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The Valhalla Exchange - Jack Higgins [95]

By Root 814 0
For a moment, the young German hung on to life, on his knees there in the snow, and then he fell forward on his face.

Hoffer emerged from the smoke, a Walther in his good hand, and crouched beside him. Finebaum dropped to one knee by Howard. There was a pause, then the American's M1 came up.

It was Claudine Chevalier who finished it, her voice high on the morning air. 'No!' She screamed. 'Enough! Do you hear me? Enough!'

Finebaum turned to look at her, then back to Hoffer. The German threw down his Walther and sat back on his heels, a hand on Ritter's shoulder. Finebaum, without a word, tossed his Mi out over the parapet to fall through clear air to the courtyard below.

It was on the steps outside the main entrance that Canning met Henri Dubois for the first time. The Frenchman, a pistol in one hand, saluted. 'My respects, mon General. My one regret is that we couldn't get here sooner.'

'That you got here at all is one small miracle, son.'

'We must thank Monsieur Gaillard for that.'

'Paul?' Canning caught him by the arm. 'You've seen him?'

'He escaped from the village this morning and skied across the mountains, hotly pursued by some of these Finnish gentlemen. It was only by the mercy of God that he came across us when he did. He is in the ambulance now, at the rear of the column.'

'Thanks.' Canning started down the steps and paused. 'There was a man called Strasser in the village. He was in charge of this whole damn business. He had Madame Claire de Beauville with him. Did you get them?'

'We came straight through without stopping, mon General. Naturally Schloss Arlberg was our main objective, but if this man Strasser is there, we'll find him.'

'I wouldn't count on it.'

He found Gaillard on a stretcher in the ambulance at the rear of the column as Dubois had indicated. The little Frenchman lay there, a grey army blanket pulled up to his chin, eyes closed, apparently sleeping. A medical orderly sat beside him.

'How is he?' Canning demanded in French.

'He is fine, Hamilton. Never better.' Gaillard's eyes fluttered open. He smiled.

'You did a great job.'

'And the others - they are safe?'

'Claudine is fine. Justin got knocked about a bit, but he'll be all right. I'm afraid the rest makes quite a casualty report. Max is dead and Captain Howard - most of the Finns. Ritter himself. It was quite a shooting match up there.'

'And Strasser?'

'We'll get him - and Claire. Only a question of time now.'

Gaillard's face was twisted with pain, and yet concern showed through. 'Don't leave it, Hamilton. He is capable of anything that one. What he did to that girl was a terrible thing.'

'I know,' Canning said soothingly. 'You get some sleep now. I'll see you later.'

He jumped down from the ambulance and stood there, thinking of Strasser, wanting only to get his hands on his throat. And then there was Claire. Suddenly, he knew that she was by far the most important consideration now.

There was an empty jeep standing nearby. Without the slightest hesitation, he jumped behind the wheel, gunned the motor and drove out through the tunnel and across the drawbridge.

When he braked to a halt outside the Golden Eagle, the square was silent and deserted, everyone staying out of the way. There was an M1 in the rear seat of the jeep. He checked that it was loaded, then jumped out and kicked open the front door.

'Strasser, where are you, you bastard?'

It was very quiet in the bar - too quiet. He saw the bullet holes in the wall, the blood on the floor and the hair lifted on the back of his head. A stair creaked behind him. He turned and found Meyer standing there.

'Where is he?'

'Gone, Herr General. After the Finns left to hunt Herr Gaillard, he moved their field car to the rear courtyard where it was out of sight. When the French soldiers with the tanks came half an hour ago, they passed straight through without stopping. Herr Strasser drove away shortly afterwards in the field car.

'And Madame de Beauville - he took her with him?'

Meyer's face was grey, his voice the merest whisper, when he said, 'No, Herr General.

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