The Iron Shadow

by Stefano Siggia

  “Danielle? What… what… This… is…”

  She moved towards the brute while flashing Melbourne a smile.

  “Danielle?” he asked.

  “Did you hurt him?” she said. In perfect German.

  “No, just as you ordered, Fräulein Doktor.”

  “Good. Where are the others in this house?”

  “We couldn’t find them. It was empty when we got here.”

  She frowned.

  “Danielle,” Melbourne said in French – he couldn’t speak German, not now – “what in God’s name is going on here?”

  She slowly turned towards him. “My dear Melbourne, I am genuinely sorry to see you like this. I’ll make it simple for you. You fell straight into the arms of the last people you would ever want to deal with.”

  Melbourne’s mind still wasn’t working. “You… you are one of them?”

  “Abteilung IIIb, counterespionage division. Have you introduced yourself to my entourage of soldiers of fortune?” She spread her arms out as if to announce the thugs that surrounded.

  Melbourne let out a nervous laugh. “No, no this can’t be.”

  They all laughed, apart from Dead Eyes who stood motionless, his hands steepled in front of him.

  Finally, the most important thing rose to the surface of his mind. “You lied to me? You lied to me the entire damn time?”

  “Oh, be fair, Melbourne. You lied to me as well when we first met, can’t you remember? But you were idiotic enough to believe the first woman that flashed a pretty smile at you.” She drew closer to him. “We’re both spies, darling; liars, fabulists, tricksters. We reach our goals by whatever means possible. You should have known that when you signed up for this.”

  “I certainly didn’t sign up for treachery and backstabbing.”

  “Then you’re hopelessly naïve.” She straightened up and removed a cigarette from her purse. Adjusting it in her cigarette holder, she placed it in her mouth and produced a matchbox.

  “Danielle, you helped me. You helped me find — ” But he could already guess the answer to that question.

  “I had to know what you knew. You see, the moment you walked into that club, I could tell you were neither a German nor Belgian. My theory found its proof when you tried to defend me from the drunken soldiers – I paid them well to harass me that night. No sane man would come to blows with occupying soldiers in their own nation if they cared for their life. When you told me you were a journalist, from Switzerland, it was all too obvious. You British have no creativity.”

  “But you shot that man? You shot him in cold blood?”

  “I had to impress you.” She took out a match, lit it, and placed the flame on the cigarette. “He died for his country.” She let out a big puff of smoke and blew out the match. “And it worked. I knew by then that you only needed a little drama to open up, and you did. When you mentioned the Iron Shadow, I knew I had hit something big. I needed to find out all about you, about that code, who had sent it, what it meant. And you fell for it. Thank you, by the way.”

  Melbourne felt furious. It overrode his fear, overrode his shame. Because of her, he had betrayed his own brother, his country, everything he believed in. “You’re a demon, Danielle.”

  “And you’re an imbecile, just like your brother was.” She blew a cloud of smoke in Melbourne’s face. He tried not to cough. “And my name is not Danielle.”

  Melbourne stared into emptiness, shaking his head. “Paris, your soon to be husband shot while running away, your singing, your poor, poor helpless soul. All a lie. All one big, damn lie.”

  “Well, not all.” Danielle held the cigarette between her lips. “His name was Heinrich, shot by some bastard Allied soldier over the Front. We were engaged.” She pulled back with her lips on the cigarette and let out a prominent cloud of black smoke. “Bastards,” she whispered.

  Flashes of the times they spent together moved rapidly through Melbourne’s mind. The kisses, the adventures, the worries, the confessions –

  “Where were you tonight?” she said. “Actually, I think I know the answer to that one. You went searching a train, didn’t you?”

  Melbourne did not say a word. He just stared at her, his lips curled into a sneer.

  “You must have figured out by now that the trains are only a decoy.”

  He suddenly realised, she didn’t know about Julie. She didn’t know the news of the decoy would get to the Resistance. He had to change the subject. “What is the Iron Shadow?”

