All Things New

by Felicia Mires

  Solemn faces exchanged glances. The thought of taking a suicide pill made their circumstances all too real.

  "But that isn't their only use. You'll also conceal microdots of photographed messages. One last thing…" He reached into the box. "These small knives fit nicely into the lapels and sleeves of your shirt. Get them sewn in. If we're captured, our jailers are in for a very painful awakening."

  The resistance members handled the new items and passed them back and forth as if they'd been given toys for Christmas.

  Marie-Madeleine held up a hand. "What's the tip for tonight?"

  As one, the group answered. "Always hide something in plain sight."

  "Oui. You are dismissed. Jacques, please stay behind."

  The small group of men and women wasted no time in going their separate ways, each with a cache of new devices to fool the enemy.

  With the room emptied of personnel, Marie-Madeleine faced Jacob. "It's imperative we get all the radios running and distributed to the different sectors. Do you have personnel chosen as radio operators?"

  "Oui. Groundhog, Jiroud, Albatross."

  "Excellent. Tutor them in the use of the radio transmitters. Please demonstrate this to me before you go."

  Jacob set the equipment out and picked up the headphones. "Wear this. You'll need the transceiver and the aerial in place to receive a signal. These crystal plugs are used to change the transmitter frequency."

  "What is that?" She pointed.

  "Battery clips. When electricity is unavailable, this enables you to utilize a car battery to power the radio."

  "I see. Very good." She handed him a slip of paper. "Memorize these codes for the initial contact then destroy it. From that point, we'll use a different code from the book each time we use the radios."

  Jacob watched as Marie-Madeleine's eyes cleared as if she'd checked off one more item on her never-ending list. She'd sacrificed a lot to work with the Resistance. Somewhere, she had a daughter. At one time, she'd been married. They had much in common, and she was a very attractive woman. So, why wasn't he attracted? Perhaps war had taken away the part of him that could be happy with a mate.

  He picked up the codes. "1" to initialize communications. "QS5" meant the message was coming in clearly. London would be known as Stronghold.

  He flipped through the book. A series of numbers would tell the radio operator what page to look on. Once he identified the page, the rest of the numbers would identify what words from a certain paragraph were included in the message. Anyone unauthorized who happened on the series of numbers, would have no idea to what it referred.

  "All right. I've got it." He set a match to the list.

  Marie-Madeleine looked up from her desk. The glow from her small lamp framed her head like a halo and softened the already attractive features of her face, but dark smudges under her eyes portrayed her weariness.

  "Thank you, Jacques. See you tomorrow night. We'll have weapons."

  "You should go home, Marie-Madeleine. You need rest."

  "I will. I promise. As soon as I make a report for Navarre."

  The next night as she'd foretold, they retrieved supplies of a more lethal persuasion. Jacob received a regulation pistol and one fitted with a silencer.

  He grinned as he stood before his comrades in arms. "Always hide something in plain sight." He handed Jiroud a pencil. "Tell me Jiroud, how would you kill a Gestapo officer with this?

  Jiroud gave him a characteristic Gallic shrug. "Stab him?"

  "This slim writing utensil is really a gas-pistol." Jacob twisted the yellow pencil, and it came apart. "And this one…" He picked up a red pencil. "…is a delayed-action detonator."

  "What good is a detonator without a bomb?"

  "I'm glad you asked. This is plastic. A small wad left on the side of a building can be detonated from a safe distance yet blow up an entire wall."

  Jacob glanced around the room at his co-conspirators. Their faces glowed with anticipation, even excitement. Jacob felt the same. He couldn't wait to try the bombs on an actual target, preferably one with a Nazi inside. Perhaps the Resistance would finally have an edge.

  Chapter 3

  After waiting for several weeks, Jacob received orders for a mission and traveled with an agent named Alphonse to the power station at Pessac. Once darkness fell, they approached the boundary wall of the power station. Alphonse laid a restraining hand on Jacob's arm and pointed.

