Operation Trinity

by Clifford, Riley

  “Don’t bother. I wouldn’t want to take you away from what appear to be very important duties.”

  The woman flushed. “Fourth floor. Take that staircase there.” She pointed.

  Grace smiled. “Merci.”

  Unlike the cheerful scenes she’d passed outside, the Louvre still bore the hallmarks of war. As Grace reached the fourth floor, she found herself in a corridor lined with ornate gold frames, the kind used to display the works of old masters like Raphael and Rembrandt. Except that the frames were empty. In place of canvases, their titles were scrawled in chalk on the walls. She shivered, overcome with a chill that had nothing to do with the drafts blowing through the cavernous galleries. It was like walking through a graveyard and recognizing the names on the tombstones.

  She opened a small door that said ADMINISTRATION and entered a long hallway. Halfway down, she saw a door with the name VALLAND. It was open.

  Grace paused. She’d been so focused on making it to Paris that she hadn’t thought about what she would say when she arrived. “Sorry I ignored all your letters”? “I couldn’t miss field hockey practice”? “I was convinced my family is evil but now I know the Vespers are worse so here I am”?

  She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  “Entrez,” a voice called.

  Grace stepped inside the office. An older woman with dark, elegantly arranged hair was sitting behind an enormous claw-footed desk. Books and prints covered every surface. Tall stacks teetered precariously from the desk and chairs, and there were piles of documents scattered on the floor. Yet, despite the clutter, the office didn’t seem messy or disorganized. In her navy blue suit, the woman behind the desk radiated calm and authority.

  Grace cleared her throat. “I’m Grace Cahill. I believe you’ve been expecting me.”

  Rose Valland stared at her for what felt like a full minute, taking in Grace’s matted hair and stained clothes. Then her face broke out into a smile. “Well, this is a surprise.” She gestured to the one empty seat. “Please, sit down.” As Grace arranged herself in the threadbare armchair, Rose stood up to retrieve a tea tray balanced on the edge of a crowded end table and brought it over to the desk. “Tea?” Grace nodded and was handed a delicate white cup decorated with blue flowers.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t write back,” Grace said. She clutched the teacup, savoring the warmth she felt seeping into her skin.

  “I understand,” Rose said, taking a sip of tea and then returning the cup to the saucer. “The war has been difficult for all of us.” Grace tilted her head down, so Rose wouldn’t see the blush spreading over her cheeks. She’d spent most of the past few years safe and sound in America, far away from the fighting.

  But she was here now.

  She raised her chin. “I assume you want me to find the altarpiece.”

  Rose looked startled. “How did you know? I didn’t mention the name in my letters. It was too dangerous.”

  Rose’s face grew pale as Grace told her about Mr. Blythe and Mlle Hubert. “But why do they want the altarpiece?” Grace asked, taking a moment to sip her tea.

  Rose walked over to one of the piles and picked up a large book resting on the top. She brought it over to the desk and sat back down in her chair. “Well,” she said, opening it to a spread featuring the Ghent altarpiece. “Scholars have always been fascinated by the elements that suggest Van Eyck traveled far beyond Europe.” She pointed to a cluster of palm trees so lifelike they looked as if they were about to begin swaying in the breeze. “How could a man who supposedly spent his whole life in Belgium paint palm trees without seeing them?”

  Rose moved her finger over to a classical statue in the corner of another panel. “And this. It is almost a perfect reproduction of a Donatello piece in Italy. You have to remember that in Van Eyck’s day, books were extremely rare. It is not as if he could have seen a painting of Donatello’s sculpture. The incredible accuracy suggests that he went on journeys — trips he chose not to document.” She looked up at Grace. “The Vespers believe the panels conceal a map that leads to secret locations in all the places Van Eyck visited.”

  “What are they looking for?”

