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Authors: Jack Higgins
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entrance.
Luciano said, ‘Yes, I can believe that, Professor. With your kind of influence I can believe anything.’
As the Flying Fortress gained height, climbing out over the Atlantic, the New England coastline falling away, Carter made himself as comfortable as possible in the sleeping bag the Quartermaster had given him. Beside him, Luciano was having the same problem.
‘One thing's for sure, they didn't intend these things to carry passengers.’
Carter took an envelope from his pocket and passed it across. ‘Your name is now Frank Orsini. You're a field operative in the Office of Strategic Services with the rank of captain. Everything you need to back that up is in the envelope.’
‘Christmas in June,’ Luciano said.
He took the Madonna from one of his pockets, jumped the blade and sliced open the envelope.
Carter said, ‘Where on earth did that come from?’
‘With the clothes, from good old Great Meadow.’ Luciano smiled. ‘You can get most things in there, Professor. Let's just say it was a parting gift from a friend.’
A sergeant radio-operator appeared and crouched down beside Carter, holding a signal. ‘Colonel Carter, this came through for you just as we were leaving. Plain language. I hope it makes sense, sir.’
Carter glanced at it and smiled. ‘Perfect sense, sergeant.’
The boy moved away and Luciano said, ‘You seem pleased.’
‘You could say that. An interesting fact about this war, Mr Luciano, is that the British are actually more thoroughly documented than the Germans. Every man, woman and child has to have a National Identity Card. Remember the piece of paper I gave the President? It was a request for our Intelligence people in London to see if they could run down Maria Vaughan. It didn't take them long.’
He passed the signal and Luciano's eyes widened. ‘Sister Maria Vaughan. Convent of the Little Sisters of Pity, Liverpool. Holy Mother of God.’
‘Careful,’ Carter told him as he took the signal back. ‘You almost crossed yourself.’
‘Little Sisters of Pity. That's a new one on me.’
‘It's a nursing order.’
‘Liverpool. Isn't that a port?’
‘On the north west coast of England. Lancashire.’
‘You intend to go see her?’
‘Yes, I would say that's a distinct possibility.’
‘Everything's click-click with you,’ Luciano said. ‘I bet you're one hell of a chess player. But no emotion. You ever love anybody, Professor? I mean really love?’
Carter nodded. ‘Oh, yes, very definitely.’
‘When was this?’
‘About a thousand years ago when I was sixteen. Farmer's daughter in Norfolk where we used to go for family holidays. I can see her now, running over the sand dunes in a cotton frock.’
‘What happened?’
‘She died during the influenza epidemic just after the war. Now me, I ran away from school and joined an infantry battalion just before my seventeenth birthday. I thought it was a romantic thing to do.’
‘That figures,’ Luciano said, but he was no longer smiling.
‘We started the big push in 1918 with a battalion of 752 men. Within three months, we were down to seventy-three. I couldn't get killed and she had to die of bloody influenza.’
Luciano said calmly, ‘So you never married?’
‘Yes, my second cousin, Olive, in 1923.’
‘You loved her?’
‘She was a childhood friend and she loved me.’
‘You got children?’
‘No, she had the worst kind of miscarriage very early on.’
‘You going to see her when we get in?’
Carter shook his head. ‘Not possible. She died of cancer in ’thirty-eight.’
Luciano nodded. ‘So, the war came just in time for you.’
Carter gazed at him blankly. ‘You think so?’
‘Don't you?’ Luciano tipped the slouch hat over his eyes, folded his arms and slept.
6
It was raining hard in Liverpool the following night when JU88 pathfinders made their first strike on the Liverpool Docks. At the General Infirmary, Sister Maria Vaughan had been due to go off duty at
Luciano said, ‘Yes, I can believe that, Professor. With your kind of influence I can believe anything.’
As the Flying Fortress gained height, climbing out over the Atlantic, the New England coastline falling away, Carter made himself as comfortable as possible in the sleeping bag the Quartermaster had given him. Beside him, Luciano was having the same problem.
‘One thing's for sure, they didn't intend these things to carry passengers.’
Carter took an envelope from his pocket and passed it across. ‘Your name is now Frank Orsini. You're a field operative in the Office of Strategic Services with the rank of captain. Everything you need to back that up is in the envelope.’
‘Christmas in June,’ Luciano said.
He took the Madonna from one of his pockets, jumped the blade and sliced open the envelope.
Carter said, ‘Where on earth did that come from?’
‘With the clothes, from good old Great Meadow.’ Luciano smiled. ‘You can get most things in there, Professor. Let's just say it was a parting gift from a friend.’
A sergeant radio-operator appeared and crouched down beside Carter, holding a signal. ‘Colonel Carter, this came through for you just as we were leaving. Plain language. I hope it makes sense, sir.’
Carter glanced at it and smiled. ‘Perfect sense, sergeant.’
The boy moved away and Luciano said, ‘You seem pleased.’
‘You could say that. An interesting fact about this war, Mr Luciano, is that the British are actually more thoroughly documented than the Germans. Every man, woman and child has to have a National Identity Card. Remember the piece of paper I gave the President? It was a request for our Intelligence people in London to see if they could run down Maria Vaughan. It didn't take them long.’
He passed the signal and Luciano's eyes widened. ‘Sister Maria Vaughan. Convent of the Little Sisters of Pity, Liverpool. Holy Mother of God.’
‘Careful,’ Carter told him as he took the signal back. ‘You almost crossed yourself.’
‘Little Sisters of Pity. That's a new one on me.’
‘It's a nursing order.’
‘Liverpool. Isn't that a port?’
‘On the north west coast of England. Lancashire.’
‘You intend to go see her?’
‘Yes, I would say that's a distinct possibility.’
‘Everything's click-click with you,’ Luciano said. ‘I bet you're one hell of a chess player. But no emotion. You ever love anybody, Professor? I mean really love?’
Carter nodded. ‘Oh, yes, very definitely.’
‘When was this?’
‘About a thousand years ago when I was sixteen. Farmer's daughter in Norfolk where we used to go for family holidays. I can see her now, running over the sand dunes in a cotton frock.’
‘What happened?’
‘She died during the influenza epidemic just after the war. Now me, I ran away from school and joined an infantry battalion just before my seventeenth birthday. I thought it was a romantic thing to do.’
‘That figures,’ Luciano said, but he was no longer smiling.
‘We started the big push in 1918 with a battalion of 752 men. Within three months, we were down to seventy-three. I couldn't get killed and she had to die of bloody influenza.’
Luciano said calmly, ‘So you never married?’
‘Yes, my second cousin, Olive, in 1923.’
‘You loved her?’
‘She was a childhood friend and she loved me.’
‘You got children?’
‘No, she had the worst kind of miscarriage very early on.’
‘You going to see her when we get in?’
Carter shook his head. ‘Not possible. She died of cancer in ’thirty-eight.’
Luciano nodded. ‘So, the war came just in time for you.’
Carter gazed at him blankly. ‘You think so?’
‘Don't you?’ Luciano tipped the slouch hat over his eyes, folded his arms and slept.
6
It was raining hard in Liverpool the following night when JU88 pathfinders made their first strike on the Liverpool Docks. At the General Infirmary, Sister Maria Vaughan had been due to go off duty at
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