The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [47]
'See how good I am to you,' Strasser said.
'You certainly have a flair for organization,' Ritter told him.
'It's been said before.' Strasser glanced at his watch.
'And then?' Ritter said. 'After we've eaten? You were saying?'
Strasser smiled. 'I'm expecting another aircraft at seven o'clock. A very reliable man, so he should get here right on time.' Ritter opened the small judas gate, set in the main gate, and stepped outside, turning his face up to the snow. 'What air. It makes things feel clean again.'
Hoffer passed Ritter a cup of coffee and a piece of black bread. 'But I don't understand, Major. This other plane he's expecting. Who is it? Why won't he tell us?'
'Probably the Fuhrer himself, Erich.' Ritter smiled. 'After the events of the past couple of days, nothing would surprise me.'
It was at precisely five minutes to seven when Heini Berger, lounging against the bonnet of the field car, smoking a cigarette, straightened. 'There's a plane coming now, I hear it.'
Ritter opened the judas and stepped outside. Snow was still falling softly, the flakes brushing against his face when he looked up. The sound was still some distance away, but real enough.
He went back inside. 'He's right.'
Strasser had the suitcase open, the microphone in his hand. He adjusted the dials and said, in English, to everyone's surprise, 'Valhalla Exchange. Valhalla Exchange. Plain language. Do you receive me?'
An American voice answered with startling clarity. 'Valhalla Exchange. Odin here. Am I cleared for landing?'
'All clear. Closing down now.'
He stowed the microphone and closed the case. Ritter said, 'Are we permitted to know what that was all about?'
'Later,' Strasser said impatiently. 'For the moment, let's get these doors open. I want him under cover and out of sight the moment he's landed.'
Ritter shrugged and nodded to Hoffer, and with Berger's assistance they got the doors open. The sound of the plane, whatever it was, was very close now and they all moved outside and waited.
And then, suddenly, she was there, coming in out of the greyness at the north end of the runway, twin-engined, camouflaged and entirely familiar to at least one man there, Berger, who cried, 'God in heaven, that's an American Dakota.'
'So it would appear,' Strasser said.
'Is nothing impossible to you then?' Ritter asked.
'My dear Ritter, if I'd needed it, I could have had a Flying Fortress or an RAF Lancaster.'
The Dakota landed, snow rising in a cloud around her as she rolled forward, turning in towards them as Strasser waved his arms, and then she was close enough for them to see the pilot in the cockpit, the American Air Force insignia plain against the green and brown camouflage.
The plane taxied into the hangar; for a moment, the din was colossal, and then suddenly the engines cut. 'Right, get these doors closed,' Strasser ordered.
As they turned from the task, the hatch was opened and the pilot appeared. He had a dark saturnine face and appeared to be in his early thirties. He was wearing a side-cap with an SS death's-head badge and a flying jacket. He removed the jacket and caused something of a sensation.
He wore a beautifully tailored uniform of field-grey. Under the eagle on his left sleeve was a Stars and Stripes shield and the cuff-title on his left wrist carried the legend 'George Washington Legion' in Gothic lettering. His decorations included the Iron Cross, Second and First Class, and he wore the Winter War Ribbon. When he spoke, his German was excellent, but with a definite American accent.
'So, you made it?' he said to Strasser. 'Amazing, but then, I should have learned to believe you by now.'
'Good to see you.' Strasser shook hands, then turned to the others. 'Gentlemen - allow me to introduce Hauptsturmfuhrer Earl Jackson. This is Heini Berger who got us out of Berlin in the Storch.'
'Captain.' Berger shook hands. 'It gave me something of a shock when I saw you dropping down out of the sky, I can tell you.'
'And Sturmbannfuhrer Karl Ritter.'
Jackson held out his hand, but Ritter ignored him and turned