The Frenchman frowned. 'No, they do not come this way. It is not the main road.'
'Great! So you and the lieutenant—and the kraut—can sit here and argue, and no one's gonna disturb you . . . and me and the corporal can take the car ... and when the war's over we can come back and tell you who won it.' Winston spread his hands in the manner of one modestly offering his answer to a difficult problem. 'Or, if you like, we'll just tell you when it's over—then you can go on arguing . . .
about which of you won it, huh?'
Audley and the Frenchman both stared at him for a second or two, and then again at each other.
Suddenly the Frenchman raised his hands apologetically. 'M'sieur— Lieutenant—you will understand that we have learnt to be cautious ... to ask questions. Perhaps too many questions. But it is how we have stayed alive, you see.'
Audley nodded slowly. 'Yes,' he agreed.
'So . . . you shall have your vehicle—and your prisoner . . . and we will also help you find your way—I shall give you a driver to guide you . . .
One of the Resistance men who had been working on the restoration of the plank bridge over the crater straightened up and turned towards them obediently.
Audley relaxed. 'Well ... I suppose there are times when we're a bit too jolly careful for our own good, at that!' He glanced for a moment towards Butler. 'Eh, Corporal?'
'Sir?' Butler had the distinct impression that the look Audley had given him had been for one fraction of a second much less friendly than his tone of voice. 'Yes, sir.'
Audley grinned at the Frenchman. 'Bulldog—Operation Bulldog, that's us.'
Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage
The Frenchman frowned. 'Bull. . . dog?'
Audley struck his forehead. 'I'm an idiot! I mean Bullsblood, of course. Just got the wrong word-association— Bullsblood it is.'
'Ah—Bullsblood.'
'That's right. It's a road interdiction mission.' Audley grinned again. 'But if you don't mind, I'll spare you the details.'
'A very proper precaution.' The Frenchman nodded. 'And now . . .
'Hey, m'sieur, just hold it a sec!' Sergeant Winston pointed towards the German. 'You never did get round to telling us what he did—was it real bad?'
'Bad?' The Frenchman gave Grafenberg a curious glance. 'No, it was not bad. It was what he did not do that was bad . . . and that— that was very bad.'
'And what was it he didn't do, then?'
'He failed to kill Adolf Hitler, m'sieur.'
15.
It was true what Dad had said, thought Butler: Germans smelt differently from Englishmen.
But then, to be fair, Captain Grafenberg was probably thinking much the same thing. And whenever the captain had last washed, he knew for a fact that he himself hadn't had anything like a decent wash for a week, so he must be ripening up a treat on his own account. In addition to which, since the captain was wedged between him and Sergeant Winston in the back of the staff car, he would have both American and British smells to contend with.
The car completed its backward passage up the road and swung sharply into the entrance to the track along which the other ambushed vehicles were hidden.
Butler caught a strong whiff of garlic on Pierrot's breath: that made, altogether, a pretty formidable Allied presence, he decided.
They backed up the track for ten yards. Then the Kubel backed in ahead of them.
Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage
'We gonna have an escort?' asked Winston.
Audley watched the Kubel set off ahead of them. 'For the first ten kilometres, according to the schoolmaster,' he said.
'The schoolmaster?'
'Yes. It seems that he's a schoolmaster when he's not killing Germans,' said Audley. 'Or that's what they call him, anyway.'
'Like Bullsblood?' said Butler.
'Or Bullshit?' said Winston.
Audley turned towards them from the front seat 'Now just hold it,' he said warningly.
Pierrot put the car in gear and pulled onto the road a hundred yards behind the Kubel.
'We get to know where we're going, though?' said Winston.
Audley stared ahead of him. 'To their headquarters. Then they're going to see if there's any information about
