Glenn Meade (48 page)

'You mind telling me what this is
about, sir?' The interrogation. room at the Provost's office was stifling hot,
and beads of perspiration were running down Baldy Reed's face.

Weaver stood over him. 'I thought
you were the one who could do that.' He read out the list of stolen items and
Reed frowned.

'I think you've got the wrong man,
sir.'

'We've got the right man,'
Sergeant Morris interrupted.

'He's just singing the wrong tune.
A friend of yours in the motor pool at
Camp
Huckstep
sang the full ten verses, pointed the finger right up your nose. Claims you
were behind the whole thing. So spill, Baldy.'

Reed nervously licked his lips,
stared back at Morris. 'You're either lying, or joking.'

'It ain't my style. You ought to
know that.'

'As God is my bleeding judge-'

'He won't be, it'll be a military
court. You're already fingered. So you might as well tell us what you did with
the stuff you nicked.'

'I told you, there's been some
kind of mistake-'

Weaver lost his patience, grabbed
Reed by the lapels. 'Listen to me, and listen good. Four German agents are
loose in the city and playing a very dangerous game. There's a chance they
might have need for the kind of military equipment that's been stolen, so I
want to know what's happened to it. Now you can sing dumb all night, Reed, but
so help me, if you're lying, I'll see you face a firing squad for aiding the
enemy.'

Reed blinked at Weaver as if he
were mad. 'You're - you're not serious?'

'Deadly. Get it into your thick
skull.'

Reed turned chalk-white, suddenly
crumpled, cupping his face in his hands. 'The bastards put me up to it, I swear
to God they did.'

'Who?'

'Reggie Salter and Costas Demiris.
Said they'd have my balls for worry beads if I didn't help them.'

Weaver turned to the sergeant.
'Who the hell is he talking about?'

'Underworld criminals,' Morris
replied. 'Deserters who run a stolen goods and black-market racket. Salter's
the mastermind, and as nasty a gangster as they come.'

Weaver addressed Reed. 'Did they
tell you what they wanted the stuff for?'

Reed shook his head. 'Salter only
mentioned he had some deal going and needed it urgently. That's the honest
truth.'

'What exactly did he want?'

'The Jeep and trucks, papers for
the lot, and the three uniforms.'

'Anything else?'

'Nothing, I swear it.' There was
an instant look of fear on Reed's face. 'You've got to protect me. If Salter
hears I've squealed, the bastard will skin me alive.' I The sergeant couldn't
help smiling. 'It's nothing compared to what the army's going to do with you.
I've got you at last, mate. And you've nailed yourself to the wall.'

'What d'you mean?'

'No one pointed the finger, Baldy,
except yourself. We bluffed about your pals squealing. And don't go thinking
you can retract your admission. I've got an officer as witness.'

Reed's mouth opened, his face a
furious red. 'You cunning bleeding bastard-' 5i8 I 'Shut up, Reed,' Weaver
interrupted, and turned to the sergeant. 'Can we pull Salter in and have a word
with him?'

'With respect, sir, you might as
well try and catch a greased snake. We've been after his hide for over a year
now, without success. Tight little number he operates. We reckon he's got about
twenty men and a couple of warehouses in the city, but where they are we don't
rightly know. Rumour has it he's got armed guards and lookouts posted, not to
mention his hand in a few pockets hereabouts to keep him alerted to any trouble
coming his way. Sad fact of life, but that's the size of it.'

'We have to talk to him and clear
this up.'

The sergeant scratched his head.
'You mind telling me how, sir?'

Weaver jerked a thumb at Reed.
'He's dealt with Salter, he can lead us to him.' He glared at the frightened
prisoner. 'In return, we drop all the charges. Well, have we got a deal, Reed?'

The Jeep halted a couple of
hundred yards from the airfield entrance gates. Salter was in the front seat,
dressed in the uniform he'd worn on the jetty, Haider in the seat behind,
wearing the captain's outfit and carrying an M3 machine-pistol, a couple of
field radios beside him.

