Artillery of Lies by Derek Robinson

Author:Derek Robinson [Robinson, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2013-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

A train arrived at platform one and Luis stood up to watch it. On Spanish stations the train towered over you, and you climbed up to the coaches; here, the English built their stations so that you stood almost halfway up the side of the train, level with the doors; very quaint; more like a dockside than a station. Luis watched the locomotive wheeze and rumble by, and was intrigued by this novel view of its wheels and driving-shafts. Someone touched his elbow, and he moved to let them pass. Nobody passed.

It was an RAF chaplain, a tubby, cheery little man with a zip-top bag banging from one arm and an ash blond from the other. He put his mouth close to Luis’s ear, evidently to counter the noise of the train, and said, “Are you by any chance Eldorado?”

“I wouldn’t be the least surprised,” Luis said; but in truth he was quite shocked. The woman was lovely, in a fragile sort of way. How did a dumpy dog-collar get a winner like that? Then he realized he wasn’t a real RAF chaplain. So she wasn’t a real chaplain’s wife. Wake up, wake up, he snarled at himself. “Who might you be?”

“Is the lady … safe?” The chaplain blinked toward Julie.

“Oh yes,” Luis said and instantly regretted it. Madrid Abwehr had disapproved of Julie in Madrid and had been pleased to see her depart (as they thought) for America. If they learned she was actually in England, working alongside Luis, they would smell a whole colony of rats. Too late now. The chaplain was sitting next to Julie and inviting Luis to sit on his other side. The zip-top bag was balanced on his knees. Arriving passengers streamed by in a human flood, parted by the benches.

“In here I have a pair of tennis shoes, a towel stolen from the Hurlingham Club, and five pounds of explosive, primed and ready to be detonated. Our codenames—please remember this—are Hammer and Anvil. I am Hammer. In about five minutes from now we shall assassinate three British army generals in a first-class carriage of this train. The mission—and remember this too—is called Operation Tombstone.” Hammer spoke the two words with especial clarity, and glanced from face to face to be sure that he was understood.

“Tombstone,” Luis said. He was completely thrown by the appalling declaration; his reason rejected it; what this smiling villain proposed was impossible. “Why Tombstone?”

“Why not?” Julie said.

“I don’t choose the names,” Hammer said.

“I expect it was the next on the list,” Julie suggested, and smiled when Hammer smiled his agreement. She could see that Luis was struggling to catch up with events and she was afraid he might start discussing Operation Tombstone, analyzing it, getting involved in it. That would be his instinct. It wasn’t hers. Her instinct was to say goodbye to Hammer and Anvil damn fast, and call the cops. “Anything else we should know?” she asked.

“Five pounds, did you say?” Luis was waking up. “Five pounds of TNT makes a hell of a bang.

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