Free Hitler's Secret by William Osborne Page A

relief at the prospect of dry land.
    Above them came the sound of an aircraft. The drone of a single-engine plane. It grew louder. Otto and Leni shielded their eyes, looking up to the fading blue sky, as the dronebecame a whine, higher in range as it drew closer. A fighter plane suddenly filled Otto’s vision, the nose cone painted a bright scarlet. It was not of a type that Otto had ever seen before and it was heading straight towards them, no more than a hundred feet above the water. He glimpsed a pilot in white leather flying helmet and gloves, his mouth open and his teeth bared. The pilot raised a hand and waved, just as the downdraft hit the sail and rocked the dinghy from side to side.
    For a moment, time slowed and shifted and Otto was once more back on the beach in Dunkirk with bullets chasing him across the sand and into the sea. He panicked.
    “Otto, no!” screamed Leni.
    But he was already over the side of the boat and plunging into the lake. The shock of the icy water knocked all the air from his chest. He kicked for the surface and saw that the dinghy was already thirty feet away. He began to swim after it, but it was going too fast. The wind had caught the sail. He could see Leni had scooted to the stern and was gripping the tiller. But she was obviously frightened. Too late he remembered she hadn’t much enjoyed the sailing lessons.
    “Pull the tiller towards you until the boat goes into the wind,” he shouted, pushing himself to swim even faster.
    To his relief, Leni did as he said. The bow came around and the sail emptied of wind and started flapping. Leni sat down,waiting for Otto to catch up. As he reached the little boat he grabbed hold of the side and began pulling himself on board. Unfortunately, it was just at that moment that Leni stood up to help him in, leaning over to grab his arm. The dinghy capsized, throwing her into the water beside Otto. The mast and sail sank below the surface, and the hull turned turtle.
    Leni coughed and spluttered. “The packs!” she screamed.
    Taking a deep breath, Otto dived under the water. He could see the packs just below him, gradually sinking to the bottom of the lake. A very deep lake, he remembered quite suddenly. He tried not to think about Dunkirk, or the feeling of the rope slipping from his hand. He dived after the nearest pack and grabbed it. For a moment he felt it drag him down like an anchor, then he kicked with all his strength towards the surface, pulling the bag behind him, until his free hand found the edge of the boat. His head emerged from the water, and he sucked at the air. Then Leni burst up beside him, making him shout out with surprise.
    “Got the other pack,” she gasped. “Can you swim to the beach?”
    Otto nodded. Holding the pack with one arm, he kicked for the shore.
    A few minutes later they struggled up onto the beach, lugging their waterlogged packs along the dark, silty earth and onto the large stones.
    “I’m sorry, Leni.” Otto sat down.
    The upturned dinghy had drifted in after them and was banging against the rocks in the shallows.
    “I don’t understand. Why did you jump off the boat like that?” She was staring at him with a look of concern.
    “It’s just … well, the plane reminded me of something … Something that happened to me.”
    Leni nodded, seeming to realize that he didn’t want to talk about it. “Well, that pilot was absolutely crazy. Can you believe he actually waved and smiled?”
    Otto got to his feet. “We’d better not stay out here in the open,” he said. The island was small and not so densely wooded as Herreninsel. The outline of the convent’s main buildings could be seen through the trees.
    Leni picked up her pack. “You’re right. We need to keep out of sight until nightfall. Head up there to the tree line. We still have enough daylight to dry our things out, with a bit of luck.” Then she stopped. “Oh, no!” she wailed. “The rope, we’ve lost the rope.”
    “It’s all