giving us time to take care of the two lieutenants while Rasmussen subdued the General. It should have worked, and might have, if anybody had been in the room. The music was still playing and there were wine glasses on the coffee table, but the room was empty. We looked around quickly. The kitchen was in the back, which was where Rasmussen had come in and it was empty as well. That only left the two bedrooms, one on each side of the living room, both with the doors closed. Rasmussen nodded us toward the one on the right and he headed for the other one.
They were in the one he'd assigned to us. Daryl went in first, being the shorter, so I could shoot over him if necessary. I slammed the door open while he dove inside, rolling quickly to his feet and turning the wrong way. I came in standing - their attention should have been on him, according to our training - and looked the right way. I had the pistol pointed in front of me and turned my head quickly to the right when I found nothing in that direction. The bed was on that side of the room and was occupied…
I might have used the excuse that I was young and naive. Maybe so, but I hope I never get that old and jaded. It shocked me, which is no excuse - after all I had a job to do and had been trained to do that job. Both men were naked, one lying on his stomach, while the other crouched over his legs, doing something obscene with a pistol.
The one with the pistol saw me at the same time I saw him and swung it toward me while I stood there frozen like a gaping idiot, with my own pistol out of position. By the time I could move it was too late. I was dead. I could see his finger tightening on the trigger just as someone yelled my name and something hit me in the side, knocking me out of the way. I heard two shots, so close together they almost sounded as one, and I saw a small hole appear in the forehead of the man with the gun. By now I was fully awake and dove toward the other one. We had been told to leave as few bullet holes as possible on the inside - the outside didn't matter - and I was finally following orders.
I hit him and broke his neck. I'll have to admit that it surprised me almost as much as it did him. I'd known from training that it could be done that way, but I hadn't had any really good reason to think I could do it. I'd been ready to throw myself on top of him and pin him down and finish him off, one way or another, before he could recover from the first blow. It wasn't necessary. There were some ugly, convulsive jerks and twitches as the final, fading signals filtered through the damaged circuits; then he lay limp and still.
By then Rasmussen had come in and we both headed toward the bathroom. The General was no problem. He was crouched in the shower, crying in terror, as naked as his two friends. I went back to see about Daryl, who we'd left standing in the room. He was sitting on the bottom of the bed, holding his left shoulder. With a little grunting, we managed to get the German's jacket off him, baring his shoulder. He had a deep furrow in the fleshy part of his upper arm, just below the shoulder blade. While Rasmussen went to get Fedder and a first aid kit, I took Daryl into the bathroom and cleaned the wound out, holding a towel on it until Fedder came in and bandaged it.
I looked at Daryl and held out my hand. "Thanks, amigo," I said.
He took it, smiled and replied, "Nada."
Chapter 11
Fedder blew the house on schedule and we got away clean. Jacques and his friends got us all to the coast without incident and the Navy got us back to England, where the General was turned over to British Intelligence. I didn't think they would have any trouble getting him to talk, not after seeing him in the bathroom. I carefully suppressed the thought that the perverted bastard deserved it.
For the most part, we were ignored by the M-5 or M-6 guys
They were in the one he'd assigned to us. Daryl went in first, being the shorter, so I could shoot over him if necessary. I slammed the door open while he dove inside, rolling quickly to his feet and turning the wrong way. I came in standing - their attention should have been on him, according to our training - and looked the right way. I had the pistol pointed in front of me and turned my head quickly to the right when I found nothing in that direction. The bed was on that side of the room and was occupied…
I might have used the excuse that I was young and naive. Maybe so, but I hope I never get that old and jaded. It shocked me, which is no excuse - after all I had a job to do and had been trained to do that job. Both men were naked, one lying on his stomach, while the other crouched over his legs, doing something obscene with a pistol.
The one with the pistol saw me at the same time I saw him and swung it toward me while I stood there frozen like a gaping idiot, with my own pistol out of position. By the time I could move it was too late. I was dead. I could see his finger tightening on the trigger just as someone yelled my name and something hit me in the side, knocking me out of the way. I heard two shots, so close together they almost sounded as one, and I saw a small hole appear in the forehead of the man with the gun. By now I was fully awake and dove toward the other one. We had been told to leave as few bullet holes as possible on the inside - the outside didn't matter - and I was finally following orders.
I hit him and broke his neck. I'll have to admit that it surprised me almost as much as it did him. I'd known from training that it could be done that way, but I hadn't had any really good reason to think I could do it. I'd been ready to throw myself on top of him and pin him down and finish him off, one way or another, before he could recover from the first blow. It wasn't necessary. There were some ugly, convulsive jerks and twitches as the final, fading signals filtered through the damaged circuits; then he lay limp and still.
By then Rasmussen had come in and we both headed toward the bathroom. The General was no problem. He was crouched in the shower, crying in terror, as naked as his two friends. I went back to see about Daryl, who we'd left standing in the room. He was sitting on the bottom of the bed, holding his left shoulder. With a little grunting, we managed to get the German's jacket off him, baring his shoulder. He had a deep furrow in the fleshy part of his upper arm, just below the shoulder blade. While Rasmussen went to get Fedder and a first aid kit, I took Daryl into the bathroom and cleaned the wound out, holding a towel on it until Fedder came in and bandaged it.
I looked at Daryl and held out my hand. "Thanks, amigo," I said.
He took it, smiled and replied, "Nada."
Chapter 11
Fedder blew the house on schedule and we got away clean. Jacques and his friends got us all to the coast without incident and the Navy got us back to England, where the General was turned over to British Intelligence. I didn't think they would have any trouble getting him to talk, not after seeing him in the bathroom. I carefully suppressed the thought that the perverted bastard deserved it.
For the most part, we were ignored by the M-5 or M-6 guys
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