Eagle Day - Robert Muchamore Page 0,82

Oberst Ohlsen’s office with a bunch of papers tucked under his arm. He feigned surprise when one of the Oberst’s French admin assistants stepped in front of him.

‘They both looked green,’ she explained. ‘The Oberleutnant walked out, but Oberst Ohlsen ended up in an ambulance and the noises that were coming out of his bathroom … He may be a Boche, but I must admit I felt sorry for him.’

‘What a shame,’ Henderson said as he stepped towards the Oberst’s office.

‘It’s locked,’ the assistant said. ‘The military police said it could have been a poisoning attempt by French rebels. Major Ghunsonn gave orders that the door was to be locked and nobody allowed to go anywhere near the office.’

‘Damn,’ Henderson said. ‘I have these papers and they need to be signed and sealed today.’

The papers were junk, but the curse was well founded. Henderson needed to get inside Ohlsen’s office. The crystals were supposed to give Ohlsen stomach cramps bad enough to make him go back to his quarters and rest, but it seemed the reaction had been too violent and now Major Ghunsonn suspected foul play.

‘Oh well,’ Henderson sighed. ‘It’ll have to wait, I suppose.’

He backed down a wood-panelled hallway and stepped into the executive dining room at the top of the main staircase. He was ready with an apology if there’d been a meeting inside, but all he found was a cleaner dusting the model ships.

‘Afternoon,’ Henderson said politely, but the miserable old girl didn’t bother to respond.

After cutting through the old kitchen, Henderson leaned into the hallway, unsure whether Major Ghunsonn had left a guard on the door of the Oberst’s office. Mercifully, the only step taken was to lock the door and slide the Oberleutnant’s desk in front of it.

Henderson paused for a moment, calculating the risks: if he was caught he’d be tortured and shot, but the main plan to create the beacons wouldn’t be affected and his whole team had fall-back escape and liaison plans. If he pulled this off, he could be on the other side of the English Channel before anyone found that a British spy had stolen the three dossiers containing every detail of the invasion plan.

After a final glance, Henderson patted his jacket for a reassuring touch of his silenced pistol. He then took the key and moved quickly towards the double doors of the Oberst’s office.

13:31 Boulogne

Marc waited for the Mercedes by the main dockyard entrance and signalled for Schroder to pull over. He crouched at the open window beside Kuefer.

‘Just spoke to Louis,’ Marc explained. ‘They’ve had a power failure in one of the huts. They’ll be working in the warehouse building until the generator comes back up.’

Kuefer always downed a bottle of wine with his lunch. He chilled out under the influence and Marc could have told him that his mother had died without getting any more than a dumb smile in return.

‘Better hop in then,’ Schroder said.

Marc hoped Kuefer didn’t look across and see his hands shaking as the big Mercedes drove the three hundred metres down a badly cracked road. About a million things could go wrong: Rufus and Khinde could chicken out, Louis or one of the foremen could spot them entering the warehouse and come over to investigate, Schroder didn’t drink as much as his boss and might suspect something …

‘You been running?’ Kuefer asked, as they got out of the car.

Marc’s mouth was almost too dry to speak, but he had damp patches around his armpits and his shirt was stuck to his back.

‘I ate lunch sitting in the sun,’ he croaked, as he grabbed the handle of the warehouse door.

‘There’s nothing in here,’ Kuefer said as he stepped under the badly burned roof beams.

Schroder looked suspiciously at Marc as he followed him into the warehouse. ‘What did Louis tell you exactly?’

Before Marc could answer, Khinde whipped the piano wire around the driver’s throat and pulled tight.

Kuefer was small, but Rufus hesitated and the Kommodore ducked beneath the wire and reached for the gun holstered around his waist. Marc made himself wide and ploughed forwards, wrapping his arms around Kuefer’s waist. Rufus grabbed the German’s arm and snatched the gun as Kuefer clattered backwards into one of the metal tar drums.

‘Don’t shoot – half the dockyard will hear,’ Marc warned.

Khinde let go and the German driver hit the floorboards with a thud. Rufus bludgeoned Kuefer with the base of the pistol before Khinde knocked him out with a blow from his huge