Von Brest jumped aboard the freighter. The sarcophagus was being lashed into place on the ship's deck.

"Hurry men! We have very little time. Captain! Put to sea!"

"Aye Doctor!" Mufasa yelled back. He jumped into action suddenly realising that there were virtually no Germans as yet on board his ship, "Should we not wait for the Major and his men?"

"There is no time. The British are here in the town."

"Very well Doctor."

"I will not have this mission jeopardised any further. Put to sea now!"

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

Koenig's head broke the surface of the water. His lungs ached for air. He inhaled deeply. How long he'd been underwater he didn't know. The cold water had numbed the knife wound and dulled his senses. He'd felt himself free falling in the cold darkness around him, his arms out in front of him, legs trailing, head forward. He felt himself slipping away. Suddenly no longer cold or in pain, somehow warm anda.comfortable.

He wasn't afraid. He saw images of his life before him.

His family.

His friends.

Elsa!

She looked so beautiful, so real. She was here, now, in the water with him, reaching out for him. Then suddenly she was gone. He blinked his eyes in the darkness. Then his senses came back to him. He felt his head pounding, lungs bursting. He realised he was going to drown. Then he remembered the two Englishmen and the knife. He reached to where the knife had entered his flesh. It was still there. Gritting his teeth he took hold of the handle and pulled it out. For a moment he thought he would faint. He felt warmth on his fingers and knew it was blood, his blood. Then with his lungs straining he kicked for the surface as the knife turned and twisted as it sank to the sea bed.

"You hear that Jack?"

"Yeah what was it?"

"Must have been him," Terry said staring out into the darkness, unable to see the surface of the water after more than twenty feet.

"Could have been anything."

"No it was him, had to be him," Terry raised his Sten gun and fired from the hip in a sweeping pattern. Koenig stayed still as the water churned up behind him. He could see the two British some fifty yards away on the dock under a weak streetlight. Incredibly none of the bullets had hit him. Koenig, despite the cold and the pain was ready to dive again if more bullets came at him.

Terry Smythe pulled the trigger again. The clip was empty.

"Damn!"

He threw the Sten to the ground and pulled out a pistol and fired random single shots into the darkness. Jack watched him. When the pistol was empty Terry felt around his pockets for more ammunition. Then he caught Jack's gaze.

"What?"

"What're you doing that for? You're wasting your time."

"You said you heard him as well."

"I'm not surea."

"Oh now you're not sure?"

"Could have been anything."

They both looked down into the black water.

"Yeah I guess you're right. Come on let's get back."

Koenig watched them leave before he dared to take another breath. Then slowly so as not to splash he kicked with his legs and swam on his side with his good arm towards the jetty. It took him several minutes to reach the concrete supports in the water, the road ten feet above him. Each support had old car tyres wrapped around it to help avoid damage to boats and Koenig found that he was able to pull himself along by them. He stopped once for a rest for a few minutes because his good arm was aching and then continued until he saw a ladder. The last two rungs of which were submerged. He blessed whoever had placed it there and reached above his head grasping a rung. He felt in the water with his feet, found the bottom rung and pushed himself up. He then began slowly and painfully to climb up. It was difficult to move with his once elegant officers riding boots filled with water and twice he slipped, both his feet coming off at one point leaving him dangling above the water. He groaned with the pain. For a moment he felt that his arm was going to be torn from its sockets but he managed to hang on, find his footing and continue climbing. All the while his left arm hung loosely by his side. Finally his head cleared the top and quickly checking he was safe he pulled himself over the edge and lay on his back panting up into the night sky. In the distance he could hear noise and he was unsure as to what it could be but the gunfire appeared to have stopped. He sat up and examined his shoulder putting his fingers into the slit in his jacket and shirt. When he pulled his fingers out there was fresh blood on them. He looked around. The faint streetlights extended away in both directions and he had no idea as to where he was. Then he heard the sound of a boat starting up and he saw a trail of smoke on his right as it drifted up into the starry sky.

Koenig reached forward and removed his boots, emptying water in a stream from each of them. Then rolling over onto his knees and pushing himself upright with his good arm he picked up his boots and squelched his way towards the German positions and safety.

Johnny and his team were just finishing up planting the explosives when Tosh saw the first of the SS as they ran into the warehouse and took up cover.

"Er lads we've got company."

"Shit! Are we done?" Johnny asked.

"Just a second," one of the men said connecting a wire.

Tosh fired at any German who moved, bullets smacking into crates.

"Come on faster," Johnny egged on the man with the detonator. With trembling fingers the soldier inserted the detonator into the explosives, rotated it clockwise until he heard a click, then in a panic he did a terrible thing.

He pulled the pin too early!

The timer instantly began ticking. Counting down from thirty. The soldier desperately tried to put the pin back in.

"No time!" Johnny shouted "Tosh! Get out of here! It's going to blow!"

Tosh heard the words. He fired at a German who was running between cover. The German pitched forward onto his face in mid run, dead.

"Tosh! You've got to move now!" Johnny shouted backing towards the exit with the other three.

"You go I'm right behind you."

Tosh killed another German. Then his Sten jammed and he dropped it and pulled out his handgun. A bullet hit him in the upper arm.

"Damn it!"

A second bullet ricocheted off a crate and embedded itself in his leg. Tosh fell to the floor clutching his knee.

"Tosh!" Johnny shouted.

He started back for the S.A.S man but hands grabbed him and pulled him towards the exit.

