Colin Forbes - The Leader And The Damned

He was choked with emotion, found it difficult to form the words. He took her hand, it really seemed so very small, and squeezed it as he swallowed. She understood.

'Lindsay, will you take me to London? I want to see the Green Park again…'

'Green Park, just Green Park…'

'They have those big birds by the pool, the funny ones with great pouches…'

'Pelicans. That's St James's Park. I'll show you the whole of London. Then we'll go out into the countryside…'

'I'd like that.' She turned her head on his shoulder and her hair brushed his cheek. 'I know a little village in Surrey, near Guildford. All huddled down in the folds of the hills…'

'Peaslake?'

'You know it, too!' She sat up and her face glowed. 'Oh, this is wonderful. I'm never going back to Jugoslavia. I've got dual nationality, you know – a British passport..

'I didn't know – you never told me. It will make things so much easier. Haven't you Got any people back in Yugoslavia?'

'No ties. I'm an only child – so after both my parents were killed in the Belgrade bombing I was completely on my own.' She slipped her arm inside his. 'I'm not going to let you out of my sight until we get to London. Does that make me a forward hussy? I don't care. I don't care…!'

For that short time, as the Dakota droned steadily on towards Palestine, they must have been very happy. Across the gangway in the window seat Reader, who had exceptionally acute hearing, listened to most of their conversation without wishing to.

He kept his eyes turned towards the window, gazing at the sea they crossed for most of the flight. He was convinced that neither Lindsay nor Paco had any idea they were over the Med. As she repeated I don't care…! Paco clasped her free hand over her mouth.

'God, was I shouting? The whole aircraft must have heard…'

'You were.. It must have done. And I don't care either. One thing, we may not travel together all the way until we arrive in London…'

'And why not?'

'Security. I have a job to complete. Which reminds me – I'd like a quick word with Reader over there. Won't be long – and don't get up. I can squeeze past…' He put a hand on her leg to support himself and held it there for a moment.

Settling himself in the seat next to Reader, he turned away from Paco so she couldn't catch even a snatch of his conversation with the Intelligence Major. He took out the leather-bound diary from his pocket.

"This is strictly between you and me, Reader. This diary is vital. The information is what I'm carrying inside my head – so if my head never reaches London I need a safe place for the diary. Otherwise everything that's happened becomes pointless. That I wouldn't like…'

'What exactly are you asking me to do?'

'You're not fireproof either. Do you know someone in Palestine you can trust, really trust – someone you could deposit this diary with until I send for it?'

'Only a civilian. Chap called Stein. He's a diamond broker. Their careers hinge on their integrity. And he's not mixed up with any of the Jewish gangs. You could trust him with your life…'

'Maybe that's how it's going to turn out…'

Leaving Reader, he was standing in the gangway when Hartmann approached him. The German asked if they could have a quiet word together. They chose two isolated seats d Hartmann began speaking in

English.

'Now we are over Allied territory I can reveal my secret. I've been sent on a special mission by Admiral Canaris, chief of the Abwehr as you know. He instructed me to escape from Germany – which is why I seized on the opportunity to follow you. Rather a nerve-racking business. I had to fool so many people – Gruber, Jaeger, Schmidt, Maisel – the most dangerous adversary. And, of course, Bormann himself…'

'I always sensed there was something odd about you…'

'I thought you did,' Hartmann commented. 'I know the names of the entire anti-Nazi opposition. We tried to pass on our peace proposals to Allied agents in Spain but someone road-blocked us. A man called Whelby was in charge…'

'I know him,' Lindsay replied and left it at that.

'I have to be escorted safely through to London. In return for assassinating Hitler and establishing a civilian, non-Nazi government we are prepared to negotiate a peace settlement. I can only give you names after I have arrived in London. Until then I ask that you alone should know about this matter..

'That is your only passport to safety,' Lindsay told him.

It was still daylight when Moshe, crouched behind the rocks overlooking Lydda airfield, first spotted the Dakota coming in to land. He was aching in every limb from his long vigil but he possessed quite abnormal powers of endurance.

In the canvas satchel by his side was his water- bottle, his few remaining cheese sandwiches and a pair of night-glasses. Dusk would soon spread its dark pall over the silent land and he had no way of knowing whether the aircraft bringing Lindsay might arrive after dark.

He adjusted the binoculars looped round his neck and focused them on the grassy runway. The Dakota flew straight in, touched down and reduced speed as it headed for the reception building. Moshe knew that on the far side of the building beyond his view were parked a staff car and an armoured vehicle.

The man who had been pointed out to him by Vlacek in Jerusalem as Tim Whelby strolled towards the aircraft, hatless and wearing only a tropical drill suit despite the chill of the evening. Moshe locked his lenses on Whelby, waiting for the signal which would identify Wing Commander Lindsay for him.

A metal ladder was placed against the side of the machine by one of the ground staff. Two British soldiers armed with sten guns began patrolling the area round the Dakota. A man appeared at the top of the ladder, a man holding a stick.

Moshe pressed the glasses hard against his eyes as the passenger slowly descended the ladder rung by rung. Reaching the ground, he turned and in the twin lenses Moshe saw his face close up. No doubt about it. This was Lindsay! Then Moshe got his final confirmation of the RAF man's identity.

As Whelby shook hands with Lindsay he casually reached up with his left hand and gripped the lobe of his ear, the signal Vlacek had arranged. Other people were emerging from the aircraft. To Moshe's surprise one of them was a blonde-haired girl – followed in rapid succession by two other men.

Moshe continued his watch. He wanted to observe the system of protection employed, because when Lindsay returned from Jerusalem to fly on to Cairo they would undoubtedly employ the same technique. It was this British habit of clinging to routine which had been the death of them – literally – on so many other occasions.

'My dear chap, welcome back to civilization after all these months Whelby extended his hand, shaking Lindsay's as he fingered the lobe of his left ear. 'I must s-s-ay you look a bit p-p-peaky.' He lowered his voice. 'I'm known to the locals as Peter Standish…'

'What brings you out here?' asked Lindsay, his expression unsmiling.

'To escort you home, of course.'

'To London, you mean?'

'That's right.'

'By what route?'

'Well if you must know now.'

'I must.'

'Back to Cairo in a couple of days, after you've rested up. Then on to dear old London…'

A uniformed sergeant of the Palestine Polite had joined them and was showing obvious signs of restlessness. He butted in on the conversation, ignoring Whelby, addressing Lindsay.

'Excuse me, my chaps are getting a bit trigger happy. We're exposed standing about here – and I'd like to get you safely to Jerusalem before nightfall…'

'Sergeant Mulligan – Wing Commander Lindsay,' Whelby introduced. 'I suppose you're transporting us to the Hotel Sharon in that old tin can…'