“She didn’t go down. Or at least she didn’t drown. She knew she was almost out of fuel. She found an island and managed a landing. It had to have been rough, but she could do it.”
Farr’s head was swimming.
“Don’t you see? She’s out there. She’s waiting for someone to find her.”
He said slowly. “So, you’re going looking for Amelia Earhart.”
“Exactly. I have maps. Santos gave me some extras. The United States Navy knows the approximate area where she went down. Emerson was going to help me, but…” She shook her head, sitting up straight. “Never mind about that. I’m going to hire a boat, and I’m going to go out there and search every island. I’ll ask all the people who live there. Someone had to have seen something. Planes don’t fall from the sky every day. She’s out there, on one of those uninhabited islands.”
She paused, taking his hand and squeezing it. “She deserves to be found, Wolfe, dead or alive. And I’m going to find her.”
Farr remembered the whole story. The disappearance, the frantic search, and the gradual giving up of hope. Earhart had been a trailblazing figure back in a time when few women attempted such things. She had captured everyone’s imagination with her bravery and daring. It was a damn shame when she’d gone down.
He frowned. Still, he hoped she wouldn’t stick to this ambition. It could complicate matters, and his own plans for them. For the first time since meeting Katrinka, Farr realized the very tenuous clasp he had on her. It would only take a sudden shift, and she would be gone. Out into the world and never looking back. Leaving him alone and heartsick, missing her.
Later, when Farr had finished his radio transmissions, the conversation came back to his mind, worrying him. All he’d ever wanted was a home and a family. He had a fierce desire to undo the mess of his own childhood. His wife would stay home, cooking good meals, and raising good kids. They didn’t have to be perfect. He’d come home from work, and dinner would be on the table. There would be no yelling and screaming, or knock-down fights. Until now, he’d never seen how unrealistic this dream was. Relationships were filled with conflicts. Kids got sick, and maybe turned out bad. He realized with a sickening jolt that she would never go for his kind of life. He’d lose her in a minute.
* * *
Farr and Katrinka were out with the radio, and sharing a small hotel room near the neighboring town of Trois Cloches. Nye had worked with Pascal’s sources to get her new papers as a medical-supplies-service operative, delivering equipment to the clinics in the surrounding areas. This allowed her to stay in hotels, and Farr would meet her occasionally for a few hours at night. Using back entrances or fire escapes to creep into the window of her room, he would hook up his Jed set using the electrical mains for transmissions.
This evening, he’d prowled the area, as well as the room and fire escape, looking for escape routes. He knew that with one miscalculation, everything went to hell in a handbasket. Satisfied, he settled back on the bed, lit a cigarette, and waited for her to return from a delivery.
He smoked, staring up at the ceiling. On these nights they shared, Farr knew danger could surprise them at any moment. A desperate urgency between them continued to make every second count. His love for her had turned him into a worrier, and he didn’t like it.
He finished the cigarette and sent out a few more transmissions. After several minutes of work, he glanced at his watch. He could relax. The last one did not go out for a few hours.
* * *
Katrinka came in later, smiling as Rolf bounded onto the bed and curled up next to Farr. She perched on a chair to undo her laces, telling him something her Papa Emerson had once said about the affection of dogs, and he interrupted her.
“Why do you call both men your father?” he asked.
“Because. They are.”
“But one was your stepfather, or a friend of your mother’s or something, and one is your true father, right?”
“No. Papa is my father, and Emerson… he was my father as well.”
“That’s impossible.”
She paused with her undressing, giving him a baleful look. “You love to say that. You say it all the time.”
“What?”
She could mimic his voice incredibly well. “Oh Katrinka, that’s impossible.”
“Well, so happens it is. They couldn’t both be your father. Scientific fact.”
“I don’t care. A-mah made love to them both the night I was conceived. There was a terrible row, and my mother challenged them to show her their love. They did. The three of them made love for hours. Papa only left the bed in the morning because they had to leave port. He could barely walk. He could barely see straight. Papa Emerson needed to eat, so he crawled to the galley. He could not walk at all.” She added warmly, “Otherwise, they would have made love all that day as well.”
“Sometimes I think you say these things just to see my reaction.”
“But it is true. You asked.”
“So, you think just because your mother made love to both men at the same time, that somehow she was impregnated by them both?”
Katrinka came over and sat down on the bed, unbuttoning her skirt. “If you want to be so particular, of course not. Besides, Papa Emerson could not conceive. He’d had the mumps.”
“He was shooting blanks.”
“What?”
“Just an expression, babe.”
She stared at him. Did he just call her “babe”?
She sat in the soft lamplight, with her dark hair hanging around her shoulders, and laughed at him. She loved the wonderful warmth and smell of his body. They were so rarely able to spend a whole night together.
He sat up, nuzzling and kissing her neck and lips. Reaching under her blouse, he traced her nipple with his finger.
She took his finger away, slowly sliding it into her mouth and quickly pulling it out again. It made a small popping sound. She could see he was growing very hard, very quickly.
“Trink?”
