Dieter had commandeered a Mercedes limousine that had been outside the chteau grounds and so had survived the explosion. The car was now parked at the edge of the vineyard next to the potato field at Laroque, camouflaged with leafy vines torn from the ground. Michel and Gilberte were in the backseat, bound hand and foot, guarded by Hans.

Dieter also had with him the two corporals, each armed with a rifle. Dieter and the riflemen looked into the potato field. They could see clearly in the moonlight.

Dieter said, "The terrorists will be here in the next few minutes. We have the advantage of surprise. They have no idea that we're here. But remember, I must have them alive-especially the leader, the small woman. You have to shoot to wound, not kill."

One of the marksmen said, "We can't guarantee that. This field must be three hundred meters wide. Let's say the enemy is a hundred and fifty meters away. At that distance, no one could be sure of hitting the legs of a running man."

"They won't be running," Dieter said. "They're meeting a plane. They have to form a line, pointing electric torches at the aircraft to guide the pilot down. That means they'll be standing still for several minutes."

"In the middle of the field?"

"Yes."

The man nodded. "Then we can do it." He looked up. "Unless the moon goes behind a cloud."

"In that event, we'll turn on the headlights of the car at the crucial moment." The Mercedes had huge dinner- plate lamps.

The other marksman said, "Listen."

Five kilometers from Laroque, the village of L'Epine was asleep. Bright moonlight silvered the big church. Behind the church, Moulier's meat van was parked inconspicuously next to a barn. In the deep moon shadow thrown by a buttress, the surviving Jackdaws sat waiting.

"What are you looking forward to?" said Ruby.

Paul said, "A steak."

Flick said, "A soft bed with clean sheets. How about you?"

"Seeing Jim."

Flick recalled that Ruby had had a fling with the firearms instructor. "I thought..." She stopped.

"You thought it was just a casual shag?" Ruby said. Flick nodded, embarrassed.

"So did Jim," Ruby said. "But I've got other plans." Paul laughed softly. "I'll bet you get what you want." "What about you two?" Ruby asked.

They fell silent. A motor vehicle was approaching. They all knelt. Despite the moonlight, they would not be visible against the dark mass of the vines, provided they kept their heads down.

A van came along the road from the village with its lights off It pulled up by the gate to the potato field. A female figure jumped out and swung the gate wide. The van pulled in and its engine was silenced. Two more people got out, another woman and a man.

"Quiet, now," Dieter whispered.

Suddenly the hush was shattered by the blare of a car horn, incredibly loud.

Dieter jumped and cursed. It came from immediately behind him. "Jesus!" he exploded. It was the Mercedes. He leaped to his feet and ran to the open window of the driver's door. He saw immediately what had happened.

Michel had sprung forward, leaning across the front seat, and before Hans could stop him he had pressed on the horn with his bound hands. Hans, in the front passenger seat, was now trying to aim his gun, but Gilberte had joined in, and she was lying half over Hans, hampering his movements so that he kept having to push her away.

Dieter reached in and shoved Michel, but Michel resisted, and Dieter's position, with his arms extended through the car window, was too awkward for him to exert much force. The horn continued to sound a deafening warning that the Resistance agents could not fail to hear.

Dieter fumbled for his gun.

Michel found the light switch, and the car's headlights came on. Dieter looked up. The riflemen were hideously exposed in the glare of the lights. They both got up off their knees, but before they could throw themselves out of the beam there was a rattle of machine-gun fire from the field. One rifleman cried out, dropped his gun, clutched his belly, and fell across the hood of the Mercedes; then the other was shot in the head. A sharp pain stung Dieter's left arm, and he let out a yell of shock.

Then there was a shot from within the car, and Michel cried out. Hans had at last flung Gilberte off himself and got his pistol out. He fired again, and Michel slumped, but Michel's hand was still on the horn, and his body now lay over his hand, pressing it down, so the horn continued to blare. Hans fired a third time, uselessly, for his bullet thudded into the body of a dead man. Gilberte screamed and threw herself at Hans again, grabbing at his gun arm with her manacled hands. Dieter had his gun out but could not shoot at Gilberte for fear of hitting Hans.

There was a fourth shot. It was Hans's gun again, but now it was somehow pointing upwards, and he shot himself, the bullet hitting him under the chin. He gave a horrid gurgle, blood came out of his mouth, and he slumped back against the door, his eyes staring lifelessly. Dieter took careful aim and shot Gilberte in the head.

He reached through the window with his right arm and shoved the corpse of Michel away from the steering wheel.

The horn was silenced.

He found the light switch and killed the headlights.

He looked across the field.

The van was still there, but the Jackdaws had disappeared.

He listened. Nothing moved.

He was alone.

Flick crawled through the vineyard on her hands and knees, heading for Dieter Franck's car. The moonlight, so necessary for clandestine flights across occupied territory, was now her enemy. She wished for a cloud to shade the moon, but for the moment the sky was clear. She kept close to the row of vines, but she threw a conspicuous moon shadow.

She had firmly instructed Paul and Ruby to stay behind, hiding at the edge of the field near the van. Three people made three times the noise, and she did not want a companion to betray her presence.

As she crawled, she listened for the incoming plane. She had to locate any remaining enemies and kill them before the plane arrived. The Jackdaws could not stand in the middle of the field with flashlights while there were armed troops aiming at them from the vineyard. And if they did not hold flashlights, the plane would return to England without touching down. The thought was unbearable.

She was deeper into the vineyard than Dieter Franck's car, which was parked at the edge. She was five rows of vines back. She would approach the enemy from behind. She kept the submachine gun in her right hand, ready to fire, as she crawled.

She drew level with the car. Franck had camouflaged it with vegetation, but when she peeped over the rows of vines she saw moonlight glint off the rear window.

The shoots of the vines were espaliered crosswise, but she was able to crawl beneath the lowest strand. She pushed her head through and looked up and down the next alley. It was clear. She crawled across the open space and repeated the exercise. She grew ultra cautious as she approached the car, but she saw no one.

When she was two rows away, she was able to see the wheels of the car and the ground around it. She thought she could make out two motionless bodies in uniform. How many were there in total? It was a long Mercedes limousine and could easily carry six.

She crept closer. Nothing moved. Were they all dead? Or had one or two survived, and concealed themselves nearby, waiting to pounce?

Eventually she crawled right up to the car.

The doors were wide open, and the interior seemed full of bodies. She looked in the front and recognized Michel. She choked back a sob. He was a bad husband, but he had been her choice, and now he was lifeless, with three red-ringed bullet holes in his blue chambray shirt. She guessed he had been the one to sound the horn. If so, he had died saving her life. There was no time to think of such things now: she would ponder them later, if she lived long enough.

Next to Michel lay a man she did not recognize who had been shot in the throat. He wore the uniform of a lieutenant. There were more bodies in the back. She looked through the open rear door. One was that of a woman. She leaned into the car for a better view. She gasped: the woman was Gilberte, and she seemed to be staring at flick. A ghastly moment later, Flick realized that the eyes saw nothing, and Gilberte was dead, shot in the head.

She leaned over Gilberte to look at the fourth corpse. It rose up from the floor in a swift motion. Before she had time to scream, it grabbed her by the hair and thrust the barrel of a gun into the soft flesh of her throat.

It was Dieter Franck.

"Drop the gun," he said in French.