Jack Higgins – Night of the Fox

“How unfortunate.” Martineau offered him a cigarette. “Allow me to compliment you on the way youVe handled things at such short notice.”

“We do what we can. It’s not every day a Rommel comes visiting.”

“On the other hand, I expect you’ll heave a sigh of relief when that Storch of his takes off tonight. Is he leaving before or after the mail plane?”

“In my opinion he should make the flight under cover of darkness. The mail plane usually leaves at eight for the same reason.”

“Don’t worry, Major.” Martineau smiled. “I’m sure he’ll see sense. I’ll speak to him personally about it.”

On a wooded slope in the parish of St. Peter with distant views of St. Ouen’s Bay, the field marshal visited a complex of machine-gun nests, talking to gun crews, accepting a cigarette here and there. With the men, he was a sensational success, Necker had to admit that, although God alone knew where all the energy came from.

They had visited every part of the defense complex, were circling back through the wood, when an extraordinary incident took place. They came out of the trees, Baum in the lead. Below them, a gang of slave laborers worked on the track. They were the most wretched creatures Baum had ever seen in his life, dressed for the most part, in rags.

“What have we here?” he demanded.

“Russians, Herr Field Marshal, plus a few Poles and Spanish Reds.”

No one below was aware of their presence, especially the guard who sat on a tree trunk and smoked a cigarette, his rifle across his knees. A cart emerged from the lower wood pulled by a rather thin horse, a young woman in a headscarf and overalls leading it. There was a little girl of five or six in the back of the cart. As they passed the road gang, she tossed them several turnips.

The German guard shouted angrily and ran along the track after the cart. He grabbed the horse by the bridle and brought it to a halt. He said something to the woman and then walked to the back of the cart, reached up and pulled the child down roughly. He slapped her face and, when the young woman ran to help her, knocked the woman to the ground.

Baum did not say a word, but went down the hillside like a strong wind. As he reached the track, the guard’s hand rose to strike the child again. Baum caught him by the wrist, twisting it up and around. The guard turned, the anger on his face quickly replaced by astonishment, and Baum punched him in the mouth. The guard bounced off the side of the cart and fell on his hands and knees.

“Major Necker,” the field marshal said. “You will oblige me by arresting this animal.” He ignored them all, turning to the young woman and the child clutching her. “Your name, Fraulein?” he asked in English.

“Jean le Couteur.”

“And this is?” Baum picked the child up.

“My sister Agnes.”

“So?” He nodded. “You are a very brave girl, Agnes le Couteur.” He put her up in the cart again, turned and saluted the young woman courteously. “My deepest regrets.”

She gazed at him, bewildered, then grabbed the bridle and led the horse away along the track. Just before they disappeared from view into the trees, the child raised an arm and waved.

There was general laughter from all the officers present. Baum turned and said to Necker, “Honor being satisfied, I suggest we adjourn to the de Ville Place for lunch.”

Muller stood on the edge of the cliff with Greiser and looked down at the wreck of the Renault. “There was a fire,” Greiser told him. “From what the engineer sergeant I spoke to says, he’s pretty unrecognizable.”

“I can imagine.” Muller nodded. “All right, make arrangements with them to get the body up sometime this afternoon. We’ll need a postmortem, but discreetly handled. We must keep the drunkenness factor out of it.”

He turned away and Greiser said, “But what was he doing out here? That’s what I can’t understand.”

“So far the only thing we do know is that he was drinking heavily last night. Check with military police for this area, just in case someone saw his car,” Muller told him. “I’ll have to get bac-k to the official party now so I’ll take the Citroen. You’ll have to commandeer something from the military police. The moment you have any information at all, let me know.”

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