The Fighting Agents Part 29

Canidy jerked his thumb upward to the c.o.c.kpit of the B- 25G.

"Commander Dolan's the aircraft commander," he said.

"With his permission, of course," Captain Hughson said, "I would suggest the thing to do is get the aircraft under cover."

"How do we do that?" Canidy asked.

Hughson gestured toward the hillside. Darmstadter saw there was a short, steep-sided indentation in the rocky hillside, a natural revetment, and that above it were rolls of camouflage netting.

As if reading his mind, the British officer said, "Except as netting, the camouflage isn't worth a d.a.m.n. Unless, of course, we wish to give the impression that a North Africa wadi has been miraculously transplanted to the island."

"What do you do?" Canidy asked, chuckling.

"We artistically arrange local evergreens atop the netting, " Hughson said. "And devoutly pray that it works."

"Let's get at it, then," Canidy said.

Capt. Hughson raised his hand above his head and snapped his fingers.

Eight Englishmen, in various combinations of uniform, trotted up. One of them, with sergeant's chevrons sewn to his rough woolen jacket, stamped his foot and gave the captain a quivering-hand salute.

"Sir!" he barked.

Darmstadter saw Canidy's eyebrows go up at the non-com's parade-ground behavior.

"Would you have the chaps roll the aircraft into the revetment?" the British officer asked conversationally.

"Sir!" the sergeant barked, and stamped his boot again.

The English soldiers, without further orders, went to the B-25G and started to push it. When they had trouble getting it moving, Canidy went to the left wheel, put his back against it, and tried to help. Darmstadter went to the other wheel and did the same thing. As he heaved, he saw that neither the British officer nor the civilian was helping. They even seemed surprised that Canidy and Darmstadter were lending a hand.

Once the initial inertia was overcome, their help was no longer needed, and they walked back to where the captain and the civilian stood.

Darmstadter saw Dolan finally drop through the access hatch, and then, taking a quick look around to see what was going on, begin to give directions to the pushers.

"Commander Dolan, Dolan, you say?" the British captain asked. you say?" the British captain asked.

"Right," Canidy said, "and this is Lieutenant Darmstadter. "

The two shook Darmstadter's hand.

"I didn't catch your name," Canidy said to the civilian.

"Ferniany," the civilian said.

"Yachtsman," Canidy said, confirming his suspicion that the civilian was the OSS agent.

"We try not to use that identification unless we have to," Ferniany said.

"We're among friends, I think," Canidy said.

They all watched as the B-25G was turned and then rolled backward into the natural revetment. And they continued watching as the British soldiers, with a skill that could only have come from practice, unrolled the camouflage net and propped it up over the airplane with trunks of young pine trees, then covered the camouflage netting with branches.

Then Dolan walked over to them, and there was an exchange of salutes between Dolan and the British officer. Darmstadter saw that Dolan was as surprised by the display of parade-ground military courtesy as Canidy had been.

"This is Yachtsman," Canidy said.

Dolan smiled and shook Ferniany's hand.

"Where's Fulmar?" Dolan asked. He chuckled. "Or what is it we're calling him, 'Ex-Lax'?"

"I was about to ask," Canidy said.

"There is a minor problem with Fulmar," Ferniany said. "Actually, it's almost funny."

"What's almost funny?" Canidy snapped.

"He's doing ninety days in the coal mine at Pecs," Ferniany said. "For black marketing. He and the professor. The girl is here."

"Go over that again," Canidy snapped. "Spare me the humor."

"The barge we were to travel on was boarded, just before we were supposed to leave Pecs," Ferniany said. "That happens sometimes. They found a lot of money on Fulmar. They naturally concluded that he was a black marketeer and hauled him and the professor off."

Darmstadter saw that the B-25G was now well hidden from where they stood; from the air, it would be invisible. And the soldiers who had erected the netting over it were now walking down the "runway" where they had landed, sweeping the tire tracks with pine branches. Then he saw something that for a moment baffled him.