  She smiled. “Now, that would be telling.” She bent over once again and came closer to him. “And that was a nice attempt at distraction, Melbourne. But I haven’t forgotten that merry band of train watchers in Libremont and that little Countess friend of yours. I thank you for leading me to them, as well.”

  Melbourne surged forward but felt the barrel touch the back of his neck. “No. No, you can’t — ”

  “Of course I can! They will be taken at the crack of dawn and then tried and executed. Just like you, darling.”

  “You bloody…” He was about to rush her and damn the consequences. But he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  “Ah! Be a gentleman.” She pulled out her pocket watch from her purse and looked at it. “Oh dear, it’s getting late and I must go. Some foolish Belgian man who works in the government wants my presence for breakfast. Idiot has ties with the Resistance. Just like Monsieur Vilvoorde, the book collector. You heard the news right? Apprehended this morning, poor fellow.” She took another puff of her cigarette. “I must say, it was nice knowing you Melbourne. You were cute. You know, in another time, another place, I would have actually have liked you.”

  She kissed him lightly on the lips and he recoiled in disgust. How could he have been so trusting, so stupid?

  Fräulein Doktor turned to the bearded man who was now leaning against a wall near the staircase that lead to the ground floor. “You!” she said in German, “get the car over the corner of the street and drive me to my destination.”

  “You said I could be useful this time,” he said.

  “This is your use.”

  “I want to bring the prisoner in.”

  “You do as I say.” She stared at him, cold, blue eyes fixed on his.

  “I don’t take orders from women,” he said.

  She walked over to him. “How long have you been working with IIIb? All of two weeks?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “Good.” Almost as if by magic, she producing a dainty little hand gun from her purse, cocked it, and shot the man in the foot.

  The bearded man screamed and fell to the floor.

  “Then learn to follow my goddamn orders, tool!” She turned to Dead Eyes. “You! Follow me and get the car.”

  She turned towards Melbourne and gave him one last look. He was still kneeling, eyes wide open, frozen in fear. He couldn’t dare speak a word. She blew him a kiss and headed back down the stairs, Dead Eyes following her close behind.

  The door was slammed and they were gone.

  The man with the beard slowly got up, throwing all sort of curses towards her. He slowly hopped down the stairs, moaning in pain, and leaving a trail of blood behind him. He, too, slammed the front door and was gone.

  Melbourne turned to look at the brute who had not moved, the gun firmly pointed at his hostage’s face.

  “All right,” he said, “get up. No games or you’re dead.”

  Melbourne did as he was told, his hands still behind his head. The man grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him in front of him. He could feel the gun pressing against his back.

  He began walking towards the staircase when he heard a sudden thump and a grunt. Then a heavy weight dragged him down on the ground. He slammed hard on the wooden floor, and it took him a few seconds to understand what had happened. He pushed the brute off of him and turned towards the living room. He let out a smile when he saw him.

  Monsieur Esmond stood in the doorway, studying the head of hi
s beloved walking stick with a sad frown. “The asshole dented my cane.”

  XXXVII

  Melbourne laughed as he scrambled to his feet. He placed his hands on Monsieur Esmond’s shoulders and said, “I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life.”

  Madame Esmond emerged from behind her husband and upon seeing Melbourne threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Remy!” Her voice trembled and he hugged him tight, feeling her body shaking in his embrace.

  “Where were you? I thought they had gotten to you as well,” Melbourne said.

  “Gotten to us? They will never get to an Esmond as long as he is alive.” Monsieur patted himself on the chest. “We heard them coming in enough time to hide in the secret room in the closet. They didn’t even bother to check it properly. Counterespionage, my undergarments!”

  “Honey!” Madame Esmond snapped back as she left Melbourne’s arms. She placed her hands on Melbourne’s cheeks. “Oh, Remy, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  “I’m fine, not a scratch. Just a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

  She turned her gaze towards the brute lying on the floor. “Evidently it is catching.”

