CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Penn confirmed what Bernard had told me last night, that we had to choose among three cities: Dijon, Nice, and Reims. Penn used all his ingenuity, resources, and a few bribes, to find out which of the three hosted the laboratory.
After visiting a few contacts, he had ruled out Nice because he found that the Nazis began pulling key projects away from areas occupied by Mussolini’s men. Traitors above all feared being betrayed, and so after the Nazis double-crossed their Soviet allies, their alliance with the Italian government unofficially began degenerating.
Then it was down to Reims and Dijon. Reims stood in a comfortable strategic location for the German Armed Forces, being not too far from Germany itself. It had been accosted and usurped by Germany in the Franco-Prussian War, and the first Great War, so it would feel like coming home for the German Army. The Führer would have been further lured by the history of the town, which boasted of Roman arches still standing from the glorious days of the Roman Empire, kings being coronated in its cathedral, and even of miraculous oils and ancient relics.
Based on all the information, Reims became the apparent choice. We agreed that as our cover Brande and I were postulants on retreat with Father Gabriel. Since it would have been suspicious in more ways than one for a young woman to be traveling alone with men to whom she had no relation, Gabriel said that I could claim him as my cousin. After enduring Lucien’s half-hearted apology, I accepted his and Ernest’s offer to back us up. We agreed that they would be dropped off before we reached town so they could come in separately. We didn’t want our group to be too large.
Adelaide lent us her car and Father Gabriel volunteered to drive. I hopped in next to him and took the passenger seat. Brande, Ernest, and Lucien took the backseat. As we headed out on the road toward Reims, I thought about how Ernest’s presence would be useful since there would definitely be German Armed Forces protecting the lab, but I wasn’t as confident in Lucien. I knew he wanted to come so he could get a chance to avenge his father’s death, but in his state of mind, a person didn’t always think or act straight.
My thoughts wandered toward Ken, and all of a sudden I felt like turning around and trying to find him. I ignored this urge and turned toward Father Gabriel and began chatting him up as a distraction. However, as soon as I started asking him about his Vatican connections, one stern look from Brande prompted me to make small talk elsewhere. Lucien nodded off and looked like he needed more sleep, and when I noted how much he looked like Otto, I felt sorry for him, because he’d never see his father again.
I hoped that we’d be able to depend on Lucien, and that he would be able to focus on the mission at hand. I’d seen his mood in other people who experienced great loss. They would appear normal for a while, and would even interact with you, then suddenly their disposition would change and they would grow sullen or depressed. It also bothered me that I could taste the toxic essence of cadmium metal coming off him. If I asked Ernest about it and started prying into Lucien’s habits, he’d refuse to explain anything and clam up. I decided to ease into conversation with Ernest first, and asked him about how he began working alongside OSS.
“I trained with the Red Tails.” Ernest had a proud gleam in his soft brown eyes.
“The Tuskegee pilots?” I shifted in my seat to a more comfortable position.
“One and the same. I flew missions against the Italian army in the Mediterranean, but one day, two of our pilots were assassinated.”
“What? How?”
“They got into their planes, and before the planes even took off, they exploded. I guess the enemy didn’t like all the damage we dealt. And let me tell you, half of us were scared to get back into our planes afterward.”
The car swerved. I gazed at Gabriel for a few seconds. “Were...you just driving on the wrong side of the road, Father?”
He stroked his chin. “It would seem so.”
The car accelerated, but it didn’t seem to bother Ernest. “We figured we needed to catch whoever was planting bombs before anyone else died. So based on a lead, I ended up posing as a Moroccan businessman in Casablanca.”
“Because you trained as a spy?” I glared at Father Gabriel before facing Ernest again.
“No, I was the only fool crazy enough to take the assignment! I was going back and forth between there and Spain. I know enough French to make my way around, and I would pass along things I’d hear from French speakers in the area. No one ever said anything that could lead us to the assassin.”
The car horn blared, and we swooped through a crossroad. I looked at Father Gabriel again and frowned. “Does anyone else care that we almost crashed back there?”
“We’ll be fine.” Brande yawned.
“You want me to finish my story?”
“Sure, Ernest. At this rate, it may be the last one I hear.”
“I ran out of leads until I met a spy named Galeno. We kind of became drinking buddies and one day he told me that he had a lead on the assassin.”
“But how did you end up in Spain for so long?” I shifted again in my seat. “Didn’t the Red Tails need you?”
Lucien rubbed his eyes and leaned forward. “They called him out for another flight and Galeno was waiting for him. He was the assassin all along, but he’s the sick type who likes to play games with his targets. He shot Ernest right out of the sky.”
“Faster than Babe Ruth whacking a ball,” Ernest quipped.
“You mean the Bambino?” We both laughed when Lucien and Brande exchanged confused glances at my reference to the famous baseball player.
Ernest continued. “Anyway, I landed in Spanish territory and ended up doing side jobs for OSS while I waited on orders from the Red Tails. That’s how I met Lucien.”
“We’re almost there.” Gabriel flashed me a smile.
Ernest nodded toward Lucien. “I saved his life three times already. He loves trouble, and trouble loves him.”
Lucien gave him a critical eye. “What about that time I saved you from that ambush in that brothel?”
“I told you, Galeno went in there—and I followed.”
“Yes, for four hours.” Lucien nudged Brande, and to my surprise, he laughed.
I scowled at the idea of him being amused with anything having to do with whorehouses. I turned to Father Gabriel. “Are you going to let them talk like that?”
The priest eyed me as if expecting me to whack him over the head. “Perhaps we should focus our thoughts and conversation on more...immediate matters.”
I crossed my arms. “Men...”
The Tower's Alchemist (The Gray Tower Trilogy, #1) Page 23
