Free Henderson's Boys: Eagle Day by Robert Muchamore Page A

refugees to go back home, but people faced the same transport problems as the produce and German military needs were given priority on the few trains that ran.
    The presence of food in the docks also attracted thousands more hungry refugees. They were short of fresh water and without shelter or toilet facilities, so the streets stank in the summer heat and it was only a matter of time before typhoid or cholera broke out.
    As Marc stepped down from Henderson’s stolen truck, the refugees sprawled out in doorways seemed barely human. Some kept clean by washing in the sea, but many had given up all pretence of decency. If you were healthy you could head out into the country and steal from farms, or start making your way home on foot. Those who stayed around the docks tended to be old, sick or burdened with several children.
    Radio Maritime had a conspicuously modern shopfront in a street of seedy bars and hostels. The front door had been boarded over following one of the many bomb blasts around the docks, but a sign pointed to a side entrance down an alleyway and Henderson was pleased to discover a large workshop and storage shed.
    ‘Should stock plenty of spares in a joint like this,’ he noted.
    Henderson knocked on the steel door, but had already begun sizing it up for a break-in when a bolt finally thunked across the inside. A young man opened it and as he let Henderson and Marc inside it became clear that a club foot had kept him out of the army.
    ‘I was down in the basement,’ the young assistant said apologetically. ‘I keep the door locked because you get people wandering in, wanting food or begging to use the toilet. Not that the toilet even works now. There’s so many refugees out there that all the sewers are backed up.’
    Henderson pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of his jacket. ‘I need to replace a couple of valves. Got the part numbers written down here.’
    The assistant sucked air between his teeth. ‘Not a valve on the shelf, I’m afraid. Valves are fragile beasts and when the bombing started we had more repair work than we could handle. Once the Boche 4 arrived they came and took what little stock we had left to repair military equipment.’
    ‘Figures,’ Henderson said sourly. ‘I suppose that means nobody else in town will have any either?’
    ‘You suppose right, sir. I can’t even sell you one of the new sets in the window because they’ve all been stripped out. With no parts, the only work I can do right now is cannibalising: making one good set if you bring in a pair of damaged ones.’
    ‘And I don’t suppose you’ve kept any stock back for a customer who can pay a good price?’ Henderson asked.
    The assistant shrugged. ‘You know, my father owns this shop. He said I should have tried to keep a couple back from the Boche. But when two big uniforms with guns came through the door and started ripping stuff off the shelves I didn’t fancy playing the hero for the sake of a few glass tubes.’
    Henderson looked deeply disappointed. ‘Supposing a man to have a valve, is there anywhere he might get one?’ had
    The assistant laughed. ‘Short of robbing the Germans in their barracks, I doubt it.’
    Henderson’s eyes lit up. ‘Would you know where that is?’
    ‘Sure, my dad and my sister are helping them repair equipment up there now. They took over the university building across the river, but you’re wasting your time. They won’t give you anything.’
    ‘Guess you’re right,’ Henderson said sadly. ‘I’ll let you get back to your cannibalisation.’
    The smell of the street hit Marc again as they went out into the alleyway.
    ‘Looks like we’re buggered on the radio front, boss,’ Marc said sadly.
    Henderson smiled determinedly. ‘Marc, if there were no valves in Bordeaux we’d be buggered. All we’re facing is a minor difficulty.’
    Marc laughed as they turned back on to the street and approached the truck. ‘You’re probably the most wanted man in France.