Hammond Innes - Attack Alarm

Vayle came back along the line of lorries. His step was light and buoyant. There was pride and confidence in that step. I didn’t like it. He came over to our side of the pit. I thrust my head a little farther forward so that I could see him directly below me. Four men were standing there, silent, their hands and feet restless. Vayle walked straight up to them. ‘Any questions?’ he asked. His voice, crisp and commanding, was just audible to me. ‘Good. The time is exactly one forty-six.’ He had waited for the precise minute, looking all the time at what appeared to be a stop-watch. They checked their watches by his. The timing was apparently an important factor. ‘You’re quite dear about everything?’ They nodded. ‘Make certain that the smoke containers are well covered. Argue rather than shoot. And see that the runway is clearly indicated. Fifty feet is the height. All right?’ Again they nodded. ‘You’d better start, then. Good luck to you.’ They saluted. It was an Air Force Salute, but somehow it was not quite an English salute — the body was too tense, the heels pressed too tightly together. They moved off to the next four lorries. Men began to pile into the back of them, again seven to each lorry.

‘Don’t move!’

The order came from behind us. My heart was in my mouth as I turned my head. Standing over us were three men. Two were guards. They had us covered with their rifles. The third was a civilian, and he had a revolver. It was he who had spoken. ‘Stand up!’ he ordered.

We clambered to our feet. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

‘Just watching,’ I said, wondering what attitude to adopt. ‘What’s going on?’

‘That’s none of your business,’ was the reply. ‘This is R.A.F. property. I shall have to hold you until we prove your identity.’

‘What is this — secret?’ I asked.

He did not answer my question. ‘See if they’re armed,’ he told one of the guards. ‘Put up your hands.’ The man stepped forward and ran his fingers quickly over us. ‘Unarmed,’ he reported.

‘All right. Take them away and see that they don’t escape. We’ll deal with them later.’

‘Wot’s the idea?’ Micky demanded. We ain’t doing no ‘arm. If this is private property, why don’t you put a fence round it?’

Take ‘em away,’ the man commanded, and the two guards closed in on either side of us.

To attempt escape was out of the question. They would pick us off before we had gone a dozen yards. And to wait for a chance that would probably never occur was equally hopeless, since minutes had become vital. The lorries were moving off, batch by batch, to a definite schedule. I knew something now of what the plan was — smoke to hamper ground defences as parachutists and troop carriers were landed on our most vital aerodromes. Something had to be done, and done quickly. ‘I want to speak to Mr Vayle,’ I said. The man’s quick glance of surprise did not escape me. ‘It’s important,’ I added.

‘I don’t get you.’ The man’s voice was wooden. He was giving nothing away.

‘You understand perfectly,’ I replied.

‘Who is Mr Vayle?’

‘Will you stop arguing,’ I said angrily. ‘In case you are not aware of it, your officer’s name is Vayle, and he is librarian at Thorby aerodrome. Now will you kindly take me to him at once. There’s no time to waste.’

‘What do you want to see him for?’

‘That is a matter between him and myself,’ I replied.

He hesitated. Then he said, ‘All right.’

We were escorted along the edge of the pit, the two guards on either side and our civilian captor bringing up the rear. We entered the pit by way of the track. As we walked down the line of lorries, the men standing about fell silent. There were signs of nervousness in their interest. I was not surprised. It was a perilous game they were playing. It meant death if they were caught, and death was a possibility even if their plan succeeded.

Vayle turned as we came up to him. He was watching the loading of the last few lorries. He showed no surprise at the sight of us — only anger. ‘What the hell have you brought these men here for, Ferret?’

‘They got away from the house, as you expected, sir,’ replied our guard. ‘I arrested them at the edge of the pit over there.’

‘Yes, yes. But why the devil must you bother me with them? You know the orders. Take ‘em away!’

‘Yes, sir. But this man’ — he indicated me — ‘knew your name and insisted that he must see you. He said it was important.’

Vayle swung round on me. ‘Well, what is it, Hanson?’ he demanded sharply.

He was impatient at our intrusion. This was his big moment. He had worked for this for the past six years. He had made provision for everything — even for me. I could understand his irritation.

‘I thought you might be interested to know that the game is up. The authorities at Thorby know the whole plot.’ It was thin, but it was the best I could do on the spur of the moment.

The lift of his thick eyebrows proclaimed his disbelief. He had planned carefully and his confidence was unshakable. I felt myself getting rattled. ‘You tried to kill me,’ I went on. ‘But you didn’t succeed.’ Then I suddenly remembered. ‘I told Winton everything. He didn’t believe me at first. But when I snowed him the diagram that was planted on me, he was sufficiently convinced to take precautions.’

As soon as I mentioned that diagram I saw a sudden doubt mirrored in his eyes. He hesitated. Then he laughed. It was an easy, natural laugh. ‘It’s no good, Hanson. If Winton really had taken precautions, why should you bother to warn me? Why should you have come out here at all?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Excuse me a moment.’ He left us and went down the line to give his blessing to the next group of lorries.

As soon as they had left, he came back to where we stood waiting. He was smiling and his eyes, which rested for a moment on mine, were cold. ‘Well, Hanson,’ he said, ‘this is the parting of the ways, I think. I go on — I hope — to a great victory, a victory that will make even the collapse of France look small. In. a sense it will be my victory, for this is my scheme, and without the fighter ‘dromes we could not invade Britain.’

He paused, and for a moment he was no longer with us. His eyes had a far-away look. He was gazing at the castle of victory that his imagination had built for him. And then suddenly his eyes snapped out of their trance and became alive again. ‘And you,’ he said, ‘you go on —.’ He spread his hands in a singularly foreign gesture. ‘I am sorry,’ he went on. ‘I admire your nerve and brains. You saw something the others could not. And when you tried to tell them they wouldn’t listen. It’s a pity that you weren’t content to sleep peacefully at Cold Harbour in the belief that you were mistaken. I knew Ryan would fool you. He’s a dear old man. And so right in that setting. Did he talk to you about the Boer War?’

I nodded.

‘I thought so. But I expect he omitted to mention the fact that he fought for the Boers, not the English. When he rang through to me, he told me that all your suspicions of the place had been allayed. What revived them? Was it the lorries?’

Again I nodded.

‘Yes, I was afraid of that. It was my reason for having Ferret watch you.’ Once again he glanced at his watch. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘your activities have added a certain zest to the game. I am glad to have known you. Goodbye.’ He bowed quite naturally and quite seriously. Then he addressed the man called Ferret. ‘Get ‘em into their lorry and drive it back past the Roebuck on to the hill down into Forest Row. There’s quite a steep drop on the first bend; tip it over there and set fire to it. You understand?’