Burning Angels

‘You got me. It’s not just a social call. How d’you fancy a short spell out of retirement? You bored of shooting spuds across Chesapeake Bay? You are? Perfect. What say I drive down to your place, you get Nancy to fix me a bowl of clam chowder, and you and I shoot the breeze for a while?’

He glanced out of the window at the passing cherry blossoms. Kammler and his black operations: at best the guy was a loose cannon; at worst, he and his people were overstepping their controls big time.

With Kammler, the deeper Brooks seemed to dig, the more he uncovered. But sometimes you just had to dig and keep digging, until you found the truth.

And sometimes the truth was very ugly.

23

The impenetrable woodland surrounding the Falkenhagen complex lent a certain raw wildness to the setting. It really was the kind of place where no one would ever hear you scream.

‘How long was I in there for?’ Jaeger asked, as he tried to massage some life back into his hands.

He was standing outside the nearest bunker, feeling exhausted from his brutal testing and desperate for fresh air. He was also burning up with anger. Seething.

Raff checked his watch. ‘It’s 0700 on the eighthof March. You were in there for seventy-two hours.’

Three days. The bastards.

‘So whose idea was it anyway?’ Jaeger probed.

Raff was about to answer when Uncle Joe appeared at their side. ‘A quiet word, my boy.’ He took Jaeger gently but firmly by the arm. ‘Some things are best explained by family.’

After Jaeger’s grandfather’s premature death two decades ago, Great-Uncle Joe had taken on the role of honorary grandpa. Having no children of his own, he’d grown uncommonly close to Jaeger, and susequently to Ruth and Luke.

They’d been regular summer vacationers at Uncle Joe’s cabin, on remote Buccleuch Fell, in the Scottish Borders. After his family’s abduction, Jaeger had seen very little of ‘Uncle Joe’, as they called him, yet in spite of that they remained incredibly close.

Uncle Joe and Jaeger’s grandfather had soldiered together in the earliest years of the SAS, and Jaeger was fascinated by the derring-do of their exploits.

Now the old man led him off to where the woods shaded a patch of flat concrete, no doubt the roof of one of the countless subterranean buildings — maybe even the very room in which Jaeger had suffered his interrogations.

‘You’ll want to know who’s responsible,’ Uncle Joe began, ‘and of course, you have every right to answers.’

‘I can guess,’ Jaeger ventured darkly. ‘Narov played her part to perfection. It’s got her signature all over it.’

Uncle Joe shook his head gently. ‘Actually, she wasn’t overly keen. As time went on, she tried to get it stopped.’ A pause. ‘You know, I think — in fact I’m absolutely certain — that Irina has something of a soft spot for you.’

Jaeger ignored the gentle teasing. ‘So who, then?’

‘You have met Peter Miles? He plays a far more important role in this set-up than perhaps you might imagine.’

Jaeger’s eyes blazed. ‘What the hell was he trying to prove?’

‘He was worried that the loss of your family might have destabilised you somewhat; that the trauma and guilt might have pushed you to breaking point. He was determined to test you. To prove his — and Narov’s — fears either right or wrong.’

Jaeger’s anger flared. ‘And what gives him — them

— the right?’

‘Actually, I would suggest he has every right.’ Uncle Joe paused. ‘Have you ever heard of the Kindertransport? In 1938, British diplomat Nicholas Winton managed to save hundreds of Jewish children, by organising trains to ship them to Britain. Peter Miles wasn’t called by that name back then. He was an eleven-year-old boy called Pieter Friedman, a German Jewish name.

‘Pieter had an older brother, Oscar, whom he idolised. But only those aged sixteen or under were allowed to board Winton’s trains. Pieter made it. His brother did not. Neither did his father, his mother, his aunts, uncles or grandparents. All were murdered in the death camps. Pieter was the only one of his family to survive, and to this day he believes that his life is a miracle; a gift from God.’ Uncle Joe steadied his voice. ‘So you see, if anyone knows what it is like to lose a family, Peter does. He knows how it can break a man. He knows what it can do to your mind.’

Jaeger’s anger seemed to have dissipated somewhat. Hearing such a tale put everything into perspective.

‘So did I pass?’ he asked, quietly. ‘Did I prove their worries wrong? It’s all such a blur. I can barely remember what happened.’

‘Did you pass the test?’ Uncle Joe reached out to embrace him. ‘Yes, my boy. Of course. As I told them you would, you passed with flying colours.’ A pause. ‘Indeed, there are few who could have endured what you did. And whatever comes next, it is clear now why you must take the lead.’

Jaeger glanced at him. ‘There is one other thing. The T-shirt. Luke’s shirt. Where did it come from?’