  “We’re not sure.” Her lips pressed together and her face turned serious. “But it’s something important enough they’re willing to kill for it.” She placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

  Grace followed Rose through the deserted galleries. As they passed countless empty picture frames, Rose explained that the Nazis had been seizing priceless works of art since the war began, but the altarpiece had held a particular fascination. “The ‘Lamb’ has been a symbol of many things for many people,” she said as they swept down a marble staircase. “Over the centuries, it has been claimed by rulers who saw it as a mark of prestige. Others — even non-Cahills — believed that it hides the key to a priceless treasure. Hitler is convinced one of the panels contains a map to the crown of thorns Christ wore during his crucifixion, which supposedly has supernatural powers.” She gave Grace a wry smile. “That’s probably why it was so easy for the Vespers to convince him to track it down.”

  They turned into a cavernous sculpture gallery. In the dim light, the few remaining statues cast long shadows, making it look like the empty pedestals were haunted by the ghosts of their missing occupants.

  “So we need to find the altarpiece before the Vespers decode the map?” Grace asked, running her hand along the top of an empty pedestal where, according to the chalk markings, a Greek statue of Athena once rested. “And I’m part of the rescue team?”

  Rose shook her head. “Your friend Mr. Blythe’s division — the Monuments Men — think they’ve located the storehouse where the Germans have been hiding the stolen works of art.”

  “So what do you need me for?” Grace said, her voice rising with frustration.

  Rose ignored her tone and continued calmly. “The Germans are monitoring the Monuments Men. We believe they have orders to demolish the storehouse if the Allies get too close. They would rather destroy thousands of European masterpieces than hand over their stolen treasures.”

  Grace narrowed her eyes. “How do you even know this?”

  Rose walked over to a large ceramic urn. She glanced over her shoulder, grabbed on to the handle, and pulled.

  Instead of the smash Grace expected, she heard the clank of twisting gears. The urn began to rotate, sinking down into the concrete pedestal until it disappeared completely, revealing an empty compartment. Rose reached in, pulled out a folder, and beckoned for Grace to stand next to her. She removed a stack of documents: letters and telegrams in a variety of languages.

  Grace gasped as she glimpsed a black eagle clutching a swastika. “How did you get that?” she whispered.

  Rose smiled. “Because, dear, I am not just a Madrigal. I’m also a member of the French Resistance.”

  Grace wandered through the empty gallery in a daze. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. Rose wanted her to stall the Nazis — to keep the altarpiece safe until the Monuments Men arrived. Because if the “Lamb” were destroyed before the Cahills decoded the map, they’d lose their one chance to discover what the Vespers were after.

  Grace knew why saving the altarpiece was important, but the plan — if you could even call it that — was insane. In order to reach the “Lamb,” Grace would have to sneak into the heart of Nazi-occupied Europe. The thought of getting into Austria was sheer madness. Exploring Altaussee — the town Rose identified — was tantamount to a suicide mission.

  Rose told Grace that she knew someone who might be willing to fly her to Austria — a contact from the French Resistance. Their code of secrecy prevented Rose from calling her while Grace was in the room, and she politely requested that she wait in the gallery.

  The museum was so quiet that Grace could make out the sound of a radio broadcast coming from one of the nearby offices. The familiar cadences settled in her ear and sent a shiver down her spine. It was President Roosevelt — th
e late President Roosevelt, more accurately. He’d died only a few weeks ago, and the whole country was still in mourning. This French radio program seemed to be playing snippets from Roosevelt’s famous speeches. But this was something Grace hadn’t heard before: a speech about the missing art in Europe.

  “Whatever these paintings may have been to men who looked at them generations back — today they are not only works of art. Today they are the symbols of the human spirit, symbols of the world the freedom of the human spirit has made.”

  She shivered. The freedom of the human spirit.

  Mr. Blythe hadn’t known anything about the altarpiece’s secrets, and had still been willing to risk his life to protect it. He’d known that art was worth fighting for.

  It wasn’t about hidden Clues or secret maps. Being a Cahill meant using your power to stop whatever evil was threatening the freedom of the human spirit.

  Whatever the Vespers were looking for, they couldn’t be allowed to find it. Someone had to save the altarpiece before it was too late.

