Sarah fell on her back, felt herself slide down the slippery deck, and then the rail dipped under and she was in the water.
The E-boat surged forward at speed within seconds of the first explosion, Dietrich scanning the darkness with his night glasses. Martineau almost lost his balance at the sudden burst of speed and hung on grimly.
"What is it?"
"I'm not sure," Dietrich said, and then flames blossomed in the night five hundred yards away and he focused on the Victor Hugo. A dark shape flashed across that patch of light like a shadow and then another. "British MTBs They've hit the Hugo."
He pressed the button on the battle stations alarm, and the ugly sound of the klaxon rose above the roaring of the Mercedes Benz engines winding up to top speed. Already the crew were moving to their stations. The Bofors gun and the well-deck cannon started to fire, lines of tracer curving into the night.
The only thing Martineau could think of was Sarah, and he grabbed Dietrich by the sleeve. "But the people on that ship. We must help them."
"Later!" Dietrich shrugged him aside. "This is business Now keep out of the way."
Sarah kicked desperately to get as far from the ship as possible as the Victor Hugo continued to tilt. There was burning oil on the water toward the stern, men swimming hard to get away from it as it advanced relentlessly. One man was overtaken. She heard his screams as he disappeared.
She moved awkwardly because of the life jacket and the reefer coat was bulky, already saturated with water. She realized now why Orsini had given it to her as the cold started to eat at her legs. Where was he? She turned trying to make sense of the oil-stained faces. An MTB spun around the stern of the Victor Hugo, the violence of its wash hurling some of those in the sea up out of the water. There was a burst of machine-gun flre.
A hand grabbed at her life jacket from behind, and she turned and Orsini was there. "Over here, cara. Just do as I say."
There was wreckage floating everywhere, the bales of hay from the deck cargo buoyant in the water. He towed her toward one of these and they hung onto its binding ropes. "Who were they?" she gasped. "MTBs." "British?"
"Or French or Dutch. They all operate out of Falmouth." There was another mighty rushing sound in the night and machine-gun bullets churned the water as an MTB again carved its way through men and wreckage. A tracer flashed through the darkness in a great arc and a starshell burst. A moment later, a parachute flare illuminated the scene.
Some distance away two MTBs ran for cover, and the E-boat roared after them. "Go get the bastards, Erich!" Orsini shouted.
She almost joined in. My God, she thought, what a way to go. My own people trying to kill me. She hung onto the rope and said, gasping, "Did they have to do that? Machine-gun men in the water?"
"War, cara, is a nasty business. It makes everyone crazy. Are you managing?" "My arms are tired."
A hatch drifted by and he swam to it and towed it toward her. "Let's get you onto this." i
It was a struggle, but she finally managed it. "What about you?" j
"I'll be fine hanging on." He laughed. "Don't worry, I've I been in the water before. My luck is good, so stick with ! me."
And then she remembered the spring fete and Gypsy [ Sara and her fire and water and she started to laugh shakily. "Are you all right?" he demanded.
"Lovely. Nothing like the Channel Islands for a holiday at this time of the year. Perfect for sea bathing," and then -she realized, to her horror, that she'd spoken in English.
He floated there, staring up at her. and then said in excellent English, "Did I tell you I went to Winchester? My father felt that onlj an English public school could give me the backbone 1 needed." He laughed. "Oh, 1 do so like to be right, and I knew there was something different about you from the first moment, cara." He laughed again, excitedly this time. "Which means there's something unusual about the good Standartenfuhrer Vogel."
"Please," she said desperately.
"Don't worry, cara, I fell in love with you the moment you came through the door of that hut on the quay I like you, I don't like them-whoever they are. We Italians are a very simple people."
He coughed, rubbing oil from his face, and she reached for his hand. "You saved my life, Guido." j
There was the sound of a throttled-down engine approaching. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an armed trawler, one of the escorts, approaching. "Yes." he said. "I'm pleased to say I probably did."
A moment later, the trawler was looming above them, a net over the side. Two or three German sailors clambered down, reaching for Sarah, and pulled her up. Guido followed and collapsed on the deck beside her.
A young lieutenant came down the ladder from the bridge and hurried forward. "Guido, is that you?" he said in German.
"As ever, Bruno," Guido answered in the same language.
"And you, fraulein, are you all right? We must get you to my cabin."
"Mademoiselle Latour, Bruno, and she speaks no German," Guido told him in French. He smiled at Sarah and helped her to her feet. "Now let's take you below."
A,
LS Sarah pulled the heavy white sweater over her head there was a knock on the door of Bruno's cabin. She opened it and a young rating said in poor French, "Lieutenant Feldt's compliments. We're entering St. Helier Harbor." He closed the door and she went to the basin and tried to do something with her hair, which was impossible. The effects of salt water had proved disastrous, and it was now a tangled straw-colored mess. She gave up and rolled the Kriegsmarine dungarees up at her ankles.
The contents of her handbag, which she had stuffed into a pocket of Orsini's reefer before leaving the Victor Hwgo, had survived surprisingly well. Her identity card and other papers were soaked, of course. She had laid them out now on the hot-water pipes to dry with her handbag. She replaced them all and retrieved the Walther PPK from under the pillow. The Belgian pistol Sergeant Kelly had given her was in her suitcase on board the E-boat. She sat on the edge of the bunk and pulled on a pair of old tennis shoes one of the young ratings had given her.
There was a knock and Guido came in. "How are you?" he asked in French.
"Fine," she said, "except for the hair. I look like a scarecrow."
He was carrying a Kriegsmarine reefer coat. "Put this on. A damp morning out there."
As she stood her handbag fell to the floor, spilling some of the contents, including the Walther. Guido picked it up and said softly, "What a lot of gun for a little girl. Mystery piles on mystery with you."
