by Conor Bender
The town center was a bustle of movement as local farmers delivered goods to the bakery and the butcher’s shop. A lone farmer unloaded bags of grain at Claude’s bakery, tossing the heavy bags into the storage room like they were nothing. Talia and Cutter strode inside and found Claude double-checking his records. He stopped what he was doing when he saw them. “Good morning! Don’t you two make a pretty couple?” He grinned and shot a sly wink at Cutter.
“Claude, nice to see you.” Cutter ignored the bait. He looked around making sure the three of them were alone. The farmer remained outside emptying his truck. “Can we talk?”
Claude nodded and pointed at the farmer. “You don’t have to worry; Durand is with us.”
Cutter shot a glance at Durand as he continued to throw sacks of grain from the wagon bed into Claude’s storage room. He appeared to be focused solely on his work, but Cutter had his doubts. The Resistance had as many moles as a farmer’s field. Claude and the rest of his circuit had a long way to go to earn Cutter’s trust. “Do you have any information yet?”
“It’s been less than a day. I’m not a miracle worker!”
“The sooner you get it done, the faster I can start coordinating supply drops.”
Claude grunted and threw his hands up in frustration, stray flour flying off his apron and forming a small cloud above his head. “D’accord, I need another day. I promise I’ll have it by tomorrow.”
Cutter gave a satisfactory nod. If he could fast-track the timeline there was no reason he couldn’t be home in two weeks instead of four. The sooner he did his job, the faster he would be away from Talia and the rest, and tucked away in a small office at HQ.
Claude jotted down a note on a stray piece of paper and snapped his fingers, beckoning Durand to come inside.
Durand hefted a sack of grain onto his shoulder with a grunt and walked in. “Durand, you know Olivier, right? Olivier, Durand was with us the other night operating the radio.”
“A pleasure.” Cutter extended his hand, and shot him a distant look. He wasn’t interested in making friends this time.
Durand gave a lopsided smirk and took Cutter’s hand in a bone-crushing handshake, his eyes darting coyly at Talia as he did. “Nice to meet you, Olivier.”
Cutter winced but did his best to keep his face expressionless. A hint of jealousy flickering inside him as Durand continued to shoot Talia demure looks.
Claude ripped the note from his ledger. “Durand, I need you to go out and get a head count of the German armor in the area. Memorize these locations and burn it.”
Durand bobbed his head and took the note. “D’accord, me and few of the others will take care of it.” His eyes darted back to Talia. “Would you like to come, Talia?”
Talia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the invitation. After months of being told she couldn’t, it was a shock that Durand was now willing to let her help with anything more than ferrying messages.
Claude shook his head and responded before Talia could, “She has her own mission. You can manage without her.”
Durand shot Cutter a dark look, reminding Cutter of the look Amsel gave him when Talia had said that they were romantically involved.
Christ, does everyone want to get in Talia’s knickers? Cutter wondered. He looked over at her and saw the wheels turning behind her eyes. She must know the only reason Durand wants her to come is because he’s jealous we’re working together.
“Durand, I need it done quickly. Get going.” Claude put a hand on Durand’s shoulder and pushed him out of the bakery. “Don’t come back till it’s done.” Claude turned around and looked at Cutter. A look of visible annoyance etched on his face. “He’s a good lad, but he thinks it’s all a bloody game.”
“So did I at first.”
Claude snorted as he looked Cutter up and down. “What do you mean at first? You can’t be more than a year older than Durand. What are you, twenty?”
Cutter shot Claude an icy look, his eyes turning a cold gray. “I’d say experience outranks age.”
Claude locked eyes with him but after a few seconds blinked and looked away. The way Olivier glared at him reminded Claude of Talia’s uncle. It was like looking at Francois’s ghost. The boy was as bellicose as that old goat. He clearly wasn’t afraid to stand up for himself when he needed to. Claude had clearly mislabeled Olivier as a weak and yielding boy. He clearly had some iron to him.
