Now Erika took hold of his shoulders. “This is very important, Leo…can you find her again? The house in Bayonne?”
“Of course, Maman. I won’t even need my compass. We just walk across the bridge from the train station, and the rest is easy! We look for the stone lions at the door.” Nicole dropped to her knees to embrace Leo. He looked up to his mother in surprise.
Ryan appeared with Jean-Philippe. “Come on, we’ve got to go—and now!”
“She’s alive, Ryan—Nicole’s daughter’s alive!”
He stopped short. “So the bastard lied a final time.” He shook his head. “Come on—let’s go!”
“Look what I found on one of the dead guys.” Jean-Philippe jangled keys, barely visible in the faint blue glow. “For the car in the alley, I’d bet.” He set down the cloth sack heavy with weapons, handcuffs and papers taken from the dead men and handed pistols from the haul to Erika and René. Both quickly checked the clips.
“A getaway car’s great—but first we have to get out of here alive.” Henri drew the bolt and peered out past the trash bins. Nothing moved under a partial moon.
“The alley gate’s down to the left. The Gestapo broke the lock when they came in.”
“I’ll scout it out.” Ryan slid out the door. He had traded the agent’s pistol for the Sauer taken from Horst. Releasing the safety, he crouched low, working his way around the bins. With a clear view of the rear yard, he saw the wide gate for vehicles and the smaller one beside it. He edged his way along a storage shed, keeping to the shadows. So far, so good. At the far end he could follow the shielded flashlights of the police agents in the main delivery yard, checking every possible entry point. Vichy gendarmes, not Gestapo.
Once back inside he filled in the others. “Flics coming—they’re almost to our end of the building.” He described the layout at the rear of the warehouse and reviewed their troops: four men, Erika, one unknown factor in the distressed Nicole, and Leo.
Another jolt of pain coursed through René’s bruised ribs, and his hand went to his chest. “How many cops total?” His voice sounded weak.
Ryan didn’t miss the signs. “Only two approaching on this side, at least so far. You going to be okay, my friend?”
“Of course. It’s nothing but a bruise or two.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Everything still works.” Scratching the blood-crusted beard, he added: “But I may need a bath when all this is done.”
Jean-Philippe added up the cops in his head. “We counted at least two squad cars. The others must be up front or over on the far side.”
Erika already had a plan. “Henri and Jean-Philippe, you two are quickest. Move along the shed on the right side and make some noise to draw them out. Duisberg and I’ll hide out on the left beyond the trash cans and mow them down once they round the corner and run past. Just remember to duck when we fire. Then get over to the far side and finish the job. Our shots will draw all the remaining cops and we’ll pick them off as they come.”
Henri smiled. “Damned good plan, Héloise. Let’s do it!”
“Rénard, you’ve been through the wringer. Once you see the coast is clear, make a run with Leo and wait in the car for the rest of us and we’ll get the hell out of here.”
Nicole spoke up, newly energized and determined to help. “I’ll need a weapon.”
“Impossible. I am convinced Horst took your child and stashed her where he had my son, and that we’ll find her. But for now, you’re still suspect. We can’t trust someone who’s already cost us lives, no matter how justified in your eyes. You go with Rénard and Leo.”
“But—”
“No arguments. We’re wasting time.”
The two partisans slipped out the door, keeping to the dark side of the storage shed. Only at the corner did their silhouettes appear against the lighter sky. Ryan and Erika moved out in a low crouch. René grabbed Leo’s hand, told him to keep quiet, and nudged Nicole through the door. They hid behind canisters and abandoned crates.
Ryan heard police approaching, calling out to one another in low voices. He imagined jumping out and mowing them down at point-blank range. An overturned oil drum clattered into the yard, raising an immediate alarm. “Halt! Halt or we fire!” Two cops raced around the corner of the warehouse, flashlights dipping as they un-holstered weapons. Once the police neared the shed, Ryan and Erika let loose, and other shots answered from beyond. The cops went down.
René’s small group burst from shelter and ran across the yard as quickly as his limp and aching shoulder would allow. They were almost through the gate when shouts rose from far up front. Bullets ricocheted off both gates, and more resounded from beyond the warehouse building.
