The Valhalla Exchange. Jack Higgins
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Justin Birr waited. The electric torch gave only a minimal light, barely sufficient to pick out the slime on the ancient stone walls or the occasional rat that swam past in the dark water. The stench was frightful – really most unpleasant – and by now the cold had cut through to his very bones, or so it seemed.
He was aware of a sudden tug and hesitated, wondering for the moment whether it was simply imagination. There was another tug, more insistent this time. ‘All right, damn you,’ he said and extinguished the torch and put it in his breast pocket. His hands felt under the water for the edge of the arched roof. He took a deep breath and went down.
His feet banged against the stonework, but he kicked desperately, aware of the rope tugging at his waist, and then, just when he was convinced he couldn’t keep going any longer, he saw a faint light ahead and surfaced, gasping for breath.
Canning, crouching out of the water on the side of a larger tunnel, reached down to pull him up. ‘Easy does it.’
‘Really, Hamilton, this particular small jaunt of yours is getting out of hand. I smell like a lavatory gone wrong and I’m frozen into the bargain.’
Canning ignored him. ‘Listen – I can hear the river. Can’t be far now.’
He set off at a fast pace, slipping and sliding on the slope of the tunnel, and Birr got to his feet wearily and went after him. And then Canning was laughing excitedly and running, splashing knee-deep in the brown water.
‘I can see it. We’re there.’
‘Indeed you are, gentlemen. Indeed you are.’
A brilliant spot was turned on, flooding the tunnel with light. Birr hesitated, then went forward and dropped on his hands and knees beside Canning who crouched at the large circular grille which blocked the end of the tunnel. Schneider knelt on one knee at the other side, several armed men behind him.
‘We’ve been waiting for you, gentlemen. Magda was growing impatient.’
His Alsatian bitch whined eagerly, pushing her muzzle between the bars. Canning tugged at her ears. ‘You wouldn’t hurt me, you silly old bitch, would you?’
‘All right, Sergeant-Major,’ Justin Birr said. ‘We’ll come quietly.’
Oberstleutnant Max Hesser leaned back in his chair, got out his cigarette case and opened it one-handed with a skill born of long practice. Oberleutnant Schenck waited at the other side of the desk. He was dressed for duty, a pistol at his belt.
‘Extraordinary,’ the colonel said. ‘What on earth will Canning get up to next?’
‘God knows, Herr Oberst.’
‘And the note you received telling you that the escape attempt was to take place. You say it was unsigned?’
‘As you may see for yourself, Herr Oberst.’
He passed a slip of paper across and Hesser examined it. ‘“Canning and Birr escaping through the main sewer tonight.” Crudely done in pencil and block capitals but perfect German.’ He sighed. ‘So there is a traitor in the camp. One of their friends betrays them.’
‘Not necessarily, Herr Oberst, if I might make a suggestion.’
‘But of course, man. Carry on.’
‘The general’s knowledge of the sewer and drainage system must have been gained from somewhere. One of the soldiers or a servant, perhaps.’
‘Ah, I see your point,’ Hesser said. ‘Who took a bribe, then slipped you that anonymous note to make sure the escape attempt would prove abortive.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t like it, Schenck. It leaves a bad taste.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, I suppose I’d better have them in.’
Schenck withdrew and Hesser stood up and moved to the drinks cabinet. He was a handsome man in spite of the deep scar which bisected his forehead, curving into the right eye which was now glass; the uniform was trim and well-fitting, the empty left sleeve tucked into the belt.
He was pouring himself a brandy when the door opened behind him. He turned as Schenck ushered Canning and Birr into the room, Schneider behind them.
‘Good God in heaven,’ Hesser said.
They indeed presented a sorry sight, barefoot, covered in filth, water dripping on to the carpet. Hesser hurriedly filled another two glasses.
‘From the looks of you, I’d say you needed it.’
Canning and Birr slopped forward. ‘Very civil of you,’ Birr said.
Canning grinned and raised his glass. ‘Prosit.’
‘And now to business.’ Hesser went back to his desk and sat down. ‘This is a nonsense, gentlemen. It must stop.’
‘The duty of an officer to make every attempt to achieve his liberty and rejoin his unit,’ Canning said. ‘You know that.’
‘Yes, under other circumstances I would agree with you, but not now. Not on the 26th of April, 1945. Gentlemen, after five and a half years, the war draws to a close. It’s almost over – any day now. All we have to do is wait.’
‘What for – an SS execution squad?’ Canning said. ‘We know what the Führer told Berger when he asked about the prominenti. He said shoot them. Shoot all of them. Last I heard, Himmler agreed with him.’
‘You are in my charge, gentlemen. I have tried to make this plain many times before.’
‘Great,’ Canning said. ‘And what happens if they drive up to the front door with a directive from the Führer? Will you pull up the drawbridge or order us to be shot? You took the soldier’s oath, didn’t you, just like everyone else in the German armed forces?’
Hesser stared up at him, very white, the great scar glowing angrily. Birr said gently, ‘He does have a point, Colonel.’
Hesser said, ‘I could put you gentlemen on short rations and confine you to your cells, but I won’t. Under the circumstances and considering the point in time at which we all stand, I shall have you returned to prisoners’ section and your friends. I hope you will respond in kind to this gesture.’
Schenck placed a hand on Canning’s arm and the general pulled himself free. ‘For God’s sake, Max.’ He leaned across the desk, voice urgent. ‘There’s only one way out for you. Send Schenck here in search of an Allied unit while there’s still time. Someone you can surrender to legally, saving your own honour and our skins.’
Hesser stared at him for a long moment, then said, ‘Have the general and Lord Dundrum returned to their quarters now, Schenck.’
‘Herr Oberst.’ Schenck clicked his heels and turned to the two men. ‘General?’
‘Oh, go to hell,’ Canning told him, turned and walked out.
Birr paused. For a moment it was as if he intended to say something. Instead, he shrugged and followed. Schenck and Schneider went after them. Hesser went back to the cabinet and poured himself another drink. As he was replacing the bottle, there was a knock on the door and Schenck came back in.
‘Would you care for one?’ Hesser asked.
‘No thank you, Herr Oberst. My stomach takes kindly only to beer these days.’
He waited patiently. Hesser walked across to the fire. ‘You think he’s right, don’t you?’ Schenck hesitated and Hesser said, ‘Come on, man. Speak your mind.’
‘Very well, Herr Oberst. Yes, I must say I do. Let’s get it over and done with, that’s my attitude. If we don’t then I greatly fear that something terrible may take place here, the results of which may drag us all down.’
‘You know something?’ Hesser kicked a log that rolled forward back into place in a shower of sparks. ‘I’m inclined to agree with you.’
Canning and