“Hmmm?”
“Have you ever made love to two men? At the same time?”
She was silent.
He spoke sharply. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Stupid thing to say.”
“Come here, Wolfe.”
“I’m a complete asshole.”
“Come here.”
She could see he was ready; the conversation had aroused him. He reached for her as she teased him. “Do you want to put your cock inside me?”
“Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?”
“What?”
“Just an expression.”
“Your expressions! Oh yes, now you will shoot your blanks into me.” She laughed.
Quickly he pulled her down to him, his face serious. “Baby, these aren’t blanks we’re messing with. Have you thought all this out? We could have a kid, you know. Doing this stuff.”
Katrinka stopped laughing. She thought back to their first night of lovemaking. They’d done enough ‘stuff’ to have several babies that night. Later, she had insisted on protection. But all it took was one time.
As a matter of fact, she had thought a great deal about it after the rape. If the war were over, she’d return to Phyu Thiri Kyun, her mother’s island, where she had been born. She would stay there until the child was old enough to travel. Then she would take the little girl along, on her expeditions to find Amelia. Katrinka always assumed she would have a girl.
But if the war were still on, she could not return to Burma. Instead, she would go to her beloved French grandmother in Porto. Her grandmother had doted on her, spoiled her, and called her Trinkabella. Now that her grandfather had died, she was alone, living in that amber-washed house high above the Douro, where she used to sing fado in the taverns along the river. She would go there to have her child, and surround it with her love and that of her grandm
other.
Katrinka never believed that a child would be unwelcome, or that it would inhibit her independence. Her mother had lived a nomadic life and passed the love of it on to her. She would do the same.
She brought her attention back to Wolfe, who was studying her face.
“Yes, I have thought about it. And I would want your child. It would give me something…” She stopped. She’d been about to say, “something to remember you by.”
“Something what?”
“Something to care about. A child of my own.”
“Our own.”
“Yes. Ours together.”
It occurred to her then that if she did conceive, he would always be a part of her life. Even if he left her, he would come back for the child. She knew he would do that. She would not have to say goodbye to him forever.
He seemed to have forgotten his recent arousal and lay on top of her, his head averted.
His chest was pressing against her face, and she twisted out of his embrace. “Wolfe?”
He cleared his throat. “Oh. Yeah?”
“You are so quiet.”
He turned, and his face was as vulnerable as a child’s. He passed a hand over his eyes. “Jesus, Trink, I love you so much.”
She slid naked under the coverlet with him. He held her tight, but they did not make love. And after a bit, they slept.
* * *
The two Gestapo were making a final sweep of Trois Cloches. Their small squad was destined to leave in a few hours’ time. They were seeking out the damning radio messages that had wreaked havoc on their communication lines during the past few weeks. Hauptmann Mühler and Unteroffizier Kraus were sitting quietly in a car near a small hotel, where earlier broadcasts had been briefly detected. Kraus wore a mobile RDF strapped under his overcoat. It had been malfunctioning for the past few days, and they were trying to pinpoint the exact location of the radio waves. They waited tensely, staring at their watches.
* * *
Farr woke a while later and sent his last communication. There were complications on the other end, and the transmission took longer than it should have. Farr began to sweat, obsessively checking his watch. When it finally ended, he donned his clothes and boots, thinking furiously. If anyone had been listening, it would take several minutes before they arrived.
He wrapped up the radio in its suitcase, looping the strap around his neck and shoulder, and woke Katrinka. Her lids flew open. One look at his face and her eyes filled with worry.
“Plan B?”
He nodded, scrambling for his knife and pistol, jamming them into his belt. With the radio strap across his chest, his hands were free. He watched as she grabbed for her clothing.
“Everything’s probably OK babe, but just in case.”
He was wrong about the timing. The next moment, the sound of boots filled the hall, followed by violent pounding on the door. A harsh German voice was demanding entrance. They could hear the hotel concierge shouting in the background.
Too late for them to run. He’d go over the fire escape railing with the radio.
Rolf began a frenzied barking, lunging from the bed as Katrinka called out, “Un moment!”
He frowned as she took her knife, thrusting it under the mattress, close to the edge.
“If there’s any trouble—any trouble—you scream, understand?”
“They’ll shoot you!”
The hidden knife worried Farr. He gripped her by the shoulders, staring into her eyes. “Goddammit, you scream.”
Farr ran to the open window and climbed out onto the fire escape. Swinging himself over the railing, he hung suspended beneath its platform, gripping the webbed flooring with his fingers, the radio smacking into his side. He was going to give it five minutes, then haul himself back up into the room, his pistol blasting. God knows what she thought she was going to do with that knife.
* * *
Standing in the hallway just outside the room, Hauptmann Mühler pushed the hysterical concierge aside and drew his pistol. His tall Unteroffizier continued ramming the door with his shoulder. A woman’s voice called out from the other side, speaking in indignant French.
