They approached the perimeter fence at the eastern side of the compound. With alarm David wondered why they were going that way. There was no way out here.
Normally the fence was brilliantly lit, but now it was in darkness. They stopped at the side of a small shed and waited. The man was listening, as tense as a cat. David put his head against the wall and tried to regain his breath.
Suddenly they were off again. The fence loomed up in front of them. The man looked up and down the length of the fence, pulled David a short way to the right, then dropped to his hands and knees. David saw that there was a gaping hole in the wire. The man hissed ‘Down!’ and David got on to his knees.
The man threw the briefcase through then put a hand behind David and pushed. David crawled through. The man came quickly after, picked up David’s case and pulled him to his feet. He grabbed David’s sleeve again and then they were running across open ground to the dark wall of a warehouse. They stopped, David gasped for breath.
Another pull. David said, ‘Please! Please! Not so fast. I can’t go so fast!’ The man slowed down a little. They skirted three more buildings and came to another fence. This time there was no hole. David eyed it apprehensively. But then they reached a gate and the gate was open and they were through into a road.
A lorry was parked in the road. The man took David round to the tailgate. It was closed. David breathed, ‘I can’t … I can’t …’
The man reached down and, grasping David’s foot, heaved. David sprawled over the tailgate, unable to pull himself up. The man pushed again and David landed head first in the lorry’s load, which smelt strongly of cabbage.
‘Hide yourself!’
David panted, ‘What?’
‘Hide yourself under the vegetables!’
‘… under?’
There was a thud as something landed beside David in the cabbages. ‘Your case. Goodbye.’
There was silence. David took hold of the briefcase and crawled slowly over the vegetables to the far end of the lorry. How did one bury oneself in a load of cabbages? Painstakingly he began to remove the cabbages one by one until he had made a hollow in them, then he lay down, his case at his side, and pulled the vegetables back over himself.
It wasn’t difficult to lie still – at that moment it was all he’d ever wanted.
Five minutes passed and the lorry hadn’t moved. He wished they would hurry. He could hear the sounds of activity in the compound and the docks: trucks roaring back and forth, the distant sound of shouting and the occasional report of a rifle shot. It must be the Poles they were shooting at.
But why wasn’t the lorry moving? Come on! Come on! If they didn’t get going soon, they’d never get away!
But the lorry didn’t move. After half an hour David realised it wasn’t going to. Not for a long time. Perhaps not until daylight. He wished they’d told him.
Eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep, waking frequently. Finally he saw a tinge of grey light through the gaps in the cabbages above his head. He drifted off again.
Suddenly there was a loud crash from immediately behind David’s head. He jumped, his heart racing. Someone started whistling and the next moment there was a loud whirring and the lorry’s engine burst into life.
The whistler broke into song. ‘I’m dreaming of you, my love, wherever you may be …’
The lorry stopped and started a few times. Once David heard the driver talking to someone, but then they were on their way again. The singer began to whistle once more, but softly, and the drone of the wheels fell to a steady hum.
There was silence. David realised that the lorry had stopped and the engine had been turned off. He waited, tense.
The driver was whistling loudly. The cab door slammed and footsteps came round to the back of the vehicle. The tailgate was lowered with a loud bang.
There was a moment’s silence, then a voice called, ‘Hello, friend. We’ve arrived.’
David wasn’t sure what to do. He stayed still.
But the voice came again. ‘You’re safe, friend. Time to get out.’
David pushed the cabbages away from his face and tried to move, but he was very stiff. He reached up and, gripping the metal side of the lorry, hauled himself up into a sitting position. He blinked and, looking out, saw that the lorry was backed up against the doors of a wooden building. A man of about forty dressed in an old cap and working jacket was standing by the tailgate.
On seeing David, the man climbed up into the lorry and walked over the vegetables towards him. ‘Here. I’ll give you a hand.’
‘Thank you. That’s most kind.’
The man pulled David to his feet, picked up the briefcase, and helped him across the uneven surface of the cabbages to the open tailgate and down on to the ground.
David now saw that the building was a barn. The man led him quickly inside and into a corner behind a pile of sacks. ‘Here! You’re to wait here.’
‘Thank you.’ David looked around. The floor at this point was thick with straw and, gratefully, he sank down on to it.