  Jacob nodded. A high-tension wire surrounded the top of the wall. "Instead of attempting to scale the wall and the wires, I'll go in tomorrow as a worker."

  "Too risky. What if they ask for your papers? No one by that name works at the plant."

  "I'll think of something. Magnetic bombs aren't effective unless attached to the walls of the transformers."

  "I guess we've no choice." Alphonse studied the darkening skies. "We should get somewhere safe for the night."

  The next morning as the workers changed out their shift, Jacob gathered in the queue outside the boundary wall. He watched as each employee entering the power plant was inspected for subversive or explosive materials. When he reached the front of the line, he stared negligently into the distance.

  "Where are your papers?" A short, stocky man frowned up at Jacob.

  Jacob pulled out the papers which identified him as Jacques Conran.

  "I've never seen you." The guard carefully studied the documents before facing Jacob. "What's the reason for your presence in the plant?"

  "I've been asked by the Germans to translate something for them. It seems there's a problem they've not been able to clear up because they're unable to convey their needs."

  The guard at the gate, a French deputy from the look of his uniform, didn't really care whether the Resistance blew up the power station or not, but he was vehemently opposed to Frenchmen who collaborated with the Germans. He scowled at Jacob but allowed him access.

  As soon as Jacob cleared the main entrance, he surveyed the perimeter of the plant. From time to time, he held his breath as authentic workers passed, but no one confronted him. After he verified that he could knock out most of the transformers with a remote detonator, he returned to the entrance gate. The same guard gave Jacob a glare as he left the gate but didn't detain him. It took Jacob nearly ten minutes to jog back to where Alphonse awaited.

  "Well?"

  Jacob grinned. "I got in. We can hit the transformers and be miles away."

  They gathered all the materials for the job, and Jacob placed them in a metal lunch kit. He returned to the gate and walked briskly past the guard while the man checked the identity papers of someone else. The guard glanced briefly at Jacob and sneered, but Jacob merely smiled and continued his rapid pace into the plant.

  By the end of the day, he had armed six of the eight transformers with an incendiary grenade and a plastic bomb detonator. When darkness fell, he still hadn't gained access to the last two transformers. He left the power plant anyway. He had the safety of others to consider, and he had to make sure the bombs went off when the personnel weren't nearby. The resistance didn't purposely harm French citizens.

  That night, when the deafening crash of disabled electrical transformers lit the night sky, Jacob and Alphonse were miles from the plant. Their act of sabotage was so successful that steam engines had to be brought back to the southwest rail line. The lack of a power station also brought a complete halt to activities at the Bordeaux submarine base and several other neighboring factories. Unfortunately, it only strengthened the resolve of the Nazis to break the Resistance teams operating in the Unoccupied Zone. To maintain the anonymity of Resistance personnel, Marie-Madeleine changed their code names. Jacob became the Lion.

  While on his way to the next rendezvous, Jacob couldn't get the insistent thought from his mind to call London. He motioned for his radio operator to follow him past a ditch into the woods. When they reached deep cover, he pulled out their equipment. "I've got to check something."

  "Jacques, we're not in a
safe area. It isn't time for us to call in. There won't be anyone listening."

  "Make the call, Jiroud, or I'll make it myself. Something is wrong. I know it."

  Jacob paced back and forth while Jiroud tried different frequencies on the radio. At last the signal cleared, and they bandied code words back and forth.

  "Who is this?" England asked.

  "The Lion." Jacob responded quickly. Every second spent on the radio gave the enemy an opportunity to find them. "Something is wrong. Stronghold, have you heard anything? Stop."

  "We suspect a traitor. Radio teams are being rounded up all over the Unoccupied Zone. Go underground. Stop."

  "Any directives? Stop."

  "Do what you do best. Stronghold out."

  Jacob had avoided looking at Jiroud when they heard the news, but now he had no choice. Jiroud had hidden away their radio and stood waiting for Jacob to give him directions.

  "We're going to Lyon."

