Echo of the Reich Read Online Free PDF Page B

beer.
    “You’ll get nowhere by yourself,” Eaton said. “But you look as if you can take care of yourself, so maybe you should think about coming in with us. We could use someone like you.”
    Cross shook his head. “I’m not really into organized groups, thanks all the same. I normally work alone—only myself to worry about, you see.”
    “We’re not a group like that, really. We always arrive at the target site individually, and find our own way home after the event. But what we do is we meet beforehand and organize the target, and the timing, and what everyoneinvolved is going to do. That way, we cover every aspect of the attack, and each of us can then focus on his own particular job. Last time, like Charlie said, we were the decoys. We showed ourselves, did a little bit of damage and made sure the coppers spotted us, and then we legged it, leaving our mates with a clear run.”
    “And we never resist arrest,” Williams added. “That just gives them another charge to slap against you if they feel like it. Quiet and cooperative is the best way in the end.”
    Cross took another sip of his drink and nodded.
    “You’re probably right, but sometimes that’s easier said than done. You get treated like shit by the coppers, and all you want to do is hit back at them somehow.”
    “You are, by doing what we’re doing,” Eaton said. “Because we’re organized, we’ve been running rings around the rozzers for weeks. They never know where we’re going to hit next, or when.”
    “Look,” Williams said, “John’s right. We really could use you, and you’ll achieve a hell of a lot more working with us than you ever will out there by yourself. Why not give it a try? Come along on one raid. After that, if you still want to go off and do things your own way, that’s fine. Otherwise, join us.”
    “Just like that?” Cross asked. “Please can I join your gang?”
    “Not quite. We’re a small group, and we need to be really sure about each other because of what we’re doing, so if you do want to be part of our operation there’ll be a vote, once we’ve seen you working.”
    “Like a trial period,” Eaton added. “But if you do okay, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
    *  *  *
    Just over an hour after they’d walked into the pub, the three men stepped out the door and strode off down the street. At the first junction, they went their separate ways, Williams and Eaton heading in one direction, the man calling himself Cross in the other.
    He walked quickly down the street, took the first left turn that he came to, then immediately crossed the road and strode down an alleyway on the right. At the end he stopped, flattened himself into a doorway, and waited for five minutes. Nobody else came down the alleyway—in fact, he saw no one else in the street beyond.
    Satisfied that no one was following him—or if they were, they were really good at their job—he continued down the street. At each corner he glanced behind him, but nobody appeared to be taking the slightest interest in him or where he was going.
    He walked for almost twenty minutes, taking a circuitous route along unfamiliar streets and roads, but always heading toward the east, looking out for one of the landmarks that he had memorized. Finally, he saw a street name that he recognized. He again checked that nobody was behind him, did a complete circuit of a block of terraced houses to flush out anyone who might have gotten in front of him and be keeping him under surveillance, and only then headed for his objective: a small area of waste ground between two buildings.
    A confusion of tire tracks close to the street suggested that the vacant ground was used for unofficial parking during the day, but at that time of night there were no vehicles on it. The back of the lot was overgrown, roughgrass and a handful of stunted bushes struggling for supremacy among the detritus of urban living: a couple of abandoned shopping trolleys and a crop of