The Torch Bearers: The Nicholas Everard World War II Saga Book 5 by Fullerton Alexander

Author:Fullerton, Alexander [Fullerton, Alexander]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: McBooks Press
Published: 2005-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

The train rattled and swayed through the cold German night. It was made up almost entirely of goods trucks, and even its three passenger carriages were more than it needed. They had this one to themselves—the four of them, and their escorts.

Jack observed, “Right sort of country for it. Nice grass bank to land on, lot of the time. Have to dive well out to reach it, remember.”

Trolley murmured, “Not at this speed, if you don’t mind.”

It was a slow train, but when you thought about leaping off it into the darkness its slowness was less obvious. On the other hand, the longer you stayed on it the farther you were getting from the frontier. Every clank of the wheels meant another few yards of Shanks’s mare: and yards built into miles, while the rhythm sent words whispering through his brain: With me along some strip of herbage strewn … He suppressed it: thoughts couldn’t be allowed to wander. The chance would come suddenly, if it came at all, you needed to be ready to act on the spur of the moment. Trolley would follow, all right. Frank Trolley, Jack had heard from other people, admired him for his verve and decisiveness. He was himself no sluggard: but he was disciplined, principled, which Jack was not. To Frank, prison was irksome and escape a duty: he’d think “I ought to” and “I’d like to” but not as Jack did, “I have to, now!” Partly of course because Frank had no Fiona, no daydream of arriving at her flat in Eaton Square and throwing some swine out, damaging him somewhat in the process … It was what he wanted: far better than finding her alone. You’d get it over with, she’d see the physical proof of it, it would be over, exorcised …

He and Trolley were on the right-hand side, facing the engine, while Cockup and Barmy were beyond them on the left, facing the same way. The escorts, one corporal and one private soldier, were facing them from the other bench, backs to the engine.

Neither of the Germans understood English. The prisoners had checked this quite thoroughly by insulting them in both personal and national terms, smiling pleasantly at each other while commenting on the guards’ appearance, lack of intelligence, criminal tendencies, probable sexual deviations, etcetera, and also discussing Nazi leaders in similarly offensive terms. Even if the corporal had been trying to sit it out, he couldn’t have remained so completely unmoved if he’d known what was being said. And it had provided passable entertainment for an hour or so.

Jack said, with his eyes on Trolley, “Listen, you two. Don’t look at me or seem interested. Don’t want these cretins to guess we’re planning anything … But the thing is, Frank and I are going to jump off this puffer. All we need is a soft landing and an uphill bit so the thing slows down a little. When we’re set to go, we’d like you two to oblige us with a bit of a diversion.

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