"Wait! We've got to go back for him!"

"No! It's too late. He's dead."

The Germans sensing a man down advanced on him. They would capture him and use him to catch the others. The Germans were arrogant now. Smiling they moved in closer. Wurtz pushing his way through them. As he got near Tosh, the Englishman opened his hand and the hand grenade rolled free. Wurtz dived to the side pushing two of his men onto Tosh. The grenade exploded amongst them, taking them down. Wurtz waited until the warehouse was still before getting up. The grenade had killed three of his men. Tosh lay there with his chest ripped open. His eyes lifeless.

Wurtz stood in front of his broken enemy. Tosh's eyes started to glaze. Wurtz spat on the corpse then turned to his men. A few were dead heaps on the floor. The injured were slowly getting to their feet. Johnny and the others could see that Tosh was dead. They retreated through the fuel depot.

"Get after them!"

The timer on the explosives stopped.

There was a click.

There was silence.

Then the whole world seemed to explode.

The fuel tanks erupted with a screech. Johnny felt himself being picked up and thrown through the exit door with his companions. A huge fireball ripped through the warehouse as the flames rushed out of everywhere possible. Windows shattered and glass rained down. Huge pieces of cast iron tank ripped through the warehouse. Some of the SS men were turned into human torches. Completely engulfed in flames they screamed until they died. On the boat Alf watched the huge fireball as it rose into the dark sky.

"My God," he said to himself aloud "Hope our boys are all right."

Johnny opened his eyes. Dust choked his mouth and he coughed. He was aware of something pinning his legs down. He was able to push himself up and turn. It was Bill, one of his colleagues, sprawled across his legs.

"Bill," he called. There was a ringing in his ears, his voice sounding strange, "Bill."

Johnny sat up, grabbed a handful of Bill's shirt and turned him over. Bill was dead.

Suddenly Johnny was yanked upwards from behind and dragged, kicking, outside. He turned his head this way and that trying to see which of his comrades had hold of him. It was a powerful grip. Johnny could only see a black sleeve. Whoever it was, was dragging him unbelievably roughly until he was dumped unceremoniously in the square. There was the sound of a pistol being cocked. Dawn wasn't far away now and in the semi light Johnny looked up into Otto Wurtz' face.

Wurtz' face was hideous. His hair had been singed off in patches. The left side of his face was bright red with burns. The skin horribly blistered. His trousers were torn. His left sleeve was in shreds. His skin was burned where exposed. His jacket was still smoking.

Johnny wouldn't have recognised him but for the uniform. The death's head insignia, though now blackened still grinned out from the jacket lapels. Wurtz pointed the Luger into Larder's face. Johnny resigned himself. He couldn't fight it anymore. All resistance in him was now gone. He had no will, no strength, no where to run to, nothing to fight with. Strangely he wasn't afraid.

"My comrades?" he asked through bleeding lips.

"Dead," Wurtz snarled back, "And you're next."

Johnny shrugged.

Suddenly Margaret was in his thoughts. Her sweet smile. The smell of her hair. The way she wiggled her hips in her nurse's uniform.

*Goodbye my love,' Johnny said in his mind.

Wurtz saw the man in front of him smile.

"Eh?"

He was about to pull the trigger when out of the corner of his eye he sensed someone to his right. He turned his neck to see, keeping the pistol in Johnny's face. As the man came closer Wurtz recognised him.

It was Koenig.

Wurtz stepped back from Johnny. The Luger now slightly raised.

"Otto," Koenig called.

"Colonel Ia. Thought you were dead."

He looked Koenig up and down. Koenig looked dreadful. He was carrying his boots. His socks were full of holes. He was soaking wet and filthy dirty.

"What happened to you?" Wurtz asked with a false friendliness.

"My men were wiped out, ambushed, the Medina was over run. I was lucky to escape. I was chased to the edge of the harbour. My gun was empty. They, he, one of my pursuers threw a knife," Koenig said showing Wurtz the injury to his shoulder, "Your face Wurtz! You need help!"

Koenig suddenly felt his strength leave him. He'd lost quite a lot of blood. Mufasa on the freighter gave two hoots on the ships horn. The crew of the submarine threw off their mooring lines.

"They are leaving," Koenig said.

The submarine began to turn, its engines powering up. The freighter hooted again. Wurtz could see the man in the white suit on the bridge.

"You're just in time Colonel to witness me kill this little bastarda."

"Major we need to leave now. There is no time," Von Brest's voice came across to them. The submarine was now moving away from the dock, though turning slowly. Wurtz ignored the call. He walked behind Koenig still keeping the Luger trained on Johnny. Wurtz suddenly kicked out in the backs of Koenig's knees sending him crashing down alongside Johnny. Koenig groaned at the pain in his shoulder. Slowly he sat up.

"Wurtz what are you doing! Have you gone mad?" he asked between gasps of breath.

"You fucked my wife!"

Koenig stared back open mouthed.

"What did you say?"

"You were fucking my wife!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" Wurtz exploded, the pain of his injuries hammering in his head, "It was you that day on the stairs. You who gave her the stockings. You, who fucked her behind my back for months."

Koenig gave all his mistresses stockings as gifts. It was what every woman wanted.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You arrogant piece of shit! Did you think you'd get away with it. Screwing the wife of an SS Major."

"For the last time I don't know what you're talking abouta." Then Wurtz' words clicked into place.

That day on the stairs.