  She looked around the empty gallery.

  And apparently, that someone was her.

  Grace stared uneasily at the young woman next to her — a young woman who was piloting her in a battered, single-engine plane over the Austrian countryside. Being a Madrigal involved risks, but flying through German territory in a rickety plane was something else completely. It was a death wish.

  Yet Jane Sperling — if that was even her real name — looked completely at ease as the tiny aircraft sputtered over eastern Switzerland.

  Grace had a million questions for the mysterious girl. How did she know Rose? Why on earth would she be willing to take Grace to Austria? And what was her plan to keep them safe once they entered enemy airspace? Yet there was something about Jane’s smirk that kept Grace from voicing any of her concerns.

  “Sooo . . .” Grace tried one more time to extract a shred of information. “You’re a friend of Rose’s?”

  Jane smiled but kept her eyes focused straight ahead. “That’s right.”

  “You were in the Resistance with her?”

  She laughed, which made her look much younger. She was closer to Grace’s age than she’d realized. “If I were, do you think I would have lasted this long if I blabbed secrets to strangers?” Jane turned to look at Grace for the first time. “Rose said you speak German.”

  “Yes . . . ja . . . a little. But not enough to hide the fact that I’m American.”

  Jane turned back to the windshield. “That could be a problem.” Grace stiffened, prompting a derisive snort from Jane. “If you are scared already, you are going to be in real trouble.”

  “If I weren’t scared I’d be insane,” Grace said, narrowing her eyes.

  “And yet you’re risking your life to find the Ghent altarpiece.” She smiled. “You must be quite the art lover.”

  “It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” Grace snapped.

  They flew on in silence. Jane fiddled with the controls on the dashboard, and then sat up straighter. “We’ve crossed into Austria,” she said.

  The plane sank beneath the cloud cover, and the countryside came into view. It looked like something off a postcard — sparkling turquoise lakes were tucked among emerald green fields dotted with tiny houses with peaked roofs.

  “Are you going back to France?” Grace asked.

  Jane shook her head. “I have business to attend to in Bavaria.” She turned to Grace. “That’s in Germany.”

  “I know,” Grace snapped.

  A rumbling in the distance shook Grace’s mind free of all thoughts except one. She gasped as a plane emerged from a bank of clouds, followed by two more. The wings each bore a black-and-white cross that she recognized from countless newsreels. Their tails bore large swastikas.

  It was the Luftwaffe.

  The German air force.

  Without saying a word, Jane banked the plane sharply to the left, and Grace felt her stomach plummet to her toes. The German planes disappeared from view, but she could hear the buzz of their propellers close behind.

  The green expanse of farmland was suddenly swept overhead as Jane took them into an inverted turn. Grace squeezed her eyes shut as the blood rushed to her head.

  “Hang on!” Jane shouted as she leveled the plane and began picking up speed.

  “Thank you for the warning!” Grace yelled, without opening her eyes. “I was just about to take a little nap.”

  Jane laughed as she pulled the throttle back as far as it would go. The plane began to shake.

  “Open your eyes. You’re missing the view.”

  The snowcapped peaks of the Austrian Alps glittered in the distance.

  “Ch-ch-charming,” Grace said, as the plane rattled violently. She clasped her hands over her stomach as a wave of nausea passed over her.

  Grace yelped as the patter of gunfire pierced the roar of the engines. The plane rocked back and forth. She could hear the ping of bullets tearing into the wings.

  Jane pushed the stick forward, sending the craft into a nosedive. They hurtled straight toward the ground. The farmhouses and trees below seemed to grow at an alarming speed. A scream burst out of Grace’s chest but got lodged in her throat.

  At the last minute, Jane straightened the plane and they glided over the tops of pine trees rustling in the wind. “Are you okay?”

  Grace forced herself to swallow. “Never better.”

  Jane grinned as she turned in a large loop, skirting around the side of a steeply sloped mountain and entering a narrow valley. “We should be safe here. Those Luftwaffe planes are too large to maneuver through this pass.”