Two of the soldiers were rolling a boulder onto the center of the "runway." The boulder was taller than they were. There was no way that a bulldozer, much less two men, could move a boulder that size with such ease. Unless, of course, it was phony, like the boulders that careen down a mountain in the movies. That's obviously what it had to be, Darmstadter realized, and then saw three more boulders farther down the field on the far side of the stream that cut the runway in half.

"May I suggest, gentlemen," Captain Hughson said, "that we go to our digs? Every once in a while, Jerry flies a Storch over for a look. It would probably arouse his curiosity to see us all standing about in this deserted meadow."

They followed him toward the hillside, where, hidden behind a bush, was the start of a narrow, steep path that wound its way up through the boulders and stunted trees. After they had climbed for five minutes, they came to the first of what turned out to be a series of caves in the side of the hill.

Captain Hughson led them into one of them.

A hissing Coleman lantern inside illuminated a small stone altar and crude paintings of people with halos on the cave walls.

They don't look like Jesus, Canidy thought. Canidy thought. They must be saints They must be saints.

He thought that his father would know whom the paintings depicted, what sort of Christian had painted them on the wall here, and when. The Reverend Dr. George Crater Canidy was an expert on early Christianity. It was the first time he had thought of his father recently. Whenever he did, he thought that his father would disapprove, if he knew what his son was doing.

The British SOE captain saw his interest.

"Orthodox," Hughson said. "I don't know what what orthodox, but orthodox. They tell me that they came here after training in a monastery, and they carved out these caves, and then spent the rest of their lives in silence and prayer. Communal farm, that sort of thing, but all they did otherwise was think and pray. Rather unsettling, what, to think about it?" orthodox, but orthodox. They tell me that they came here after training in a monastery, and they carved out these caves, and then spent the rest of their lives in silence and prayer. Communal farm, that sort of thing, but all they did otherwise was think and pray. Rather unsettling, what, to think about it?"

"Well, at least they left us their bomb shelters," Canidy said, and then looked for Ferniany. When he had his attention, he went on, "Who carried Fulmar off where?"

"The Black Guard and some local police," Ferniany said. "To the munic.i.p.al jail in Pecs. That happens all the time, with legitimate black marketeers, I mean . . . how about that? A 'legitimate' black marketeer . . . "

"Hey!" Canidy said sharply. "I've had about all of your scintillating wit I can handle."

"Just who the h.e.l.l do you think you are?" Ferniany said.

"My name is Canidy. I'm both the action officer and your control, okay?"

"I thought you said Commander Dolan was the aircraft commander," Ferniany said, half accusingly.

"I did," Canidy said. "He is is the aircraft commander." the aircraft commander."

"Major," Ferniany said, "I'm really sorry. It never entered my mind that you would show up here."

"A lot of things apparently 'never entered your mind,' "Canidy said. "Now, what the h.e.l.l happened, one step at a time?"

"The cops in Hungary are like the cops in Hamtramck, Michigan, Major," Ferniany said. "They have their hands out. They want a slice of the pie, and then they look the other way. So far as they're concerned, if a Hungarian farmer sells a ham or a couple of salamis to a 'tourist,' instead of selling it to the state, that's his business, providing they get their cut. They make sure that everybody understands the rules by picking people up every once in a while and putting them in jail. Like the cops raid the wh.o.r.ehouses in Cicero on a scheduled basis. You understand? "

"And Fulmar got picked up . . . on a schedule?"

"The Black Guard had a good day with him," Ferniany said. "I saw them counting the money they took away from him. How much did he have, anyway?"

Canidy ignored the question.

"How come they didn't pick you up?" he asked. "And you said the Dyer girl's here?"

"I'm not making my point," Ferniany said. "And it's important that I do."

"So make it," Canidy said.

"They didn't pick me up, or anybody else on the barge, because that would be killing the goose that lays the golden egg. They picked up Fulmar because he hadn't paid the toll."

"You mean beforehand?" Canidy asked. Ferniany nodded. "Well, if you knew about this system, why didn't you pay whatever had to be paid?"