Claude coughed and tried to recover some semblance of his pride after yielding to Cutter’s gaze. “Perhaps you’re right.” He ran a hand uneasily through his balding black hair and quickly changed subjects. “Where are you going today?”
“The chapel of Saint Valéry.”
Claude looked at Cutter in confusion, but said nothing. The chapel was a curious place to go, but he didn’t desire to prod for an answer.
“We better get going. I expect those numbers tomorrow.” Cutter’s words were friendly but the coldness remained in his eyes.
“Oui, oui. We will have them.”
Cutter nodded and motioned to Talia that it was time to leave. They strode out of the bakery and started to make their way back to the car.
“Well, Durand is a strapping young lad.”
“He’s a good friend, one of the few members of the Resistance that’s my age.”
“Are you two close?”
Talia arched an eyebrow and looked at Olivier. “Is that jealousy in your voice?” She liked how the tables had turned. Olivier had arrived yesterday as the big man in charge, but Talia suspected he was no older than she was. His ineptitude at speaking with her had at first been a source of amusement, but as she went to bed the other night she had realized that it was a weapon she could use to keep Olivier off balance.
“Of course not, just curiosity.”
Talia smirked. Seeing Durand had been a lucky coincidence. It annoyed her to no end that Durand was willing to invite her to help him after Claude had asked her to work with Olivier, but it was also nice to see her position rising, even if it was fueled by primal jealousy. They walked the rest of the way to the car in silence and made their way to the church.
“So how long have you known Durand?”
“Years. When we were children we used to play together in the summers when my parents brought me here to see my uncle.”
“What was that like?”
“Paradise.” Talia smiled as she looked out the window, remembering a time before the war. “Durand and I would do everything together. We would fish on the Saâne river or go to the beach. I remember we used to wrestle in my uncle’s barn, but as we got older wrestling started to turn into—”
“So you two were close.”
Talia turned away from the window and smiled, enjoying Olivier’s discomfort. “I’d say we were very close.” She bit down on her lip and struggled not to giggle as she lied. The first time Durand had tried to kiss her, she had slapped him so hard her hand hurt for two days.
“But not anymore?”
“What makes you say that?”
Olivier shrugged. “Your body language when you saw him. You kept your distance from him when we walked into the bakery.”
“No, not anymore.” Talia couldn’t stand Durand. But she didn’t want Olivier to know that. They continued to drive in silence for a time. Talia drummed her nails on the dashboard as she watched the countryside roll by. “Can you ever talk about sex without turning crimson?”
“What?” Olivier turned and stared at Talia, nearly swerving off the road in the process.
“You were talking about my body language. I thought we could talk about yours.”
Olivier scowled but didn’t answer.
“Do you not like women?” Talia teased.
“Look, I like you. But we have a job to do so can we stop the fucking mind games?”
Talia frowned, taken aback by Olivier’s temper. “What do you mean?”
“Since breakfast you have been playing heavily on your sexuality to get a rise out of me. I’m here t
o do a job and to help you and Claude; you aren’t making it easier.”
“You were the one asking about my relationship with Durand!”
“Yes! I was just trying to learn about who Durand was, I wasn’t asking about your sexual exploits!”
It was Talia’s turn to be embarrassed. Her cheeks reddened and she struggled to give a retort. After two failed attempts to continue her argument, she silently turned her eyes back to the road. She struggled to find a defense, but couldn’t. At first her plan had revolved around peaking Olivier’s desire, but between breakfast and now it had turned into childish delight at torturing him. Embarrassment and a hint of shame burned through her.
They drove the rest of the way to the church in silence.
“Turn here. You can park by the church.”
Olivier turned down a narrow lane and drove the car up to the church and parked. He clambered out and absently motioned to Talia to follow him. The action infuriated Talia to no end. She didn’t take orders from him.