  Jiroud eyed him thoughtfully. "How did you know? Who's the traitor?"

  "I don't know who it is, but…I pray a lot, Jiroud. I just thought I heard God's voice."

  "Is that why you never get caught? God talks to you?"

  Jacob had earned a reputation for daring missions. The odds were against him, considering the number in which he'd partaken. He should have been caught by now. They all were eventually.

  "I don't hear voices, if that's what you mean. It's more like I can't get an idea out of my mind." He started walking. "Let's go. It's not safe here."

  On the way to Lyon, Jacob wanted to check a radio operator in Bagnols. When they were a half-mile from the house, he paused. "Wait for me here. This position may already be overrun."

  "No, Jacques, I'm going with you. You might need me."

  The two men quickly dropped under the street sign just as the police set up what appeared to be an informal roadblock at the end of the street. Jacob and Jiroud waited behind a shrub. It seemed the police were going to check the identity papers of anyone passing on the street.

  Jiroud bent close and whispered. "Have the police set up that checkpoint on account of us?"

  "I don't think so, but we'll know more when we check in with Albatross."

  Jacob was loath to commit himself to a decision at this point, because he just plain didn't know whom to trust. He could feel the gut-wrenching uncertainty tearing at his insides, and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide somewhere, away from all the traitors and 'well-meaning' collaborators that brought death to the Resistance operators.

  They inched their way along the street, sometimes crawling on their bellies, always ducking at the slightest sound.

  "Jacques, do you think it's a trap? Will they be waiting for us?"

  "We're not running to the front door until we're sure."

  When they reached the house, they waited close to an hour without noticing anyone or hearing a thing. They were no longer in sight of the checkpoint. Why did Jacob still sense something wrong?

  Finally, he pulled a scrap of red fabric from his coat. "I'm going. Stay behind this hedge no matter what."

  He left Jiroud across the street and crawled flat on his belly over the open ground. His arm appeared in the air only seconds to hang the flag on the fencepost closest to the front door. He hadn't even made it back to the woods when the door opened.

  "Is that you?" called a voice. "Come inside!"

  Jacob froze flat on the ground, his eyes searching for a glimpse of Jiroud through the hedge, but Jiroud had stepped into the road to wave his arm.

  Before Jacob could get to his feet, he heard the rat-a-tat of machine-gun fire. He didn't hesitate, rolling sideways as fast as he could. He barely saw where he was going as dust and sand fell in his eyes.

  The door banged as the Germans left the house then running feet crunched across the cold, hard ground. Miraculously, they didn't notice there were two men.

  While they checked the body of Jiroud, Jacob reached the street corner and dove into a ditch. His heart beat wildly. This could be the end. There was no way he could elude them in the city with a police checkpoint at the end of the road.

  The Germans shouted to one another, not bothering to be quiet because they assumed few Frenchmen could understand them as they radioed the checkpoint he had passed earlier. Jacob could scarcely believe his ears. The men were German officers of the Gestapo. Why did the Gestapo wear the uniforms of French police? He didn't have time to stop and ponder as he headed for the checkpoint. The guards had been told to fan out, but if he returned to their former position, perhaps he could bypass them all.

  With his chest heaving, Jacob ran to retrieve the precious radio then once again traveled to Lyon. Perhaps there he could get answers to his questions. Surely the Gestapo had invaded the Unoccupied Zone and tricked the citizens by wearing the uniforms of the French Police. There might not be a traitor after all, just some extremely underhanded Nazis.

  In Lyon, Jacob dove into the traboules, where the underground passages had been used successfully throughout the occupation to escape from unwelcome street patrols. He hurried to a pipe that held information and served as a mail drop…unless it, too, had been compromised.

  He reached the pipe and screwed off the end. Inside, in a water-proof pouch, was a list of safe-houses and equipment stashes. At least, that's what it said if you knew the proper code. Jacob memorized the three locations furthest from town and returned the list to the pipe. If this pipe were still 'active,' he would soon be in a warm room where he could sleep and get something to eat. He would also have to inform England of the death of Jiroud and of the duplicity of the Nazis.

