Robert Craven - Get Lenin

The third dinghy was heading to the U-Boat. The commandos, led by Kravchenko and Bader, began firing at the crew on deck. Men started falling into the water as Ahtisaans reversed the boat clear of the drifting behemoth. The U-Boat’s gun was trained on the wildly pitching dinghy and plumes of spray soaked the commandos as it opened fire. Brandt, using hand signals, ordered Olga and Kant’s dinghy to the U-Boat to assist Kravchenko.

‘Looks like we’re taking the flying boat, chaps!’ shouted Fletchmore to his commandos. Sea salt covered their features and peppered Fletchmore’s moustache as his face creased into a smile.

The wind and spray had given Brandt and Hauptmann the wake-up they needed. They were close to thirty-six hours now without sleep. As the dinghy was steered closer, Brandt and Hauptmann fired grappling hooks and lines from hand-held launchers onto the vast wings.

Once they found purchase, the outboard engine was shut down, and Brandt and Hauptman clambered up quickly hand-over-hand.

Kincaid stared in total disbelief. This is not how it was supposed to end! His pilots lay crumpled on the floor of the cockpit, dead. The instrument panels and joy sticks, rendered useless from machine-gun fire, smouldered and sparked. The radio operator had dived clear into the lounge below but was wounded and bleeding heavily on the polished floor having managed to dispatch a mayday to Berlin. Looking out at the wings through the windows, Kincaid could see the engines on both sides smouldering and leaking fuel.

Shots were ringing out below, echoing around the plane’s interior. He dashed to the other side and could see U-806 swinging slowly out into deeper water with the dinghies zipping around it. Crewmen were scrambling below and the two heavy hold doors were closing slowly. This was Kincaid’s only chance of escape and it was sailing away from him.

Regan appeared up the gangway from below. He had a deep gash across his face and was clutching a machine gun.

‘Where’s Zbarsky and the girl?’ Kincaid barked. He was looking around, trying to come up with a plan. He needed to get to the U-Boat and the only way now was one of those dinghies.

‘Below in the lounge,’ Regan said, reaching for a crystal decanter and pouring a generous finger of whiskey which he downed in one.

‘Get them.’

Regan headed below. Gunfire and ricochets echoed and seemed to be getting closer. The hold where Lenin had been loaded was over-run. Commandos had killed the two S.S. guards and Kincaid’s men were pinned down.

Regan appeared with Eva and Zbarsky ahead of him. Eva still had her big coat on and Zbarsky looked visibly shaken from the battle going on below. Kincaid grabbed Eva by the throat, his grip almost causing her to faint. Regan shoved Zbarsky into an aisle seat and pointed the machine gun into his face.

Brandt and Hauptmann vaulted into the shattered cockpit and peered below into the lounge area. The radio operator lay where he had landed, blood pooling around him, slipping in and out of consciousness. They moved cautiously down into the lounge where Kincaid stood with Eva in front of him.

A pistol was pointed to her head and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Brandt.

Regan had his gun pointed under Zbarsky’s chin, pinning him against the lounge window. He did a double-take at the sight of Brandt and Hauptmann. A loud blast shook the flying boat below followed by silence. Imperceptibly, the floor seemed to shift underfoot. Hauptmann and Brandt exchanged a glance. The flying boat had been hulled and was starting to sink.

‘Now no-one is going to do anything stupid,’ said Kincaid. He almost seemed to be enjoying himself.

Olga and Kant appeared on the stairs behind him and paused. Kincaid turned, looking back at them. A smile danced across his features. ‘Thought we’d gotten rid of you lot!’ His smile cracked into a high-pitched laugh.

Regan had pulled Zbarsky out of the seat and was using him as a shield. Olga raised her rifle and pointed it toward Regan.

‘Drop it, bitch!’ hissed Kincaid, pressing his pistol closer into Eva’s head.

Olga’s gaze never left Brandt’s. Kant had positioned himself behind Olga where his hands were out of sight. He’d unsheathed a knife and calculated the throwing distance to Kincaid’s forehead. Brandt shook his head at Olga. Blood was starting to pour down the side of Eva’s face where Kincaid’s barrel had broken the skin. Olga hadn’t lowered her weapon. Her eyes slipped from Brandt’s gaze to the sight at the end of the rifle. Kincaid’s temple was in the cross-hairs as he released his grip on Eva’s throat,

‘Tell them to call back the boats,’ he whispered into her ear. Her perfume and terror was beginning to arouse him. It was hypnotic. She croaked out the demand. His grip was like a vice and she was taking breaths of air in gulps.

‘No,’ replied Brandt coolly.

Eva was losing consciousness. She was going to faint under Kincaid’s grip. She slipped a free hand into her pocket, searching for the Luger. Once she found it, she slowly shifted its weight against her hip and pointed the barrel toward Kincaid. Another explosion rocked the flying boat as one of the engines caught fire and the fuel line ignited. Kincaid lost his footing, falling backwards with Eva landing on top of him. She fired the Luger. The bullet tore into Kincaid’s thigh and he shrieked. Eva prised his hand away and dragged herself up, clutching the handle of the aisle seat. Kincaid was trying to shoot but the gun had caught on the leg of the opposite seat frame. Eva staggered up, span and fired again through the coat pocket. Kincaid’s head slammed into the floor from the force of the shot to his chest. Olga swung fractionally and fired. Regan slumped behind Zbarsky who skipped sideways, allowing Olga a clear sight. Without hesitation, she fired again. Regan was catapulted into the seat and sat there, head resting on his chest as if asleep.

Eva wiped the blood from her face. Brandt was over to her, holding her arm gently and examing her injury. She looked at him square, her hair falling over one eye and her breathing beginning to slow down. For a moment they just stared, then Brandt pulled her close and kissed her. Eva pulled back blushing.

‘Sorry,’ Brandt whispered. ‘Thirty-six hours without sleep,’

She smiled, returning his gaze below her eyebrows. Brandt noted her eyes were mesmerising. She was incredibly beautiful and his lips were tingling with the kiss. With her heart ringing in her ears she pulled him toward her and returned his kiss.

The flying boat was tilting alarmingly and smoke was filling the room. They neither seemed to notice or care. Kant cleared his throat loud enough the kill the moment. ‘Time to go, Captain …now … ’

Brandt and Eva held each other for a moment longer. They lost their footing as a starboard engine blew, shaking the plane. It separated from the wing housing, sliding elegantly into the ocean. The lounge was filling up with the smell of aviation fuel and smoke.

Hauptmann checked the Radio Operator, Regan and Kincaid. All three were dead.

Kant and Hauptmann moved toward the cockpit helping Zbarsky up and out onto the wing. Brandt and Eva moved next, followed by Olga. Below in the sea, Fletchmore and his commandos waited. They had lost one man and two more were injured. Fletchmore waved with a grin, glad to see the unit appear. The flying boat began to shudder. The hold where Lenin had been loaded was below water and the engines of the behemoth were ablaze.

They were too high to jump into the water and Brandt, Hauptmann and Kant jerry-rigged their lines to lower into the bouncing dinghy below. Eva and Olga were lowered first, Fletchmore gallantly welcoming them. Zbarsky followed, then Brandt held the lines for Hauptmann’s and Kant’s descent before the flying boat's tail section sheared off into the sea. The front of the flying boat pitched forward into the waves, knocking Brandt off-balance.