heard his master coming back, he turned around just in time to see a clenched fist, an instant before it broke his nose. He slumped to the ground.
Giles ran to the back of the car and opened the boot. Terry leapt out, walked across to Hans’s prostrate body and began to unbutton the driver’s uniform, before pulling off his own clothes. Once Bates had finished putting on his new uniform, it became clear just how much shorter and fatter Hans was.
‘It won’t matter,’ said Giles, reading his thoughts. ‘When you’re behind the wheel, no one will give you a second look.’
They dragged Hans to the back of the car and bundled him into the boot.
‘I doubt if he’ll wake up before we sit down for breakfast in Zurich,’ said Terry as he tied a handkerchief around Hans’s mouth.
The commandant’s new driver took his place behind the wheel, and neither of them spoke again until they were back on the main road. Terry didn’t need to stop and check any signposts, as he’d studied the route to the border every day for the past month.
‘Stay on the right-hand side of the road,’ said Giles, unnecessarily, ‘and don’t drive too fast. The last thing we need is to be pulled over.’
‘I think we’ve made it,’ Terry said as they passed a signpost for Schaffhausen.
‘I won’t believe we’ve made it until we’re being shown to our table at the Imperial Hotel and a waiter hands me the breakfast menu.’
‘I won’t need a menu,’ said Terry. ‘Eggs, bacon, beans, sausage and tomato, and a pint of beer. That’s my usual down at the meat market every morning. How about you?’
‘A kipper, lightly poached, a slice of buttered toast, a spoonful of Oxford marmalade and a pot of Earl Grey tea.’
‘It didn’t take you long to go back from butler to toff.’
Giles smiled. He checked his watch. There were few cars on the road that New Year’s morning, so they continued to make good progress. That was, until Terry spotted the convoy ahead of them.
‘What do I do now?’ he said.
‘Overtake them. We can’t afford to waste any time. They’ll have no reason to be suspicious – you’re driving a senior officer who wouldn’t expect to be held up.’
Once Terry caught up with the rear vehicle, he eased out into the centre of the road and began to overtake a long line of armoured trucks and motorcycles. As Giles had predicted, no one took any interest in a passing Mercedes that was clearly going about official business. When Terry overtook the leading vehicle, he breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn’t fully relax until he swept round a corner and could no longer see any headlights in his rear-view mirror.
Giles continued to check his watch every few minutes. The next signpost confirmed they were making good time, but Giles knew they had no control over when the commandant’s last guest would leave and Colonel Schabacker would go in search of his car and driver.
It was another forty minutes before they reached the outskirts of Schaffhausen. They were both so nervous that hardly a word had passed between them. Giles was exhausted just sitting in the back seat, doing nothing, but he knew they couldn’t afford to relax until they had crossed the Swiss border.
When they entered the town, the locals were just beginning to wake up; the occasional tram, the odd car, a few bicycles ferrying people who were expected to work on New Year’s Day. Terry didn’t need to look for signs to the border, as he could see the Swiss Alps dominating the skyline. Freedom felt as if it was touching distance away.
‘Bloody hell!’ said Terry as he slammed on the brakes.
‘What’s the problem?’ said Giles, leaning forward.
‘Look at that queue.’
Giles stuck his head out of the window to see a line of about forty vehicles, bumper to bumper, ahead of them, all waiting to cross the border. He checked to see if any of them were official cars. When he was sure there were none, he said, ‘Drive straight to the front. That’s what they’d expect us to do. If we don’t, we’ll only draw attention to ourselves.’
Terry drove slowly forward, only stopping when he reached the barrier.
‘Get out and open the door for me, but don’t say anything.’
Terry turned off the engine, got out and opened the back door. Giles marched up to the customs post.
A young officer leapt up from behind his desk and saluted when he saw the colonel enter the room. Giles handed over two sets of papers that the camp forger had assured him would pass muster at any border post in Germany. He was about to find out if he’d exaggerated. As the officer flicked through the documents, Giles tapped the side of his leg with his baton and glanced repeatedly at his watch.
‘I have an important meeting in Zurich,’ he snapped, ‘and I’m running late.’
‘I’m sorry, colonel. I’ll get you on your way as soon as possible. It should only take me a few moments.’
The officer checked the photograph of Giles on his papers, and looked puzzled. Giles wondered if he’d have the nerve to ask him to remove his scarf, because if he did, he would immediately realize that he was too young to be a colonel.
Giles stared defiantly at the young man, who must have been weighing up the possible consequences of holding up a senior officer by asking him unnecessary questions. The scales came down in Giles’s favour. The officer nodded his head, stamped the papers and said, ‘I hope you won’t be late for your meeting, sir.’
‘Thank you,’ said Giles. He put the documents back in an inside pocket and was walking towards the door when the young officer stopped him in his tracks.
‘Heil Hitler!’ he shouted.
Giles hesitated, turned slowly around and said, ‘Heil Hitler,’ giving a perfect Nazi salute. As he walked out of the building, he had to suppress his laughter when he noticed that Terry was holding open the back door with one hand, and holding up his trousers with the other.
‘Thank you, Hans,’ said Giles as he slumped into the back seat.
That was when they heard a banging noise coming from the boot.
‘Oh my God,’ said Terry. ‘Hans.’
The brigadier’s words came back to haunt them; no escape plan can ever be foolproof. In the end, it all comes down to how you cope with the unforeseen.
Terry closed the back door and returned to his place behind the wheel as quickly as he could, as he feared the guards would hear the banging. He tried to remain calm as the barrier rose inch by inch, and the banging became louder and louder.
‘Drive slowly,’ said Giles. ‘Don’t give them any reason to become suspicious.’
Terry eased the gear lever into first and drove slowly under the barrier. Giles glanced out of the side window as they passed the customs post. The young officer was speaking on the phone. He looked out of the window, stared directly at Giles, jumped up from his desk and ran out on to the road.
Giles estimated that the Swiss border post was no more than a couple of hundred yards away. He looked out of the back window to see the young officer waving frantically, as guards carrying rifles poured out of the customs post.
‘Change of plan,’ said Giles. ‘Step on the accelerator,’ he shouted as the first bullets hit the back of the car.
Terry was changing gear when the tyre burst. He tried desperately to keep the car on the road, but it swerved from side to side, careered into the side railings and came to a standstill midway between the two border posts. Another volley of shots quickly followed.
‘My turn to beat you to the washroom,’ said Giles.
‘Not a hope,’ said Terry, who had both feet on the ground before Giles had dived out of the back door.
They both began running flat out towards the Swiss border. If either of them was ever going to run a ten- second hundred, it would be today. Although they were dodging and changing direction in their attempt to avoid the bullets, Giles still felt confident that he would cross the finishing line first. The Swiss border guards were cheering them on, and when Giles dipped at the tape, he raised his arms in triumph, having finally defeated his greatest rival.
He turned around to gloat, and saw Terry lying in the middle of the road about thirty yards away, a bullet
