Faked Passports (28 page)

The safe was a large affair which stood in a corner of the room, between its two windows, one of which looked out on to the back garden and the other—through which Gregory and Suki had come—on to the side-garden. As was to be expected in any Gestapo office, the safe had a combination lock, but it was not of the most modern type and after a swift preliminary examination Suki declared that he thought he could deal with it. While Gregory piled up all the chairs and other odd pieces of furniture that he could find in jumbled barricades against the
two doors Suki began to operate with swift, deft fingers on the combination lock, listening to the fall of the tumblers with each turn that he gave it.

Having completed the barricades Gregory switched out the lights so that if the Germans came round to the back of the house, broke open the window there and pulled aside the curtains he should not present an immediate target. The room was now in darkness except for the thin pencil of light shining from the torch hung round Suki's neck on to the lock; where, his small wisened face set and concentrated, he worked with frantic speed.

There was no more that Gregory could do and he crouched near the safe-breaker with his rifle at the ready, listening to the noises that percolated from the other part of the house. The shouting had now subsided and he could catch only the sound of loud, guttural voices which came to him muffled by the distance. The burglar-alarm had ceased to ring, petering out in a spasmodic jingle soon after he had fixed the barricades. Since nobody had tried to get into the room as a result of the clamour he decided that all the windows on the ground-floor, and the doors, were probably wired by the same system, and that the Nazis believed that the alarm had been set ringing by the explosion on the far side of the house. But another noise had now taken the place of the shrill ringing; it was a low, angry roar, and Gregory knew that his incendiary-bomb was doing its work in the breach that the explosive-bomb had made. The house was on fire.

He wondered anxiously if Wuolijoki had judged the size of the bomb correctly. Their objective had been to start a fire which would keep the Gestapo men occupied for a quarter of an hour or so but which, with the help of a fire-engine, could be put out. But if the bomb was too big the fire would get too great a hold to be dealt with, in which case the Nazis would abandon the fight and come running to the other rooms to save their papers and belongings before the flames spread to the rest of the house.

Suddenly the handle of the door to the passage rattled. There was a pause. It rattled again. Someone outside was shaking the door impatiently. Gregory remained as still as a mouse. Suki's fingers continued to flicker over the combination-lock; his head was bent down towards it as he listened to the clicking which was almost inaudible except to anyone with his supernormal hearing. There was a sharp knock on the door and
a voice said: “
Hier ist Schumacher. Lassen Sie mich hinein Kommen.
”

On receiving no reply the man moved away. Gregory could hear his heavy footsteps as he marched down the hall. A moment later the knob of the other door rattled. On finding that also locked the man called out in a surprised voice:

“
Grauber, sind Sie dort?
” And once more getting no response, he moved away from that door too.

Gregory crouched there, with his automatic rifle at the ready, praying for time. Once they started to batter in the doors the noise might be too great for Suki to catch the sound of the falling tumblers any more and all chance of getting the safe opened would be lost. Turning to the little man he whispered urgently: “How are you going?”

“Fine,” Suki nodded. “I'm nearly through; another few moments.”

As he spoke feet sounded in the passage again. There was a murmur of quick, angry voices; then a heavy rapping on the door.

“
Wer ist da?
” cried an impatient voice, which Gregory recognised as that of Grauber. “
Offen Sie sofort!
”

There was another brief pause, the mutter of voices again, then a heavy body crashed against the door in an endeavour to burst it open. The woodwork strained but did not give, as the lock was a stout one and still held. Ten seconds' silence followed, then a series of deafening reports. Someone outside was blowing the lock off with an automatic.

Gregory's lips tightened. He had hoped to get through with the business and away before the arrival of the fire-brigade or police so as to avoid any risk of running up against the Finnish authorities. The fire-engine had not yet arrived or he would have heard the clanging of its bells. Wuolijoki had assured him that it would take the best part of a quarter of an hour to get out to this remote district so he reckoned that there were still some minutes to go before it could come on the scene. But one or two patrolling policemen must have heard the bomb go off, and if they had already reached the house the sound of the shots was certain to arouse their unwelcome curiosity.

