Young Lions Roar (21 page)

“Yet here I am.” Mason stretched out his arms with a smile.

“Yet here you are, sir,” Alan said.

“Like Lazarus back from the dead.”

The boys did not reply. Sam silently flicked on the safety catch. He coughed loudly as he uncocked his pistol. Sam swore under his breath.

“Are you all right, Sam?” Mason asked with concern.

“Sudden twinge in my back, sir,” Sam explained as he rubbed it. “Old war wound. Do you mind if I sit down?”

“No, of course not, Sam. Please do.”

As Sam sat down he quickly placed the Luger behind his back beneath his trouser waistband.

“Talking of war wounds,” Mason started, “what happened to you two on the day of the St George’s Day Massacre?”

“We had to shoot our way out, sir.” Alan replied matter of factly. “After the bomb explosion and the assassination of the King and Queen everyone went crazy, sir. The SS
started shooting at us, and we and the Police returned fire.”

“So the SS started it?” Mason asked.

“Of course, sir!” Alan replied, “You’re not suggesting that we started the shoot out? That would be like signing our own death warrant! As it was, the Army turned up and
prevented us from wiping out the SS. The Army gave us no quarter and killed all of the Police and the Specials.”

“So how did you boys escape?”

Alan shrugged his shoulders. “We had to fight our way out, sir.” Alan shook his head as he remembered the horrific scenes of chaos and carnage. “It was absolutely terrible,
sir. There were men and women and children screaming and running all over the place trying to escape, and we were shooting at the Huns and they were shooting at us. There was blood and bodies
everywhere, sir.”

“Don’t worry, sir. We didn’t kill any people; only Germans,” Sam explained matter of factly.

“I see,” Mason nodded his head grimly. “You boys seem to have a knack of getting into and getting out of trouble.”

“As do you, sir.” Alan smiled.

“You know what they say, boys…”

“What’s that, sir?”

“The devil looks after his own.”

Alan stood up. “Thank you for your time, sir. It was good to talk to you and it’s good to have you back, sir.”

Sam repeated his friend’s sentiments and the boys started walking towards the door.

“And boys?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If I do suddenly remember who shot me, you can rest assured that you two will be the first to know.”

“What happened in there, Sam?” Alan asked as they walked down the street. “You looked flustered.”

“That’s because I was flustered.” Sam stopped walking and grabbed his friend’s forearm. “Listen, Al: I dropped a bullet on the floor of Mason’s
classroom.”

“You did what?” Alan’s eyes bulged wide open with horror.

“It happened when I was uncocking my Luger. I had my hands behind my back, and I couldn’t see what I was doing. I tried to catch the round as it ejected but my hands were slippery,
and I couldn’t hold the bullet and I dropped it on the floor,” Sam explained with a staccato-style delivery.

“Bloody hell!” Alan said. He looked up and down the street to check if anyone was close enough to listen to their conversation. “Did you try and look for it?”

“Of course I did! I’m not a complete idiot!” Sam was exasperated. “That’s why I sat down, but I couldn’t see it. The round must’ve rolled under a
cupboard or something. I couldn’t see it anywhere.”

“Then I hope to God Mason hasn’t seen it yet, because if he’s found it we will soon be in a world of hurt,” Alan was thinking aloud.

“All the more reason to kill the treacherous bastard now,” Sam said grimly.

“Not yet, Sam.” Alan put his hand on his friend’s forearm. “Mason might be useful.”

“Useful? Useful for what? ” Sam guffawed. “Useful to whom?” Sam continued angrily “The only people who that dirty traitor has been useful to are the Germans. I say
that we go back to his classroom now, kill him, and get the whole thing over and done with. We can’t afford to run the risk of him remembering that it was me that shot him one month
ago.”

“I think that we should ask Edinburgh what they want us to do. If they order us to kill him then we’ll do what they say without any delay, but if they order us to leave him alone for
the time being as a possible source of information then we follow our orders. Agreed?”

Sam nodded his head reluctantly. “Agreed. But as soon as we get even the slightest hint or the merest suspicion that he has recovered his memory, we kill him immediately.
Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Alan replied. “But first things first: we need to find the lost bullet.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Bloody hell, Al!” Sam swore angrily. “This is a complete waste of time. I can’t see a bloody thing.”

