The Phoenix Variant

Chapter 3-2

Denton ran through the snow, pushing Yiri ahead of him.

The sharp breaths of his father from behind helped measure how far away he was. Six meters.

‘Keep Yiri back!’ his father hissed.

Denton ignored him. If any paratroopers were ahead of them, he hoped they’d see the prisoner and hold their fire. If they saw a German soldier they were unlikely to take prisoners even if he surrendered.

A jeep roared to life, headlights splashing them.

‘Halt!’ a British voice yelled.

Denton held Yiri in front of him, turned back and fired from his hip. The rounds caught his father somewhere across his midsection—he couldn’t be sure in the dark. But his father slowed, then stumbled. The snow was dotted scarlet.

Denton held his Viz to the moon. ‘American!’ he shouted, ‘American!’

He tore at his collar with his free hand. ‘OSS agent!’ he yelled again.

Silhouetted in the moonlight, two pairs of British soldiers moved around him. He dropped his Viz in the snow so they could see it. One pair stayed on him, carbines aimed at his face. The other pair disarmed his father, who now lay in the snow.

Denton gestured to Yiri. ‘This man is very important to the Allies,’ he said. ‘He must be kept alive.’

The pair of paratroopers helped Yiri up and into the jeep.

Before Denton could follow, someone kneeled before him, a scarf wrapped across his neck. The barrel of his carbine glinted in the moonlight. ‘Identify yourself.’

‘Lieutenant Sidney Denton, Office of Strategic Services,’ Denton said. ‘Special Operations.’

The barrel lowered. ‘Trained by the best.’

Denton recognized his own British Security Coordination instructor.

The BSC was a covert organization set up in New York by the British Secret Intelligence Service. A couple of years earlier, the OSS had sent Denton to Camp X in Ontario, Canada. At the camp Denton had learned assassination, sabotage, managing partisan support, recruitment methods and demolition. Sir William Stephenson was his chief instructor.

Denton pulled himself to his feet. ‘Sir.’

Stephenson escorted Denton to the jeep. ‘Captain will do. I’m attached to the Special Raiding Squadron, 1st SAS.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Denton said.

‘We moved heaven and earth to find this place,’ Stephenson said.

‘Why?’ Denton said.

An SAS soldier called out from his father’s body. ‘The rocks aren’t here, Captain. They’re not in his bag.’

Stephenson’s gaze fixed on the body. ‘Move to the castle, have everyone sweep the grounds.’

Denton watched a rivulet of blood melt the snow before him.