The Sea Break by Antony Trew Read Free Book Online Page A

That she must be fully oiled, watered and provisioned, which she already is as I have twice told them.”
    “Is it still the Hagenfels ?”
    “Of course! She is the only motor ship.” His speech was laboured, as if the heat and his exertions were too much.
    “When does the Freiherr arrive?”
    “I am not sure. In a few days, perhaps.”
    “Nothing can happen until he arrives?”
    “Nothing, Paula. He is in charge of the operation. Though why it falls under the Abwehr and not the Wilhelmstrasse I cannot understand.”
    “Probably because both Intelligence and the Navy are concerned. The Freiherr is a naval officer, but he reports to the Abwehr because his duties until now have been Intelligence. The Chancellery, the Wilhelmstrasse, the Abwehr, the High Command—they are all mixed up in these things.”
    “Possibly. But here the brunt of the organisation, the responsibility, the risks, fall upon me.” Stauch sighed. “I hope the Wilhelmstrasse will give credit.”
    She knew this was his Achilles heel. The fear that others might get the kudos. “Of course, Otto. Of that you may be sure.”
    “I hope so.” With a podgy forefinger he loosened his collar. “Don’t wait for me, Paula. Kleinschmidt will give me a lift.”
    “Where is he?”
    “In the transmitting room.”
    Frau Stauch bent over the fat man and kissed him on his moist forehead. “ Auf wiedersehen , Otto.”
    “ Auf wiedersehen, Paula.” It was not necessary within the family, but from long habit he raised his right hand. “ Heil Hitler ! ”
    She replied “ Heil Hitler ! ” but didn’t trouble to raise her hand.
    Downstairs she locked the door of the shipping agency her husband had managed for so many years.
    Frau Stauch was thoughtful as she drove home. She hated the British, the Jews, the Portuguese and the Africans; but above all she hated Lourenço Marques and its humid heat. She longed for Munich and the Walchensee. Yet once Germany won the war, she must stay here for Herr Stauch was high in the party hierarchy and though not Landeskreisleiter designate of Mozambique, an office he coveted but had no hope of getting, his knowledge of the territory was such that, come the victory, he would certainly be needed here.
     
    Two days later the Newt arrived by train and booked in at the Polana. The pointed beard had gone, but not the moustache, which was of such elegance that he might have been R.A.F. In the hotel register he wrote the address of his family’s house in Oporto and to the receptionist he made it known in fluent Portuguese that he was an English wine merchant from Portugal who had been in South Africa when the war started and had decided to stay. Now he was in Lourenço Marques on business but intended taking things easy. In the afternoon, he went down to the beach and sipped iced tea in the kiosk. It was a Sunday and there were many people about; mostly Portuguese because the weather was too hot for tourists. Near him, two girls with dark eyes and scarlet lips ate sticky cakes and whispered and giggled. Talking about men, thought the Newt, looking at them wistfully. The bathing enclosure was full of swimmers and the Newt watched a youth make a high dive, arching into the sea, then coming up, white teeth flashing as heshook the salt water from his face. The Newt heard the scrape of chairs behind him and familiar voices.
    There was no recognition but he looked at his watch. Four-thirty , exactly. They were punctual.
    When they got up and walked downstairs, the Newt followed, keeping his distance, first into the roadway and then along the promenade, past the grey walls and green roof of the Yacht Club. Beyond the club they sat on a bench, the sea lapping the wall below them.
    The Newt stopped a few feet away, his back to them, looking out to sea, leaning on the concrete balustrade.
    Congratulations on changed appearances were exchanged, and then Rohrbach reported progress. Where the ships lay, the habits of their crews, the