She followed Olivier into the church and obstinately made her way to a pew and pretended to pray. She had been to this church hundreds of times. As a girl her parents used to bring her and her brother for the Sunday service. She eyed the stained-glass windows and she pursed her lips in a little smile at the memory of her and her brother playing outside after the service. Talia watched as Olivier surveyed the architecture and looked with mild interest at the old inscriptions about the church’s construction four hundred years ago. After spending what felt like a sufficient amount of time in the church, Olivier beckoned Talia to follow him back outside.
Talia gritted her teeth but kept her frustration bottled. Olivier wasn’t deliberately trying to annoy her. He had a job to do and was trying to do it quickly. Talia could appreciate that. His outburst in the car wasn’t without merit, but his obstinance when it came to women was frustrating. He was brusque and controlling and it made her mad. Her mind drifted to the altercation between him and Claude. A shiver went down her back as she recalled how Olivier almost transformed right before her eyes. In the blink of an eye the small, bookish collegiate was replaced by an intense, detached saboteur.
They walked behind the church where an open field spanned out 200 feet and suddenly dropped with a view overlooking an intercoastal waterway and beach. Talia wondered what his interest was in the cliff. She followed him as he meandered toward the edge of the cliff and looked out at the Channel. “Looking for anything in particular?”
Olivier grinned and gave a shrug. “Figured we could save some time if we could see the entire coast from one vantage point.”
Talia nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself. She walked up next to him and he pointed toward the east. From their vantage point they were able to see all the way down the coast for roughly six miles.
“What town is that?”
Talia looked where he was pointing and frowned. The town he pointed at had colorful houses along the waterfront and a harbor cutting through the middle of the town, splitting it in half. “That’s Dieppe.”
“Anything of interest there?”
Talia shook her head. “No. Dieppe is the nerve center for German forces in the area. Since the invasion they have had the city under lock and key. We’ve heard that the Abwehr and the Gestapo have agents there roping up Resistance cells.”
“How many cells have been captured?”
“Two.”
Olivier nodded slowly. “SOE isn’t privy to that information, or to the fact that the Gestapo and Abwehr are in Dieppe.”
“Saint-Valéry-en-Caux would be a better town to raid. It’s to the west and has a smaller detachment and is already in ruins from when the 51st Division fought Rommel.”
“Are there any targets of opportunity in that area?”
Talia bit her lip, her arms akimbo as she racked her brain. There wasn’t much worth raiding other than Dieppe or Le Havre. As she mentally ticked through the possibilities a sea breeze swept up the cliff from the Channel and pushed the skirt of her dress up. Talia quickly pushed her hands down and stopped the skirt from rising any higher than her knees. She looked up in annoyance and spotted Olivier staring.
“Do you mind?”
Olivier averted his gaze and blushed slightly. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Talia continued to stare at him as he looked away. He looked genuinely embarrassed and Talia couldn’t help but feel bad for him. She had tortured him all day with her promiscuity. For all the things he did that annoyed her, he seemed willing to help as best he could and was willing to include Talia in his efforts. He treated her fairly in comparison to Claude or Durand, but still, why didn’t she like him? He’s too arrogant, she realized. He reminds me of Francois. His demeanor was identical to how her uncle had been. Francois had always tackled a problem in the same sanitized way he tackled a problem of a patient when he was a doctor: without emotion and in the most effective, unbiased way. Like Francois, Olivier always had a solution ready. Was that why he annoyed her?
“We should go back up toward the church,” Olivier said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Of course.” Talia brushed past him toward the church. “To answer your original question, I’m not sure. We would have to check, but that could take some time.”
Olivier nodded but stayed silent, not trusting his voice.
They walked back toward the church and perfunctorily inspected the inside again. After what seemed like a decent amount of time in the church, they walked back outside and saw a German half-track driving up the gravel lane.
Talia watched as the half-track came to a crunching halt and Oberleutnant Amsel hopped out of the back. “Oh no.”
