V2 A Novel of World War II - Robert Harris Page 0,46

than a boy, three paces distant, partly concealed by a tree. From beneath a workman’s dark blue cap, a pair of eyes stared out of a dead white face.

Several seconds passed during which Graf’s mind tried to assimilate these details. Was he a survivor from the launch platoon, accidentally left out overnight in a state of shock? Was he a ghost, even – not that he believed in them? He felt his hair stiffen on his scalp. He took half a step forwards and the apparition vanished – jerked behind the tree trunk, turned and ran. No ghost, then.

‘Seidel!’ he yelled. ‘There’s someone here!’

He set off in pursuit. Whoever it was, he was nimble, but not strong enough to force his way through the undergrowth, and Graf, crashing straight ahead, was soon close enough to make a grab at his jacket. He missed the first time, but the second time seized his collar and hauled him backwards, dragged him down onto the ground and squatted on top of him, pinioning his arms with his knees, as if it were a children’s game. And that was what this wriggling creature was, he realised – a child: a teenage boy with a delicate, small, sharp-featured face. But when he pulled off the cap and saw the thick blonde hair, he realised he was sitting on a young woman of eighteen or twenty. He reached out to brush away her hair to get a better view of her face. She twisted her head and bit him on his thumb. He swore and snatched his hand away.

‘Graf! Where are you?’ It sounded as though Seidel was still some distance off.

At the sound of another man’s voice, she bucked and writhed helplessly beneath him, then gave up and lay still. Her eyes were fixed on his – full of fear and wild defiance, like an animal’s in a trap.

The lieutenant’s voice came again, closer now. ‘Graf! Are you all right? I’m over here!’ He let off a round from his pistol. The crack of the gunshot rang around the wood.

Graf looked over his shoulder towards the place where the gun had been fired, then stared down at the girl. What should he do? If he handed her over to Seidel, the army officer would be duty-bound to turn her in to the SS. They would shoot her for sure. She was not much more than a child. The idea was intolerable to him. He put his weight on one leg and then the other, hoisted himself clear and carefully stepped away from her. She didn’t move. Was she half-witted? Had he injured her? He gestured with his head and hissed: ‘Go!’

She scrambled to her feet without a word and slipped away into the trees.

‘Graf!’

‘It’s all right! Stay where you are! I’m coming!’

He hurried back through the undergrowth. The lieutenant was at the edge of the crater. His gun was drawn, his expression irritable. ‘What the devil’s going on? What were you shouting about?’ He glanced over Graf’s shoulder as if he suspected he might have been followed.

‘I thought I saw someone. But it was nobody. I’m sorry. This place gets on my nerves.’

‘I heard you running.’

‘I was chasing a shadow.’

Seidel looked him up and down. For the first time Graf was aware of the dirt and leaves stuck to the front of his coat. He brushed them away. His hand was bleeding slightly from her bite. Some kind of explanation seemed to be required. ‘I fell.’

‘You fell?’ It was clear from his tone and the way he raised an eyebrow that the battery commander did not believe him, but after a moment he returned his pistol to its holster. ‘We should go.’

10

THE DAKOTA WAS DESCENDING FAST, shuddering so violently in the turbulence Kay could see its fuselage twisting. It didn’t take much effort to imagine it shaking itself to pieces. In the last five minutes, two more passengers had vomited up their breakfasts. The smell in the unheated cabin was cloying, inescapable, contagious; she had to fight the urge to be sick herself every time the plane bucked and her seat belt cut into her stomach.

She forced herself to stare ahead through the window opposite at the dirty white gauze of cloud. Rivulets of raindrops crawled across the glass like drops of sweat. She gripped the metal seat struts. With a final vertiginous plunge that reminded her of an express lift, they dropped out of the cloud base. The colour in the window changed abruptly