of the man who had fired the last shot. There was nothing - the knowable world had shrunk to a lightless bubble, leaving him blind, deaf and prey to any lucky bullet. He told himself that his opponents were in the same position, but fear still rose in his throat, tightening his finger on the pistol's trigger.
A flashlight suddenly flared into life, illuminating the rain and the road, the two men struggling by the stationary van. As the beam whirled to pick out Russell himself, he raised the gun and fired, bracing his body for the bullet that was surely on its way. But none came. A second torch fell to the ground, and there was a muffled splash as something heavy hit the ground.
There was another shot, this time much closer, an accompanying grunt of surprise, and then only the sound of the falling rain.
Russell raised his gun as a silhouette struggled to its feet. 'Andreas?' he asked.
'I'm here,' the shape said.
'Were there only three of them?' Russell asked. His hand was shaking, he realised.
'That's all I saw.'
'John?' Effi enquired anxiously from the back of the van.
'Stay there a moment,' he told her, and walked across to where the body was lying beside the still-lit torch, the face half-buried in an icy puddle. He picked up the torch and examined the man, who seemed far too youthful for his
Behind the body, parked up against a wall, was the Gestapo car.
He walked back to the van, and pointed the torch beam at the other two bodies. Both were wearing leather coats, and Russell's victim had lost most of his face. 'Is yours dead?' he asked Andreas.
'Yes.'
Russell took a deep breath. He had just killed as many men in thirty seconds as he had managed in ten months of the Great War, but at least he wouldn't have to finish anyone off.
'Oh God,' Effi said quietly, as she stepped out past the first victim.
'We should be getting out of here,' Andreas urged.
'No, wait,' Russell said, turning off the flashlight and staring out into the darkness. There were no lights heading their way, no distant voices, and he doubted whether the sounds of gunfire had travelled far in the rain. The buildings that surrounded them were obviously not houses. 'Are we at the entrance to the docks?' he asked.
'Yes.'
'And we were going into them?'
'There's a disused warehouse the Party uses for storage. It was the best we could come up with at short notice.'
'Of course,' Russell muttered. 'But after they find these men I should think they'll scour every inch of the dockyards.'
'Yes, but...'
'We could have been leaving,' Effi interjected. 'How would they know?'
By the position of the bodies, Russell thought. Create a mirror image of the current configuration on the other side of the barrier, and maybe, just maybe, the wrong assumption would be made. He explained the idea to Andreas, and the two of them dragged a body each under the barrier, leaving them lying in the equivalent position on the other side. Both had shed flesh and blood where they fell, and Russell did his best to scatter the solids, trusting the rain to wash everything away. The young man by the barrier was left where he was.
It was the best they could do. Once Effi had clambered into the back, Russell lifted the barrier for Andreas to drive the van through, lowered it once more and climbed into the front seat, gun at the ready. Every bridge behind them was broken now.
They drove on into the docks, bumping across inlaid rails, moving slowly for fear of driving off one of the quaysides. They met only one other vehicle, a lorry moving at a similar speed, which gave them a friendly toot of its horn as it passed. It was probably heading south, Andreas told Russell, and would not be using the Lastadie entrance. Hardly anything did at this time of night. 'Which is why I thought it would be safe to use,' he added wryly.
As they ventured further in, visibility seemed to improve, and an angular pattern of cranes loomed out of the darkness. Soon the sky seemed infused with pale light, and as they passed the end of a warehouse they found the source - a well-lit ship and quay on the far side of a basin. 'Ball bearings from Sweden,' Andreas guessed. 'They're allowed to relax the blackout for those.'
That view was soon cut off by more low buildings, and Andreas finally pulled up alongside a warehouse on the opposite side of the road. He led them to a corrugated iron door, and only turned on his flashlight once they were all inside. His thin beam darted round the interior, a wide space between windowless walls, empty save for a few broken crates, some broken glass and the odd length of frayed rope. The scurrying sound had to be rats.
Russell could almost hear Effi shudder.
'This way,' Andreas said, heading towards the rats. About fifty metres further in, a series of offices had been mounted on stilts against one wall, with long windows overlooking the warehouse floor. Access was by a metal staircase, which led up to a door marked 'Quaymaster'. The rooms were lined with what looked like postal sorting shelves, but devoid of furniture.
'This is it,' Andreas said apologetically.
'It'll have to do,' was all Russell could think to say.
'I should be on my way,' Andreas told them. 'I'll be back in the morning. Or whenever I can.'
They watched until his torch flickered out, then held each other tight for several moments.
'Oh John,' was all Effi could say.
'Anyone would think we were going down in the world,' Russell said, plunking down their bag and turning on the torch he had taken from the dead
'I'm sorry too,' Effi said. 'Sorry that it looks like the bastards have beaten us.'
'We're not beaten yet,' he said mechanically. He had failed her, he thought.
'No,' she said, 'but John, I'm frightened. I don't want to die, but if we're caught... we'll be executed, won't we?'
'I will be. Both of us, probably,' he added, thinking that this was hardly the moment for a white lie.
'I'd rather die with you,' she said emphatically. 'Can we do that together? If the Gestapo surround this place or come bursting in can we just end it here?'
'We can if you want.' Paul would be better off without him, he thought.
'We've had a good life,' she said, as if that made ending it more palatable.
It was a long night. They had a little food, but no water, and after a few hours both were so thirsty that Russell went outside to collect what he could in the bottom of a broken bottle. They found a ragged rug in one of the offices, but even folded in four it did little to soften the floor, and when morning light started seeping into the warehouse neither of them had enjoyed more than a few minutes' sleep.
They found a long-disused toilet for their morning ablutions, ate a sparse breakfast, and explored their surroundings. The warehouse was about two hundred metres long, with another set of raised offices towards the far end. Doors on the eastern side led to the street, those on the west to the quayside with its rusted rails and cranes and an apparently abandoned dock basin. Beyond the water and the low roofs of Lastadie, they could see the elegant spires of Stettin against the grey sky, a vision of tranquillity at odds with the fear churning inside them.
Each moment they expected the rising sound of motors on the street outside, and their relief at seeing Andreas come through the corrugated door was profound. He had come on foot, and not alone. Another, older man was with him, whom he introduced as Hartmut.
Hartmut unpacked a camera and collapsible tripod from the canvas bag he was carrying and began setting them up in the brightest available pool of light.
'They know you came to Stettin,' was Andreas's first devastating remark. 'Let me tell you what has been
