Waiting for Orders Read Online Free PDF Page A

later.’
    I heard Stephan dash up the stairs.
    ‘What is it, Johann?’
    ‘Come here.’
    The door was pushed open behind me. I heard him draw in his breath sharply.
    ‘Who is it?’
    ‘I don’t know. I was awakened by a noise. I was about to get up when this man came into the room. He did not see me. He has been listening to your conversation. He must have been examining the plant when he heard you returning.’
    ‘If you will allow me to explain …’
    ‘You may explain downstairs,’ said the man called Stephan. ‘Give me the pistol, Johann.’
    The pistol changed hands and I could see Stephan, a lean, rawboned fellow with broad, sharp shoulders and dangerous eyes. He wore black oilskins and gum-boots. I saw the muscles in his cheeks tighten.
    ‘Raise your hands and walk downstairs. Slowly. If you run, I shall shoot immediately. March.’
    I went downstairs.
    The woman, Freda, was standing by the door, staring blankly up at me as I descended. She must have been about thirty and had that soft rather matronly look about her that is characteristic of so many young German women. She was short and plump, and as if to accentuate the face, her straw-coloured hair was plaited across her head. Wisps of the hair had become detached and clung wetly to the sides of her neck. She too wore a black oilskin coat and gum-boots.
    The grey eyes, red and swollen with crying, looked beyond me.
    ‘Who is it, Stephan?’
    ‘He was hiding upstairs.’
    We had reached the foot of the stairs. He motioned me away from the door and towards the fire. ‘Now, we will hear your explanation.’
    I gave it with profuse apologies. I admitted that I had examined the folders and read one. ‘It seemed to me,’ I concluded, ‘that my presence might be embarrassing to you. I was about to leave when you returned. Then, I am afraid, I lost my head and attempted to hide.’
    Not one of them was believing a word that I was saying: I could see that from their faces. ‘I assure you,’ I went on in exasperation, ‘that what I am telling …’
    ‘What nationality are you?’
    ‘British. I …’
    ‘Then speak English. What were you doing on this road?’
    ‘I am on my way home from Belgrade. I crossed the Yugoslav frontier yesterday and the Italian frontier at Stelvio this afternoon. My passport was stamped at both places if you wish to …’
    ‘Why were you in Belgrade?’
    ‘I am a surgeon. I have been attending an international medical convention there.’
    ‘Let me see your passport, please.’
    ‘Certainly. I have …’ And then with my hand in my inside pocket, I stopped. My heart felt as if it had come right into my throat. In my haste to be away after the Italian Customs had finished with me, I had thrust my passport with the customs carnet for the car into the pocket beside me on the door of the car.
    They were watching me with expressionless faces. Now, as my hand reappeared empty, I saw Stephan raise his pistol.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘I am sorry.’ Like a fool I had begun to speak in German again. ‘I find that I have left my passport in my car. It is several kilometres along the road. If …’
    And then the woman burst out as if she couldn’t stand listening to me any longer.
    ‘Don’t you see? Don’t you see?’ she cried. ‘It is quite clear. They have found out that we are here. Perhaps after all these months Hans or Karl has been tortured by them into speaking. And so they have taken Kurt and sent this man to spy upon us. It is clear. Don’t you see?’
    She turned suddenly, and I thought she was going to attack me. Then Stephan put his hand on her arm.
    ‘Gently, Freda.’ He turned to me again, and his expression hardened. ‘You see, my friend, what is in our minds? We know our danger, you see. The fact that we are in Swiss territory will not protect us if the Gestapo should trace us. The Nazis, we know, have little respect for frontiers. The Gestapo have none. They would murder us here as confidently as they