The Saboteur by Andrew Gross

Author:Andrew Gross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

42

Stromsheim hurried back into the high-concentration room, now holding his Colt. Nordstrum tossed him the open rucksack of explosives. Immediately, the sapper expert began setting them out.

The watchman’s eyes went wide.

Eighteen adhesive, sausage-shaped charges, each about a foot long, made of nitro-cellulose, with a detonator fuse 120 centimeters long. Since it took one second for each centimeter to burn, two minutes were all they had to get safely out of the building.

As he saw what was happening, the watchman stood up. “That’s enough to take the whole building down. You’ll never get out of here.”

“Then at least we’ll die knowing we did the job, don’t you agree?” Nordstrum said. “Now sit back down.”

Where the hell were Ronneberg and Jens? One way or another, they should have been in here by now. Time was running short. If no one showed, he’d have to put down his gun and help Stromsheim with the charges or they’d never get it done in time.

12:53.

“Don’t make a move, Gustav,” Nordstrum said, heading to help his friend at the concentration cells. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to—”

Suddenly there was a crash, the sound of glass shattering. Nordstrum spun and aimed his tommy at the blackened windows behind the desk. Shards of glass fell onto the floor, a rifle butt coming through.

“Just keep at it!” he yelled to Stromsheim. “If they’re Germans, set the fuses to go.” If it was indeed someone unwelcome, he’d give his friend as much time and cover as he could. He leveled his gun at the person climbing through, prepared to pull the trigger at the first face he saw.

To his delight, it was Ronneberg’s.

“Jesus, another second and I would have pulled the trigger,” Nordstrum said, scurrying over. “Where the hell have you been?”

“What did you expect us to do—knock? This was the only way we could find to get ourselves in,” Ronneberg said, maneuvering an arm through, kicking out a last piece of glass, and pulling himself through. “I’m glad to see you here though.”

He jumped onto the floor.

Jens was next, tossing the lieutenant his backpack of explosives. “Lieutenant.” He nodded, pleased to see him there.

“Say hello to Gustav.” He introduced the watchman in English.

“Lord in Heaven, just how the hell many are you?” The watchman stretched his eyes wide.

“Gustav says the Germans come by every hour to check the water levels. At around ten after,” Nordstrum said.

“Not around, exactly,” the watchman declared. “There’s usually two of them. They leave their guard hut on the hour, but that’s what it takes to get here and maybe have a smoke on the way.”

“That gives us about five minutes before they leave the hut, and we’d better be out of here.” Ronneberg looked at the clock. “Kurt, how long did you say it would take?”

“Seven minutes. Depending on what we found in here.”

“Seven minutes…” Ronneberg checked his watch concernedly. “We’d better get cracking.”

Donning rubber gloves, each of them knelt and worked their tasks with the precision of a craftsman who could do a specific

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