Faked Passports Read online

  As he strove to silence his quickened breathing the awful urge to cough gripped him, as it had up in the tree. Closing his eyes he fought it down, but cramp got him in the leg that was doubled under him and he was forced to move it. The twigs snapped beneath him but just at that moment the rustling in the bushes came once more, and this time it was moving away. After a further five minutes of tense listening he grew calmer and decided that they were safe again. The sweat on his brow was turning icy with the cold. With a heavy sigh he brushed it off and, settling himself, endeavoured to court forgetfulness in sleep.

  When he opened his eyes the cold light of a new day showed the trees and brambles rimed in frost. It was a fairy scene but one which filled him only with fresh dismay. He lifted the white-powdered collar of Gregory’s greatcoat and saw that the wounded man was pale but breathing evenly. As he sat up he heard a faint noise just behind him.

  It came from the direction in which he had heard the Germans speaking in the darkness the night before. Instantly Gregory’s suggestion that the gunners might leave pickets posted in the wood flashed into his mind. Swinging round he very cautiously raised his head and peered between the thorny strands of the blackberry bushes.

  Something grey caught his eye; it lifted a little and he saw the flat, round brim of a German officer’s cap. He tried to duck back; but it was too late. A lean, grey-moustached face had risen above the brambles and a pair of hard blue eyes were staring straight into his. As he instinctively rose to his feet the German stood up and his hand was already on the automatic at his belt.

  Chapter III

  The Colonel-Baron Von Lutz

  Having only just woken, Charlton’s circulation had not yet got going; he was bitterly cold from his night in the woods and his brain was still half-fogged with sleep. In addition, it was now Friday morning and he had not had a proper meal since Wednesday. Yet, in spite of his lowered vitality and half-dazed condition, he realised that the only chance of escaping capture now lay in an immediate attempt to overcome this solitary German. Bracing his muscles and lowering his head he hurled himself forward.

  Several feet of brambles separated them. Before Freddie had plunged a couple of paces through the tangle the officer had whipped out his automatic and spat out with a threatening scowl:

  “Holten Sie da!”

  The lean, grey-moustached face of the German showed stern resolution; his blue eyes were cold and commanding; the blue-black steel barrel of the big pistol that was trained so unwaveringly upon Charlton’s middle held a threat which he could not ignore. It would have been stark lunacy to force the hand of such a man with such a weapon. Pulling up with a jerk Freddie slowly raised his clenched fists above his head.

  As he stared at the German he thought with bitter fury how utterly futile it had been to spend the last thirty miserable hours hiding in the wood only to be caught at last. Evidently Gregory had been quite wrong in his supposition that, having searched the wood without success, the soldiers would conclude that the fugitive airmen had succeeded in getting further afield and abandon the hunt for them there. Obviously the officer who was staring at him so intently could be in the wood only for the purpose of inspecting pickets that he had left posted in it the previous night.

  When the German rapped out, “Was machen Sie hier?” it conveyed nothing to him; he could only reply:

  “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “You are English, eh?” exclaimed the officer with evident surprise, and lowering his gun a little he added: “I asked what is it that you do in this place.”

  He spoke fluent, if ungrammatical, English and his question made Charlton stare, since it showed that he was not, after all, an officer of the anti-aircraft battery and evidently had not heard that two enemy airmen were being sought for in the neighbourhood.

  “Perhaps you’ll tell us what you’re doing here yourself?” said a quiet voice, and swinging round Freddie saw that the sound of talking had wakened Gregory. He was now standing up and stepped out of the gully on to the higher ground at its edge.

  The German’s blue eyes narrowed in an uneasy look for a second, but he straightened himself and said abruptly: “I own this wood so I haf a very goot right to be here in. What two Englishmen should be making here in time of war is another question and I haf the right to demand the answer.”

