Every Second Counts by David Donachie

Author:David Donachie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McBooks Press
Published: 2022-08-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Thursday, July 25, 7:13 p.m.

Rudi took station behind the slightly open door to the drawing room, as the muffled sound of slamming car doors came in from the street, soon followed by the rasp of the front door key, then an echoing shout.

‘Clarissa, my dear, I’m home.’

The next voice was respectful. ‘Shall I take your kit upstairs, sir?’

The reply was clipped. ‘No Walters, just leave it there for now, most of it is destined for the laundry room.’

‘Permission to use the facilities, sir.’

The repeated shouts for Clarissa were louder before the driver got a reply. ‘You know where they are.’

The ranker’s boots echoed on the polished wooden floor as he made his way towards the door leading to the basement. This brought him abreast of Leo and his shotgun, where he stopped dead. At the same moment Rudi stepped out to find Major General Jack Strathallan, briefcase and swagger stick laid down, removing his service webbing. This included his pistol, secure in its canvas holster, while the driver’s rifle stood behind the door and out of reach.

‘What the …’

‘Please continue, General Strathallan.’ Leo had stepped out to cover the driver, who now had his hands raised. ‘And order your man to remain still.’

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Shall we say a family friend,’ Graebner responded. ‘Mr. Houston, you may join us and clear away the weapons.’

Billy emerged into the hallway, to see a tall, patrician looking soldier, dressed in tailored battledress, hatless, with his hands raised. His cap was hanging on a hook and right away Billy recognised the bright red band of a staff officer. At the foot of the rack lay a battered briefcase. Closer to, before he bent to take up the webbing, he observed the penetrating blue eyes and silver hair, aquiline nose and high cheekbones. The face, added to the look of pure disdain, brought to mind some of the members of the Right Club. To an ex-WW1 sergeant, the bastard had Brigade of Guards written all over him.

‘Where’s my wife?’

‘Safe, and so will you be as long as you do as I say,’ Graebner replied. Billy had the pistol, webbing and rifle now, a .303 Lee Enfield, the weight and feel bringing back memories of fighting a war. Graebner stood to one side and waved his Walther at the drawing room, indicating the general should enter, before issuing orders in Spanish to Leo, followed by a word to the baby-faced young driver.

‘You may use what you call the facilities, my man. We would not want you to disgrace yourself. The fellow with the shotgun will escort you and please, be warned, not to try anything.’

He followed Strathallan into the drawing room with Billy, bringing up the rear. The Scotsman laid aside the rifle and extracted the Webley to check the safety, all the time watched by the owner of the house.

‘I don’t know what it is you want …’

‘Please let us not go through what you English call a rigmarole. Perhaps if I tell you I am a German officer it will still your tongue.

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