Operation Afterlight by Robert Lassen

Author:Robert Lassen [Lassen, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silvertail Books
Published: 2024-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Norfolk, 23 March

Stahl felt cold water rush over his hands, knowing that water alone could never remove the blood they bore.

The evidence of the evening’s edification ran away down the sink easy enough, of course. It had barely had time to dry before Durban rushed him back to camp, a passenger in the Alvis this time rather than the driver, not a word exchanged as they raced along the country lanes. Stahl scrubbed between his fingers, wincing only slightly as he found a bloody gouge in the second knuckle of his right hand. With a brush of his left thumb, he dislodged a small sliver of tooth and watched it spin away into the drain.

That was his only real mistake, he thought. He should never have punched the third farmer in the mouth, but the man had rushed him before he had properly dealt with the second. Other than that, he had been as professional and thorough as always. There was satisfaction in that. The most troublesome part had been leaving them alive.

Two mistakes, he corrected himself. The second had been his failure to remember that British police did not carry firearms. Such a shame that Anders had not been there. The Dane would not have hesitated. He never did.

Drying his hands, he walked out into the corridor. Durban was waiting. Sarah Lane stood a few paces away, one hand on the door that led out of the HQ.

“My office,” Durban said. “Now. I’ve sent the others away.”

“I’ll leave you to it, Andy,” Lane said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Miss Lane?”

She stopped, the door ajar, staring at him.

“I would prefer that you stayed,” Stahl said.

He knew her look. He’d seen it a thousand times, infinitely colder than the breeze that raced in from the night through the half-opened door.

Haunted. Hunted. But above all, that burning desire to kill him.

“Please,” he said.

She looked at Durban and let the door slam shut at his nod.

There were only two chairs in Durban’s office. The Wing Commander gave one to Lane and took the other himself, motioning Stahl to stand in front of them. Instead, Stahl rested his back against the cold wall. Keeping the threat to the front of him as always. The war had changed everything else, but not that.

“Talk,” Durban said.

Stahl looked at them.

He could stay silent, he knew.

British Intelligence needed him. The intervention of that senior police officer to have him released was just the latest proof. Durban had earned some respect from him – he was smart and brave, and his men admired him – but he was ultimately just a tool to them, a delivery boy for weapons on target. He had no serious authority. Lane had some influence, but Dennison had made it clear that for all her proven competence, her reputation was suspect. She was a foreigner, a Jew no less, more obsessed with trying to locate her missing agents than doing the proper thing and sweeping SOE’s mess under the carpet. Stahl disagreed. A few more people like Lane in positions of power and the war might have already been over.

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