The man had turned to leave.
David called, ‘Wait! Please – tell me, what was the fire last night?’
The man paused and looked uncertain. Eventually he said, ‘One of the fuel dumps.’
‘But the Poles. Why did they try to break out?’
‘They didn’t.’
David looked blank. ‘But the noise?’
‘Noise. That’s all it was.’
‘But – why?’
‘Because they were asked to. It was a favour.’ The man turned again. ‘Best not to know any more, friend.’
The barn door closed, the lorry’s engine started up and slowly faded away. Then there was silence. David lay down on the straw. He tried to sleep, but it was impossible, so he lay still and rested instead.
Much later there was a sound. David opened his eyes. It was a creaking. A door opening. Someone was coming into the barn. He pushed himself up on one arm, but he couldn’t see: his view of the door was obscured by the pile of sacks.
The person was advancing slowly up the barn: David could feel the movement rather than hear it. Finally, very slowly, the person came into view.
David’s heart went to his mouth. It was a man. He was wearing a scarf over the lower part of his face. The man said gruffly, ‘Turn around.’ David turned and, almost immediately, something was placed round his eyes and tied behind his head.
The voice said, ‘Don’t move unless I tell you.’ There was a rustling of straw as the man moved away, then silence.
The darkness was awful, like being in a pit. David tried to relax. They meant him no harm.
A long time passed. David’s stomach began to ache with hunger.
Then there were low voices and footsteps. Someone walked up to him. The straw rustled as the person sat or knelt beside him.
‘Hello.’ It was the voice of a woman, rather breathless.
David cleared his throat. ‘Good morning.’
‘Are you all right?’ The voice was warm, concerned.
He nodded. ‘Oh yes! Yes! Very well, thank you. Yes, very well!’
‘Good. We – er – heard you had been ill.’
‘Ah. Yes, I was. But better now, thank you.’
There was a pause. ‘Some others will be coming soon. To meet you. We have to ask you some questions.’
‘Questions?’
‘Yes … It’s necessary. I’m sorry.’
David was disappointed. Questions? It sounded as if they were going to interrogate him. It had never occurred to him that they wouldn’t trust him. He said half-heartedly, ‘Yes. Of course.’
There was the sound of paper crackling. ‘Here, I thought you might be hungry.’
‘I am, thank you.’ Something was placed in his hand. ‘Thank you.’ It was a roll. He bit into it. Cheese. He took another bite.
Julie watched him eat and felt sorry for him. He seemed so lost and bewildered. She’d be very surprised indeed if he were a German spy – he looked far too harmless for that. Certainly he was too frail to take anyone on; he wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly. The hands were thin and veined and she noticed that when he brought the bread to his mouth they shook slightly. The face beneath the blindfold was lined and pouchy, rather like a dog’s. She could see that he had been ill. Also, he was much older than she’d expected.
It was a pity to have to put him through an interrogation but there was no way round it. Maurice would allow no exceptions.
She peered at her wristwatch. The others were late. But she must wait. It would be wrong to start the questions without them.
Finally, there was a creaking. The barn door opened and two people slipped in. One was the unmistakable squat figure of Maurice, the other the taller, slimmer frame of Roger.
Maurice came up and looked questioningly at Julie. She nodded slightly to show all was well and, satisfied, Maurice turned to look at the old man sitting on the bed of straw. Julie glanced at Roger. He was approaching slowly, his eyes fixed on the corner of the sack pile. Suddenly he stopped in mid-step and Julie guessed he had caught his first sight of the old man. For a moment he stared, then he relaxed and leant casually against a wooden pillar.
His eyes darted up to Julie’s. She looked hurriedly away. He was always catching her out that way.
Maurice was sitting on the straw, talking to the old man in a low voice. Julie went closer and sat down beside him. ‘… interrogation is necessary for our self-protection, do you understand?’ The old man nodded briefly.
Maurice continued, ‘Right, please tell us everything. First, your name and background.’
‘Freymann, David Freymann. I lived most of my life just outside Berlin, in a suburb called Hennigsdorf …’ Out of the corner of her eye Julie saw Roger come closer and crouch silently on the straw just behind Maurice.
