A Good Clean Fight Read Free Page B

not? Silly sod’s no use to anyone. Completely unreliable.”
    â€œTo escape, you need me,” the German said. Harris had his fighting knife ready, its point denting the man’s tunic just below the ribs. “Go without me,” the major said, “and all will be killed by the mines.” His voice was calm and steady, as if to say: Take it or leave it.
    â€œNuts!” Dunn said. “We got in, we’ll get out again.”
    â€œI think not. When you got in, our minefield was
ausgeschaltet
.” He frowned for a moment. “Off-switched. Switched off. You see, our mines are activated by electricity. Now the minefield is active since ten minutes. I myself have turned the switch.”
    Lampard nudged Dunn. “What d’you think?”
    â€œIt’s possible.”
    Lampard stared down. The German’s face was nothing in the night, but his voice had been firm. “Why bother?” Lampard asked him. “What’s the point?”
    â€œTwo minutes five,” Dunn said.
    â€œI shall require more than two minutes five to explain our system of airfield security,” the major said. He sounded slightly amused.
    â€œOkay, forget it.” Lampard turned away and plucked the car’s radio aerial. It vibrated noisily, so he stopped it. “You said you could get us out of here.”
    â€œI said that I can try.”
    â€œOh-ho. You can try. Now why would you want to do that?”
    â€œJesus Christ.” Harris was sheathing his knife. “Who cares?”
    â€œI care, corporal. I’m not accustomed to being helped by the enemy.”
    â€œIt is better than death,” the major said. “Even to a German officer, death is not welcome.”
    â€œThose fuses aren’t tremendously accurate, you know,” Dunn said.
    â€œWhat’s your idea?” Lampard asked.
    â€œWe go in this car and depart through the main gate,” the major said. “I drive. The guards never stop my car.”
    â€œNo. I’ll drive. You sit beside me. Let’s go.”
    â€œNo. Not a good idea.” Davis and Pocock had come in from the flanks and were scrambling into the back seats, but the major did not move. “Better I drive.”
    â€œIf you drive we might go anywhere. Straight to the guardroom, for instance.”
    â€œAnd then you shoot me.”
    â€œAnyway, I can drive faster than you can.”
    â€œI well know the road. Do you well know the road?”
    â€œFuck my old boots!” Harris muttered. “
I
’
ll
drive and you two can stay here and argue.”
    â€œTake that man’s name, sergeant.”
    â€œThis car is mine,” the major said. “The guards see you driving and at once they think, hello, something smells of fish.”
    Lampard opened the door and helped him get in.
    â€œThat is good.” The major started the engine.
    Lampard vaulted in and sat beside him, tommy-gun across his legs. “Fishy,” he said. “The word is fishy.” The car moved off.
    â€œYou agree, then.”
    â€œFaster,” Lampard told the major. The car swung right and left, found a straight, picked up speed. “I may shoot you anyway when we get out,” Lampard said. “Just to calm my nerves.”
    â€œHe’s frightfully nervous,” Dunn said to the major. The major smiled.
    He drove fast, on dipped headlights. In much less than a minute they were approaching a pair of striped poles across the road. A guard stood in the soft, yellow light of a hurricane lamp; behind him the guardhouse was dimly visible. The guard had a rifle, but he slung it on his shoulder when he recognized the car, turned away and leaned on the counterweight to raise the pole. The major slowed, gave an economical wave, and accelerated through the gap. “Too easy,” Davis said. “Let’s go back and do it again.” The major worked up through the gears with familiar ease. A mile away, a