Read Online The Suicide Exhibition: The Never War (Never War 1) by Justin Richards - Free Book Online

off, they’ll just stick them back on again,’ Smith said. ‘German efficiency.’
    Jacques checked outside the wagon, looking both ways into the smoke. It was thinning considerably, but the sky had darkened as the sun dipped below the horizon.
    ‘We need to go,’ he announced.
    They heaved the crate to the edge of the wagon. Pierre and Jacques climbed out to take the weight from the outside. It was about ten feet long and very heavy but, with Mathilde and one of the other men helping, the four of them managed to carry it away from the train.
    Inside the wagon, Smith and the other explosives expert moved the large crate of similar size to where the missing crate had been. They shuffled a few others round to fill the space, so that it was not immediately obvious that anything had gone.
    Smith looked towards the engine as he clambered out. Figures were silhouetted against the glow from the firebox, wreathed in steam. One of them was obviously Streicher, standing with his hands behind his back as he watched his men working. The two who had found the rails to repair the track would probably get a commendation, Smith thought. Until someone realised what had happened, but that could be days if not weeks away. He hurried away from the train andpushed his way through the undergrowth.
    The crate had already been loaded into the back of the waiting lorry. Mathilde gave a wave as she cycled off down the lane. The two explosives experts followed close behind. Pierre waited to shake Smith’s hand.
    ‘We make a good team, eh?’
    ‘We do. Thank you.’ Smith slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Now get going before the Bosch come looking for us.’
    ‘They won’t come looking,’ Jacques said confidently. He climbed up into the front of the lorry next to where Smith was now behind the wheel.
    ‘Let’s hope you’re right. You got my transit permits?’
    Jacques handed over a sheaf of papers from his inside jacket pocket. ‘You can drop me at the farm. I need to see Jean.’
    They sat in the lorry, Jacques smoking a thin but potent-smelling cigarette. The sounds of metal being hammered into place echoed through the night. But they waited until the train had moved off again before starting the engine. Smith drove without lights until they reached the narrow track up to the farm.
    ‘Drop me here, I’ll walk the rest of the way,’ Jacques said. He leaned across to shake Smith’s hand.
    ‘You take care of yourself,’ Smith said. ‘Thanks for your help. And for the truck.’
    ‘Happy to oblige,’ Jacques said, lighting another cigarette.
    He jumped down from the cab, looking back through the open window, as if there was something else he wanted to say.
    ‘Yes?’ Smith prompted.
    ‘I was just wondering…’ He paused to take a drag on his cigarette.
    ‘Wondering what?’
    ‘I spent some time in London before the war.’
    ‘It’s a great city.’
    Jacques nodded. ‘Indeed it is. I very much enjoyed the theatre, and the movies.’
    ‘Did you?’ There was a slight wariness in Smith’s voice.
    ‘And I was thinking… Has anyone ever told you thatwithout that beard you would look very like Leo Davenport – you know, the British actor.’
    Smith’s expression did not change. ‘No,’ he said levelly. ‘No one else has ever mentioned it.’
    It took Smith almost two weeks to complete his journey. Jacques had arranged contacts along the way from whom he could get new travel papers and fuel for the truck. He avoided the main roads and towns, but even so he was stopped on several occasions. Each time he was allowed to continue once his papers had been checked.
    Eventually he crossed into Portugal, and the going got easier. The country was technically neutral, but it was generally pro-fascist so he still needed to be careful.
    It was not until he was safely in Lisbon, with his crate full of ‘sugar’ booked onto a cargo ship to Britain that he began to relax. He would travel on by plane, which was safer. Even if his cargo