  From where Gregory was standing he could see the officer’s rank-badges and a pile of tumbled rugs round his feet. He bowed slightly and his voice held a gentle note of amusement as he said: “Herr Oberst, if you own this wood presumably you also own the charming little manor-house just through the trees there? I have no right to question you at all but I confess that I’m extremely curious to know why, instead of sleeping in your own bed, you passed the night in the ditch where you are now standing.”

  “Enough of this!” said the Colonel, with rising irritation. “You will observe, please, that I am armed while you haf not. Reply instantlich to my question! What do you do here?”

  “The same as you, apparently.”

  “Donnerwetter! I haf a right to camp out if I am wishing,” the German snapped. “What else do you think I make but hard sleeping which for a soldier is goot?”

  “Why, that you are trying to keep out of the hands of the Gestapo, of course,” Gregory grinned.

  For a second the Colonel’s jaw dropped, then he said harshly: “Absurdity! What makes you that believe?”

  “Simply because even the most hardened soldier would not spend a night in the woods at this season of the year if he could sleep in his own comfortable bed. Evidently the Putsch was a failure and you’re on the run.”

  “The Putsch! What do you know of that?”

  “I started it.” Gregory pulled back the flap of his greatcoat and displayed the Iron Cross of the First Class which was still pinned upon his chest. “For the part I played General Count von Pleisen honoured me with this. I can only say how immeasurably distressed I am to learn from your presence here, Herr Oberst, that the Nazis succeeded in suppressing the rebellion which was to have freed Germany.”

  The Colonel suddenly put his pistol back in its holster and took a step forward. “Gott im Himmel! I thought I haf somewhere seen your face. I was at der Pleisen Palast with the comradeship of officers before the Putsch when the Count decorated you. Permit that I introduce myself.” Drawing himself up he clicked his heels and bowed sharply from the waist. “Oberst-Baron von Lutz.”

  Gregory imitated the movement and rapped out his name, adding with a wave of his hand: “This is Flight-Lieutenant Charlton. After I’d completed my mission he was to fly me home and we left from a secret air-field, east of Berlin, on the night of the 8th; but we were shot down a couple of miles on the far side of this wood and have been hiding here ever since.”

  “Ach so! I knew nothing of this as I escape from the Capital only last night.”

  “Then, I take it that all hope of the Putsch succeeding has been abandoned?”

  Colonel-Baron von Lutz nodded despondently. “It might haf succeeded if Hitler had been blown up in Munich as was planned, but swiftly it becomes known that he had escape the bomb and all Army leaders outside Berlin postponed action. This makes him free to concentrate his entire effort against those who in the Capital had risen. He sent bombing squadrons against us early yesterday morning which caused many casualties at the Artillery and Tank Depots. Battalions of S.S. and S.A. men were rushed to the city from all quarters of the Reich. By afternoon our situation desperate became. At six o’clock five of our leading Generals haf taken decision to give their brother-officers chances to escape, also to save further slaughter of their men by issuing the cease fire order and giving themselves up. I haf the goot fortune to get away by automobile but I walked the last twelve kilometres point to point so that of the local people none should see me to my estate arrive.”

  “A sad ending to a gallant effort, Herr Oberst-Baron,” Gregory said, in an attempt to hearten the elderly officer, “but it is only a postponement. G
ermany will yet throw off the Nazi yoke.”

  “Most true. But in the meantime the names of all who attacked the Gestapo Chiefs in the Adlon and of many other officers who participated in the revolt will haf been listed. If among the dead their bodies are not found they will be hunted, as the hares, to all corners of the Reich. Few of us who were in the rising of the 8th will live to see the day of freedom.”

  “As far as you’re concerned …” Gregory paused to step back and support himself against a tree “… since you managed to get this far there’s a decent chance that you may be able to remain in hiding until the time when there is a successful revolution.”

  Von Lutz brushed up his grey moustache. “I shall certainly endeavour to do so; but if the Nazis hunt me out I intend to sell my life very dear.”

  “It seems that the three of us are in the same boat,” Gregory smiled weakly; “although Charlton, here, could surrender peaceably if he wished, since when he was shot down he was acting as an R.A.F. officer on duty.”

