Spook's Gold (19 page)

What strategy he should adopt now was not clear to Marner. He could work his way forward along the quay, using the many drums and crates littered between him and Graf for cover. He was expert enough in the capabilities of pistols to know that Graf had little chance of hitting him at the current distance, but it would become increasingly hazardous as he closed the gap. Of more concern was the fact that he could not fire accurately himself whilst on the move, therefore Graf might decide to bolt whilst Marner was in motion.

He jumped with fright when Lemele suddenly flopped down beside him. He noted her blood stained hands and clothes; she saw his enquiring look and shook her head. So Graf had another dead body on his list of victims. “Not much doubt now about whether Graf is involved,” he muttered. “Where is Breunig?”

“I sent him to go and find some help, but he is completely in shock so I wouldn’t count on it arriving in a hurry.” She peered over the top of the drum that they were hiding behind. “Where is Graf?”

“I have him bottled up in the corner. But we need to take him down before he gets bold.” Marner took a long look around the pen. “I have an idea.”

----

A few moments later he moved backwards away from his cover, leaving Lemele still crouching there. Twenty metres back along the quayside was the steel-framed gantry that supported the sluice gate at the entrance to the pen. This structure had a ladder to allow for ascent up the supporting strut, leading to a metal walkway that spanned all of the way across. He assumed that it was there to facilitate access to and maintenance of the gate mechanism. Whatever the intended function, it would enable him to get across to the quay on the other side of the pen.

He slung the gun over his shoulder and clambered up. The walkway reached nearly to the roof twenty metres above, necessary to permit the high conning tower of the submarines to pass under it. At the top he stepped onto the narrow plating that would take him to the other side and started across, but had only advanced a few metres when a shot rang out. What he feared was that Graf was getting ready to make a move, maybe loosing off a shot to try to force Marner to keep his head down. Marner un-slung the machine gun, levelled it to rest the barrel on the railing to steady his aim, fired one single shot into the wall near the door, then a second further in, closer to where Graf was cowering. Hopefully this would convince Graf that Marner still had his escape route zeroed in. He kept the StG44 out whilst he finished crossing the gantry, sliding the barrel along on the railing as he went so that it was permanently pointing towards Graf. He could not help but congratulate himself on his rapidly evolving skills with the StG44; if only Boris could see him now.

At the far side of the gantry Marner turned and began his descent. The ladder was greasy and with only one hand free, he slithered and finally fell the last few metres to the floor, gashing his hand where it slipped on the railing. Ignoring the pain in his hand and jarred ankles, he rolled and was up and moving fast and low along the quay. For the first fifty metres he was obscured from Graf’s view by equipment on the quay and the base of the crane behind which the technicians were still cowering. He raced the last few metres to the crane and squatted beside them. When one of them began to get up to flee, Marner realised that they had no idea of who the good guys and bad guys were in this gun fight. He grabbed the man’s overall and hauled him back to safety behind the crane. Pointing to an archway in the wall that led through into the adjacent pen he instructed, “Go! Get some help and get back here,” and gave the nearest of them a push of encouragement.

Once they had gone he stood to take a look around. This had definitely been a good idea. From this position he was now much closer to the end wall and Graf’s escape route. Better still, he had Graf completely pinned down in the opposite corner and had an unimpeded view, which meant that he would be able to cover Graf regardless of whether he tried to go back towards Lemele, or the other way towards the door.

“Come on out, Graf,” shouted Marner. “You’re trapped. It will only be a matter of minutes before more troops arrive.”

The response was a belligerent shot fired blindly by Graf over the top of the crates that he was hiding behind. Marner decided that he would try some persuasion of his own. He brought the machine gun up and fired a long fusillade on full automatic, raking from the wall on one side of the crates behind which Graf cowered, along the crates themselves and to the wall on the other side. Except that it did not work quite as he had planned. He had correctly compensated for the recoil this time, keeping his burst flat and level as he walked the bullets along the crates, sending chunks of wood flying in all directions. However, the gun clicked onto an empty chamber before he had finished.