  “They were watching this house,” Monsieur Esmond said. “They had been for some days already.”

  “I know,” Melbourne said. “It was my own stupidity that tipped them off.”

  “You don’t know that,” Monsieur Esmond said. “They may have known about us from the beginning.”

  The brute stirred, letting out a low grunt, slowly moving one leg.

  “Listen,” Melbourne said, “we need to get out of here, and fast. There are two more men waiting outside. Actually one, the other is injured and probably somewhere else, but it will be a matter of a few minutes before Gulliver here wakes up.”

  Monsieur Esmond turned towards his wife. “My dear, I think the time has come for you know what.”

  She nodded.

  “Follow me,” he said. He put a finger to his lips, “quietly.”

  Monsieur Esmond led the way down the stairs, moving carefully, trying to be as soundless as possible. Melbourne picked up the brute’s gun and followed him behind Madame Esmond. As they neared the door they could hear voices talking outside. The language was unmistakable. German.

  Monsieur Esmond turned the corner behind the staircase and headed to a wooden door. He unlocked it and opened it wide, motioning the two to slip through quickly. The chill struck Melbourne to the bone. They were outside in a small, rectangular garden surrounded by a brick wall. The stars still shone bright.

  “We made plans with a dear friend of mine,” Monsieur Esmond said. “He is from the Resistance, and if things went horribly wrong, we would escape together and get out of this dreaded country. Help me with this, will you?”

  Monsieur Esmond picked up a wooden ladder from behind a line of shrubbery. Melbourne took it from his hands and placed it against the far end wall.

  “He’s just a few blocks away from here.” Monsieur held the ladder firmly with both hands. “Start climbing.”

  Melbourne moved up the ladder first, reaching the top of the wall and helping Madame Esmond up and over to the other side.

  “Come on,” Melbourne extended a hand to Monsieur Esmond.

  Monsieur put his first foot on the ladder, when he turned his attention to the door behind him. Melbourne could hear it too. Voices were coming from inside.

  “Hurry!” Melbourne whispered.

  Monsieur passed his cane to Melbourne and began climbing. He moved with difficulty up the steps, grunting and cursing his aching leg. The voices had turned into shouts. He pushed up the last few steps in pain, his face red. As he finally made it up, he turned towards the ladder and kicked it down on the grass, where it was almost invisible in the starlight. Melbourne jumped down to the other side and helped Monsieur Esmond come down.

  They were in the alley behind the house.

  The company stood in silence, listening, watching their surroundings, before Monsieur motioned them to follow him. The street was empty, and the shutters of the windows of the surrounding houses were still closed tight. They kept as quiet as possible as they ran down the street, sticking close together.

  Monsieur Esmond turned the corner and beckoned for the others to follow him. Then he sagged against a wall, clutching his leg, visibly in pain. Madame Esmond took his arm under her own and helped him run.

  A sudden light shone bright from behind them.

  Melbourne spun around as he saw two lights; two bright, luminous eyes staring back at him from the end of the street. Headlights. They ran towards some shrubs and threw themselves down behind them. Monsieur Esmond let out a little yelp of pain and grabbed his leg.

  “Honey, are you — ”

  Melbourne put a finger to her lips. The lights grew brighter as the car passed by them. It slowed down in front of the bushes before continuing down the street. As it disappeared around the corner, he helped Monsieur Esmond back up on his feet and the three were moving again.

  “Do you hear that?” Madame Esmond said.

  Melbourne did. It was the sound of dogs barking.

  They couldn’t run anymore, not with Monsieur Esmond’s leg. They kept walking down the street as the neighbourhood came to life around them. The sounds of dogs barking intermixed with shouts from men, the rumbling of engines, and the sound of tires on cobblestones. Madame Esmond shook as Melbourne placed an arm around her. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or out of fear.