The roar of the explosions had hardly subsided when heavy bodies came crashing at the door once more. The lock was shattered but the big desk still held the door in position. After a few moments of frantic banging, as the men outside tried to
force it, they gave up and there was another muttered consultation.

Thump! Bang! Crash! A sudden assault had been launched without warning against the door leading to the front office. It strained and groaned but the weighty filing-cases prevented its being forced open. The din was still going on when there came the sound of splintering glass on Gregory's right. A second party had gone out of the house with the intention of coming in through the window that overlooked the back garden.

Poor Suki now stood with a look of despair on his face and his hands dangling by his sides. It was impossible for him to continue his operations in such a hellish clatter. Gregory knew that the doors were safe for the moment but he watched the window like a lynx. A second later the inner panes were shattered and came tinkling to the floor. In the faint glow from Suki's torch Gregory saw the black-out curtain suddenly twitch, as a hand grasped it from outside, and knew that he must wait no longer. He was within a couple of feet of the window; aiming a few inches below the place where the curtain was caught up, he fired.

There was an agonising scream and the curtain went quite smooth again, with nothing to show what had happened except for a little round hole in it about six inches above the window-sill. At the sound of the shot the banging on the office door ceased abruptly; Suki instantly got busy again in a silence broken only by the distant roaring of the fire yet pregnant with alarming possibilities.

Gregory crouched low beneath the level of the window-sill, expecting a volley of shots to crash through the black-out curtain at any second. Suki in his corner was safe from any blind volley directed at the window and could not be hit through it, unless somebody outside got right up against the house and fired in at a sharp angle.

Suddenly two shots in quick succession sounded outside. Gregory could not tell if it was von Kobenthal or Charlton, but evidently the Nazis were now attempting to get round to the side-window of the room and had come up against one of his two friends.

There was another silence of perhaps a minute. He looked anxiously at Suki. At that very second the little man gave a chuckle of delight and swung the safe-door open. Shuffling swiftly towards him on his knees Gregory followed with acute anxiety the safe-breaker's little torch as it flickered over the
safe's contents. Was his packet there, or had they risked their lives for nothing?

With frantic speed he began to tumble out bundles of documents, letters, cash-box, scattering them all over the floor; then he tried the drawers below the main compartment. His packet was lying in the second. Grabbing it up with a sudden surge of elation he thrust it under his furs and wedged it so that it could not slip down, above the belt that held his fur-coat tightly in to his body.

He had hardly done so when pandemonium broke loose. A volley of shots thudded through the black-out curtain; the sound of more shots came from outside in the garden; and at the same moment, as though they had been waiting for a signal, a third party of Nazis launched themselves in a fresh attack on the passage door.

Gregory let fly at the black-out curtain which was now riddled with small holes. As he emptied the contents of his automatic rifle into it another cry rang out, showing that his blind fire had accounted for at least one more victim.

Ramming home another clip of cartridges he swivelled round to the door that was creaking and groaning under the weight of the bodies that were being hurled against it. Suki had switched out his torch, so the corner in which they crouched was now in thick shadow. It was that which had saved Gregory from a bullet in the back; for the body of the room was still faintly lit, and the light, now Suki's torch was out, came from the passage door, showing that it had at last been forced. It was open about three inches, and the black splodge that broke the line of light about half-way up was a hand which had been thrust through the opening, gripping an automatic.

The pistol flashed three times, sending pot-shots in various directions. Gregory raised his rifle and, firing at the flashes, sent three shots back. There was a yell as the man at the door was hit and the tearing of wood as one of the bullets grazed the door-frame. Bullets were still streaking through the window and volley after volley sounded from the side of the house. A long wail of pain came, showing that somebody out there had also been hit.

