The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [94]
They all crouched at the window, drawing in deep lungfuls of fresh air. Canning cried, 'The table - get it over.'
They crouched behind it, waiting for the end.
On the landing at the foot of the stairs, Ritter rolled over, pushing a body away from him. There was blood on him, but not his own, and he pulled himself up and leaned against the wall. A hand reached out to steady him - Hoffer.
'Are you all right, Sturmbannfuhrer?'
'Everything in perfect working order, or so it would seem, Erich.' An old, bad joke between them, no longer funny.
A gust of wind blowing in through the shattered doorway, below, cleared the smoke from the landing. It was a butcher's shop, bodies everywhere, blood and brains sprayed across the walls.
There were perhaps a dozen Finns left alive and unwounded, crouched at the head of the stairs. Ritter glanced at his watch. It was almost 8.30.
'All right, damn you. You're still mine for another thirty minutes. Still soldiers of the Waffen-SS. Let's get it done.'
They made no move. It was not that there was fear there. Only emptiness - faces drained of all emotion, all feeling.
'It's no good,' Hoffer said. 'They've had enough.'
As smoke swirled back into place again, the Finns retreated, simply melted away.
'So?' Ritter said, and he leaned down and picked up a Schmeisser.
As he turned, Hoffer caught his arm. 'This is madness. Where are you going?'
'Why, to the top of the tower, old friend.' Ritter smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. 'We've come a long way together, but no more orders. It is over. You understand me?'
Hoffer stared at him, horror on his face. Ritter started upstairs.
When Howard lurched out of the smoke on to the roof, Finebaum almost shot him. Howard fell on his hands and knees and Finebaum crouched beside him.
'Is he all right?' Claudine Chevalier demanded.
Howard answered her, struggling for breath. 'All I need is a little air.' He looked around him. 'Where's the general?'
'No sign of him up here,' Finebaum said. 'What happened below?'
'It was bad,' Howard told him. 'The worst I've ever known.' He got up on his knees. 'I'll have to go back. See what's happened to them.'
Madame Chevalier, who had gone to the parapet to look down, cried, 'There are tanks coming. A whole column.'
Finebaum ran to join her in time to see half a dozen Cromwells, several Bren-gun carriers and trucks, moving towards the castle at full speed. The surviving Finns had just emerged from the entrance. As they started across the courtyard, the first Cromwell emerged from the tunnel and opened up with its machine gun. Two Finns went down, the rest immediately dropped their weapons and put up their hands.
Finebaum turned and found Howard leaning over the parapet beside him. 'Did you ever see a prettier sight?' Finebaum demanded. Howard gazed down blankly, eyes remote, and Finebaum shook him roughly. 'Hey, noble Captain, it's over. We survived.'
'Did we?' Howard said.
And then Claudine Chevalier cried out sharply.
Ritter stood there at the head of the stairs, smoke billowing around him. He wore no cap. There was blood on his face and the blond hair flashed pale fire in the morning light. The black Panzer uniform was covered in dust, but the Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords still made a brave show at his throat.
'Captain Howard?' he called.
Finebaum turned, unslinging his M1, but Howard knocked it up. 'My affair - stay out of it.'
He was smiling, his eyes full of life again. He leaned down slowly and picked up the Thompson.
Ritter said, 'A first-rate show. My congratulations.'
Howard fired then, a long burst that ripped the Iron Cross First Class from Ritter's tunic, hurling him at the wall. The German rebounded, falling to his knees. He flung up the Schmeisser, arm extended, firing one-handed, driving Howard back against the parapet, killing him instantly.