on one leg, leaning on Syme, his trousers black with blood below the tourniquet. Gunther took a pencil torch from his pocket and shone it full in Frank’s face. It was white and set, his eyes wide and staring. ‘Don’t put any weight on your bad leg,’ Gunther said. ‘We’ll help you over to the boat, you can sit down on it.’
Frank put all his weight on his uninjured left leg. Then he took a long, shuddering breath and bared his teeth at Gunther in a wide, mirthless smile, the old Muncaster rictus. But there was something different this time; Frank was holding something between his teeth. Gunther shouted, ‘No!’ as Frank clenched his jaws together hard and David heard the faint crunch of breaking glass. Frank’s body jerked convulsively and he fell forward, deliberately throwing himself at the German to unbalance him and Syme. Gunther’s feet skittered on the slippery pebbles and he fell backwards, Frank falling on top of him. David thought, Natalia must have given him her pill. He must have talked her into it. He must’ve put it in his mouth when they left the car in Rottingdean; that was why he hardly spoke after that. And now he was dead, Frank was dead.
Taking advantage of everyone’s shock, Ben shoved himself violently backwards at the German holding his arms, Kollwitz. His captor lost his balance and staggered, letting Ben break away. David dug his heels into the pebbles and tried to do the same to the man holding him, but his captor braced himself and held on, letting out an angry grunt. Kollwitz had righted himself and was reaching for his pistol but Ben was quicker; he threw himself at one of the guns lying beside Sarah and Eddie then raised his weapon and shot the fair-haired German full in the chest. As he went down David’s captor pushed him away and aimed his gun at Ben. He and Ben fired at the same time. They hit each other. Both crashed to the pebbles, the German dead with a bullet hole in his forehead, Ben writhing on the ground, clutching his shoulder.
The beach was strewn with bodies now, dead and injured and bound. Gunther was struggling to push Frank’s corpse off him. Only David and Syme were left standing now, facing each other. Syme reached into his pocket and pulled his gun on David. ‘Don’t you fuckin’ move, sunshine,’ he said fiercely, his accent suddenly broad Cockney. ‘Hands in the air!’
David lifted his arms above his head, staring Syme in the eye.
With a grunt Gunther pushed Frank’s body off him but he did not stand. Instead he knelt, crouching over the body of the man he had hunted across England. He shone the torch in Frank’s face again. David saw Frank’s eyes, as still and unseeing as Charlie’s had been that terrible day, the Muncaster grin frozen on his face, tiny shards of glass glinting on his teeth. Gunther reached out and held Frank’s shoulders, then bowed his head. Syme looked at David. ‘Right, you fucker, hands behind your back. Let’s get you tied up. You can still be of use to Special Branch. Hoth, you cover me.’ Gunther looked at him with unseeing eyes for a moment. ‘
‘Yes – yes.’ Gunther pulled himself together and fumbled for his gun, pointing it at David. On the ground nearby, just beyond Sarah and Eddie, Ben was still groaning, clutching his shoulder. His gun lay beside him on the sand. Syme turned towards him, his face furious. ‘Stop making that noise, you cunt!’
‘I’ve got half ma fuckin’ arm shot off,’ Ben shouted.
‘I’ll bloody shut you up for good!’ Syme stepped towards him, pistol raised, walking past where Sarah and Eddie lay. Then David saw Sarah brace herself and kick up and out with both feet, right into Syme’s groin. He yelled and doubled over, dropping his gun, which fell by Sarah’s face. He reached down for it but she stretched out and bit him, with all her force, on the hand. He screamed, ‘Fucking bitch!’ and staggered away, tripping and falling down on the pebbles with a howl.
David lunged forward and picked up Syme’s gun. As he did so he heard a bullet ricochet off a pebble nearby, saw sparks from the bullet. Gunther. He turned swiftly and shot the German in the arm, Gunther’s gun flying outwards in a spray of blood. Gunther looked down at his arm in astonishment, then at David as he walked over and pointed Syme’s gun at the centre of the German’s broad, charcoal-smeared forehead. Behind him Ben was still groaning, and Syme was curled over in a foetal position, sobbing with pain. Perhaps Sarah’s heavy Wellington boots had burst his balls; David hoped so. His wife had saved him.
He looked into the German’s eyes. They looked, not hard and wicked as David had expected, nor frightened, but sorrowful and unutterably weary. David was suddenly aware of how cold he was, his feet were like ice and the hand holding the gun almost numb.
