Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Secret
Hitlers
ecret
S
A N O V EL
W i l l i a m
O s b o r n e
13 14 15 16 17
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Dedication
For C, D, E, F
1
DUNKIRK, FRANCE1 JUNE 19403:06 P.M.
The boys lungs were burning, and his eyes streaming with
tears.
He had to get to England. It was now or never. The smoke
was all around him, acrid cordite and sulphurous petrol. He
kept on running, every breath a sharp stab in his chest. He had
to keep going, had to reach the waters edge, had to get beyond
the upturned burning vehicles and the dead and dying men
lying on the beach. He kept his eyes fixed on the hundreds
of boats of
every shape and size anchored in the water:
barges and sailing yachts, naval destroyers and passenger
liners. It seemed e very boat in Britain had made the journey
across the Channel to help its soldiers escape the advancing
German Army.
He stumbled over discarded equipment, soldiers canvas
packs, ammunition boxes and piles of guns. Then the boy
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were all still intact. Relieved, the girl deftly selected eight bot
tles and filled two crates. She sprinted for the entrance.
Urgent blood! Emergency, urgent blood! she shouted like
a market trader, and the crowd outside parted without com
plaint to let her through. Her voice, high and clear, had just a
trace of an Austrian accent.
Inside, a nurse was waiting for her by the operating thea
ter. You took your time, she said, sounding harassed.
Sorry, the girl said, feeling a little stung. Theyd got here
as quickly as they could.
No, Im sorry, replied the nurse, sighing. Its just that we
need the blood pronto. She took the crates from the girl and
pushed the theaters swing door open with her hip. The girl
caught a glimpse of the surgeon inside. There was blood on his
rubber apron.
Is it bad? she whispered.
The nurse paused at the door. Theyre bringing the
wounded up from the coast on the trains, she said quietly.
This ones lost both legs. Still, this should save him. See you.
The door swung shut.
Back outside, Judy had turned the car around and was rev
ving the engine impatiently.
Mein Gott, it is big mess in there, said the girl, clambering
back in, glad to be away from the carnage inside. Where to
now? she asked.
2
25 MAY 1941O NE YEAR LATER
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Then you must ensure he does not get a whiff of our plans,
Admiral. This matter is above and beyond top secret, for your
eyes only. Time is short. I assume you have agents on standby
for instant action?
Of course, Prime Minister, he replied smoothly.
Good chap. I knew I c ould rely on you. Churchill patted
him on the arm and stepped onto the gangplank.
MacPherson saluted the prime minister smartly, but
already his mind was spinning.
He didnt have agents on standby. Not the kind he would
need, anyway. German-speaking agents were thin on the
ground, to say the least, and the ones they had were already
known to Hitlers security serv ices. Now he had no more than
two weeks to find and train top-class operatives that c ould get
into Germany and back out againw ith the most precious
cargo in the Reich. How on earth could it be done?
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3
RUTLAND, ENGLAND2 JUNE 1941
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reached the end of the roof and climbed onto the crenellated
parapet. The scaffolding was about six feet away; the ground
beneath many more. He could make it. He threw himself for
ward across the gap, landing with a thud on wooden planks,
then grabbed hold of the rope. He turned. Catchpole was
standing on the parapet, looking at the gap. He d
idnt seem in
any hurry to jump.
The boy tightened his grip on the rope and swung out. He
sailed through the air like a pirate swooping between two
ships, dropped with a satisfying thump on the roof of the din
ing hall, then scrambled down onto the main school roof. He
turned on his heel and ran blindly onmissing the open sky
light in his path...
With a startled yell, he fell straight through the hole, land
ing on a large round table, then crashing onto the floor, papers
cascading around him.
Grimacing with the pain and trying to catch his breath, he
glanced up at the skylight. Catchpole was staring down at him.
The cricket captain slowly ran his finger across his throat, then
disappeared from view.
So glad you could drop in, said Professor Maddox.
The boy scrambled to his feet and smoothed back his
hair as the dust settled in the room. He was really in trou
ble now.
You know, your behavior continues to confound all stan
dards of English decency, continued the headmaster. As he
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spoke, the boy noticed there was another man in the room,
sitting opposite. A tall, thin man, with keen gray eyes. He was
dressed in a light summer suit and puffing on a cigar.
Sorry, sir.
Stand up straight when you speak to me! Maddox barked,
his eyes darkening. This is Admiral MacPherson of His
Majestys Royal Navy.
The young man stood to attention and swiveled his eyes to
the other man.
MacPherson was studying him carefully. That was quite
an entrance, he said.
Maddox rose from his chair. Incredible as it seems, the
admiral has a proposition for you. He couldnt hide the dis
dain in his voice. Ill tell you again, Admiral, he added in an
acid tone, this boy is trouble.
Thats the sort we need, MacPherson replied.
Yes, said the boy. The answer is yes.
Both men looked at him sharply.
What? Maddox said.
To the admirals proposition, sir, yes.
You dont even know what hes going to ask you, you fool
ish child! Maddox said, exasperated.
Does it get me out of this place, sir? the boy asked.
MacPherson nodded. It does.
Then my answer is yes.
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The cars wheels spun on the gravel as the mob reached the
car. The boy turned to look back through the rear window.
His tormentors were standing impotently in the driveway,
sprayed by the dust thrown up from the tires. He flicked them
Churchills famous two-fingered Victory sign and settled
back into the leather seat, for a moment savoring his settling of
scores and the successful escape.
Quite a send-off, MacPherson remarked drily.
The boy reached into his jacket and felt for his fathers
watch. It was still there.
You saved my life, he said, his heart thumping.
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