the bonnet.
Von Hagen walked away, then called back over his shoulder, ‘Report to me at the Merchant Docks as soon as you’ve finished.’
Anthony looked up. It was pure instinct but he cursed himself for a stupid mistake. He knew immediately he’d been caught. He glanced down almost instantly but for a moment his face was clear in the light. Von Hagen stopped and turned back slowly. He opened his overcoat and unholstered a pistol. ‘Come here.’
Anthony walked towards him. There was nothing else to do.
‘Take off your cap.’
The gun was pointed at his stomach. Anthony took off his cap with a flourish. If he was going to go, he might as well go in style. ‘How d’you do, old man?’
Von Hagen gave a hiss of satisfaction. ‘You!’
He opened his mouth to shout to the departing troops and Anthony hurled himself forward. The gun flew out of von Hagen’s hand as Anthony’s fist crunched on the point of his jaw. They rolled over in the road in a desperate struggle.
Von Hagen was wiry and tough but Anthony had the advantage of surprise. Whatever happened, he mustn’t call out. Anthony clamped his hand over von Hagen’s mouth, trying to bring his other hand round to deliver a knockout blow. His fingers grasped the barrel of the gun. He picked it up and smashed the butt end into von Hagen’s temple. The Oberstleutnant’s eyes widened and his body went limp.
Anthony got up and wearily lent against the car. In the distance he could still hear the sound of marching feet. What now? He’d better get rid of these bodies. He glanced towards the brewery gates. He could leave them in the brewery. That would do it. More marching feet sounded close by and he groaned inwardly. There simply wasn’t enough time.
He bent down to von Hagen, untied the scarf from round his neck and gagged him with it. Then, opening the back of the car, he heaved the unconscious Oberstleutnant in beside the driver, shut the door, climbed into the driver’s cab and started the engine.
As he drove off, Anthony totted up his chances. The situation was interesting, to say the least. To drive round the home town of the Imperial Fleet as a known and wanted spy in a stolen army staff car with two Germans in the back, one of whom hates your guts – and, to be fair, von Hagen had been scalded with coffee, beaten up and made to look a fool in front of his men – was not an experience Anthony wanted to prolong longer than necessary.
His only chance of escape lay at the docks. With Terence Cavanaugh dead there was no other agent to turn to and his experience with Lassen showed how dangerous it was to rely on any Dane or German, no matter how friendly they may have been. Both Frau Kappelhoff and the University could give a good description of him and the theft of Herr Kohlmeyer’s identity papers would be reported in the morning.
He could try and make a break for it in the Mercedes, but the car would be a dead giveaway in a few hours and he didn’t know how much petrol was in the tank. And there was Cavanaugh’s message. He had to get that back to England. He couldn’t send it, even if he could contact a messenger. There’s a spy in England . . . Seems to know everything . . . There was no one he could trust.
A groan from behind the seat added an extra spur of urgency to his thoughts. Whatever happened next, he had to deal with those two in the back. With the cranes of the docks visible a few streets away, he turned the car sharply into a side street and drew to a halt.
Holding von Hagen’s gun, Anthony opened the back door of the car. The driver, who had started to groan, fell silent as the gun was pressed to his head.
‘Listen to me,’ said Anthony as fiercely and as urgently as he could. ‘I’m an English spy.’ The man’s eyes rounded in fright. ‘One murmur and I’ll put a bullet in you. Nod if you understand.’ The driver, sprawled across the floor with von Hagen on top of him, nodded. Anthony felt the need of reinforcements, if only imaginary ones. ‘There are other men with me. Understand?’ The driver nodded again. ‘Any sound and you’re for it.’
There was a handkerchief in the pocket of the driver’s coat. Anthony put