Death Ray by Craig Simpson

Author:Craig Simpson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781407048154
Publisher: RHCP

Chapter Seventeen

Lost in France

I STRUCK THE water at an awkward angle and with such force it felt as if I’d fallen onto solid concrete. Winded, I had to resist trying to gasp for air as I sank beneath the surface. Instantly the cold embraced me and my ears filled with the strange hollowness of an underwater world. I wanted to panic, to thrash my arms about, but our training in the Scottish lochs now paid off. Reaching the bottom, I turned and kicked with my legs. I shot upwards and seconds later broke the surface. At last I could breathe! I coughed and spluttered and frantically tried to tread water. My dark woollen sweater and trousers were heavy and threatened to drag me back under. The strap of my Sten gun was thankfully still wrapped about my neck but the gun had twisted round several times, the strap tightening like a tourniquet – I was slowly being throttled.

As I tried to unwind it I looked northwards, in the direction of the coast. Nils was airborne and the Heinkel was climbing steeply, now little more than a black speck in a dark sky, its engines already sounding distant. I realized that in the other direction the German patrol boat had given up the chase and slowed. She was nearly two hundred yards from me and had drawn close to the river bank. The last of the flares fizzled out as it returned to earth. I saw what looked like flashes of torch light aimed at the shore too, but they were feeble in comparison to the searchlight Loki had managed to put out of commission. His lucky shot might just prove to be a life-saver, I thought. Having freed the gun strap from around my neck, I headed for dry land, trying to make as little noise as possible. As I swam, it struck me just how far I was from where we’d off-loaded the others. The plane had taken us a good distance along the river before we’d jumped. Even in the few seconds between Loki leaping and me following, the plane had travelled another hundred yards or so. My first task was to find him.

Reaching a tall reed bed in the shallows, I waded breathlessly through thick mud and then crawled out onto firm soil. Remaining on my belly, I reached back, scooped up a handful of mud and smothered it over my face. I slapped a second handful of the slimy, gritty, stinking silt over my ears and neck. I needed camouflage as even a feeble torch beam would be able to pick out the white of my face. During training we’d used burned cork to blacken exposed skin and I’d always hated the stuff. But now I realized it was tons better than the smelly grime I had to improvise with.

Next to the reeds and mud lay a narrow strip of grass and a well-trodden path on a raised-earth embankment. I was too exposed. I had to reach the trees and bushes beyond.

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