Passage by Night - Jack Higgins [37]
The first beam lifted from the ledge about three feet to the left. Manning took a deep breath and stepped gingerly across. It was surprisingly easy. He waited until Orlov joined him and then turned his face to the wall, spread out his arms and started to inch his way across.
Time seemed to have no meaning as he moved steadily to the left and it was with a sense of surprise that his fingers touched the next beam. He rested a moment, waiting for Orlov. When the Russian joined him, there was sweat on his face, but he managed a grin.
'Keep moving. We haven't got all night.'
There were three more beams to bypass and Manning moved on, his breathing unnaturally loud in his ears and then a door clanged. He froze to the wall and glanced down in time to see a soldier pass through the pool of light in the hall below. He paused to light a cigarette and then disappeared through a door. Manning started to inch sideways again. A couple of minutes later, he scrambled over the balustrade and stood on the other gallery.
Orlov joined him and they paused in the shadows listening. Somewhere there was laughter as a door opened, silence as it closed again.
'I know my way about on this side of the fortress,' Orlov said. 'They've installed a service lift at the end of this corridor which goes down to the ground floor where the orderlies have their quarters. We'll stand a better chance of getting out that way. It's at the rear.'
Manning nodded and the Russian led the way along the corridor. The lift doors were new and shining and looked strangely out of place. As he pressed the button, Manning noticed with amusement that the manufacturer's plate said Made in Detroit, which proved something, though he couldn't think what.
When the lift arrived, they stepped inside quickly and started down. He was conscious of a strange, hollow feeling in his stomach as they came to a halt, but the doors opened into a large, quiet basement. There was no one about.
They moved to the door and turned into a long brightly lit corridor. Voices came from a room to their left and the door was slightly ajar. Manning caught a glimpse of soldiers sitting round a table eating and moved on quickly after Orlov.
The Russian stood listening at one of the doors farther on and opened it as Manning arrived. It looked like the quarters of half a dozen men. The beds were ranged around the room, blankets neatly folded. Submachine guns and automatic rifles stood in a rack in one corner and there was a selection of uniforms and other items of equipment in the tin lockers by each bed.
'How good is your Spanish?' Orlov asked.
'Pretty fluent.'
'Then this is the obvious way out for us.'
They dressed quickly in military greatcoats and peaked caps and took a submachine gun each. They went back into the corridor and moved on quickly, mounted several stone steps and came into a narrow corridor that opened into a small hall.
There was a tiny glass office in the entrance and a guard casually leafed through a magazine, a cigarette in his mouth. Manning and Orlov walked out casually, submachine guns slung from their shoulders. As they passed the office, Manning half-raised a hand and the guard waved carelessly in reply.
It was raining outside and they went down some stone steps into a wide courtyard and walked into the darkness. 'All the trucks come in here,' Orlov said. 'We still have to walk round to the front gate. It's the only way out.'
Manning touched his arm and pointed. A few yards away, a jeep stood outside a lighted doorway. 'The Officers' Mess,' the Russian whispered.
'Couldn't be better, Manning said. 'Less chance of being questioned.'
They moved across the wet cobbles quickly. He climbed behind the wheel and pressed the starter. As the Russian scrambled into the other seat, they moved away.
He waited for the sound to come from behind him, for