  The gap between the mountains was so small the sunlight filtered through the thick pine trees, giving it a greenish tinge. Emerald shadows filled the windows of the plane, making it seem like they’d flown through a portal to another realm. An enchanted world untouched by war. Unscathed by the Cahills.

  But it seemed to have its own monsters.

  Up ahead, a dark shape was hurtling toward them at an incomprehensible speed.

  “Looks like I was wrong,” Jane said, gritting her teeth. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  In the past, dangerous situations had always made Grace feel more alive, giving her the energy to do whatever it took to survive. But now there was no escape. A strange numbness passed over her, as if her body was trying to get a head start on dying.

  There was a rapid patter of gunfire as the approaching plane began shooting at them. Jane banked hard to the left until they were almost vertical, and then rotated one hundred eighty degrees in the opposite direction, swinging the plane back and forth like a pendulum.

  The German plane was so close Grace could see the shape of the pilot through the windshield.

  The only comforting thought was that, in less than ten seconds, he was going to be dead as well. Grace shut her eyes. She wanted to scream, but her throat wouldn’t let any sound out.

  Then she was weightless, floating through the air. This must be what it feels like to die.

  Her stomach plummeted, as if it had parachuted out of the plane on its own. She opened her eyes and saw that they were suddenly flying low to the ground. The other plane was nowhere in sight.

  “Woo-hoo!” Jane hollered. She reached over and slapped Grace on the shoulder. “I knew he’d fly over us at the last minute. Those Nazis are all cowards, when you get down to it.”

  They zoomed out of the valley and back into the sunlight, flying over a green meadow dotted with wildflowers.

  “We’re close to Altaussee. I am going to land here, and then you can hike down the mountain. Okay?”

  “Absolutely,” Grace said, regaining her breath. She pressed her nose to the window as she surveyed the area. There was no obvious military presence, but that didn’t mean they weren’t nearby. The Luftwaffe pilots had no doubt put the ground troops on high alert, and the German army would not take kindly to an American girl sneaking across their border. It woul
dn’t even be “shoot first, ask questions later.” More like “shoot first, then throw the body in the lake.”

  There was a bump as the wheels hit the ground. After a very short taxi, Jane cut the engine, reached over Grace, and opened the door.

  Grace unhooked her safety harness and turned to the pilot. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Good luck. I hope to see you again someday, Grace.”

  Grace gave her a nod and jumped down. She watched as Jane restarted the engine, turned the plane around, and took off down the makeshift runway. Then she was gone, leaving Grace alone in one of the most dangerous countries on Earth.

  When she reached the road, Grace turned left. Rose had told her the warehouse was somewhere in town, but the exact location was unknown. She might as well head downhill and try to get her bearings. Or at least think about how to avoid getting killed.

  As she skidded down the steep, wildflower-lined path, Grace had to keep reminding herself that she was in enemy territory. It didn’t matter that the houses all looked like they belonged in a cuckoo clock. The beautiful setting didn’t change the fact that Austria was under control of one of the most ruthless military regimes in modern history.

  The rumble of an approaching car sent her flying for cover, ducking behind a crumbling stone wall. As it turned a corner, Grace sat up and peeked over the edge. It was just a truck full of vegetables. She sighed. Her progress would be pretty slow going if she hid every time someone passed.

  As she approached the town, the houses grew closer together. A small boy was playing with a dog in front of one of them. Grace took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Act like you belong, she told herself. “Guten Tag!” she called cheerfully. The boy just stared at her. Okay, so maybe Austrians aren’t supposed to be friendly. She just hoped she hadn’t aroused too much suspicion.

  A group of boys turned a corner and began walking toward her. One of them smiled at Grace, tipped his hat, and addressed her in rapid, heavily accented German. She felt her heart speed up. If she answered, they’d know she wasn’t Austrian, and they might ask questions. Using her nerves to her advantage, she blushed and gave a shy smile. The boys laughed and continued on.