Operation Kingfisher Read Online Free PDF Page B

beyond the rails, the ground dropped away into the darkness. She looked at her brother.
    ‘See you at the bottom!’
    The next second, she was falling through space. There was a bone-jarring impact and then she was rolling, over and over, the branches of low-growing bushes tearing her face and legs. She grasped at them; the first one or two ripped through her fingers, but at last she got a grip on one and it brought her headlong progress to a standstill.
    For a few minutes she lay panting, becoming aware of stinging pain in various parts of her body. Then she sat up cautiously and discovered that all her limbs seemed to be intact and under her command. She was clinging to the side of a steep embankment, and below her she could make out the gleam of water. Looking up, she realized that the train had gone. She could hear it rattling away in the distance. Apparently, she thought, the
miliciens
had not seen them jump, or they would have pulled the communication cord. Maybe one of the other passengers had noticed the open door and shut it?
    She peered round her in the gloom.
    ‘Luke? Are you all right?’
    There was no response. She called again, with the same result. She lowered herself cautiously to the bottom of the slope and found herself on a footpath running alongside either a river or a canal.
    She called Luke’s name again, but only silence answered her. For a terrible moment, she considered the possibility that he might not have jumped. Had he lost courage at the last minute? Or, worse still, had her movement alerted the
miliciens
, and had theycaught him before he could follow? If that was the case, what should she do now? If he had stayed on the train and managed somehow to avoid capture, he would be waiting for her at the next station. Should she try to walk there and look for him? Or would it be more sensible to try to get to Montbéliard on her own? The thought of going on without knowing what had happened to her brother was unbearable.
    Then she saw a dark, crumpled figure lying on the path a few yards from where she stood. She felt her heart thump once and then it seemed to stop altogether. If he was dead….
    Luke was lying in a heap, his face half hidden, and he was not moving. Christine dropped on her knees beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
    ‘Luke! Can you hear me? Luke, it’s me. Speak to me, please!’ She was weeping in spite of herself. With an effort, she pulled herself together and tried to remember what she knew about First Aid. She put her hand on his throat and gave a sob of relief as she felt a pulse.
    He gave a low moan and stirred slightly. She gripped his shoulder and pulled him over onto his back. His eyes were half closed and there was a gash above his left eye, around which the flesh was already swollen and discoloured.
    ‘Oh, thank God! Luke, wake up! You must wake up!’
    He mumbled something indistinct and she laid her hand on his cheek.
    ‘It’s all right. You’ll be all right. I’m here.’
    ‘What?’ he muttered. ‘What’s happened? Where am I?’
    ‘We had to jump out of the train, remember? You must have hit your head.’
    ‘Train?’ He struggled to sit up. ‘Fetch Maman, will you? I think I’m going to be sick.’
    He twisted away from her and vomited onto the ground.
    She choked back a moan of despair. She recognized the symptoms of concussion; she drew him towards her and cradled his head on her lap.
    ‘I can’t fetch Maman,
chéri
. We’re on our way to Montbéliard, to see Uncle Marcel. You lost your papers and we had to jump off the train. Try to remember.’
    He squinted up at her and she saw him struggling to clear his mind. After a moment, he nodded faintly and mumbled something that sounded like assent. It was still raining and she could feel that he was beginning to shiver. One thing was abundantly clear: somehow they must find shelter.
    She peered along the tow-path but with the blackout there was no way of telling if there was any kind of