Horizon by Helen MacInnes Read Free Book Online Page A

You couldn’t trust a man whose only thought was politics: he was only your friend as long as it suited him. But there had been something in the way Johann had stood and looked at the dead Miller, something of real feeling and sadness which had jolted Lennox out of his cynicism. There was decent goodwill in this boy. He could be trusted.
    The colonel looked gloomily at his watch. “The time is now almost eight-fifteen. By the boy’s information, we still have some hours of safety here. We shall have to trust him—that’s all. We need friends. We shan’t find them by refusing to meet them half-way.”
    He turned to the American. “You and Major Cummins take charge. I’m going into this Bolzano, or Bozen, or whatever it’s called. I’ll see this man and get his help. If I don’t return by ten o’clock leave here. Don’t wait one minute after ten.”
    The American major was looking worried now, in his turn.
    “The wounded?” he asked.
    “If I get back there will be a plan for the wounded. This man in Bozen will have to take care of them. That’s the price I’m going to ask for the man who is going up into the mountains as liaison officer.”
    “Why not send someone else in your place to Bozen?” the American suggested.
    “Because I’ve to make the decision about leaving a man with these Tyrolese. It’s my responsibility. Besides I want to know just what we might expect when our armies reach this part of the country.” The colonel smiled faintly as he added, “I am notat all so necessary for leading a party to the south. You and Cummins can do that as well as I could. And if I go myself to this man in Bozen then we are showing we are in earnest. We’ll get the quickest results that way.”
    He turned to Johann and asked, “How soon can we reach this man?”
    Johann’s smile came slowly back. “Twenty minutes on foot. Five minutes with the lorry,” he said happily. “It will be safe enough if we wear German coats. Perhaps there will be something you could bring back in the lorry.”
    The officers looked at each other. “What could we bring back?” the colonel asked.
    “The barracks in Bozen had much equipment.” Johann was grinning cheerfully, and the officers were smiling too: their guess had been right. The answer was guns.
    “Come along,” the colonel said to Lennox. “I shall need you. And I’ll need a couple of other fellows. Pick out two of the toughest men here. Two who understand some German.”
    Lennox obeyed without any enthusiasm. Hell, he was thinking, nothing ever goes the way you plan it. He would be stuck here for the rest of the war. He could see it coming. If the colonel had his way—and who was to stop a blasted colonel?—he would be left here in those mountains while the others marched south. If only he had been stupid, talked foolishly, pretended to know nothing about Johann or his language. Too late now: he had been the bright little boy, and his seven months of planning had landed him among mountains.
    “I’d like to—” began the American.
    “Sorry, old man. You’re needed here.” The colonel signed to two junior officers. “Cover that up with these,” he ordered,pointing first to their commando uniforms and then to the pile of German coats. He was no longer worried. Now that the decision had been made he looked even happy, as if he were going to enjoy himself. Blast him, Lennox thought bitterly, and picked up a German coat and cap as the two lieutenants had done.
    The two men he chose were Ferry and Merriman. (Stewart had to be passed over: his bandaged head would have been too conspicuous.) They were as excited as the lieutenants, and they had already covered their bleached uniforms with the German coats. They were smiling all over their faces as they left the hall. Johann, as happy as anyone, waited at the door. The colonel, strangely formidable in the German captain’s long military coat, turned at last from the two majors and walked towards