"I had a decision to make," Ferniany said. "I decided it would be worth the risk . . . the word I got, presumably from you, Major . . . was to keep this operation as quiet as possible. I decided the best way to do that was to try to slip them through without paying off the cops."

"You should have paid the cops," Canidy said.

"When you pay the cops, it's for a round-trip," Ferniany said. "They would have been curious when these people didn't head back to Vienna with suitcases full of salami and ham."

"Your orders, Captain," Canidy said icily, "were to see that under no circ.u.mstances were Fulmar and Professor Dyer to fall into German hands."

"You mean, I was supposed to 'eliminate' them?" Ferniany asked. "The thing is, Major, I'm new at this. I'm not used to the euphemisms: 'eliminate' for 'kill,' specifically. So far, it hasn't been necessary for me to kill people on our side. I don't know, frankly, what I would have done if I had thought they were going to be turned over to the Sicherheitsdienst or the Gestapo."

Canidy, his face rigid, looked at Ferniany a long time before he spoke.

"I don't know if I could have done it, either," he said finally, softly. "It's easier to order people to do something like that than it is to do it yourself."

"Major, it's five-to-one that long before their ninety days is up, they'll be turned loose. They're not making any money for the cops in the coal mines. The coal mines are a lesson, you understand?"

"I know what you're trying to tell me," Canidy said. "But there's more to this than you understand."

"Like what?"

"Like there was a very good reason for the elimination order," Canidy said.

"Are we back to that?"

Canidy didn't reply. He walked away from the others for a few moments, thinking. Then he came back to the group and turned to Captain Hughson.

"There is avgas here? Nothing 'almost funny' has happened to that?"

"There are twenty-five fifty-five-gallon drums of aviation gasoline, Major," the British officer said. "Twelve, thirteen hundred American gallons."

"And some kind of a pump?" Canidy pursued.

"Hand pumps," Ferniany said. "Three of them."

"Are we sure it's clean gas?" Dolan said.

"The tanks are sealed," Ferniany said. "And there's both metallic filters and chamois."

"You better get on the refueling right away, John," Canidy said. "At first light tomorrow, after you put Darmstadter through a couple of touch-and-gos, I want you to make for Cairo."

Dolan accepted the order without question, with a nod of his head. But he was curious: "Why Cairo? And aren't you coming with us?"

"Cairo because we have a pretty good radio link with our station chief there, and no, I can't go back with you."

"We have radio contact with London, Major," the SOE captain said.

Canidy ignored him.

"While you're fueling the plane," he went on, "I'll start encrypting a message for London. You give it, personally, to the station chief. His name is Wilkins, Ernest J. Wilkins, and he's a lot more competent than he looks. Tell him to get it right out, and then you wait there for further orders."

Dolan nodded.

"You'll take the Dyer girl with you," Canidy said. "If the decision is for you to go on to London, take her with you. If it isn't, turn her over to Wilkins, and have her put on ice. His His ice. Make d.a.m.ned sure he understands that. She is not a prisoner, but I don't want her talking to anybody but you and the station chief." ice. Make d.a.m.ned sure he understands that. She is not a prisoner, but I don't want her talking to anybody but you and the station chief."

Dolan nodded again. "Daylight will be at 0513," he said. "Say twenty minutes to shoot two or three touch-and-gos, another half an hour to land, top off the tanks, and put the girl aboard. That'll get us out of here at no more than quarter past six."

"Fifteen minutes to shoot two touch-and-gos, and you'll be on your way at half past five. It's fifteen hundred miles, give or take a hundred, from here to Cairo. Presuming no bad head wind, that'd put you into Cairo in six hours, say noon Cairo time."

"Two other presumptions," Dolan said dryly. "That you have your reasons for taking a pa.s.senger while Darmstadter's shooting touch-and-gos, and that you have your reasons for us not to make a refueling stop at Malta."

"There are reasons, John," Canidy said, "but none you can't figure out yourself."

"Right," Dolan said.

Canidy turned to Captain Hughson.

"How do you cook your meat here, Captain?" he asked.

The British officer's eyebrows went up.