  He left the tunnels at the edge of town, and after securing the radio in an obscure hiding place, he hiked to a farmhouse. He took care to remain close to the edge of the woods in case of motor transports. Those fake French Policemen had been driving in a van that looked as if it was wired as a listening post with direction-finding radar. Perhaps that's how they'd taken out Albatross. If enough of those vans were operating in the area when Albatross had used his radio, they could have pinpointed his location easily.

  When Jacob reached the farmhouse, he recognized figures with whom he had worked before, Antoinette and Ferdinand Darnel. They were an older couple and very much looked the part of French peasants on a farm. They reminded him of happier days on his family's farm in Germany.

  Jacob was so tired of running, but was it safe to come out in the open? He waited until Ferdinand visited the barn then slipped inside after him.

  Ferdinand might be older, but he had excellent hearing, and whirled around to confront Jacob. "Jacques… how did you get here? Are you alone?"

  "Oui."

  The relief Jacob felt almost overwhelmed him. When Ferdinand grabbed him in a bear hug, he nearly sank to the ground.

  "Are you all right? Come into the house. Antoinette will take care of you."

  Ferdinand wrapped his arm under Jacob's shoulder and helped him into the house.

  Antoinette hurried from the sink to take Jacob's other arm. "Has he been shot? Is he ill?"

  "I don't know, woman. Why don't you get him a drink and then maybe he can speak to us."

  "I'm...fine," Jacob managed to gasp out of a dry, raspy throat.

  He drank the water offered to him and immediately tried to talk, but his raw throat closed up from miles of running in the cool, autumn air without any fluids.

  "Jiroud," he at last croaked out. "Jiroud was shot at Albatross' place."

  "What?"

  "You went to see Albatross and Jiroud was shot?" asked Ferdinand.

  Jacob nodded. "The French Police were really Gestapo."

  Ferdinand spit on the floor. "Sale Boches."

  Antoinette grabbed her husband's arm. "We've got to radio England."

  Jacob nearly fell from his chair trying to restrain her. "No, they're using direction-finding radars to locate the radios." Jacob coughed violently and took another drink. "I know that's how they found Albatross."

&n
bsp; "But we have to warn Stronghold." Ferdinand was insistent. "I'll take the car and drive out of the city. I can use the radio in the woods."

  "What excuse could you give for leaving the city?"

  The three agents stared at one another for a few moments before Jacob spoke again. "There's no use in the two of you being sacrificed. If one of you is caught, the other will be suspect. I'll go to the underground tunnels. They might narrow down the search, but they won't be able to find me."

  "Are you sure you can make it?"

  Jacob nodded. "I do what I have to do. I just needed some water. Besides, I know Antoinette will have a feast waiting for me when I get back."

  Ferdinand smiled sadly. "Lentils and bread."

  Jacob thought of the last few days in which he'd had close to nothing. He clapped Ferdinand on the back before walking away. "That's a feast."

  Once again, Jacob forced himself to run through the night air. They had so much at stake. Father, help me.

  In Lyon, Jacob passed townspeople who didn't look his way or appear at all curious. It didn't pay to be curious these days. Those that were too nosy were taken away, either by the French police or by those that hated collaborators. People who minded their own business lived longer.

  With the tunnel in sight, Jacob glanced around. He didn't want to be seen taking refuge there. It might make someone suspicious later. There were risks when radioing from inside the tunnels. Even if he didn't obtain a clear signal to England, the radars would begin to narrow down his position the moment he turned on the radio. On the other hand, it was much more difficult for the Gestapo to catch him through the maze of tunnels. And Jacob had learned them all by heart.

  Without electricity, he had been forced to carry along a car battery for power. He disguised it in a shopping bag. It slowed him down but allowed him the advantage of choice. He could set up wherever he liked.