The darkened road ahead was barely
lit by a quarter-moon, the perimeter wire and sentry huts just about visible.
Salter tapped ash from his cheroot. 'Looks quiet enough. You happy so far?'

'I'll only be that when we've
taken the airfield,' Haider answered.

Salter laughed. 'I've broken into
enough well-guarded storehouses in my day. This ought to be no different.'

'Remember, no shooting if we can
help it, otherwise it gives the game away. And I don't want anyone hurt
unnecessarily.'

'Would I let you down?' Salter
clicked his fingers at the driver. 'Get going, Charlie. Pull up in front of the
sentry huts.’

'Right, boss.' The driver started
up, and as they moved off Haider looked behind. The three Ford trucks were
following, Kleist and Doring seated in the cab of the leading vehicle, Hassan
driving. In the back were a dozen of Salter's men, all armed and wearing
military uniforms. As they drove up towards the gates, Haider saw the sentries
step out of their boxes, suddenly alert.

Salter idly tossed his cheroot
away and said confidently, 'Leave the talking to me.'

The Jeep swung in towards the
gates and halted. A warning sign told them to douse their lights and, as the
driver did so, Haider saw the two young Egyptian sentries ready their weapons,
confusion on their faces at the unexpected arrival of a military cavalcade.

Salter climbed out of the vehicle
and strode up to them cockily with a swagger stick in one hand, his papers in
the other.

'I'm Major Cairns. Direct me to
your CO, if you would. I've got some urgent business to discuss.'

It happened quickly. As the
bewildered sentries started to examine Salter's papers, a half-dozen men
tumbled out of the j back of the leading truck and rushed forward. There was a
moment of uncertainty as the confused Egyptians tried to ready their weapons,
but Salter's men quickly overpowered them and searched through their pockets
for the keys to the gate.

'Find out exactly how many men are
on the airfield and where they are,' Salter ordered as he took charge of the
keys. 'If they don't oblige, break their frigging arms.'

The two frightened sentries obviously
understood, because j they needed no persuasion.

'Half a dozen men,' Salter
remarked, when he heard the details. 'Not much opposition, is it?'

'Let's not count our chickens,
Salter, until the job's done,'

Haider told him.

'You're a cautious man, Captain.'
Salter grinned, and looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He
unlocked the entrance gates and waved the cavalcade in. 'Get a move on,
sharpish. Leave the vehicles inside the gates for now, we'll go the rest of the
way on foot - we don't want the bastards to hear us coming. Fan out towards the
airfield buildings And two of you get those uniforms off the guards and take
their places.'

He plucked a Sten gun from the
Jeep as it drove in through the gates, while two of his men began to change into
the guards' uniforms. 'Right,' he said briskly to Haider. 'Let's go sort out
the rest of them.'

It took less than fifteen minutes
to secure the airfield, and without firing a single shot. Salter's men had
accounted for all the Egyptians. Haider went along the wooden veranda into the
main barrack office. It was a large functional room, with a scratched desk and
a couple of rusting filing cabinets. He lifted the telephone to make sure the
line had been cut, then removed his cap and watched from the window as the
half-dozen disarmed and bewildered Royal Egyptian Air Force men, their hands on
their heads, were led past.

Salter came in with a couple of
his men, looking pleased.

'Don't worry about that lot.
They'll be locked up in one of the huts and well guarded - we don't want anyone
getting away to raise the alarm.' He sat behind the desk, laid down his Sten
gun, put up his feet, and looked at Haider. 'Just what the doctor ordered.
Well, Captain, I think that about takes care of everything for now. Impressed?'

'You've exceeded my expectations,
Mr Salter. Before I leave I'll need to check the runway.'

'What for?'

'To make certain the landing strip
is operational, and the field's unobstructed.'

'Fair enough.'