Springing up Gregory grabbed Suki by the arm. “Now we've got what we came for we must get out of here.”

As they ran to the side-window the outline of a head suddenly appeared above the sill. Gregory raised his rifle but a voice
cried: “Don't shoot! It's Freddie”; and Charlton began to heave himself up through the window.

“Don't come in, you fool!” Gregory yelled. “We've got the goods—now we must make our get-away.”

“You can't,” panted Freddie. “They're too many for us—came round both sides and caught us between two fires. Von Kobenthal's hit. We'll have to try to hold this room.”

He was half in the window, half out, when he gave a sudden “Ouch!” of pain and fell back into the garden.

“Oh God!” groaned Gregory. “He's hit!” And he blazed off over the sill from which Freddie had fallen. There was a rush of feet; then a crackle of answering shots which drove him back from the side-window.

With Suki beside him he took up his old position in the corner by the safe, cursing his luck that they had not been able to get it open a few minutes earlier. They might have escaped then; now they were trapped.

Bullets were whistling through both windows and the pounding on the door continued with increased ferocity. Gregory fired another burst at it, hoping that his bullets would pass between the legs of the chairs he had piled on top of the desk and penetrate the panels. For a moment the din ceased, but it was renewed almost instantly. Someone began firing from the partly-open door again, scattering bullets all over the room in the semi-darkness. Suki gave a piercing screech and grabbed his leg where one of the stray shots had caught him in the thigh. Gregory fired at the flashes in the doorway. His trigger-finger was pressed down, but after two shots the rifle went silent; he had come to the end of his reserve clip of ammunition and Wuolijoki had given him only one spare, as he had never visualised the possibility of the raiders having to fight a pitched battle.

The room was now full of acrid smoke; their eyes smarted from it and the stink of it was strong in their nostrils. Suddenly a whistle blew, the firing outside ceased and Gregory wondered anxiously what new menace this portended. Throwing down his empty rifle he thrust his hand under his furs to get the automatic which he was carrying in his hip-pocket.

At that instant there came the crash of falling furniture. Three of the Nazis had hurled themselves against the door with such force that the chairs had fallen from the top of the desk as it was jolted back. One man pitched head-foremost through the
now half-open door, the other two tumbled over him into the room; a fourth switched on the lights.

Gregory's fingers had only just found the butt of his automatic and owing to the heavy clothes that he was wearing he could not draw it swiftly. Jerking away his hand he grabbed up his rifle to club it. Except for the fog of cartridge-smoke the room was now bright as day.

The two Nazis who had forced their way in had drawn their pistols and had Gregory covered, when a high-pitched shout came from the passage:

“Don't kill that man! I want him!” And Grauber lumbered through the doorway.

The Nazis put up their guns. Both of them were hefty, bullet-headed men. The third, who had fallen by the desk, was now on his feet again and the fourth followed Grauber into the room.

Suki was lying groaning in the corner clutching his wounded thigh from which the blood ebbed slowly. Gregory had only just grasped his rifle. He was on his feet but had no time to draw himself erect before the two leading Nazis came at him with a rush. He dodged a blow that one aimed at his head, but the other kicked him in the ribs and sent him spinning sideways. He managed to land his foot in one fellow's groin as he went over, and the man gave a howl of agony, but next moment he was on the floor and the other three men had flung themselves on top of him.

The breath was driven out of his body. He was kneed, kicked and pummelled until, incapable of further resistance, he was lugged to his feet with his hands twisted behind him and found himself looking into Grauber's face.

Herr Gruppenführer
Grauber had never been a handsome man at the best of times. He was strong but paunchy and his bull neck rose to a cannon-ball head with fair hair, cut
en brosse
. His face was pasty and his eyes had been a muddy, nondescript colour under his almost-white eyelashes; but now there was only one of them. Gregory himself had bashed out the other with the butt-end of an automatic and the wound was covered by a large black patch. After one glance at the safe Grauber advanced on Gregory with a mincing step.