The Unlikely Spy(162)

Two minutes later, he spotted the back of the van. He called out but there was no reply. He looked more closely. It was not the police vehicle; it had London plates and was a different model. Sullivan moved forward slowly. He approached the front of the van from the passenger side and shone his torch inside. The front seat was empty. He turned the beam toward the storage area at the back.

It was then he spotted the bodies.





Sullivan left the van in the trees and rode back to Louth, pedaling as fast as he could. He arrived at the police station and quickly raised Chief Superintendent Lockwood at the RAF base.

"All four of them are dead," he said, out of breath from the ride. "They're lying in the back of a van, but it's not theirs. The fugitives appear to have taken the police van. Based on the tracks on the road, I'd say they came back toward Louth."

Lockwood said, "Where are the bodies now?"

"I left them in the wood, sir."

"Go back and wait with them until help arrives."

"Yes, sir."

Lockwood rang off. "Four dead men. My God!"

"I'm sorry, Chief Superintendent. So much for my theories about them going to ground. They're obviously here and they'll do anything to escape, including murder four of your men in cold blood."

"We have another problem--they're driving a police vehicle. To get word to the officers manning the roadblocks is going to take time. Meanwhile, your spies are dangerously close to the coast." Lockwood walked to the map. "Louth is here, just to the south of us. They can now take any number of secondary roads to the sea."

"Redeploy your men. Throw everything between Louth and the coast."

"Indeed, but it's going to take time. And your spies have a jump on us."

"One other thing," Vicary said. "Bring those dead men back here as quietly as possible. When this is all over, it may be necessary to concoct another explanation for their deaths."

"What do I tell their families?" Lockwood snapped and stormed out.

Vicary picked up the telephone. The operator connected him with MI5 headquarters in London. A department operator answered. Vicary asked for Boothby and waited for him to come on the line.

"Hello, Sir Basil. I'm afraid we've got big trouble up here."





A stiff wind drove rain across the Cleethorpes waterfront as Neumann slowed and turned into a row of warehouses and garages. He stopped and shut down the motor. Dawn was not far off. In the faint light he could see a small quay, with several fishing boats tied up there and additional boats bobbing at their moorings in the black water. They had made excellent time up the coast. Twice they had approached roadblocks and twice they were waved through with no question, thanks to the van they were driving.

Jack Kincaid's flat was supposed to be over a garage. There was a wooden exterior staircase with a door at the top. Neumann climbed out and walked up the stairs, reflexively pulling out his Mauser as he approached the door. He rapped softly but there was no answer. He tried the latch; it was unlocked. He opened the door and walked inside.

He was immediately struck by the stench of the place: rotting rubbish, stale cigarettes, unwashed bodies, an overwhelming smell of alcohol. He tried the light switch but nothing happened. He removed his torch from his pocket and switched it on. The beam caught the figure of a large man sleeping on a bare mattress. Neumann picked his way across the filthy room and nudged the man with the toe of his boot.

"You Jack Kincaid?"

"Yeah. Who are you?"

"My name is James Porter. You're supposed to give me a lift in your boat."

"Oh, yes, yes." Kincaid tried to sit up but couldn't. Neumann shone the light directly into his face. He was at least sixty years old, and his craggy face showed the signs of heavy drinking.

"Have a little bit to drink last night, Jack?" Neumann asked.

"A little."

"Which boat is yours, Jack?"

"The Camilla."

"Where is she, exactly?"

"Down at the quay. You can't miss her."

Kincaid was passing out again.

"You won't mind if I just borrow her for a bit, do you, Jack?"

Kincaid didn't answer, just started snoring heavily.

"Thanks awfully, Jack."





Neumann went out and got back inside the van.

"Our captain is in no condition to sail. Drunk out of his mind."

"The boat?"

"The Camilla. He says it's right down there on the quay."

"There's something else down there."

"What's that?"

"You'll see in just a minute."

Neumann watched as a constable stepped into view.

"They must be watching the entire coast," Neumann said.

"It's a shame. Another needless casualty."

"Let's get it over with. I've killed more people tonight than I did in all the time I was in the Fallschirmjager."

"Why do you think Vogel sent you here?"

Neumann didn't respond. "What about Jenny?"

"She comes with us."

"I want to leave her here. She's no use to us now."