Jack Higgins – Night of the Fox

“With supreme authority over everyone he came into contact with,” Munro said. “Read that letter.”

Martineau took it from its envelope and unfolded it.

It was on excellent paper, the heading embossed in black.

DERREICHSFUHRER-SS Berlin, 9 November 1943

88-STURMBANNFttHRER BRAUN ERWIN, SS-NR 107863

This officer acts under my personal orders on business of the utmost importance to the Reich. All personnel, military and civil, without distinction of rank, must assist him in any way he sees fit.

H. HIMMLER

A remarkable document in itself. Even more astonishing was that it was countersigned across the bottom: Adolf Hitler, Fuhrer und Reichskanzler.

“He obviously had a certain amount of influence,” Martineau said dryly, handing it back to Carter.

Munro said, “Well the bastard’s dead now, but our Paris people got some useful information out of him before he left.”

“I bet they did,” Martineau said, and lit a cigarette.

“He has a dozen or so of these special envoys floating around Europe, putting the fear of God into everyone wherever they turn up. All highly secret. Nobody knows who they are. IVe got our forgery department preparing a complete set of papers for you. SD identity card and a copy of that letter and whatever else you need. Name of Max Vogel. We thought we’d give you a little rank, just to help the ship along, so it’s Standartenfuhrer.” He turned to Sarah, “Colonel to you.”

“I get the picture,” Martineau said. “I arrive on Jersey’s fair shore and frighten the hell out of everyone.”

“You know as well as I, dear boy, that there’s nothing more frightening than a schoolmaster in a leather overcoat turned revolutionary. Lenin for a start. And you must admit, you do a very good Nazi, Harry.”

“And the child?” Martineau inquired. “Where does she fit in?”

“You need someone with you to establish your credentials with Mrs. de Ville and this chap Gallagher. Sarah is related to one and knows the other. Another thing, she was last in Jersey six years ago, aged thirteen-all plaits and ankle socks, I shouldn’t wonder. Still herself enough for Helen de Ville and Gallagher to recognize, but different enough to pass as a stranger with other people, especially when weVe finished with her.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, there’s a fair trade in ladies of the night between France and Jersey.”

“You mean whores? You’re not suggesting she play one of those?”

“Most senior German officers in France have French girlfriends. Why should you be any different? To start off, Sarah speaks excellent French with a Breton accent because that’s what her grandmother was. By the time our people at Berkley Hall have finished with her, changed her hair color, got her into the right clothes-”

“You mean, turned her into a little French tart?” Martineau interrupted.

“Something like that. Perfect cover for her.”

“And when are we supposed to go in?”

“Day after tomorrow. A Lysander drop near Granvllle. Two-hour flight, Harry. Piece of cake. Sophie Cresson will meet you. Afterward, you use your authority to cross to Jersey on one of the night boats from Granville. Once over there, you make it up as you go along. YouVe got till Sunday at the outside.”

“And what if it’s impossible to get him out? What then?”

“Up to you.”

“I see. I play executioner for you again?” He turned on Sarah. “What do you think about all this?”

He was angry, the face whiter than ever, the eyes very dark. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “It sounds as if it could be rather interesting.”

In a sense, the flippancy of her remarks was an attempt to control her feelings, and when she turned and moved to the table to pour more tea into her cup, her hand shook slightly. The death of her mother had sent her to live with her father on a plantation deep in the Malayan jungle. A life of discomfort and considerable danger, an extraordinary upbringing for a girl of thirteen, and yet she’d loved every minute of it. In moments of the greatest danger, she seemed to come alive. The hospital by night, the bombing, the casualties who needed her. Once again, she’d loved every minute of it.