“Keep searching, Sam. It’s bound to be here somewhere,” Alan urged.

The two boys continued searching on their hands and knees for the missing bullet. They each gripped a small torch in their teeth as they looked for the lost round in the pitch black
classroom.

After a few more minutes Sam stopped crawling and took the torch out of his mouth. “It’s no use, Al. We’ll never find it. I told you that this was a stupid idea.”

“Stupid idea?” Alan said. “You were the stupid idiot who dropped it in the first place. I don’t remember you coming up with any cunning plans!” Alan hissed
angrily.

“I suggested that we should wait until the morning…”

“And do what?” Alan interrupted. “We don’t have German tomorrow so we can’t look for the bullet during a lesson. What possible reason could we give to Mason to come
back here and search his classroom? You dropped a pen or pencil that must have rolled underneath a cupboard? He would never believe that we would come back to the class room to search for something
so small and insignificant.”

“So what shall we do?” Sam said. “We’re not going to find the missing round scrambling around the class room floor in the dark.”

Alan shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that we’ll just have to hope that Mason hasn’t found it….”

“But if he has then we’ll be up shit creek without a paddle. One word to his Gestapo friends and they’ll be pulling out our fingernails before we can say blueberry
pie.”

Alan nodded his head grimly. “Then we have no alternative. If we can’t find the evidence then we will have to destroy the evidence.”

“What do you have in mind?”

After Alan told him, Sam smiled like a werewolf flashing his fangs.

Mason poked through the burnt remains of his classroom with a stick. The Nissan hut that had housed two German language classrooms and a languages resources store cupboard had
been completely burnt to the ground. All that remained were the twisted metal frameworks of the wooden desks.

Alan and Sam stood at the edge of the ruins. “What happened, sir?” Alan asked.

“Ten years of work and resources up in smoke. Completely ruined…completely wasted…” Mason seemed to be mumbling to himself in a trance. When he turned to answer
Alan’s question, he looked as if he was about to announce a death in the family. “Arson, faulty wiring, someone throwing a still glowing cigarette stub into the litter bin; the Fire
Brigade aren’t sure of the cause yet, and perhaps never will be.”

“Damned bad luck, sir.” Sam shrugged his shoulders with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

“Is it bad luck though?” Mason asked rhetorically. “It seems too much of a coincidence that on the very day that I return to work my class room burns down. If you notice, none
of the other classrooms have burnt down.” Mason gestured towards the other Nissan huts. They had been temporarily erected when the Germans had commandeered the use of some of the school
buildings in order to transform part of St John’s into Hitler’s official residence in Britain.

“With all due respect, sir. I think that you’re being paranoid. Why would anyone want to destroy your life’s work? You’re a well liked and respected teacher at St
John’s, sir,” Alan said reassuringly.

Mason smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Alan, it really is, but many people have a reason to dislike me or even hate me. Many people will not forgive or forget the fact that I was an
inspector in the Specials.”

“But we were in the Specials as well, sir, and we did our duty before that in the Home Guard. No one has attempted to attack us. No one can accuse you of not having done your duty,
sir,” Alan maintained.

“And anyway, sir, our remit in the Specials was to help the Police. Our role was strictly to do with civil affairs, not political affairs. We were never ordered to fight against the
Resistance and if we were I’m confident that most, if not all of us would have resigned, sir,” Sam said.

“Oh, the innocence of youth. What I would give to be young again and look at life through rose tinted spectacles.” Mason chuckled. “You don’t consider guarding Kaiser
Eddie and the Wicked Witch of the West to be a political job, Sam? I’m afraid that you’re being rather naïve.” Mason smiled.

Sam shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “That may be so, sir; but anyway, the Specials have been disbanded, so it’s all water under the bridge now,” Sam said as he crossed his
arms.

Mason sighed wearily as he surveyed the wreckage of his classroom. Charred pieces of paper were scattered across the school grounds as far as the eye could see.

