The White Guns by Douglas Reeman

Author:Douglas Reeman [Неизв.]
Language: rus
Format: epub, pdf

Then he saw her, walking in the centre of the road, her shoulder bag hanging against her hip, her little blue forage cap tilted forward from the coil of hair on her neck.

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Douglas Reeman

She was the only girl there now and he saw the same two women in battledress look straight at her, one give the other a quick nudge.

Marriott fell in beside her and said, “Stay with me. Don’t look surprised and don’t argue! ”

He saw a portly Master-at-Arms standing by the side-gate used by officers and touched her elbow. She felt stiff, probably with fear, as she realised for the first time what was happening.

“Fräulein Geghin is with me, Master!” Thank God he had heard that idiot Verner call her by name.

He thought he saw someone moving out towards them but the portly Master-at-Arms shook his head and grunted, “Very good, sir.” Their eyes met, just for a few seconds. Then he added, “I’ll drop her card in the box for you.”

Outside the gates they stood together, and yet far apart.

Then she said in a whisper, “You did this for me? ” She would not look at him but clutched the bag against her body as the true implication hit her. “I would have lost my work here! I—I did not intend—”

He said, “Don’t think about it. It was just something I saw earlier. I did not want—” But she had not heard a word.

“I had offered payment for them but—”

“I know. But. Such a powerful word in regulations.”

A grey-painted bus, one of the many used by personnel employed by the Royal Navy, rolled on to the concourse and stood vibrating noisily, waiting for the passengers to hurry along.

“Just be careful in future, eh?” He tried to make light of it, when all he wanted was to take her arm and walk with her somewhere. Anywhere. He tried to shut out the picture of her arriving home. Sharing out the spoils for the child. Laughing perhaps at her escape, at the lieutenant’s weakness or stupidity.

“This is my bus, Herr Leutnant.”

She turned and faced him, her chin lifting with a kind of defiance. For just those few moments they were quite alone, The White Guns

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oblivious to the curious glances from the passing workers and the patrolmen at the gates.

Then she said again, “You came just to save me from trouble?”

He nodded. “Yes. No strings.”

“No strings?” She bit her lip. “I do not know this phrase.”

She walked to the bus and looked at the sign above its cab.

It read Eutin.

She said, “It is where we live.”

The bus shook itself into motion and then rumbled out on to the road again.

Eutin. Where we live.

Marriott turned and walked thoughtfully back into the dockyard. He touched his cap to the gangway staff and quickened his pace. It was little enough. And it was sheer madness, which could offer nothing but harm. In the same breath he knew there was no turning back.

In the shade of the gateway the Master-at-Arms watched him and gave a great sigh.

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