“Oh, shit.” He rapidly brought to mind the technique that Boris had demonstrated to him for ejecting the empty magazine, banging in the new one and working the mechanism to pump the first bullet into the chamber. He flicked the release lever on the side of the gun to drop out the curved magazine and .... and he had left all of the spare ones in his bag in Breunig’s office. He stood there completely stunned by his own stupidity, wondering whether to beat himself over the head with the empty, useless weapon.

Graf had heard the dry-fire of the weapon and peered over the top of the crates, ready to take advantage of the pause whilst Marner reloaded. He could scarcely believe his luck when he saw his adversary looking dejectedly back and forth between the unloaded machine gun in one hand and the empty magazine in the other. “If it is bullets that you are looking for Lieutenant,” he roared arrogantly, and fired twice at Marner, “have some of mine!”

Marner dipped smartly as the two rounds slammed into the structure of the crane near his head, striking sparks. He poked his head up again, expecting to see Graf running for the door, but was instead amazed and alarmed to see him actually walking calmly the other way, back towards the front entrance. It was only when he saw the menacing grin on Graf’s face, the determined stride straight towards where Lemele was peering over the top of the drums, that he realised what Graf’s intention was.

His call to Lemele to warn her of Graf’s approach was entirely unnecessary, since she could see perfectly well for herself. If Graf was surprised when she stood up, stepped out from behind the drums and actually began advancing towards him, it was nothing compared to his shock when she raised her right hand from her side and levelled Marner’s Walther P38 at his head. Graf stopped, began to open his mouth to reason with her but got no further because she began firing shots at him as fast as the semi-automatic pistol’s mechanism would permit, spent cartridges arcing out and dancing on the ground around her feet. Graf wheeled around and raced back along the quay and around the corner where he had been hiding just moments before. He was running near-blind, head down with his left arm up in a futile attempt to shield himself, Lemele’s shots exploding concrete dust from the wall behind him.

On seeing Lemele stand, advance at Graf and then begin firing at him, Marner had momentarily stood open mouthed in utter amazement. But when he saw Graf turn and flee he too began to run. Marner matched Graf’s progress on the opposite side of the pen, rounding the corner at exactly the same time and sprinted at full speed, head on with his quarry.

Graf only sensed Marner’s presence at the last moment, so intent was he on reaching the exit to escape from that demented witch and her gun. It was too late for Graf to react. The two men cannoned into one another and went down in a tangle of limbs, the impact knocking the air out of their lungs. Marner sat up and saw that Graf still had the pistol in his hand, was raising it to aim. Lashing out with his boot, the instep caught Graf’s wrist and the gun was sent clattering away out into the light beyond the doorway. Marner thumped the butt of the empty StG44 into Graf’s cheek, bringing a satisfying thud and yell of pain from him. Despite the blow, Graf was up first, grabbing each end of the machine gun in Marner’s hands and using his tactical advantage of height and gravity to push Marner down onto his back. If he did not do something to get out from underneath, Graf would crush the gun down on his throat and choke him. With the floor under him and Graf in too close, Marner could not kick, but he had just sufficient space between their bodies to drag his knees up to his chest. Suddenly he switched from pushing to pulling, which took Graf by surprise. Marner kept pulling, using the momentum and, as Graf started to come down on top of him, Marner kicked up and out with his legs, sending Graf up and over the top and nearly into the water.

Rolling onto his front, Marner was surprised to see Graf already rising to his feet. The man was incredibly agile. Graf rose up to his full height, drew his leg back ready to kick Marner in the face, but froze when a pistol barrel was rammed up against his temple. He felt as well as heard the hammer click back to the cocked position. “Ca suffit!” snarled Lemele.

Moments later a group of Kriegsmarine guards arrived, levelling their weapons at all three of them, unsure of exactly who it was they were supposed to be arresting. Most of them seemed intent on pointing their guns at Lemele because she was the only one armed, holding a pistol to the head of a Kriegsmarine officer no less. Fortunately Breunig was only seconds behind, still pale and white, panting and wild eyed but at least capable of gasping that it was Graf who should be placed under arrest.