“What we’ve got to do is to get this country back on its feet again. Stability is what we need.” Mason punched his right fist into the palm of his left hand as he spoke.
“It is absolutely essential that we strengthen the forces of Law and Order so that we can prevent further acts of wanton vandalism and anarchy from occurring in the future. The surest way to
do that is get the Germans out of the country…”

“I second that!” Alan echoed enthusiastically.

“Hear! Hear, sir!” Sam clapped. Maybe Mason had decided to return to the light side of the struggle?

“ …And the most effective way to do that is to deal once and fall with Churchill and his mob of war-mongering gangsters - and to that end I’ve joined the Fascist
Militia…”

“You’ve done what?” Alan reacted as if he’d been slapped in the face.

“Join the bloody Fascists? Joyce’s stool pigeons? Now people really will think that you’re a traitor!” Sam shook his head in disbelief at Mason’s barefaced and
blatant treachery.

Mason held up his hands to mollify the boys. “Now, Sam, Alan, I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve given this a lot of thought and I honestly think that the best way to get
the Germans out of our country is to end this disastrous civil war one way or another. Prime Minister Joyce will extend the rule of the Government of National Unity throughout the whole country,
and once the Germans are convinced of our sincere commitment to the New Order they will leave…”

“And you call me naïve!” Sam’s eyes were blazing with fury. “The only way to ‘get the Huns to leave’ is to physically kick them out of the country! You
should be joining up with the partisans not joining up with the Fascists!”

Mason hurriedly looked over both of his shoulders to see if anyone was listening. “Be quiet, Sam!” Mason warned. “Such talk of treason will get you shot!”

“Treason?” Sam spat the word out in disbelief. “Treason against whom? I’m not committing treason, you are!”

Mason opened his mouth to answer. After a moment’s hesitation he put his right hand into his pocket and pulled out a small see through plastic packet. The boys were too far away to see
what it was.

“Do you know what this is, boys?” Mason asked.

The colour suddenly drained from the boys’ faces as they recognised the object. “A… a bullet, sir?” Alan answered gingerly.

Mason nodded. “Well observed, Alan. And do you know what kind of bullet it is… Sam?”

Sam looked like a rabbit that had been caught in the headlamps of a speeding car. “A bullet from a… from a gun, sir?” He could hardly trust himself to think, never mind
speak.

“Sherlock Holmes, eat your heart out! Come on, Sam. You can do better than that!” Mason was enjoying the game, playing with the boys as a cat plays with a mouse.

“A .303 round, sir?” Sam answered.

Mason shook his head. “No, not a British .303 round, Sam. A German 9 millimetre round.”

A bead of sweat ran down Sam’s temple. Alan’s mouth had suddenly become as dry as a dead man’s armpit.

“The first question is: where did I find it?”

The boys didn’t answer.

“I was marking some exercise books and I dropped my pen.” Mason explained. “I dropped my pen and when I looked underneath my desk it had disappeared. You know how precious a
commodity good pens are in the present situation and I was damned if I was going to lose it, so I got down on my hands and knees in order to look for it. I noticed that the floor of the classroom
is not completely flat and the floor has a slope. My pen had rolled under a nearby cupboard, and when I found it I also found this live round.” Mason took the bullet out of the plastic packet
and carefully held it using only his thumb and forefinger to hold the bottom and top of the round respectively.

The boys looked at the bullet as if they had never seen one before.

“The second question is: who does it belong to?” Mason waved the round in front of the boys’ faces.

“It probably belongs to one of the boys in one of your German classes, sir,” Alan answered. “A lot of the lads collect military equipment…”

“You know, sir, boys will be boys.” Sam laughed uneasily. “The bullet has probably been there for weeks, if not months, sir.”

Mason shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so, Sam. There was no dust on the round, and in fact the round was covered in a thin film of lubricating oil. If the bullet had been under
the cupboard for weeks it would have been absolutely coated in dust. Oh no, I don’t think that the round had been down there for months, or even weeks. I know that we can’t get good
help these days, but I’m sure that even our cleaners would’ve spotted it. No, I think that the bullet has been there a mere matter of days. In fact, the round may have rolled under the
cupboard yesterday during your lesson, for all I know.” Mason smiled like an assassin as he looked at both of the boys in turn.