The Escape - Robert Muchamore Page 0,56
room and shut the door as Henderson forced the Gestapo officer to sit down on the bed.
‘Strip,’ Henderson ordered, before turning towards Marc. ‘Where’s your pistol?’
‘Tucked in here,’ the boy said, as he pulled it out of his trousers.
‘I’m going to put on his uniform,’ Henderson explained. ‘Keep your gun aimed at the Boche while I change. If he makes a move, shoot him in the head.’
Henderson rested his gun on a wooden chest as he unbuttoned his overall. Marc stood with his gun aimed at the German, who didn’t seem to be in any rush to undress.
‘You’ll both end up before a firing squad,’ the young officer said, as he unbuttoned his shirt.
‘Maybe,’ Henderson said curtly. ‘But you’ll be dead a bloody sight sooner than that if you don’t get a move on.’
The gun felt heavy and Marc was alarmed as the officer dropped his trousers, revealing a jock-strap and a leather sheath containing an ivory-handled dagger set with a gold swastika. Henderson could see the tension in Marc’s face and tried to reassure him.
‘Don’t you worry,’ Henderson said. ‘If he’s in the Gestapo, he’s bright enough to know that a bullet travels faster than a knife.’
Once the two men were both stripped down to underwear, Henderson took his silenced pistol and ruthlessly shot the German through the head. A great red splat hit the wall behind the bed and a chunk of hair and skull slid down the wall. Marc was so shocked that he stumbled back towards the door and almost dropped his gun.
‘Bloody hell,’ the boy gasped. ‘Couldn’t you have tied him up, or knocked him out?’
Henderson shook his head as he stepped into the dead officer’s black trousers. ‘Tying up takes for ever and knocking out is an imprecise science at best. If you stick a bullet through his brain, you know he won’t be coming back at you.’
Marc could understand the logic, but the ruthless act had dented his faith. Henderson had seemed different back at the house when he’d given Marc water and cleaned his face, but was he really just as bad as Oberst Hinze?
‘Don’t just stand there,’ Henderson snapped, as he pointed towards a battered suitcase lying on the floor. ‘See what you can get. That’s a German pistol you’re holding and he might have spare ammunition.’
As well as two clips and a box of ammo, Marc found three grenades on a belt, wrapped inside a set of battle fatigues that stank of urine and sweat.
‘Are these any use?’ Marc asked.
Henderson broke into a broad smile. ‘The ability to blow stuff up is always useful,’ he said, nodding. ‘So what do you think of the uniform? It’s not perfect, but I think I can pull it off.’
Marc nodded. ‘He was a bit taller than you, but it’s OK.’
‘I’d lose the velvet jacket,’ Henderson said. ‘It’s distinctive and they might be looking for it.’
‘So what’s our plan?’ Marc asked, as he took off the waistcoat. ‘Or are you still working on it?’
Henderson looked at the striped markings on his black uniform as he placed a grey, peaked cap on his head. ‘Looks like our friend Mr Corpse was a senior officer. Nobody will expect us to head out the front of the hotel and get in a German car, so that’s exactly what we’ll do.’
Marc looked aghast. ‘Are you insane?’
‘We’ve caused panic,’ Henderson said, as he stared into the mirror and looked at his stubble. He didn’t quite look the part, but there was no time to shave. ‘Once the panic dies down they’ll lock this hotel down tighter than the Führer’s toupee.’
With that, Henderson placed his silenced pistol into a leather holster and passed one of the grenades to Marc.
‘Once you pull the pin, you’ve got about fifteen seconds before it explodes.’
‘OK,’ Marc said weakly, as he stared briefly at the grenade before forcing it into his trousers.
With a gun tucked into the waistline and a grenade bulging from his pocket, Marc worried that his trousers were going to fall down as he left the hotel room and followed Henderson’s black uniform down the corridor.
The fire alarm meant the lifts were out of action, so they walked down the staircase that ran beside it. The alarm itself had stopped ringing, but the plush lobby was crammed with confused Gestapo officers. Nobody paid the blindest bit of notice as Marc and Henderson shuffled between bodies.
Marc caught snippets of conversation. Depending upon who you listened to the situation varied from French commandos holding