  Monsieur Esmond took a sudden turn and hobbled up three stone steps of a house. Standing in front of the wooden door, he knocked three times with his cane. Melbourne looked up at the dark windows above them. The house looked much like the Esmond’s, save for what looked like an extra window on all floors.

  No reaction came from Monsieur Esmond’s knock.

  He tried again, this time faster and harder. “Come on Gerard, open the damn door.”

  The sounds of the chase around them grew louder. Monsieur Esmond knocked once again, and a faint light appeared from behind the window of the ground floor. It grew stronger and brighter until it disappeared and reappeared behind the cracks of the front door. Locks began moving and the door opened.

  A man close to Monsieur Esmond’s age appeared, holding a gas lamp up to the company.

  Monsieur Esmond shielded his eyes from the light. “Gerard it’s us. They found us. It’s time.”

  The car turned the corner and appeared again, shining its bright lights down the street. Without a moment of hesitation Gerard swung the door open and let his guests inside, shutting it behind him quickly. He fumbled nervously with the gas lamp until he had turned it off.

  The four of them stood still in the darkness.

  They tried to listen to the car’s engine amidst their heavy breathing.

  It moved slowly.

  Madame Esmond grabbed Melbourne’s hand and squeezed it tightly. He placed a reassuring arm around her. They could hear the car’s engine ticking over, coming ever closer, until it suddenly stopped. Melbourne held his breath. His eyes darted in the darkness to find his companions. He could only see their silhouettes. They stood frozen like statues, listening, shaking.

  Then it dawned on him.

  The car had stopped right in front of the house.

  XXXVIII

  Melbourne held the gun’s grip tightly, until he could barely feel his fingers any more. His gaze moved down to his hand, but he could see nothing in the darkness, he could only feel his hand shaking, shaking uncontrollably. His heart pumped loudly in his chest, racing like a drum roll before the crash of a cymbal. Boom, boom, boom, boom…

  There was an excruciating painful silence broken only by the heavy breathing of the company in the darkened entrance hall of Gerard’s home.

  Outside, the engine died. It stayed there, in the middle of the street, the driver waiting for either reinforcements or the right moment to attack. They could still see the headlights through the little glass panels th
at surrounded the front door. No one was getting out of the car, they were just sitting there, silently waiting.

  “Everybody keep quiet and follow me,” Gerard whispered.

  He led them across the entrance hall and into the kitchen. Melbourne had gotten used to the dark a bit and could make out the contours of the furniture and of the rest of the company. He held Madame Esmond’s hand firmly, guiding her behind him.

  Gerard removed a key from a key holder attached the wall. With two twists, he opened a door and a gush of cold wind swept through the room. He beckoned them outside, and once they all found themselves in a garden once more. He shut the door behind him and locked it. The garden was larger than the Esmond’s, with a smaller, one story structure at the end of it. Without saying a word, Gerard led them to it, opening the petite front door with another key.

  Once inside, Gerard flicked on a switch, and an electric light dangling from the ceiling illuminated the room. It was a shed or perhaps a workshop, with hammers, pliers, saws, and wrenches hanging on one wall. Nails and other tools took up space on a beat up workbench in one corner. Melbourne eyes shifted to the bicycle hanging on the opposite wall. But it was something different that truly caught his attention. Something quite large stood in the middle of the place, a dark green blanket covering its familiar shape.

  “All right,” Gerard said as turned to the three, “can someone tell me what the hell is going on? Who are those people outside?”

  “The Boche,” Monsieur Esmond said. “Look, it is too long to explain how they found us but we need to leave right now. The plan, remember?”

  Gerard nodded. “And who is this, if I may ask?” A shaky finger pointed at Melbourne.

  “This is Remy, a… friend of ours.”

  “We need to go, now!” Madame Esmond could not contain her nervousness.

  “All right, we leave right now. But there’s not enough space for the three of you, I’m afraid.”

  “We can squeeze,” Monsieur Esmond said.