In the Shadow of Your Wings

by J. P. Robinson

  Jaëger bared his teeth and tried to get up but a burning sensation—like hot metal grating across his ribs—drove him back to his knees. His enemy’s last bullet had slammed into his side. He knew before he withdrew his hand from his bleeding side that the bullet was in deep.

  Staggering upright, he slumped against the wall.

  “No!” Jaëger smacked his bloody hand against the stone. Remaining at Northshire was not an option—not in this condition. He stumbled forward, knowing his only hope was to get to the car before—

  A bullet zipped past him.

  Jaëger sank to one knee, clenching his teeth against the pain. He propped his left elbow on his bent knee and cradled his right forearm in his left palm. Then he waited, squinting for the telltale movement that would identify his attacker’s location.

  A rustle in the trees was all the confirmation he needed. Aiming mechanically, he pulled the trigger on his Luger. When the man’s shriek had faded, Jaëger pushed himself upright and staggered off toward the woods. Each jarring step brought another wave of agony upon him, but the pain of his wounds was eclipsed by the acrid taste of the knowledge that, against all odds, he had indeed failed.

  JERRY LUPOLD, KNOWN in Germany by the name Hans Fressner, was jolted from sleep by a fist that hammered mercilessly on his front door.

  “Martha, aufwachen!” He shook his wife’s shoulder, but she only moaned and buried her head beneath her pillow. Hans shook his head and reached for the Luger he kept in a drawer by his bedside. His bare feet made no noise on the wooden floor and he slid the hammer back on the gun as he stalked toward the door.

  He and his wife had called Great Britain their home for the past six years but, as a part of a small cell of German spies, they had more than one reason to be wary of anyone who came to their home at night.

  He peeked through the small window in the door and a small gasp escaped his lips. Hurriedly jerking the bolt back, he opened the door.

  A man leaned against the doorframe, his wan face gleaming in the moonlight. The face was one he had seen only once but could never forget.

  Impossible!

  “Do you have any water? Or something stronger?”

  Hans’s eyes drifted to the stranger’s side. Matted blood oozed out from between fingers that pressed a grimy cloth. “I might have some in the cellar but I’d have to check.”

  The man swayed and clutched the doorframe to keep from falling. “I could use a good glass full. Especially at this... time of night.”

  Hans nodded then opened the door wide. “Wilkommen.” He lapsed into German, slipping the wounded man’s arm over his shoulder. “General? Come in quickly. How did this happen?” He peered over his shoulder into the darkness, then slammed the door closed with his heel. “Martha!”

  The stranger sagged against him. “I am General Werner Jaëger. In the name of... King Wilhelm II and the Fatherland, I ... claim your assistance.” Then his arms flew backward as he sank to the ground, unconscious.

  Epilogue

  London, Great Britain. August 1916

  “Prime Minister.”

  “Hughes?” Prime Minister David Lloyd George blinked to clear his eyes. Affairs of state did not permit much time to sleep and, when he could go no further, sleep was often a sporadic event, plagued by contorted dreams.

  “What is it Hughes? Speak quickly man!” David mopped his brow with his sleeve.

  “The men I planted at Northshire have not checked in.”

  “That’s because they’re asleep. Normal people do sleep you know.”

  Hughes’s voice was distant. “They’ve not been responsive for over a week, Prime Minister.”

  “We all heard about the fire at Northshire. I spoke to Thomas about it myself this morning.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s what has me concerned. The fire...”

  David had heard enough. “Now see here, good fellow, if you ever disturb me at this hour again—”

  “I suspect foul play, sir.”

  The Prime Minister fell silent as Hughes’s insinuation soaked into his mind. He stared at the receiver in his hand. It was a private, secure line that only he could access. Whatever was said in this conversation would be heard by himself and Hughes alone.

  “Do we know where Thomas was during the fire?” He spoke at last.

  “No sir. But even if he could produce witnesses who said he was helping with the fire, their testimony would be unreliable. His tenants would do anything to protect him.”

  “You think he had them killed.” David let the words hang in the air.

  After a moment, Hughes spoke. “There’s no other explanation. My headman, Jones, would never fail to report. Sir Thomas must have discovered their identities and had them assassinated.”

  “Dear God.” The phone slipped from David’s hand and he grabbed the cord. “No. No I won’t believe it. Not without further proof.”

  Hughes continued to speak but the spymaster’s voice dimmed out as his mind was tossed about by an ocean of memories. Thomas as a child, laughing in the playground. Thomas, as a young man, shouting orders on a parade ground. Thomas, as an adult, saving his life on a bloody battlefield in India. This Thomas... a traitor?

  “Sir?”

  The Prime Minister shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Thomas was a pillar of society. A frown creased his brow.

  Even the mighty can fall.

  If Thomas was guilty of treason, he had a moral and political responsibility to see justice done. To hesitate would show weakness when Great Britain needed strong leadership in this time of national crisis.

  “Shall I bring him in, sir? For questioning?”

  David opened his mouth and closed it, trying to muster the courage to utter the words that had to be said.

