Death Ray by Craig Simpson Read Free Book Online Page B

hundred or so yards less proficient, perhaps, but still clearly way ahead of Max and Jacques. ‘What about Amélie?’ I asked.
    ‘She can barely lift a rifle, let alone fire it straight. Although …’ He paused. ‘She’s not bad with a pistol. Pretty quick as a matter of fact. Quite impressive.’ Then, changing the subject, he said, ‘Before you arrived, I heard Walker and the brigadier talking about your escape from Norway. Did you really steal a German seaplane and fly her to Scotland?’
    ‘Yes. A Heinkel 115. Our fathers are pilots,’ I replied, and then swallowed hard before correcting myself, ‘At least my father was a pilot.’
    Max nodded. ‘I’m sorry. What did he fly?’
    ‘Spitfire.’
    ‘Where did he—?’
    ‘Not sure,’ I interrupted, looking up at the sky. ‘Maybe even right up there. I’ve not seen the official report.’
    ‘I’d love to learn to fly,’ said Max enthusiastically. He peered upwards too. ‘Up there you must feel truly free.
Phantastisch!
’
    ‘Jacques seems to know something about what we’re training for and where we’ll be going once we’re ready,’ said Loki.
    Max nodded vigorously. ‘I think he knows a great deal. Walker and the brigadier are keeping, erm … how do the English say …
tight-lipped
. I’ve been trying to work it out. Jacques spends much time inside the brigadier’s office. And Corporal Smith sometimes drives them both somewhere he tells me is very
hush-hush
. They’re often gone for hours. Once they didn’t even return until the next day. But Corporal Smith won’t tell me where he takes them. I’ve even tried bribing him! I’ve also seen Walker clutching maps of northern France. That’s where Jacques and Amélie come from. A town called Rochefort. I think it’s a few miles from the coast.’
    ‘Well, that probably explains why Jacques just asked us if we could speak French,’ I said.
    Max raised his eyebrows. ‘Seems I may be right. I’d put my money on us all heading off to France. To do what, though?’ He looked thoughtful a moment. ‘Of course, I could be wrong. We might end up all going our separate ways, you back to Norway, Jacques and Amélie back to France, and as for me, well God knows where they’ll send me.’
    ‘Where would you
like
to be sent?’ Loki asked.
    ‘Berlin would be good. Wouldn’t mind having a go at Herr Hitler.’ He formed a pistol shape with his fingers. ‘Pop, pop, and the war’s over. Easy as that!’
    We laughed. ‘You’d be famous,’ I said.
    ‘No, Finn, seriously, I think X has big plans for us. And unfortunately I think whatever the mission is, Jacques is going to be in charge.’ Max grimaced. ‘And that gives me a bad feeling inside. A
very
bad feeling.’

Chapter Six
The French Connection
    LIFE AT MULBERRY House quickly settled into a routine and the long days gradually blurred into weeks of intense activity. Discipline was strict. Sergeant Walker insisted we ran every morning before breakfast, taking us on increasingly lengthy forays into the forest. ‘Good for blowing the cobwebs away!’ he’d yell at us over his shoulder as he set an exhausting pace along narrow paths. These dawn runs turned out to be the only times we ventured beyond the grounds of the house – except for Jacques’ secretive trips with the brigadier. And we never spoke to anyone else despite frequently seeing convoys of trucks on the roads and stumbling across platoons of soldiers marching across the heath. Mulberry House, we realized, was very isolated.
    Our lessons were a strange mix. One afternoon Walker taught us how to make impressions of keys using matchboxes filled with plasticine, then fashion duplicates by filing down strips of zinc. And I was flabbergasted at how easy it proved to pick simple locks with bent wire. In the evenings we had French lessons. Jacques and Amélie took part too, our teacher insisting that we practise with them. I paired up with Amélie and was soon glad: she showed great