Pursuit of Passy Read online

TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PRELIMINARY INFORMATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER I – ABOVE THE AMIENS ROAD

  CHAPTER II – THE ENGLISHMAN

  CHAPTER III – THE PHOTOGRAPH

  CHAPTER IV – INTO THE DARKNESS

  CHAPTER V – A GERMAN DIES

  CHAPTER VI – MARCKENFACE

  CHAPTER VII – GISELLE

  CHAPTER VIII – DR. MENDEL

  CHAPTER IX – THE SPIDER AND THE FLY

  CHAPTER X – WE MEET AGAIN

  CHAPTER XI – CAFÉ DES DEUX FRÈRES

  CHAPTER XII – CHEMIN DU NORD

  CHAPTER XIII – WE WRITE A LETTER

  CHAPTER XIV – WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOUR

  CHAPTER XV – THE TRAP CLOSES

  CHAPTER XVI – THE WHITE CLIFFS

  PURSUIT OF PASSY

  by

  D. M. CROOK

  A thrilling novel of a man hunt with a nation's existence at stake.

  Original Text Copyright D M Crook, 1946.

  eBook version converted and published by S J Crook, 2014.

  Foreword Copyright S J Crook, 2014.

  Cover Image Copyright S J Crook, 2014.

  Flight Lieutenant D. M. Crook, D.F.C.

  24th November 1914 – 18th December 1944.

  FOREWORD

  I never met my grandfather, David Moore Crook, he having died more than three decades before I was born. However, I have always felt I have known him through reading his autobiographical work, Spitfire Pilot, his first-hand account of the Battle of Britain. I knew that he had also written a novel, but I had never seen a copy. Around 10 years ago I managed to find an old copy from an online bookseller. I found the book a thrilling read, and it gave me further insight into my grandfather’s life and mind. This year marks the 100th anniversary of his birth, and sadly, the 70th anniversary of his death. I felt it was fitting to convert the story, which was nearly lost, into a format which can be enjoyed by many more people.

  S. J. Crook, 2014.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This story was written more as a mental exercise than anything else. It has no foundation in fact so far as I know and should be taken with a very liberal dose of salt.

  All the French characters are imaginary, many of their names being taken from a map.

  ORIGINAL PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  We deeply regret the death of Flight-Lieutenant D. M. Crook, D.F.C., before his book could be published. Those who read and enjoy what he modestly called “a mental exercise” will agree that it worthily reflects the spirit of this gallant officer and of the Service to which he belonged.

  PROLOGUE

  ONE evening in July 1940, about three weeks after the French armistice, three men were sitting in a room at the back of a small hotel in Northern France.

  They were of different nationality and type, these men, but probably if you could have seen them as they sat round the table you would have noticed that each of them in his own way betrayed signs of great anxiety and suspense, as though aware of the terrible scene that was to take place in a few moments.

  Walking towards this room, through the dusty and tree-lined streets, a man and a girl were approaching rapidly. Though the man was quite unaware of it, he was in fact walking to his death, walking straight into the trap just as the unsuspecting fly draws nearer and nearer to the fatal web and the dark shape of the spider watches hungrily from the corner, waiting his moment to pounce.

  Following the man and the girl, perhaps a hundred yards behind and now rapidly closing the distance were two men whose rather nondescript appearance was belied by their hard faces and purposeful stride. The Gestapo also had their part to play.

  Above and beyond this little drama, much larger issues were at stake. The German armies which had halted for the time being on the French coast at Calais and Boulogne were gazing eagerly across the Channel to the sunlit cliffs of Dover that showed up white through the heat haze on the water. That was to be their next objective; invasion of the proud and almost helpless island which alone stood between them and final victory.

  But England still possessed a few trump cards for the approaching struggle, and the safety of one of them depended to a great extent on what was to happen during the next few minutes in this little French hotel.

  I was one of the three men who sat waiting round the table, and this is how it came about.