  “Yes.” His voice was a raspy croak. “Yes.” He closed his eyes. “Bring him in but wait until he’s next in London. Let me meet with him first. And when you do it, be discreet. The people of London love him and there would be a run on the Bank of England if word gets out. God knows we don’t need that now.”

  The line was quiet for several moments but then Hughes’s voice echoed in his ear once again.

  “So be it.”

  Watch for JP Robinson’s unforgettable second installment of the Northshire Heritage saga. In the Midst of the Flames releases in the Spring 2019.

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  In the Midst of the Flames Prologue

  Antwerp, Belgium. October 1914

  “You have thirty seconds before you die.” He cocked the Luger and pressed it hard against the young woman’s forehead. “Now,” his voice was as cold as the unfeeling metal that bit into her flesh, “tell me what you learned.”

  Leila Durand squirmed and twisted her tightly-bound wrists as she glared at the small, but powerfully built, bearded man whose black-gloved wrists peeked out of the sleeve of an equally dark leather trench coat.

  Give. She wrenched her wrists hard, ignoring the pain but the knots that bound her hands together refused to budge. Duct tape, wrapped around her chest and arms, pinned her to the chair. I’m trapped.

  He grinned at her, the white of his teeth at odds with the darkness that cascaded from his hooded black eyes. She tried to ignore the wild galloping of her heart and focused on the circumstances that had brought her here—wherever here was. All she knew was that she was in some hole in the ground in neutral Belgium with a maniac who meant to kill her.

  Unless, of course, she confessed.

  After two years of clandestine field operations for the German government she had been ordered to return to Antwerp for an intense two-week training session. This was only logical given the recent outbreak of the Great War.

  Her instructor was none other than the formidable Elsbeth Schragmüller. Yesterday, Elsbeth had sent her to shadow a Briti
sh agent. The man had held a brief conversation with a newspaper correspondent—an Allied spy no doubt—and Leila had managed to get close enough to hear his every word. Elated, she had slipped off into the growing gloom. Her trip back to the Kriegsnachrichtenstelle, or espionage training school, had been cut short as a black vehicle roared out of the darkness and screeched to a halt directly before her.

  A quick glance had confirmed that escape was impossible. The van blocked her path, the walls of Antwerp’s buildings rose high on both sides and four men rushed toward her from behind. Heart sinking, she had raised both hands in surrender. There was no sense dying here.

  The men had covered her head with a black hood and forced her into the vehicle. Sometime last night she had been roughly thrown into the small confines of this windowless tomb.

  Gritting her teeth Leila strained again at the bonds. It appeared that she was going to die anyway.

  One small candle blazed on a steel table, transforming her abductor’s face into a contorted mask of demonic frenzy.

  “I’ll only ask once more.” He drew back his hand and slammed the butt of his semiautomatic pistol against the side of her face. “What did you hear?”

  Leila’s head whipped to one side as the metal connected with her skin. For a moment, the candle seemed to wink out. She blinked rapidly, knowing that if she lost consciousness now she would never wake up.

  “N-nothing.” Her breath came in short, ragged bursts. The pain was blinding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in her skull. “I’m just a student. That’s all.”

  He dropped into a crouch, teeth bared. “Do you take me for a fool?” He raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  Pft!

  The bullet sped by her neck and bit into the chair, sending splinters of wood into the air. A silencer had absorbed most of the sound but she could swear that the pounding of her heart would’ve drowned out the noise of the shot anyway.

  “The next one will be in your eye.” He laid a gloved finger on his pursed lips. “The right one, I think.”

  Leaping forward, her captor grabbed her hair with his left hand. Leila cried out as he jerked her head backward.

  “Tell me!” His shout made her ears ring.

  Tears leaked out of her eyes.

  I won’t. He won’t break me. She gasped out the words. “I... don’t know ...anything!”

  He slammed his fist onto the chair and, with a growl, tossed the gun onto the table then withdrew a long-bladed knife.

  She stared, wide-eyed and chest heaving as he twirled it around in his hand. “W-what are you doing?”

  He grinned. “I’m going to cut off your ears. Do you have a preference?”

  “N-no, no!” She writhed in the chair.

  “Then tell me what I want to know.” He placed the edge of the knife against the fleshy part of her right ear. “Tell me.” The knife bit into her skin and she felt a fiery finger of pain and then a trickle of blood.

  “I can’t!” She was gasping now and soaked with sweat. Her bladder felt like it would burst at any moment. “Nothing. I’ve nothing to tell, I swear it.”

  “You’re lying!” He pressed in deeper, the edge of his knife cutting into her flesh. A ragged scream ripped out of her throat.

  “Nothing!” The cords of her neck bulged as her wails filled the room. “Nothing... to say.”

  He fell silent then withdrew.

  Sobbing, Leila trembled in the chair and watched with wide eyes, as he strode over to the far wall. He flipped a switch and electric light flooded the room, making her wince with pain.

  “Open your eyes, Leila Durand.”

  She hesitated then obeyed. He leaned casually against a wooden table with his arms folded across his chest. Her eyes darted to the gun and knife which rested on the table near the candle.