  “Oh, if there’s any fighting you can count me in,” Freddie shrugged. “I’d rather take a chance with you two now than be starved to death in a prisoners-of-war camp. We couldn’t put up much of a fight without arms; but perhaps the Baron could help us there?”

  “Yes; arms and food—that’s what we need,” muttered Gregory. “I’m afraid, though, that in my case I shan’t be able to give much of an account of myself for a day or two.”

  Von Lutz gave him a searching look. “You are pale. And surely those stains under your left arm are dried blood? Are you wounded?”

  “I got one through the shoulder during that fight at the Adlon. The wound’s not dangerous but it’s become inflamed, and I’ve an idea that I was delirious last night.”

  “You certainly were,” Freddie supplemented. “How’re youfeeling now?”

  “Pretty groggy. I’m still running a temperature.”

  “For a hunted man that is bad.” The Baron’s lined face creased into a frown. “We must do what we can for you. The Gestapo had their hands filled yesterday but by now they will on a nation-wide round-up haf started. They may come to make search of my house at any time. But my family and my servants will do all possible to protect me. They will keep look-out while your wound is being made clean. To the house, then, gentlemen!”

  “I hate to add to your difficulties, sir,” Gregory demurred.

  For the first time the lean-faced Prussian aristocrat smiled. “Please. It makes nothing, as by this time there must on my own head be a price. If the coast is a clear one we will soon haf you fixed; also some breakfast which will put the better heart into us all.”

  As they turned towards the house Freddie saw that Gregory’s teeth were chattering and that he stumbled after he had moved a few yards, upon which he jumped to his assistance, realising that he had managed to carry on his recent conversation only by a terrific effort of will-power and was still in the grip of fever. When they reached the end of the kitchen-garden the Baron signed to them to halt and went forward cautiously on his own. After a moment he beckoned.

  “It is goot. A towel hangs from my daughter’s window. This signal I haf arranged with her.”

  They followed him through the orchard and up some steps to a wide verandah at the back of the low white house. Although it was not yet seven o’clock, like all German households that of Colonel-Baron von Lutz was early astir. A plump maid-servant in voluminous petticoats was on her knees polishing the parquet of the room into which he led them. As they entered she scrambled to her feet and bobbed before her master.

  “Kuss die Hand, Herr Oberst-Baron”

  “Guten Tag, Lenchen” he nodded. “Frangen Sie die Fräulein Magda hier stimpt, bitte.”

  The maid quickly collected her cleaning things and left the room while Freddie eased Gregory down into a near-by chair. A few moments later the door opened again and a tall girl in her middle-twenties came in. She was good-looking in a hard, healthy way. Her hair was very fair, her eyes china-blue; her skin was good and the colour in her cheeks was natural but, to Freddie, her lips and eyelashes seemed unduly pale as she wore no make-up, and her strong, well-proportioned figure did not show to its best advantage in the ugly ginger-coloured cloth coat-and-skirt that she was wearing.

  When she had greeted her father he rapidly explained to her in German the reason for the presence of the two strangers. Freddie could not understand what was said but he caught the phrase, “Englische Fliege”, and noticed Fräulein Magda’s well-cut chin lift a little as she shot a sharp glance of disapproval at him.

  He was quick to sense that as a patriotic German girl she did not like the idea of sheltering her country’s enemies, but evidently Prussian discipline was maintained in the household and the Baron’s wish was law. She said no word of protest but went over to Gregory at once and laid a cool hand on his forehead.

  His eyes were now closed and he remained slumped forward in the chair. The father and daughter exchanged a few quick sentences and then the Baron turned to Freddie.

  “Your friend ought to bed be put but here it is too dangerous to offer hospitality. My daughter a trained nurse is so she will give goot attention to his wound. After, we will eat, yes; then we must to the woods return.”

  While Magda went for towels, hot water and bandages Charlton and the Baron partially undressed Gregory, who had now lapsed into semi-consciousness and become delirious again.

