Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Prologue
- 2046
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
‘Get what over with?’ Roland asks as Ben searches his mind and tries to shake the fug of confusion spinning inside his head. Safa stares on. Watching and listening and still seeing the men in coveralls moving out in a circling motion. Hands away from bodies ready to lunge and fight and she notices the way they glance to each other too, confirming placement and positions. She takes another step forward.
‘Dirty Boche,’ Harry says, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. ‘Kampf mich . . .’ he adds with relish.
‘Oh fuck,’ Konrad whimpers.
‘Kampf mich,’ Harry says, louder and harder. ‘KAMPF MICH . . .’
‘Ah no . . . no no no,’ Konrad wails, waving his arms at the men in coveralls, now glaring angrily at Harry.
‘What’s he saying?’ Malcolm asks.
‘Harry, let me explain,’ Roland says.
‘What the fuck?’ Ben says.
‘No idea,’ Safa mutters.
‘Oh no,’ Konrad whimpers again. ‘He’s telling them to fight him . . .’
‘I bloody said he would do this,’ Malcolm says. ‘We said it. We did. Roland, we said he . . .’
‘Now now, Harry,’ Roland says, trying to show an assured calmness but his voice quavers with sudden worry.
‘KAMPF MICH,’ Harry bellows, lunging a step at the closest man, who jumps back a step. Harry sees only German soldiers. He sees blond hair, blue eyes and arrogant sneers. He sees Bert, Jack, Billy, Dick and Wozzer and the rest of his mates all killed by these Nazi bastards. He sees his country in flames with women and children dead from bombing raids. He sees the horror of war and the enemy in front of him. They will kill him. He is a commando. They will execute him by firing squad or worse. He will go out fighting and by God he will take a few with him on the way. He can see the guards are close to fighting him. He can feel the tension almost ready to explode. He boots a chair at one of them and feints towards another. They circle him and lower into fighting stances. He smiles grim and full of malice. ‘Kampf mich,’ he says again, waving them to come at him. ‘KAMPF MICH . . .’
‘Harry, please let me . . .’ Roland stammers as the situation spirals rapidly out of control. ‘Konrad! Do something . . .’
Harry hears the name Konrad. Konrad sounds like a German name. The English man is on their side. He sneers and stands upright, knowing his final words will ignite the touch paper. ‘Fick . . . deine . . . mutter . . .’ he says with malicious delight. That does it. Tell any soldier in the world to fuck his mother and watch what happens.
‘NEIN NEIN NEIN,’ Konrad screams.
‘Oh bugger,’ Malcolm yelps.