‘… mainly I worked on radio-wave development. Then just before the war started, it all got difficult. Because I was Jewish, you see. I was put in a camp …’
‘Where?’ Maurice interrupted.
‘Near Munich. Called Dachau. I was there some time – two, maybe three years, I don’t know. Time – is difficult to judge.’ He spoke matter-of-factly.
‘Then?’
‘Then they sent me to Brest.’
‘Why?’
‘They needed me. There are very few scientists who are experienced in radar. They had to swallow their pride.’
Roger said, ‘Explain, please. What is radar?’
The old man sighed deeply. ‘I’ll try to explain simply. It’s … a way of using radio waves so that you can see with them. At night, in bad weather … it doesn’t matter. You can see the echo of any large metallic object – a ship, an aeroplane, whatever … You can discover its range, and in the case of a plane its height. Nothing can hide from you …’
Maurice asked, ‘And this is the information you’re bringing with you?’
Freymann quickly shook his head. ‘No, radar is already known. No …’ He paused, as if debating something. His hands moved nervously. Finally he said, ‘No … what I’m bringing is a refinement of it. A type which can see like a map, draw pictures almost. It will – create a great advantage.’
Maurice frowned. ‘In what way?’
‘For one thing, the Germans could not detect it as they do the existing radar. So they would have no warning of the enemy’s approach. For another, well – it will, I believe, provide enormous detail so that for the bombers it will be like having a map of the country underneath.’ He cocked his head slightly. ‘Do you understand what I say?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
Suddenly Freymann sat forward and felt for Maurice’s arm. Maurice looked surprised. The old man said, ‘Look, you cannot possibly know that what I’m telling you is the truth, can you?’
Julie looked quickly at Maurice. He dropped his eyes and smiled slightly. ‘No, you’re quite right. I can’t.’
‘Right. But you believe I am Jewish?’
‘Well – yes.’
‘Right. So I’m Jewish. Now what do you suppose would make a Jew want to help the Nazis?’
‘Force? Coercion?’
‘Yes. But I’m a free man now. That leaves coercion. But I have no family for them to threaten me with. My family disowned me a long time ago!’
‘I can’t be sure of that.’
Freymann started in surprise. ‘Ah …!’ He paused, taken aback, then nodded gently. ‘Of course.’ He seemed so downcast that Julie had the urge to lean forward and pat his shoulder.
‘So – then, it is a simple question of whether you believe me or not.’ He spoke quietly and with resignation. Julie wanted to say, I believe you.
Maurice looked at Julie then Roger. ‘Any questions?’
Julie said, ‘When you talk of your family, who do you mean?’
‘My wife. My daughter.’
‘And they’ve disowned you?’
‘Yes. My wife was not Jewish, you see.’
‘But your daughter?’
‘She’ll have forgotten me by now – and the best thing too!’ His voice almost broke. ‘She was pretty, you see. And clever. She had everything before her. It was
better
, you understand.
Better
.’
Roger leant forward and said sharply, ‘What company did you work for in Brest?’
‘Goulvent, Pescart et Cie.’
‘Under what authority – what German authority?’
‘The Navy. But I was on loan, so to speak, from the SS.’
‘And when you were working in Germany, what company then?’
‘Gema. The Gema Company.’
There was a short silence, then Maurice got to his feet. Julie and Roger followed him across the barn until they were out of earshot.
Maurice looked at Julie. ‘Well?’
Julie said, ‘I believe him. Everything about him seems – right.’
They both looked at Roger. He was glancing down, his eyes hooded and unreadable. Slowly, the eyes came up to Maurice’s. ‘Yes, he’s genuine.’
Maurice nodded. ‘I agree.’
Roger said, ‘So he goes, does he?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
Maurice looked hard at Roger. ‘Soon. The fewer who know the exact date the better. You’ll be told in good time.’
Roger smiled. ‘Of course.’ But he was put out, Julie could tell.
Julie touched Maurice’s arm. ‘Can’t we take the blindfold off? At least until we have to move him again.’
Maurice rubbed his lip thoughtfully.
Roger interrupted, ‘No! It’ll be much safer to leave him as he is!’
Julie gave Roger a hard look and said quickly to Maurice, ‘Please. He’s absolutely harmless. I’d stake my life on it.
Please
.’