senior KGB officer named Erich Stinnes could just about fit between the collection of electronic equipment. His face was tense and the lenses of his glasses reflected the screen of a battlefield radar far more sophisticated than the 'man-portable' infantry model that the two 'freebooters' had placed into position.
'One of them is moving forward,' the Russian army operator told Stinnes. The blip that was Gabby glowed brighter as he scrambled from his trench and exposed more of his body to the radar.
The EW support vehicle provided more than one indication of what was happening in the sector. There was a thermal imager rendering the warmth of human bodies into revealing white blobs, and now that the infra-red lights were on, the automatic IR cameras were taking a picture every five seconds. If it came to an inquiry there would be no chance of proving the DDR was in the wrong.
'Let him come,' said Stinnes. 'Perhaps the other fellow will come too. Then we'll have both of them.'
'If we wait too long the two spies will escape,' said the Grepo officer who'd been assigned to give Stinnes all the help and assistance he required.
'We'll get them all, never fear. I've followed them a long way. I'll not miss them now.' They didn't realize how circumscribed he was by the rules and regulations. But without breaking any applicable rules Stinnes had supervised what can only be described as an exemplary operation. The two agents arrested in Schwerin had yielded the details of their rendezvous after only two hours of interrogation. Furthermore the methods used to get this 'confession' were by RGB standards only moderately severe. They had detected the two 'Englishmen' at the log cabin and kept them under observation all the way here. Apart from the misrouteing of a helicopter by some imbecilic air traffic controller it was a textbook operation.
The second man is coming forward,' said the operator.
'Kolossal!' said Stinnes. 'When he gets to the wire you can shoot.' The unrepaired gap in the Wall had enabled them to plan the fields of fire. It was like a shooting gallery: four men trapped inside the enclosure formed by the Wall, the wire and the builders' materials.
It was Gabby who shot the searchlight out. Afterwards Bernard said it was Max, but that was because Bernard wanted to believe it was Max. The death of Max distressed Bernard in a way that few other losses had ever done. And of course Bernard never shook off the guilt that came from his being the only survivor.
He saw the other three die. Max, Tom and Gabby. They were cut to pieces by a heavy machine gun: an old reliable 12.7mm Degtyarev. The noise of the machine gun sounded very loud in the night air. Everyone for miles around heard it. That would teach the English a lesson.
'Where's the other one?' said Stinnes, still watching the radar screen.
'He tripped and fell down. Damn! Damn! Damn! They're putting the big jammer on now!' As the two men watched, electronic clutter came swirling up from the bottom of the screen: major interference like a snowstorm.
'Where is he?' Stinnes slapped his hand upon the blinded radar and its useless screen and shouted, 'Where?' The men in the bunker with him jumped to their feet, stared straight ahead, standing stiff and upright as a good Russian soldier is taught to stand when a senior officer shouts at him.
Thus it was that Bernard Samson drowned in the clutter and scrambled away unhurt, running like he'd never run before, eventually to fall into the arms of Sergeant Powell.
'Shit!' said Powell. 'Where did you come from, laddie?' For one wild moment Sergeant Powell thought he'd captured a prisoner. When he realized that it was only an escaper from the East he was disappointed. 'They said there'd be two. Where's the other fellow?'
3
Cambridgeshire, England. February 1978.
Sir Henry Clevemore was not renowned for his hospitality, and rightly so. As the Director-General of the Secret Intelligence Service, he carefully chose the
'One of them is moving forward,' the Russian army operator told Stinnes. The blip that was Gabby glowed brighter as he scrambled from his trench and exposed more of his body to the radar.
The EW support vehicle provided more than one indication of what was happening in the sector. There was a thermal imager rendering the warmth of human bodies into revealing white blobs, and now that the infra-red lights were on, the automatic IR cameras were taking a picture every five seconds. If it came to an inquiry there would be no chance of proving the DDR was in the wrong.
'Let him come,' said Stinnes. 'Perhaps the other fellow will come too. Then we'll have both of them.'
'If we wait too long the two spies will escape,' said the Grepo officer who'd been assigned to give Stinnes all the help and assistance he required.
'We'll get them all, never fear. I've followed them a long way. I'll not miss them now.' They didn't realize how circumscribed he was by the rules and regulations. But without breaking any applicable rules Stinnes had supervised what can only be described as an exemplary operation. The two agents arrested in Schwerin had yielded the details of their rendezvous after only two hours of interrogation. Furthermore the methods used to get this 'confession' were by RGB standards only moderately severe. They had detected the two 'Englishmen' at the log cabin and kept them under observation all the way here. Apart from the misrouteing of a helicopter by some imbecilic air traffic controller it was a textbook operation.
The second man is coming forward,' said the operator.
'Kolossal!' said Stinnes. 'When he gets to the wire you can shoot.' The unrepaired gap in the Wall had enabled them to plan the fields of fire. It was like a shooting gallery: four men trapped inside the enclosure formed by the Wall, the wire and the builders' materials.
It was Gabby who shot the searchlight out. Afterwards Bernard said it was Max, but that was because Bernard wanted to believe it was Max. The death of Max distressed Bernard in a way that few other losses had ever done. And of course Bernard never shook off the guilt that came from his being the only survivor.
He saw the other three die. Max, Tom and Gabby. They were cut to pieces by a heavy machine gun: an old reliable 12.7mm Degtyarev. The noise of the machine gun sounded very loud in the night air. Everyone for miles around heard it. That would teach the English a lesson.
'Where's the other one?' said Stinnes, still watching the radar screen.
'He tripped and fell down. Damn! Damn! Damn! They're putting the big jammer on now!' As the two men watched, electronic clutter came swirling up from the bottom of the screen: major interference like a snowstorm.
'Where is he?' Stinnes slapped his hand upon the blinded radar and its useless screen and shouted, 'Where?' The men in the bunker with him jumped to their feet, stared straight ahead, standing stiff and upright as a good Russian soldier is taught to stand when a senior officer shouts at him.
Thus it was that Bernard Samson drowned in the clutter and scrambled away unhurt, running like he'd never run before, eventually to fall into the arms of Sergeant Powell.
'Shit!' said Powell. 'Where did you come from, laddie?' For one wild moment Sergeant Powell thought he'd captured a prisoner. When he realized that it was only an escaper from the East he was disappointed. 'They said there'd be two. Where's the other fellow?'
3
Cambridgeshire, England. February 1978.
Sir Henry Clevemore was not renowned for his hospitality, and rightly so. As the Director-General of the Secret Intelligence Service, he carefully chose the
Similar Books
The Leisure Seeker: A Novel
Michael Zadoorian
Seduction
Madame B
Adrenaline Crush
Laurie Boyle Crompton
Eva Sleeps
Francesca Melandri, Katherine Gregor
82 Desire
Julie Smith
The Joy Luck Club
Amy Tan
Faraway Places
Tom Spanbauer
Hidden Order: A Thriller
Brad Thor