  When she returned they found that the wound was suppurating badly. The flesh all round it was hot and puffy and when his temperature was taken it registered the Centigrade equivalent of 103.6 Fahrenheit. Having cleaned the wound and applied hot fomentations Magda dressed it with quick, efficient fingers, then directed them in making Gregory as comfortable as possible on a sofa.

  Freddie was now seriously alarmed for him but since there was nothing else they could do he allowed his host to lead him into another room. Breakfast had been laid there, and, as they were about to sit down, an elderly woman came bustling in whom von Lutz introduced as his wife.

  The Frau Baronin was fat, grey-haired and had a rather stupid face which was only relieved by china-blue eyes like her daughter’s. She spoke no English and after greeting Charlton with a nervous smile remained silent, her thoughts evidently occupied by acute anxiety about her husband.

  Owing to the Baron’s having had to spend a night in the woods a special breakfast had been prepared. In addition to the usual cereals there was a roast hare, the tantalising odour of which made Freddie realise his hunger to such an extent that it was only with difficulty he prevented himself from eating ravenously. Somewhat to his surprise, there was a big pat of fresh butter, but this, von Lutz told him, came from the home-farm. There were also ample supplies of potato-bread and home-made jam. The only weakness in an otherwise excellent meal was the weak coffee-substitute with which they had to wash it down.

  During breakfast the Baron explained to Freddie the precautions he had taken to prevent their being surprised. Most of the men from the estate had been called up for the war but he still had half a dozen, over fifty, working on the place as farm-labourers and foresters. On his arrival the night before he had had them aroused from their beds and brought to the house so that he could explain his position to them. All of them came from local families who had served his own for several generations. Such of their younger members as had become influenced by the Nazi doctrines had been conscripted for the Army, but these older men were completely loyal.

  On their expressing their willingness to do everything they could to shield him, von Lutz had organised them into watches which were to take turns in guarding the approaches to the house. Each man would be carrying a shot-gun during his turn on duty and if cars or any suspicious-looking strangers appeared whoever saw them was to fire off first one barrel of his gun then, after half a minute’s interval, the other, as though shooting at a rabbit. The sentries were half a mile away but in the clear country-air the sound of the shots would easily carry that dis
tance and give sufficient time for the fugitives to escape out of the house into the woods again.

  Magda had tackled the maid-servants and farm-women, who had all sworn that no questioning would induce them to say that they had seen anything of the Colonel-Baron since he had last been home on leave in the first week of October.

  When breakfast was over it was decided that Gregory must be carried out to the woods again and while von Lutz went upstairs to the attic to get an old camp-bed that they could use as a stretcher Magda fed the sick man with some spoonfuls of hot broth. Having fixed up the bed she packed round him all the hot-water bottles that could be found in the house, to keep him as warm as possible, then wrapped him in blankets; after which the Baron and Freddie carried him on the improvised stretcher out through the garden and back to the gully where they had spent the previous night.

  By daylight they were able to find a better place in which to conceal themselves than any they had yet discovered. Some twenty yards further into the wood the gully grew deeper; the side of the bank was nearly five feet high and had fallen away leaving a hollow that was overhung by a mass of brambles. They placed Gregory’s bed in it and sat down near-by to await events.

  Although the pale sunlight of the November morning was now slanting through the leafless branches of the trees it was still very cold. In his pocket Freddie had an old-fashioned revolver, given him by the Baron: the only weapon, apart from sporting guns, that the house contained, but that was not much comfort. It seemed pretty certain that Gestapo agents would visit the house some time during the day. If one of the farmhands proved unreliable, or one of the women-servants broke down under the questioning which they would have to face, the Nazis would surround the hiding-place and capture was certain. In any case, with the climate against them and a desperately ill man on their hands, Freddie did not see how they could possibly remain at large for long. But he was in this thing and he could only wait, with the best patience he could muster, to see what the day would bring.