Force 10 from Navarone. Alistair MacLean

spoke briefly on the telephone, then turned back to Mallory. ‘All very satisfactory – if true. There just remains to explain the death of Captain Droshny’s man here.’

      ‘I’m sorry about that. It was a ghastly blunder. But surely you can understand. The last thing we wanted was to land among you, to make direct contact with you. We’ve heard what happens to British parachutists dropping over German territory.’

      Neufeld steepled his fingers again. ‘There is a state of war. Proceed.’

      ‘Our intention was to land in Partisan territory, slip across the lines and give ourselves up. When Droshny turned his guns on us we thought the Partisans were on to us, that they had been notified that we’d stolen the plane. And that could mean only one thing for us.’

      ‘Wait outside. Captain Droshny and I will join you in a moment.’

      Mallory left. Andrea, Miller and the three sergeants were sitting patiently on their rucksacks. From the distance there still came the sound of distant music. For a moment Mallory cocked his head to listen to it, then walked across to join the others. Miller patted his lips delicately with his napkin and looked up at Mallory.

      ‘Had a cosy chat?’

      ‘I spun him a yarn. The one we talked about in the plane.’ He looked at the three sergeants. ‘Any of you speak German?’

      All three shook their heads.

      ‘Fine. Forget you speak English too. If you’re questioned you know nothing.’

      ‘If I’m not questioned,’ Reynolds said bitterly, ‘I still don’t know anything.’

      ‘All the better,’ Mallory said encouragingly. ‘Then you can never tell anything, can you?’