She took it from him and returned it to her handbag. "All part of my fatal attraction."
"Very fatal if an item like that is involved."
His eyes were serious now, but she smiled lightly and, on impulse, kissed him on thp cheek. Then she went out and he followed her.
A scene so familiar from her childhood. The harbor, Elizabeth Castle on her left in the bay, the Albert Pier, the sprawl of St. Helier, Fort Regent on the hill above. The same and yet not the same. Military strongpoints everywhere and the harbor more crammed with vessels than she had ever known it. The Rhine barges 1'rom the convoy were already safely in. but there was no sigh of S92.
"Where's the E-boat?" Sarah asked Guido as she leaned on the bridge rail beside him and Lieutenant Feldt.
"Probably having a last look for survivors." he said as they nosed in toward the Albert Pier.
Dockers were already starting to unload the barges, and there seemed to be soldiers everywhere. Below, half-a-dozen French seamen, survivors of the crew of the Victor Hugo picked up by the trawler after Guido and Sarah, waited at the rail in borrowed clothes. Two had sustained facial burns and were heavily bandaged. Another man who had swallowed oil lay on a stretcher.
"No sign of Savary," Orsini said.
"Someone else may have picked him up.' Bruno Feldt said. "I see the GFP are ready and waiting. Why is it that policemen always look like policemen?"
"GFP?" Sarah asked in a deliberate display of ignorance. "What's that?"
"Geheime Feldpolizei," Guido told her "As a matter of interest, the tall one. Captain Muller, is on loan from the Gestapo. So is the thug next to him, the one built like a brick wall. That's Inspector Willi Kleist. The young one with the fair hair is Sergeant Ernst Greiser. Now he isn't ex-Gestapo."
"But wishes he were," Bruno Feldt put in.
The three were the first up the gangway when it went over. Greiser paused among the French seamen, and Muller came on up the ladder to the ridge followed by Kleist. Sarah was aware of Guido's hand going into the pocket of her reefer coat and fumbling inside her handbag.
She turned to glance briefly at him. As she realized it was the Walther he was seeking, it was already too late, as Muller reached the bridge.
"Herr Leutnant." He nodded to Feldt and said to Orsini, "You had quite a night of it, I hear?" He wore an old Burberry raincoat and felt hat and there was something curiously gentle about him as he turned to Sarah and said in French, "You were a passenger on the Hugo, mademoiselle... ?"
"Latour," Orsini put in. "We were in the water together."
"A remarkable escape," Muller nodded. "You lost your papers?"
"No," she said. "I have them here." She took the handbag from her pocket and started to open it. Muller held out his hand. "The bag, if you please, mademoiselle."
There was a moment only as if everyone waited, then Sarah handed it to him. "Of course."
He turned to Bruno Feldt. "We'll use your cabin for a few minutes, if we may."
He seemed so reasonable, Sarah thought, so polite, when very obviously most of those standing around were frightened to death of him. Not Guido, of course, who smiled and squeezed her arm. "I'll wait for you, cara, and if the colonel doesn't arrive you can come up to my billet at de Ville Place. I have a very superior landlady. She'll look after you, 1 promise. All very high class. Only naval officers."
She went down the companionway and back into Lieutenant Feldt's cabin. Muller followed her in and Kleist leaned against the open door.
"So, mademoiselle." Muller sat on the bed, turned the handbag upside down and emptied it. Her papers fell out, her makeup case, powder compact and comb, and also the Walther. He made no comment. He opened her French identity card, examined it, the German Ausweis and the ration cards. He replaced them carefully in the bag and lit a cigarette. Only then did he pick up the Walther, a finger through the trigger guard. "You are, I'm sure, aware that there is only one penalty for a civilian caught in possession of any kind of firearm?"
"Yes," Sarah said.
"This is yours, I take it?"
'Certainly. It was a gift from a friend. He was concerned for my safety. These are troubled times. Captain."
"And what kind of friend would encourage you to break the law so flagrantly? Would it not make him as guilty as you?"
From behind, a cold voice said in German, "Then perhaps you should address that question to me?"
Harry Martineau stood in the doorway. Guido just behind him in the corridor. He presented a supremely menacing figure in the SS uniform and black leather trenchcoat, the silver death's-head in the crumpled cap.
Karl Muller knew the devil when he met him face-to-face and got to his feet very fast indeed. "Standarten-fuhrer "
"You are?"
"Captain Karl Muller, in charge of Geheime Feldpolizei here in Jersey. This is my second in command, Inspector Kleist."
"My name is Vogel." Martineau took out his SD pass and handed it over. Muller examined it and passed it back. Martineau produced the Himmler warrant. "Read that- both of you."
Muller did as he was told. Kleist, peering over his shoulder, was awestruck and gazed at Martineau in astonishment. Muller took it much more calmly, folded the letter and handed it back. "In what way can I serve you, Standar-tenfuhrer?"
"Mademoiselle Latour travels under my protection." Martineau picked up the Walther and put it back in her handbag. "She has done me the honor of choosing my friendship. There are those among her countrymen who do not approve. I prefer that she should be in a position to defend herself should any unfortunate situation arise."
"Of course, Standartenfuhrer."
"Good, then kindly wait for me on deck."
Muller didn't even hesitate. "Certainly, Standartenfuhrer." He nodded to Kleist and they went out.
Martineau closed the door and turned. He smiled suddenly, turning Vogel into Harry. "You look awful. Are you all right?"
"Yes," she said. "Thanks to Guido."
"Guido is it?"
"He saved my life, Harry. It wasn't good when we went down. Burning oil, men dying." She shuddered. "And the MTBs machine-gunned us in the water. I thought it was only the Germans who were supposed to do that?"
