A Matter of Honor

“I wish I was,” said Adam. “Now, when I get out of this car you must turn round and go back to the hotel and never mention this conversation to anyone, especially your mother.”

“I will,” Linda said, sounding nervous for the first time.

“You’re a fantastic girl,” said Adam, and took her in his arms and gave her the longest, warmest kiss she had ever experienced. Adam then got out of the car and watched her nearly drive into a ditch before she headed off back in the direction of Dijon.

He checked his watch: an hour and a half still to go before they were due, and by then it would be pitch dark. He jogged over to the airfield and studied the burned-out buildings that ran alongside the road. It was exactly as Lawrence had described it. It was like a ghost town, and Adam was confident that no one else could be there yet, as they still wouldn’t have had enough time to carry out Lawrence’s plan.

Looking across the runway, Adam spotted the ideal place to hide while he waited to see which of the two plans he had prepared would prove necessary.

Flight Lt. Alan Banks of the British Royal Air Force was thankful that the moon shone so brightly that night. He had landed the little RAF Hawker Typhoon in far worse conditions when a runway had been lit up like the Blackpool sea-front.

Banks circled the perimeter of the airfield once and studied the two runways carefully. The airport had been out of action for such a long time that none of the aircraft manuals included a detailed ground plan.

The flight lieutenant was breaking every rule in the book, including piloting an unmarked aircraft and informing the French that they would be landing in Paris; not easy to explain overshooting an airport by over a hundred miles.

“I can make a landing on the north-south runway more easily,” Banks said, turning to the SAS captain, who sat crouched in the back with his five men. “How near to that hangar do you want me to go?” he said, pointing out of the window.

“Stay well clear, at least a couple of hundred yards,” came back the reply. “We still don’t know what to expect.”

The six SAS men continued to stare cautiously out of the side windows. They had been briefed to pick up a lone Englishman called Scott who would be waiting for them, and then get out fast. It sounded easy enough, but it couldn’t be; otherwise they wouldn’t have been called in.

The pilot swung the Hawker around to the south and put the nose down. He smiled when he spotted the burned-out Spitfire that had been left derelict on the corner of the runway. Just like the ones his father used to fly during the Second World War. But this one had obviously never made it home. He descended confidently, and as the little plane touched down it bounced along the runway not because the pilot lacked experience but because the surface was so badly pitted.

Flight Lt. Banks brought the plane to a halt about two hundred yards from the hangar and swung the fuselage round a full circle, ready for that quick getaway the captain seemed so keen to execute. He pressed the button that cut the propellers and turned the lights out. The whirring slowed to an eerie whisper. They were forty-three minutes early.

Adam watched the new arrivals suspiciously from the cockpit of the Spitfire some four hundred yards away. He wasn’t going to make a run for it across that open ground while the moon shone so brightly. His eyes never left the little unmarked plane as he waited for some clue as to who the occupants might be. He estimated it would be another fifteen minutes before the moon would be shielded by clouds. A few minutes more passed before Adam watched six men drop out of the blind side of the aircraft and lie flat on the tarmac on their stomachs. They were correctly dressed in SAS battle gear but Adam remained unconvinced while he still recalled Romanov’s chauffeur’s uniform. The six soldiers made no attempt to move. Neither did Adam, as he was still uncertain which side they were on.

All six men on the ground hated the moon and even more the open space. The captain checked his watch: thirty-six minutes to go. He raised his hand, and they began to crawl toward the hangar where Pemberton had said Scott would be waiting, a journey that took them nearly twenty minutes, and with each movement they made they became more confident that Pemberton’s warning of an enemy waiting for them was unjustified.

At last a mass of clouds reached the moon, and a shadow was thrown across the whole airfield. The SAS captain quickly checked his watch. Five minutes to go before the rendezvous was due. He was the first to reach the door of the hangar, and he pushed it open with the palm of his hand. He wriggled in through the gap. The bullet hit him in the forehead even before he had found time to raise his gun.

“Move, laddies,” shouted the second in command, and the other four were up in a flash, firing in an arc in front of them and running for the protection of the building.

As soon as Adam heard the Scottish brogue, he jumped out of the cockpit and sprinted across the tarmac toward the little plane, whose propellers were already beginning to turn. He jumped on the wing and climbed in by the side of the surprised pilot.

“I’m Adam Scott, the man you’ve come to pick up,” he shouted.

“I’m Flight Lieutenant Alan Banks, old chap,” said the pilot, thrusting out his hand. Only a British officer could shake hands in such a situation, thought Adam, relieved if still terrified.

They both turned and watched the battle.

“We ought to get going,” said the pilot. “My orders are to see you are brought back to England in one piece.”

“Not before we are certain none of your men can make it back to the plane.”

“Sorry, mate. My instructions are to get you out. Their orders are to take care of themselves.”

“Let’s at least give them another minute,” Adam said.

They waited until the propellers were rotating at full speed. Suddenly the firing stopped, and Adam could hear his heart thumping in his body.

“We ought to get moving,” said the pilot.

“I know,” replied Adam, “but just keep your eyes skinned. There’s something I still need to know.”

Years of night marches made it possible for Adam to see him long before the pilot.