‘Should be.’
‘Good.’ I replaced the blade in its sheath on my thigh. Took a few moments to collect my thoughts. ‘Survivors?’
‘Four.’
I turned almost hard enough to pull a muscle.
‘Sit down, Angel, and wash your hands. We’re the four.’
Multiple footsteps disagreed. Three men emerged from behind the guard hut, their machine pistols aimed at us. In the centre, the elusive grey-haired man from France.
Köhler.
Chapter Forty-three
You disappoint me, Major Graf. A decorated hero, such as yourself, working with the British?’ Shaking his head, Köhler eased the butt of the rifle on to the ground and leant against it. With us sprawled on the ground, exhausted, and surprised by his silent approach, Köhler had the advantage. ‘Still, I’m grateful that you didn’t die in there. We have a few things to discuss, you and I.’
I kept my head down, avoiding Köhler’s interest. He had played the long game. I’d suspected as much from the moment Claudine told me that he was looking at everyone other than Eduard. He’d waited for Eduard to do something to betray himself. Something like rescuing a captured English diplomat. And he’d waited here to witness it. We’d played right into his hands.
‘You, Herr Graf, are a traitor to your country.’
Eduard’s posture was as casual as Köhler’s, his tone almost amiable.
‘On the contrary, I am loyal to my country. Always have been.’
Truth shimmered through his words and not for the first time, I wondered what game Eduard Graf played. And whether it would end here.
At a sign from Köhler, the goons kicked our pistols out of reach.
It’s when you care too much, old girl . . .
Exhaustion gave way to anger.
Bollocks, I thought, shifting my legs. It’s when you care that you fight the hardest to survive.
The wind blew a spray of cooling ash towards us. An ember landed on my jaw and I shouldered it away. Something about that gesture attracted Köhler’s attention. His loose posture sharpened and in two steps, he was in front of me. Grabbed my hair, pulling it back until his eyes met mine.
I remember you, they said, as he nodded to himself. I remember what you did.
On my knees, I raised my chin, and squared my shoulders. This man would not win. He would not beat me. He couldn’t in France, and he wouldn’t here.
‘Well, well. You survived. How delightful.’ His smile was chilling. ‘I look forward to our conversations.’
There were three of them, and two of us. The odds wouldn’t be so bad if we hadn’t been disarmed. Eduard met my gaze, his eyes questioning, horrified. If Köhler had recognised me before, he hadn’t said anything to Eduard. Explanations would have to wait. Köhler’s goons hauled us to our feet, and led the way, one on either side of Eduard. Köhler and I followed, his fingers firm on my arm.
I gestured to the burning warehouse.
‘A rather elaborate ruse, if all you wanted was a conversation.’
His laugh rasped like fingernails down a blackboard.
‘That depends on the nature of the conversation, doesn’t it?’ He had wanted proof. Of Eduard’s loyalties, and now of mine. ‘I’d be interested to hear how you got here from France.’ His fingers tightened on my arm, although his expression remained polite. ‘And how you got into France in the first place. From England, wasn’t it, Frau Verin? Or should I say . . . oh, what was it?’ He pretended to think about it until naming my previous alias. ‘Nathalie Lafontaine? Is there perhaps another name you wish to share?’
Köhler had made it his business to learn the name I’d used in France. And if he hadn’t made the connection to Special Operations on his own, the little wireless operator might have told him before she died. It was astonishing that he hadn’t recognised me until now. Or had he? Had I too played a part in his long game?
The Gestapo had no authority to arrest us in Portugal, but Köhler could still make us disappear. Maybe we’d be sent to Germany, maybe just killed and disposed of. After being questioned to the point where death seemed a better option.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The lie, ridiculous as it was, came naturally.
He laughed, ‘Of course you don’t.’
The large saloon car parked near the guard hut hadn’t been there when we’d arrived; they must have been waiting nearby. And the moment we got in, our chances of escape dwindled. It had to be now.
If I was going to die, I might as well die fighting. I dropped my head, letting him think me beaten. He grabbed my elbow, pulling me forward. But not before my hand clasped my blade, freeing it from its sheath and plunging it into his belly.
‘This is for Alex Sinclair,’ I whispered in his ear.
Warm blood spilled from Köhler and I pulled the knife up as far as it would go. My eyes remained locked on his, watching the surprise turn to fear. His left hand tried to staunch the flow of blood. His right raised the machine pistol pointing at Eduard, but he was already moving, reaching for a goon’s gun while his attention was fixed on us. There were two shots.
Köhler’s strength was fading. I knocked the gun from his hand. Stepped away, letting his body drop to the hard ground.
‘I should have killed you in France,’ he whispered.
I settled one knee on his wounded abdomen, and watched the light leave his eyes.
‘Yes, well. You tried. And failed.’
I should have felt triumphant, but all I felt was an exhaustion that reached to my very core.
Eduard helped me to my feet, scanning me for wounds.
‘How badly are you hurt?’
‘Not as bad as him,’ I said, using Köhler’s sleeve to clean his blood from Alex’s blade. ‘Why was Köhler convinced you are a traitor?’
‘He was wrong. I would never betray my country.’
He’d said that before, and now I thought I understood. He wouldn’t betray Germany, but he would do whatever he could to prevent it from betraying
