The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [48]
'My dear Ritter,' Strasser began.
'Now!' Ritter said sharply and he opened the connecting door and went into the next hangar.
'All right,' Strasser said. 'What is it now?'
'This American, Jackson - who is he? I want to know.'
'Come now, Ritter, the Waffen-SS has recruited men from almost every nation possible, you know that. Everything from Frenchmen to Turks. There's even an English contingent, the Britisches Freikorps. There have been, admittedly, only a handful of Americans in the George Washington Legion. Ex-prisoners of war, recruited by prospects of unlimited liquor and women. Jackson is a different specimen, believe me. He flew for the Finns against the Russians in their first war, stayed on in their air force and got caught up in their second bout with the Russians when they joined our side. When the Finns sued for peace last year, he transferred to us.'
'A traitor is a traitor, however you wrap it up.'
'A point of view, but not objective enough, my friend. All I see is a superb pilot; a brave and resourceful man with a highly specialized background which makes him peculiarly suitable for my purposes. May I also add, that as his own people would most certainly hang him if ever they succeed in getting their hands on him, he has no other choice but to serve my cause. It is his only chance of life. Now, have you anything else to say?'
'I think you've made your point,' Ritter said.
Strasser opened the door and led the way back into the other hangar. He made no reference to what had happened, simply took a map from his pocket and unfolded it across the bonnet of the field car. They all crowded round.
'Here is Arnheim. Arlberg eight or nine miles south of here. Ten miles to the west, there's a farm marked on the edge of the forest. That's where the Finns are.'
'Do we all go?' Ritter asked.
'No, Hauptsturmfuhrer Berger can stay with the planes.'
'And me?' Jackson said.
'No, you might well be useful in other ways. You come with us.' The American didn't look too pleased, but there was obviously nothing he could do about it. Strasser added, 'And from now on, as what might be termed the military part of the operation starts, Sturmbannfuhrer Ritter will be in sole command.'
'You mean I have a totally free hand?' Ritter said.
'Well, a little advice now and then never hurt anyone, did it?' Strasser smiled. 'Still, no point in crossing over bridges until we come to them, Major. Let's get these Finnish barbarians sorted out first.'
9
At the field hospital, Mullholland had had a hard night. Eleven wounded from a skirmish near Innsbruck had been brought in at ten o'clock. He and his team had worked steadily through the night on cases of varying seriousness.
His final patient, a young lieutenant, had two machine-gun bullets in the left lung. Mullholland had used every trick in his now considerable repertoire for more than two hours. The boy had died at 7 a.m. after suffering a massive haemorrhage.
When Mullholland went outside it was snowing gently. He lit a cigarette and stood there, breathing in the clean air. Sergeant-Major Grant approached him with a cup of tea.
'A rotten night, sir.'
'I could have done without it. The bloody war is as good as over, or so they tell us, and here we are, still up to our armpits in blood and destruction. If I sound depressed it's because I've just lost a patient. A bad way to start the day.' He sipped some of the tea. 'How's our German friend?'
'Not too bad, sir. He's been asking for you.'
'All right, Sergeant-Major,' Mullholland said wearily. 'Let's see what he wants.'
Grant led the way down the line of hospital tents and turned into No. 3. Schenck was in the end bed. He lay there, his heavily bandaged arm on top of the blankets. Mullholland unhooked the board from the end of the bed to check on his condition and Schenck's eyes fluttered open.
'Good morning, Herr Major.'
'And how are you today?'
'Alive, it would seem, for which I am grateful. I thought that perhaps the arm ...'
'No, it's fine, or it will be. You speak excellent