One Shot Kill - Robert Muchamore Page 0,60

was still close enough feel the dry heat against his forehead. After leaving the railway embankment, he’d walked briskly through fields towards the surgery but had only got as far as the alleyway alongside the butcher’s shop when Germans arrived.

He’d backed out of the alley as the Germans jumped off their trucks, then crawled rapidly through tall grass until he’d reached the edge of the graveyard with Rosie’s words from a few weeks earlier in his head: A perfect view and half a dozen escape routes if someone comes looking.

Justin might have been spotted if the soldiers had chased Henderson, but only one German made it around the burning truck. The German didn’t fancy going up against a grenade-throwing lunatic and went no further than the edge of the graveyard.

As the soldier jogged back to his colleagues, Justin watched Dr Blanc walking into thick smoke and diesel fumes. One of the men Henderson had shot was still alive, but the Germans had no idea that Blanc was a doctor, and before she could help a rifle butt smashed into the side of her head.

‘None of you French bastards move,’ the solidly built lieutenant in command shouted, as he strode through smoke brushing chunks of rubble off his uniform. ‘Get this rabble lined up. Somebody here knows what this is all about.’

But the chaos continued, centring on a blacksmith trying to extinguish a roof fire started by Henderson’s stick of explosive.

‘Leave it to burn,’ the lieutenant shouted. ‘Let it be a lesson to people who harbour criminal scum.’

But the blacksmith was desperate to save his business and plunged a bucket into the horse trough outside his shop. The apprentice girl from the butcher’s shop said something about fetching a water pump, but the rebellion ended as the lieutenant pulled his pistol and shot the blacksmith in the back.

After a couple of screams, the officer changed position and shot again, this time killing a woman who was rolling about in pain after being struck by a chunk of hot metal from the exploding truck.

‘Oh, now I have your attention,’ the lieutenant said, smirking like a mischievous schoolboy as he swung his pistol about, pointing it at cowering Frenchmen and women. ‘Two police officers are killed, then an explosion. Then my men are killed. I will get to the truth behind this. Tell me now, or all your lives will be short and agonising.’

Nobody said a word and the officer signalled to his men. ‘Come on, line them up.’

Justin had a good view, and noticed that all the soldiers had a certain demeanour. They were much younger than the local garrison. Their boots and uniforms were tatty and most of them had long hair and stubbly beards.

There were a few elderly amongst the civilians, but the rough-hewn soldiers showed no patience with their slowness, dishing out kicks and slaps and even twisting one old man’s arm up behind his back.

‘Someone here knows,’ the officer said, as he looked about, menacing the crowd of about thirty with his pistol.

Dr Blanc had blood streaking down her face from the rifle blow, as the lieutenant closed up on her. In the background, the roof of the blacksmith’s shop was now fully ablaze. A central section was sagging and about to collapse into the shop itself.

‘What does the fat pudding know?’ the officer asked.

Dr Blanc hoped she hadn’t been singled out for a reason. ‘I just run my surgery,’ she said tearfully. ‘I’ve been working all morning. I don’t know anything.’

The lieutenant reared up. ‘If you’re a doctor, why aren’t you trying to help my wounded men?’

‘I tried,’ Dr Blanc hissed, as she pointed to her bloody head. ‘That’s how I got this.’

The lieutenant was too full of himself to apologise, but the doctor was taken out of the line-up and escorted back to the surgery for her medical bag.

‘Liars, all of you,’ the officer shouted, as he pointed at the burning blacksmith’s shop. ‘Either I find out what’s been going on here and now, or you’ll all be taken into Rennes for Gestapo interrogation.’

The thirty-strong line-up was trembling but stayed silent. Apart from Dr Blanc, none of them knew anything about Henderson’s operation.

‘We’ll need another truck for all our new prisoners,’ the lieutenant said. After a dramatic pause he broke into a rumbling laugh and turned to a teenage private. ‘While we wait for transportation, why don’t you see if starting another fire will jog someone’s memory. Schmidt, get your flamethrower. Load the meat from the