The German stood there, seeming not to care about the blood gushing down his coat from his ruined arm. He gave David a sad, lopsided smile and shook his head slightly. He said quietly, ‘You won’t win. You just held our victory up a little. That’s all you can ever do.’ Then, louder, he shouted, ‘For Germany!’ And there was a bang and a flash as David shot him between the eyes. Gunther fell back with a crash and lay still, his forehead shattered, blood and brains seeping out, white and black in the moonlight, the lopsided smile still on his face, as though he knew best even now. Beside him Frank lay, mouth still locked in the Muncaster grin. David looked back at Syme, who was struggling shakily to his feet, hands between his legs. David pointed the gun at Syme and he raised his hands. Still watching him, David reached over and gently closed Frank’s eyes.
Suddenly he heard the crunch of running feet: Syme was running away, slowly and painfully, towards the promenade. David fired at him but missed, the cold numbness in his hand affecting his aim. Syme loped painfully on. He reached the steps to the promenade and began to climb them. David fired again and this time he hit him; Syme went down. But he was still alive; he began crawling painfully up the steps. His leg muscles aching from the cold, David started to run towards him, but from the ground nearby Eddie called out, ‘No! You’ve got to get us into the boat! There’s just time to reach the submarine! But only just!’
David stood irresolute for a moment. He looked at his watch. It was quarter to one. All that horror and killing had lasted only half an hour. Syme had reached the top of the steps now, and was crawling onto the promenade. David raised his gun again but Sarah called out, ‘No, David! Leave him! You have to help us get away! And Ben’s hurt!’
Eddie said, ‘If we’re not there soon the sub will go! Untie us, quick!’
David thought of Natalia, hoped desperately that she had got away. Then he looked into Sarah’s eyes and nodded. He went over to Ben. He looked in a bad way, grimacing with pain, blood leaking from a nasty shoulder wound. David could see white, exposed bone. Ben said, ‘I cannae feel my arm.’
‘We’ll get you safe on the sub.’
Ben looked round the bodies on the beach. ‘We beat thae fuckin’ Nazis, eh?’
‘Yes. Yes, we did.’
He looked down towards the water. ‘Frank’s dead, isn’t he? What happened? I didn’t see.’
‘He had a poison pill after all. Natalia gave it to him.’
Tears came to Ben’s eyes. ‘Poor Frankie. Poor wee man.’
Frozen, soaked and shocked as they were, David and Eddie pulled away in the boat as fast as they could. The breeze was stronger out at sea, bitterly cold. Ben lay in the bottom of the boat. Sarah had opened his coat and had taken off her own jumper, pressing it down on Ben’s shoulder to staunch the flow of blood.
They were already some distance from the shore. Looking back, David saw the line of chalk cliffs that stretched to the east, the Seven Sisters. For a second he thought he saw something move on top of the cliffs. ‘Eddie,’ he said. ‘Can I have the binoculars?’
‘What is it?’ he asked sharply.
‘I thought I saw someone, up on the cliffs.’
‘Be quick.’ Eddie handed David the binoculars. Resting one arm on the rowlock, he scanned the top of the cliffs. He caught a glimpse of two figures, one a woman with long hair, leaning on the other one, a man. The woman was waving out to sea. He thought, it’s Natalia, she made it. She’s found one of the Resistance watchers.
‘Anyone?’ Eddie asked anxiously.
‘I thought I saw a woman waving. It might have been Natalia.’ He glanced at Sarah, but she didn’t look up from tending Ben. ‘He’s unconscious now,’ she said. ‘He’s in a bad way.’
Eddie and David pulled as fast as they could. Eddie had a compass on the seat beside him, kept guiding David to change course slightly. Out on the calm sea the silence was unnerving after the shots and cries on the beach. David looked at his watch. Almost quarter past. ‘Not far,’ Eddie said. ‘Steady, now.’
David looked at him. ‘Will you come with us? To America.’
The fisherman spat in the water. ‘Not likely. I’ve been a Sussex man all my life.’ He gave his gap-toothed grin again. ‘Do you know, since the 1940 Treaty put those duties on trade between Britain and Europe, smuggling’s started up again. French perfume, that’s a favourite. Haven’t earned too bad a living since.’
‘Will it be safe for you to go back?’ Sarah asked. ‘If he survives, Syme could identify you.’