“Etes-vous fou? Are you crazy? What is it you want? I am sleep—”
With his last thrust, Unteroffizier Kraus splintered the wood, savagely breaking the latch to the door. Mühler shoved his way into the room, knocking into a young woman standing in the entranceway. She was dressed in nothing but a sheet, a startled expression on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her close.
“Kraus, das Fenster,” he ordered.
Kraus searched the room, stabbing the curtains with his bayonet and riddling them with bullets. Screams came from the hallway, and then the sound of doors slamming, and running feet.
The girl cried out, attempting to pull away. “What are you doing? You must leave immediately.”
Hauptmann Mühler twisted her around, slapping her across the face. He spoke in precise French, so there would be no misunderstanding. “Mademoiselle, we will stay as long as needed.”
He looked down at her dog, who was struggling to bite through his boot. He smiled, his underlip twitching. “Your little dog wishes to remove the boot, I think.”
She gathered the squirming animal into her arms and tried to quiet his barking.
They both watched Kraus fling the curtains aside and lean out the window to the fire escape. He pulled himself back in, shaking his head, “Da ist niemand, Hauptmann Mühler.”
Mühler released the girl’s arm and pressed his pistol into her side. “Show me your identification. Do not do anything stupid, or I will shoot you. And your little dog as well.” He shoved his face close to hers. “Understood?”
She nodded.
Mühler pulled back, startled. For a moment, something feral—almost inhuman—passed across the girl’s face. He suppressed a shiver, watching as she retrieved her papers from the bedside drawer. He studied them carefully, then returned them to her.
“Where is the radio?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you refer to. I have no radio.”
Kraus stepped forward, smacking her onto the bed with the back of his hand. Her dog crawled under the covers, where his muffled barks continued.
The girl sat up, putting a hand to her mouth. There was blood on her lip, and her cheeks flushed a bright red.
Mühler frowned. “As you can see, my Unteroffizier has a listening device strapped to his body. It is very useful. We have tracked the radio signal. It has come from this room.”
She shrugged. “Then the monsieur’s listening device is incorrect. You are in the wrong place. There is nothing here.”
Kraus moved so quickly, the girl had no time to react. Grabbing her by the back of the neck he lifted her up, smashing his fist into her stomach. She gasped and crumpled onto the covers.
Kraus stood over her. “Where is the radio?”
She shook her head.
Mühler watched as Kraus yanked a handful of the girl’s hair, twisting her backward as she clung to the edge of the bed. Her sheet slipped away as Kraus slammed his boot into her back.
“Where is the radio.”
“There is no radio.”
His kick caught the girl under her ribs, and the force of it lifted her body off the bed. She fell back onto the mattress, her breath punctuated by ragged gasps.
Kraus stepped back, undoing the buttons to his overcoat. The apparatus was becoming too cumbersome to allow him to work on the girl properly. He unstrapped the detection finder from his body, laid it on the chair, and glanced at his officer. Mühler gave him a curt nod, and Kraus turned back to the girl.
Mühler sighed and sheathed his pistol. He walked to the window and looked out onto the street. The previous interrogation had taken four hours, and the Frenchma
n had died at the end of it. He doubted the girl would last an hour under Kraus’ efficient hands. But they had no time for this. He frowned as an apprehensive warning niggled at his brain. Something was wrong. The continued blows were powerful, but she was making no sound.
He turned back, and a glint of reflected light caught his eye. The girl had a knife. He watched in horror as she twisted her body, swinging her arm with ferocious speed, and plunged the blade straight though Kraus’ chest, cracking bone. His Unteroffizier shrieked in anguish.
Before Mühler could react, a crash sounded behind him. He spun, grabbing for his gun, and saw a man hurl himself over the railing of the fire escape. He pulled his weapon just as the man charged through the window, knocking him to the floor. Mühler raked his fingers across his attacker’s face, searching for the man’s eyes, but the man dug his thumbs into his throat, pressing deep into flesh. Mühler couldn’t breathe. A creeping blackness seeped into his brain. His fingers fluttered uselessly, and in a few moments they fell to his side.
* * *
Farr stood up panting, wiping the blood from his face. They had to get out.
He saw Katrinka on top of the other man, stabbing repeatedly with her knife, her cries of rage echoing in the small room.
Fucking hell. He ran to her as she pushed herself upright, retching onto the floor. Her small face was bloodied, and one eye squinted shut.
“Trink, are you all right? Can you walk?”
She nodded.
He leaned down wrapping an arm around her waist, and she cried out in pain. He flinched. “Here baby, take my hand.” He watched her struggle to stand.
“I’m all right. Please, get Rolf.”
“Right. Easy now, take it slow. Get your clothes; we’re going back out the window.”
She nodded again and struggled into her clothing.
Farr grabbed Rolf from his puddle of urine and stuffed him down the front of his jacket. He ran to the window and peered out. It was clear.
Grabbing her knapsack, Katrinka stepped over Kraus’ body, his dead eyes still agape with astonishment. Farr looked away as she pressed her foot onto the man’s neck and jerked out her knife. She stuck the blade in her waistband’s sheath.
Just Another Girl on the Road Page 11