Haider gestured to Kleist and
Doring, and with Hassan they went outside to the Jeep and drove in darkness for
about three hundred meters past the hangars, until they came to the nearest end
of the runway. The landing strip didn't look up to much, the surface rough in
places. They drove to the far end, checking for debris, and when they had
doubled back, Haider raised a hand for the Jeep to stop.

'Not exactly the main runway at
Tempelhof, is it? Well, what do you think, Kleist?'

'I've seen worse. I can put down
some electric torches to guide the pilots in on the final leg when the time
comes. There shouldn't be a problem.'

'Good. So all that remains is to
transmit our signal and await the arrival.' Haider checked his watch and had
the others synchronise theirs. 'Twenty-two thirty hours exactly. If we transmit
before midnight, it shouldn't take more than about three hours for Skorzeny's
paratroops to get here. That gives us an ETA of oh three hundred hours, give or
take. Allow another hour to get them to
Giza
and through the tunnel, which brings it to oh four hundred approximately.'

'A perfect time to spring our
surprise.' Kleist grinned. 'Even the sentries will be half asleep by then.'

'Let's hope you're right,' Haider
replied doubtfully. 'We'd better have a look at the hangars - we'll need to
keep Skorzeny's aircraft safely out of the way until we get back here after the
attack.'

When they pulled up outside the
first of the two hangars, the doors were open. Haider strode into the building.
It reeked of grease and aviation fuel, two well-worn Gloster Gladiators parked
near the front, a small two-seater training aircraft next to them. Haider shook
his head. 'We'll need more space than this to accommodate two
Dakotas
.
Let's have a look at the other hangar.'

The second was closer to the
airfield barrack huts, and completely empty, apart from an ancient
green-coloured Italian Moto Guzzi motorcycle and a couple of bicycles parked
near the doors, private transport which obviously belonged to the Egyptian Air
Force men.

'Excellent. This one will do
perfectly well - there's more than enough space.' Haider turned to Hassan and
Doring. 'I'm going to leave you both with Salter. He'll get a shock, of course,
when our paratroops land, and he'll be fighting a losing battle if he thinks of
putting up resistance. But we'll have to try and dissuade him from that idea
when the moment arrives, and hope he sees the sense of giving in quietly.
Kleist and I will be back at the villa, sending the signal. We'll rejoin you
within a couple of hours. But if there's even a hint of any problems here, you
contact us on the field radio, understood, Doring?'

'Yes, Major.'

'So, it seems we're all set,'
Haider said grimly. 'Another few hours, and one way or another it'll all be
over.'

When they got back to the barrack
office, half a dozen of Salter's men sat about on the veranda, smoking and
talking. Haider told Doring to remove one of the field radios from the Jeep and
they went in with Hassan, while Kleist remained at the wheel. Salter was busy
cleaning his Sten gun with an oily rag. 'Well, are we in business?'

'It looks like it.' Haider nodded
over to Doring and Hassan.

'I'm leaving two of my men. If you
encounter any problems, they'll contact me by radio. Should anyone arrive at
the front gate, try to make it look like there's nothing amiss. But lock them
up with the guards if you have to.' j Salter nodded. 'It'll be dealt with. When
will you be back?'

'A couple of hours, probably less.
Until then, Mr Salter, try to keep the faith.'

Haider turned to go, but Salter
gripped his arm. 'I meant what I said. Try and mess me about, and it'll end in
tears.'

'There's really no need for
threats, Salter.' Haider pulled away. 'And I give you my personal assurance
you'll be pleasantly surprised when you see the cargo.'

'I'll look forward to that.' Haider
moved outside and climbed in beside Kleist. They drove off, leaving Doring and
Hassan behind in the office, setting up the radio. Salter strolled out on to
the veranda, and watched the Jeep exit through the gates, before they were shut
again by two of his men wearing the sentries' uniforms.

'What you reckon, Reggie? Are we
ready?' " One of his men sidled up. Salter cradled the Sten gun in his
arms, cracked his knuckles.