The Price of Silence by Dolores Gordon-Smith

Author:Dolores Gordon-Smith [Dolores Gordon-Smith]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2017-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

As they came out of the shadow of the surrounding trees, Anthony felt the warning pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

‘Get down.’ The words were a whisper.

Obediently Anthony sank to his knees, flattening himself into the boggy bare earth between the tall clumps of stiff marsh grass.

Beside him, the smuggler, Lucien Voltèche, dropped to the ground, remaining completely still as a searchlight picked out the uneven ground in blinding whiteness with sharp-edged black shadows. The searchlight moved on. Anthony, who’d been unconsciously holding his breath, breathed once more.

The series of events that had brought him to crouch in a muddy field on the border between Holland and Belgium had started three days ago.

The afternoon following their discoveries in Westminster Cathedral, Anthony received a note asking him to meet Talbot in the smoking-room of his club at half past six.

Anthony wasn’t surprised by the choice of venue. Sir Charles had a theory that the more secrecy surrounding a meeting, the greater was the chance of being discovered.

The smoking-room, as Sir Charles predicted, was deserted. He had a guest with him, who he introduced as Peter Jager.

‘It’s not the name I was born with,’ said Jager, settling into his green leather armchair. ‘But these, as the Chinese apparently say, are interesting times, Dr Brooke.’

Anthony liked the look of Peter Jager, whatever his real name might be. He was a stocky, capable looking man, a South African Boer, one of the many who’d followed General Jan Smuts to fight with the allies against the Central Powers.

Jager lit the cigar Sir Charles had offered him and sipped his whisky and soda. ‘I gather you speak perfect German, Dr Brooke.’

This wasn’t time for false modesty. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘That’s good,’ said Jager in approval. ‘Do you speak Dutch?’

Anthony hesitated. ‘I’ve picked up some. Dutch has a lot in common with German and English. I can usually understand Dutch but I couldn’t pass as a Dutchman.’

‘That’s a pity. You see, the place where you’re going—’ Jager carefully avoided the mention of Louvain – ‘is a Flemish speaking area and anyone with good Dutch can pass for a native. How’s your French?’

Anthony frowned. ‘Not bad, but I doubt if I’d be able to fool another Frenchman into believing I was French.’

‘That’s a pity. My first idea was to send you in as a Belgian, but that’s probably too risky.’ Jager put his head on one side, sizing him up. ‘I think you’d better be a doctor. A German doctor.’

Anthony turned to Sir Charles. ‘Is that possible? Can you get hold of the correct uniform and papers and so on?’

‘Leave it with me, Brooke.’

‘That’s a good plan,’ said Jager. ‘Your destination is out of the fighting line but there’s at least one hospital there that’s used for treating infectious cases.’

‘A Seuchenlazarette,’ said Anthony. He smiled at Sir Charles’ expression. ‘All the name means is disease hospital, but the Germans separate the classes of patients depending on their condition and allocate them to hospitals accordingly.’ He stopped. ‘Religious sisters – nuns – are often drafted in as nursing staff,’ he added slowly.

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