Read Online Codename Eagle by Robert Rigby - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Rigby
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Werner made ready to terrify the target with a shouted command to halt.
But the word froze on his lips.
It wasn’t Bernard. It was a small, plump, elderly woman, wearing a blue and white checked housecoat over a black dress.
She saw Werner, and the pistol aimed at her heart, and her eyes bulged. An ear-piercing scream escaped from her gaping mouth, and before Werner had the chance to order her to stop she had fainted and was lying at his feet.
“Shit!” Werner breathed.
“You’d better come away from the window, Antoine,” Paul said as they watched the police car cruise slowly past and come to a standstill outside the Bernard house further down the street.
Four men got out, two of them dressed as gendarmes and two in plain clothes.
“They’re not from around here,” Antoine Granel said.
“They don’t even look French,” Didier added.
“They’re Germans,” Antoine said. “Max was right.”
They had travelled quickly to Bélesta, Antoine leading the way in his ancient Renault, with Paul and Didier following on Didier’s motorbike. Even at the snail’s pace at which Antoine drove, the eight-kilometre journey took just fifteen minutes.
Back in Lavelanet, Paul had come up with the idea of watching the Bernard house, reasoning that if someone was waiting for Max, he would have to be relieved at some point. Even if the house were empty, Julia’s abductors would surely return for another attempt to find Max.
And Paul had been proved right. As he watched, the four men took a cursory look up and down the deserted street and then went quickly into the house.
“My Rosalie, my poor Rosalie,” Antoine said, turning away from the window. “I should have forbidden her to go over there.”
“I don’t think that would have stopped her,” Paul said. “She was very determined.”
“She’s always been brave,” Antoine continued. “And an actress, such an actress. I’m always telling her she should have been on the stage.”
Antoine’s wife, Rosalie, had volunteered to go across to the Bernard house to discover if anyone was lying in wait. She kept a spare key for emergencies and said that if necessary she would say she was the cleaner paying her regular weekly visit.
It seemed like a good idea to Paul and Didier at the time, but when Rosalie didn’t emerge soon after going into the house, they began to have their doubts. And now the police car had arrived.
“I’m scared,” Antoine said. “She’s old, you know, older than me. And I’m nearly seventy. I must go over.”
“That could make the situation worse,” Paul said. “Wait a little longer, please.”
“But they might hurt her.”
Paul risked a look through the window. “I don’t think so; they’ve got no reason to hurt her. And anyway, from what I saw, I think your wife can look after herself.”
THIRTEEN
T he twins stood in gloomy silence watching their dog devour scraps of fatty meat and leftovers from their own lunchtime meal. The huge mongrel licked the tin bowl clean and then lapped noisily at the fresh water Eddie had poured into a second tin.
The twins had never bothered giving the animal a name, but that didn’t mean they didn’t care about it. They did: they liked the dog, but it wasn’t a pet. It was a working animal, doing its job, keeping watch.
It was docile when the twins were nearby, but only then. The twins could approach without fear, but no one else. Any unfamiliar sound would provoke deep, ferocious barking, while the merest sight or smell of a stranger would see the animal bare its fangs and prepare to attack.
But with the twins, the dog was different. They didn’t offer any affection, but they fed it regularly and made sure its wooden kennel was dry and draught free. And in the depths of winter, when the snow was thick on the ground, the dog was allowed into the house at night, where it slept by the stove before returning to its work place in the morning.
Finishing the water, the animal lifted its
But the word froze on his lips.
It wasn’t Bernard. It was a small, plump, elderly woman, wearing a blue and white checked housecoat over a black dress.
She saw Werner, and the pistol aimed at her heart, and her eyes bulged. An ear-piercing scream escaped from her gaping mouth, and before Werner had the chance to order her to stop she had fainted and was lying at his feet.
“Shit!” Werner breathed.
“You’d better come away from the window, Antoine,” Paul said as they watched the police car cruise slowly past and come to a standstill outside the Bernard house further down the street.
Four men got out, two of them dressed as gendarmes and two in plain clothes.
“They’re not from around here,” Antoine Granel said.
“They don’t even look French,” Didier added.
“They’re Germans,” Antoine said. “Max was right.”
They had travelled quickly to Bélesta, Antoine leading the way in his ancient Renault, with Paul and Didier following on Didier’s motorbike. Even at the snail’s pace at which Antoine drove, the eight-kilometre journey took just fifteen minutes.
Back in Lavelanet, Paul had come up with the idea of watching the Bernard house, reasoning that if someone was waiting for Max, he would have to be relieved at some point. Even if the house were empty, Julia’s abductors would surely return for another attempt to find Max.
And Paul had been proved right. As he watched, the four men took a cursory look up and down the deserted street and then went quickly into the house.
“My Rosalie, my poor Rosalie,” Antoine said, turning away from the window. “I should have forbidden her to go over there.”
“I don’t think that would have stopped her,” Paul said. “She was very determined.”
“She’s always been brave,” Antoine continued. “And an actress, such an actress. I’m always telling her she should have been on the stage.”
Antoine’s wife, Rosalie, had volunteered to go across to the Bernard house to discover if anyone was lying in wait. She kept a spare key for emergencies and said that if necessary she would say she was the cleaner paying her regular weekly visit.
It seemed like a good idea to Paul and Didier at the time, but when Rosalie didn’t emerge soon after going into the house, they began to have their doubts. And now the police car had arrived.
“I’m scared,” Antoine said. “She’s old, you know, older than me. And I’m nearly seventy. I must go over.”
“That could make the situation worse,” Paul said. “Wait a little longer, please.”
“But they might hurt her.”
Paul risked a look through the window. “I don’t think so; they’ve got no reason to hurt her. And anyway, from what I saw, I think your wife can look after herself.”
THIRTEEN
T he twins stood in gloomy silence watching their dog devour scraps of fatty meat and leftovers from their own lunchtime meal. The huge mongrel licked the tin bowl clean and then lapped noisily at the fresh water Eddie had poured into a second tin.
The twins had never bothered giving the animal a name, but that didn’t mean they didn’t care about it. They did: they liked the dog, but it wasn’t a pet. It was a working animal, doing its job, keeping watch.
It was docile when the twins were nearby, but only then. The twins could approach without fear, but no one else. Any unfamiliar sound would provoke deep, ferocious barking, while the merest sight or smell of a stranger would see the animal bare its fangs and prepare to attack.
But with the twins, the dog was different. They didn’t offer any affection, but they fed it regularly and made sure its wooden kennel was dry and draught free. And in the depths of winter, when the snow was thick on the ground, the dog was allowed into the house at night, where it slept by the stove before returning to its work place in the morning.
Finishing the water, the animal lifted its
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