The guards swivelled their weapons from Lemele to Graf. Lemele, instead of pulling the gun away from Graf’s head, pulled the trigger. Graf flinched and gasped as the hammer crunched onto the empty chamber, then he turned to glare at her with undisguised hatred as he was hauled away.

Chapter Twenty One

Back in Breunig’s office, with Graf now shackled and flanked by four guards, Marner instructed Breunig to call Hoffman at Kriegsmarine to report the day’s events. Breunig was still deeply in shock, gulping brandy in between apologising and explaining that he was only an engineer forced into uniform, not a military man. The chief of security had been summoned and he offered Marner the use of the base facilities and personnel to hold Graf pending his transfer to Paris. This Marner declined; he could see the hostile attitude of the guards and feared that if he left Graf in their charge, retribution might be exacted by the friends of the soldier that Graf had killed.

Instead, Marner requested the use of a vehicle to take Graf to the local Wehrmacht headquarters for holding. Marner’s plan was to move Graf to Paris and into Kripo custody at Foch as soon as possible. In particular, he wanted to keep Graf out of Gestapo hands until the potential involvement of the Gestapo and the Carlingue could be established. He considered going directly to the train station in order to set off for Paris immediately, but quickly rejected this idea. Whilst it was still only early afternoon, Paris was an eight hour journey by train at best and therefore his chances of reaching there by nightfall were practically nil. It was better to keep Graf under lockdown in secure facilities here in Bordeaux than have to improvise wherever they might end up stopping for the night.

The vehicle turned out to be a small open topped truck. Marner and Lemele shared the cab with the driver whilst Graf was thrown, literally, into the rear with the guards. Still shackled, he had been struggling to get up onto the tailgate and before Marner could intervene, two of the guards had lifted him up and hurled him in like a sack of vegetables, Graf bouncing and then rolling noisily along the floor of the van. Marner frowned at the sergeant in charge of the guard detail but it was plain to see from the man’s expression that he did not care; would probably like to do worse.

Once they had set off, Marner asked Lemele, “So you did know that the pistol was empty when you pulled the trigger on his head. Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” she replied, staring forward. “I counted the seven shots out when he was running.”

Marner gasped in horror. “No, eight! I told you, seven rounds in the
magazine
, plus one in the chamber. For go....” Then he saw that she was grinning, jesting with him. “Oh ha-ha; very funny.”

The Wehrmacht garrison was in the more down at heel suburbs on the eastern side of the Gironde. On arrival, Marner supervised Graf’s placement into a cell in the main building in the compound. He had been extremely surprised to find that the cells of the detention block, normally reserved for holding military personnel, were all full of civilians. The supervisor was a grizzled, bear-like Kaporal named Gotsmich who looked as if he were capable of bending the cell bars with his bare hands. Gotsmich explained that they were holding overspill from the SD headquarters in the town. “A lot of terrorist activity at the moment by the locals,” he growled. “We usually provide the manpower for arrests and big actions. Now we are also holding the prisoners until your SS chums are ready for them.” From the look in his face there was no doubt that Gotsmich felt no sympathy for the prisoners or their fate.

Marner instructed him that he needed Graf held overnight whilst arrangements were made to take him back to Paris, explaining that Graf was guilty of at least one murder - the German solider earlier in the day - possibly others. He needed to be sure that Graf would not be the subject of retribution whilst in Gotsmich’s ‘care’.

“Sounds like someone deserving of some retribution to me!” grumbled Gotsmich, defiantly crossing his huge arms.

“I fully agree with you,” responded Marner, in a tone that was intended to sound as if he genuinely did. “My point is that we also believe that he has been working in collusion with our enemies and that more German military personnel are in danger. That is why it is most essential that we persuade him to tell us the full extent of his involvement. Which is why I need him to be delivered safe and unharmed, for the moment at least, into the hands of our SS ‘experts’ in Paris,” he finished, putting some emphasis on the word ‘experts’ to infer that Graf’s fate would be worse than anything that Gotsmich could mete out. “To which I must add that some people who are very high up in Paris command are taking a very close interest in him. So you really do not want the responsibility of something unfortunate happening to him whilst he is in your charge.”