  “I am General Werner Jaëger, head of His Imperial Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm II’s Foreign Espionage unit called Department 3B.”

  She stared at him. “You’re ...”

  “I am your commanding officer.” A thin smile crossed his lips. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “B-but—”

  He held up a hand, forestalling the swarm of questions that hummed in her mind. Or was that ringing sound her battered head?

  “Fraülein, cut her bonds.”

  Footsteps sounded behind her and, after a brief moment, the ropes slackened and fell. The tape around her followed suit. Leila rose and turned, rubbing her chafed wrists.

  “Fraülein?”

  “Well done Leila.” Her teacher nodded and smiled. “Well done indeed.”

  “You may remain Fraülein as you already know what I plan to say.” General Jaëger stood upright and clasped his hands behind his back then stepped forward.

  Leila retreated behind the chair.

  “Don’t worry, the test is over.” Jaëger stood still. He nodded toward her instructor. “Elsbeth spoke well of you and it appears that her judgment was well-founded.”

  Leila’s fingers probed the wound behind her ear. Blood still trickled downward. “Test?”

  “I wanted to see if you would break under interrogation.” He motioned toward the table. “What I saw inspires my confidence. The British aren’t as ruthless as we can be.”

  Her eyes widened as the implications of his words sank in. Shadowing the supposed Englishman, her abduction, imprisonment, and torture—it had all been an elaborate scheme to see how much she could endure.

  Her head swung toward Elsbeth. “But why?”

  The papers in Antwerp were full of advertisements posted by both the Germans and British soliciting informants and espionage agents. It was difficult to believe that all prospective recruits had been subjected to such brutality.

  General Jaëger rocked back on his heels, his eyes probing her battered face. At length, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. “Your orders are here, written in code. Read them, memorize them, and burn them.”

  She took the envelope and slipped it into the pocket of her wrinkled skirt. “I will.”

  “There is something else.” Werner came closer and this time she did not back away.

  “What I am about to say is not written in your orders.” He drew a cigar from his pocket, lit it, and inhaled deeply before speaking again. “If it should appear that the Fatherland is losing this war, the Kaiser has ordered me to develop a contingency plan. It is called Herkules. To execute this operation, I will need to have agents already in place, ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

  She furrowed a brow, trying to think past the pounding in her skull. “That is what this was all about?”

  “Precisely.” He drew again on his cigar. “If Herkules is carried out, it will end civilization as we know it.”

  Releasing his breath in a cloud of smoke he said, “When the heads of all our enemies gather together to sign a peace treaty, you and the other agents will follow specific directions. All non-German heads of state will be assassinated in one stroke.”

  A chill ran through her. “All?”

  “All.” His eyes probed hers. “Germany will take advantage of the ensuing chaos and will seize control of France and England in one final bid for power. Leaderless, the nations will fall at our feet. Now do you understand?” He gestured toward her ear.

  “I-I do.” She had been right. Ordinary agents were not subjected to this level of interrogation. Gingerly, Leila touched her ear again. In an odd sense, she was proud that she had been chosen to play this part. She was even more proud that she had not given in.

  Jaëger sniffed. “Elsbeth will see to your wounds.” He gently touched her cheek. “When your bruises have healed, you will depart for Great Britain and the home of Sir Thomas Steele.”

  He tossed the still-burning cigar onto the floor and ground it underfoot with the heel of his black boot. “If you do not wish to be a part of Herkules, speak now and I will end your life mercifully.”
r />   Jerking his head toward the chair, “What you saw is only the beginning of what I will do to you if you betray me.”

  “You’ve seen me prove my loyalty to the Fatherland, General.” Leila held his gaze as her blood trickled down the side of her neck. “I will not fail you.”

  Author’s note

  No matter how many times I read the story of the Prodigal Son, my heart clenches when I think about the father who stood patiently waiting at the gate, hoping against hope, that each day would bring the return of his son.

  Perhaps, dear reader, you identify with the father. Or perhaps you are the prodigal himself who, like Malcolm, hopes to find happiness in a life apart from God’s love. In either case, the truth remains that there is only one way Home and that is through Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

  At the beginning of their story, Malcolm and Leila were both wandering from the presence of God, but Leila’s experience brings her home in both a literal and spiritual sense. Ask yourself, dear reader, if this is true for you as well. Have you truly come home? If not, the welcome mat is spread wide and the Father stands at the door looking for your return.

  The divergent characters in this first part of an epic journey, reflect the various belief patterns that can be seen in our society.

  Fritz and Clara Haber along with Charlotte Nathan, show us the folly of relying upon science and personal ambition instead of God’s truth. As the Genesis account demonstrates, each time humanity bites off the tree of knowledge (science apart from God’s Word) the result is always good and evil. While Fritz Haber gave us a scientific process that literally saved billions of lives, his continued tampering also led to the destruction of thousands and, ultimately, the rise of chemical warfare.

  Will shows us the failure of Christianity without God’s love while Eleanor demonstrates the power that faith brings in the most difficult of circumstances. We may cry and wish that our life’s circumstances could be different, but every believer’s faith in God “is the victory that overcomes the world” (1 John 5:4).