Operation Armageddon by Richard Freeman

Author:Richard Freeman [Freeman, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-04-18T22:00:00+00:00

26

Bosanquet was woken on the following day by the sounds of shouting and the ring of nailed boots on an iron staircase. From the little that he could see through the cell’s small window, it was still dark outside. The hatch on his cell door slammed open with a clang, followed by the scratching-screeching of the door bolt being drawn back. A bleary-eyed, unshaven guard appeared in the doorway. He was no more than a mal-nourished gangly youth. His oversize uniform emphasised that he was yet to grow into his role both physically and mentally. His machine gun hung limply in his left hand as he leant against the doorpost. He stared at his prisoner for some time as if he lacked the energy to decide what to do next. Then, with a voice as tired as his demeanour: ‘Out.’

A second guard was waiting at the foot of the staircase. Older and taller than the young guard, this guard oozed male power and virility. Even so, he was clearly struggling to overcome what must have been a riotous evening in the men’s brothel. He went up first, ascending backwards as he covered Bosanquet. The first guard followed in the rear. Between the two of them they prodded and guided their prisoner out of the building and bundled him into a waiting Mercedes 260D staff car. Not knowing that this was the favoured car of both the Gestapo and the SS, Bosanquet admired its generous proportions and sweeping front wheel arches. In the cold, dark foggy morning he choked on its diesel fumes, which hung in the air.

The guards sat either side of Bosanquet in the rear seat. A third guard was at the wheel, his gun at the ready on the front passenger seat. As the car moved off, the gate barrier lifted and they passed out of the base. The first workers of the day were queuing at the turnstiles. None of them paid any attention to the car. The base – possibly the world – would quickly forget him, Bosanquet thought.

A little while later the car turned off into a country road. The driver slipped down into second gear.

‘Drei stunden,’ said the tall guard, holding up three fingers. Three hours, thought Bosanquet – just about ninety miles. Soon no one would know where he was.

His thoughts turned to Simone. Once more she was on her own against Armageddon. How little he had been able to do to help her. With a guard either side of him and another in front, he concluded that his war was over. He had hoped that, if he had succeeded in thwarting Armageddon, Sally would have come back to him on his triumphal return. Yet was it Sally he now wanted? Did she not seem superficial in comparison with the intrepid Simone?

The country road was lined by high hedgerows dripping with condensation from the fog-laden air. There was nothing else visible on either side. Ahead, the combination of the bends and the fog meant that Bosanquet could see little of the road.

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