Free Grey Wolves by Robert Muchamore Page A

‘But it’s a throttle and a wheel like my dad’s old fishing boat.’
    ‘Right,’ Henderson nodded. ‘I’m coordinating ten different things, so I want you to take the helm. Head north by north-north-west and keep an eye out for any other boats. I’ll chart a proper course as soon as I can, but that’s close enough for now.
    ‘Once you’ve got a feel for how she handles, take her up to twenty-two knots for a quarter of an hour, then slow her down to ten. It’s a long way back to Britain; I don’t know our fuel status but I’ll bet those big diesel engines have a thirst when you’re moving fast.’
    ‘Aye, Commander,’ Troy said, proud to be in charge of a powerful thirty-five-metre boat, but a little scared too.
    As Troy gently nudged the throttle, Henderson looked around for Madeline . ‘Did the old girl go down?’
    Troy nodded. ‘Just after you went below deck. She was blazing – you must have been able to see the smoke over a wide area – so I told Jarhope to take the main gun and shoot her below the waterline.’
    Henderson looked shocked. ‘On your own initiative, without asking me?’
    Troy shifted uneasily. ‘Was that wrong, sir? You were below decks, I thought it was critical.’
    ‘You were absolutely bloody right,’ Henderson said, giving Troy a friendly slap on the back. ‘Good stuff.’
    Troy was getting a feel for the E-boat and pushed the throttle further forwards. ‘If we get this boat back to Britain in one piece we can name her Madeline II .’
    ‘Not a bad idea,’ Henderson laughed as the boat picked up speed. ‘Feel free to turn a little, start getting a feel for the rudder. You’ll need to know what she can do if we run into trouble.’
    ‘Right,’ Troy nodded.
    ‘Give me a shout if you need me,’ Henderson said, as he moved towards the ladder. ‘I’m going below to help Marc.’
    ‘No problem,’ Troy nodded. ‘Oh, and congratulations on the baby, sir.’
    Henderson shot back up the ladder. ‘Pardon me?’
    Troy gasped. ‘Sir, I thought Boo already told you. I guess with everyone being so exhausted it slipped her mind.’
    ‘Told me what?’ Henderson said. ‘Spit it out, boy.’
    ‘It came through in our routine signal yesterday afternoon. McAfferty thought you’d want to know immediately. You have a son, sir; he was only five pounds two ounces, but he’s in good health and so is your wife.’
    ‘Well bugger me,’ Henderson said.

Part Two
Four weeks later

CHAPTER TEN
    Saturday 17 May 1941
    Lightning flashed as a small truck crawled towards the top of a hill, getting slower and slower. The wiper blades squealed but fourteen-year-old Rosie Clarke still couldn’t see more than fifty metres through the pelting rain.
    ‘You need to change down, doll,’ her boyfriend PT told her. ‘You’ll stall it.’
    Rosie floored the clutch and put the truck in neutral, then after waiting for a second for the spinning gears to slow down she put the box into what she thought was second. The truck lurched, cogs in the gearbox sheared against one another and the engine died.
    ‘That was first gear,’ PT said. ‘You need to throw the stick over for second.’
    The truck started to roll backwards. Rosie hit the brake pedal and turned the key to restart the engine, but the truck just stalled.
    ‘You’ve got to put the clutch down,’ PT said.
    ‘Shut up ,’ Rosie shouted, as she pounded the steering wheel in frustration. ‘I can’t concentrate with you constantly babbling. Just look at the map and tell me which way to go. And stop calling me doll. I’m not your pet, your doll, your lady or any other stupid American name.’
    PT smiled cheekily. ‘You drive me wild when you’re angry, toots.’
    Rosie gritted her teeth as she started the engine again. She put the truck in first gear, let the clutch in, but stalled immediately and rolled back several metres before pulling on the handbrake.
    ‘Well don’t just sit there,’ Rosie shouted. ‘What am I doing