre
The noise of the engines faded into thp distance and Guido said softly, “My God. they actually pulled it off.”
Gallagher nodded. “So now we can go home and get our stories straight for when all the questioning starts.”
“No problem,” Guido said. “Not if we stick together. I am, after all, an authentic war hero, which always helps.”
“That’s what I love about you, Guido. Your engaging modesty,” Gallagher told him. “Now let’s move. Helen will be getting worried.”
They got into the Morris and Guido drove away quickly, a Kubelwagen passing them a moment later coming the other way, driving so fast that they failed to see Hofer sitting in the rear seat.
At the airport, most of the officers had dispersed, but Necker was standing by his car talking to Captain Adler, the Luftwaffe duty control officer, when the Kubelwagen came around the corner of the main airport building and braked to a halt. They turned to see Hofer being helped out of the rear seat by the two soldiers.
Necker knew trouble when he saw it. “Hofer? What is it?”
Hofer slumped against the Kubelwagen. “Have they gone?”
“Less than five minutes ago. The field marshal took the mail plane. He said you’d follow in the Storch. He took his own pilot.”
“No!” Hofer said. “Not the field marshal.”
Necker’s stomach contracted. So many things that had worried him and yet… He took a deep breath. “What are you saying?”
“That the man you thought was Field Marshal Rommel is his double, a damn traitor called Berger who’s thrown in his lot with the enemy. You’ll also be happy to know that Standartenfuhrer Max Vogel is an agent of the British Special Operations Executive. So is the girl, by the way. The wounded sailor is an American colonel.”
But Necker, by now, was totally bewildered. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“It’s really quite simple,” Hofer told him. “They’re flying to England in the mail plane.” His head was suddenly clearer and he stood up. “Naturally, they must be stopped.” He turned to Adler. “Get on the radio to Cherbourg. Scramble a night fighter squadron. Now let’s get moving. There’s no time to lose.” He turned and led the way to the operations building.
The Junkers was a workhorse and not built for comfort. Most of the interior was crammed with mail sacks and Kelso sat on the floor propped against them, legs outstretched. Sarah was on a bench on one side of the plane, Baum and Marttneau on the other.