“Bollocks.” Olivier reached for her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“I don’t know. Keep walking to the car,” Talia whispered, pulling him toward their vehicle.
“Monsieur Deschamps! Talia! What a pleasure to see you again in such a short time.”
Talia stopped in her tracks and looked up at Olivier. He grimaced, but forced a smile and turned around. “Oberleutnant, how are you? We came to see the church. Talia told me about the Gothic architecture and the beautiful view, and I had to see it.”
“Indeed, it’s wonderful,” Amsel agreed as a squad of his men barreled into the church. Talia watched as two more soldiers blitzed into the rectory and brought the priest out. She wondered why they were here.
“What’s happening?”
Amsel absently inspected the medals on his tunic and absently pulled at a loose thread on his cuff. “We received intelligence that fugitives of the Reich are being held here.” Satisfied with his appearance, Amsel placed his arms behind his back and strode over to the priest. “Good afternoon, Father.”
“What is the meaning of this?” the priest demanded in a fury. Blood trickled from the side of his head where one of the soldiers had hit him with a rifle buttstock.
“Father, you have been charged with the crime of harboring criminals of the Reich.” As Amsel said this, the sound of screams emanated from the church. Two men and four women were shoved out of the church. They were herded up by the half-track and ordered to kneel.
Amsel looked over at the six fugitives and bounced on the balls of his feet as though he were preparing for an athletic competition. His hobnail boots crunched against the gravel as he shifted his weight. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” His tone was dripping with disdain as he nonchalantly watched his men toss the family next to the priest.
Talia watched in horror as she recognized them. It was the Veil family. She had thought they had fled to Portugal months ago. She watched as the youngest daughter, Sybil, was shoved to the ground by one of Amsel’s men. Mr. Veil struggled in protest but was cracked in the mouth by the buttstock of another soldier’s rifle. He clutched at his broken jaw, tears streaming down his face, a handful of teeth littering the ground in front of him.
Olivier put his hand on Talia�
�s lower back and motioned her toward the car. “Let’s go.”
“I know them.”
Olivier ignored her and forcibly propelled her toward the car.
Oberleutnant Amsel turned and locked eyes with Talia and gave her a cruel smile. She could tell he was enjoying himself. Amsel turned back to the priest. “Well?”
“You call yourselves Christians? God will judge you, all of you!” the priest roared, pointing at all of them. Olivier helped Talia into the car and quickly got behind the wheel and started the engine. Talia didn’t understand why Amsel was searching for the Veil family. She watched as Amsel asked them a handful of questions while Olivier drove the car down the lane. He gently reached over and grabbed Talia’s shoulder and forced her to look at him. Just as she turned, the crack of a pistol went off.
“What was that?” Talia whirled around to look through the rear window, but Olivier grabbed her and pulled her tight to him, not letting her look. As the crack of the pistol dissipated, a quick staccato of rifle fire went off and then it was eerily quiet.
Talia squirmed in Olivier’s arms and struggled to break free. “What just happened? We need to go back!”
“No, we don’t.” Olivier held her tight, and accelerated down the lane.
Talia stopped squirming and looked up at him, her eyes pleading. Olivier slowly released his grip on her and she turned to look out the rear window. She let out an anguished gasp as she saw the priest and family lying in the gravel. A pool of blood starting to spread, turning maroon as it mixed with the dirt.
“Why?” she moaned. “Why did this happen?”
She looked up at Olivier, searching for answers. “I don’t understand. They had nothing to do with the Resistance.”
“That’s not why.”
She sat upright and looked at him, tears streaming down her face. “Why, then?”
Olivier gave a heavy sigh, and looked her in the eye. “We’ve received reports that the Nazis have begun to cleanse Europe of certain ethnic groups they see as polluted or not befitting their view of the perfect race. From what we know, they’ve been killing Jews in large numbers.”