Erika and Ryan dropped to the ground, choosing targets as two more gendarmes raced past with barrels spitting. Shots rattled off the metal sides of the building. Just beyond the gate René fell to his knees. Nicole crouched beside him to take his pistol, then returned fire—single, precisely-aimed shots which picked off the last of the assailants. Nicole had something to prove.
The far side of the warehouse fell silent, and Henri shouted to hold fire. He and Jean-Philippe raced down the courtyard from the front, making sure that each of the downed cops was out of commission. Jean-Philippe made a quick detour for his bag of police paraphernalia taken from the Gestapo.
René had been hit in the right buttock. “Dammit, couldn’t they pick on my other side for a change.”
Ryan helped him stand. “Learn to move faster, Rénard.” Ryan supported him while Erika grabbed Leo’s hand and the group followed the partisans to the black sedan parked in the shadows below. “We need to find a doctor, and right away.”
“I know one.” Henri took the wheel, the others piling in. “A doc just down river who won’t mind spoiling his evening—it won’t be the first time we’ve inconvenienced him.” René sat sideways in the back seat to take the pressure off his wound, while Erika undid his belt to survey the damage in the dim cabin light. Jean-Philippe offered a handkerchief to cover the wound and slow the bleeding.
They sped down to the riverside quay, heading out of the city. Up front at the passenger window, Ryan kept his weapon ready. Erika and Jean-Philippe also remained alert, in case their speed and the late hour drew the attention of more cops.
They had not asked Nicole for the weapon taken from René. She sat between Henri and Ryan, asking in a subdued voice if anyone carried extra ammo. Jean-Philippe searched his bag and handed over a clip. As she reached for it Ryan spotted blood on her side. She’d been hit.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Anyone have another handkerchief?” She accepted Ryan’s, wincing as she applied it to the wound.
He gently massaged the sore knuckles of his right hand. Taking a closer look at Nicole, he was floored to spot a soft smile on her lips. “How’s it going?”
“Barely grazed me…and well worth it.” The accustomed hard edge was missing from her eyes.
“You all right, Uncle René?” Leo sat wedged between his mother and uncle, giggling. “You’ve got a bloody butt!”
“Who’s this René? I’m now ‘Rénard,’ my little man.”
Leo looked at him quizzically. “Uncle Rénard?”
“I’ll explain later. And don’t worry about me—I’ll be just fine. It’s worth a pain in the butt just knowing you’re home with us again!”
Leo scanned the packed car as it sped through the nighttime city. He put his lips close to his uncle’s ear to whisper: “If this is our new home, I think we’ll need more room.”
CHAPTER NINE
Paris, Occupied France
27 August 1941
“Raoul Diderot” retook his seat in the crowded second-class carriage bound for Paris. The air was rank with sweat and cinders, but the “professor of humanities” took little notice as he sighed in relief, knowing his identity papers were in good order. The police control had just given his documents a clean bill of health, and an inspector had fumbled through his leather valise, acknowledging at la
st that “Raoul” smuggled no foodstuffs or tobacco into the seat of the Occupation. Neither official had shown the slightest interest in the manila envelope which concealed details of German military and economic lifelines throughout the region.
With his friends safe and his personal mission accomplished, Ryan’s true espionage assignment could finally begin. Delivering this intelligence coup to Ed would go far toward soothing his brother’s certain frustration at losing contact with Ryan for nearly two weeks. He had no idea how Ed would deliver the intelligence to those higher up in the COI network, an important safeguard for a neutral power in a belligerent environment. Should Ryan be tortured for information, he’d know nothing of Ed’s higher connections.
He took great satisfaction knowing Horst von Kredow was gone at last. So many had suffered and died at those sadistic hands, and Ryan recognized his own trusting nature had permitted von Kredow to thrive. Never again would he take things at face value. This world of espionage was much more than simply right or wrong, good or evil. It was every shade and gradation, where someone good could be manipulated to do evil, where finding a path to victory meant compromising one’s closely-held principles. He had killed. He might be forced to kill again. He hoped it would all make sense when this war came to an end.
Parting from his friends had been bitter-sweet. He recognized that destiny had chosen René and Erika for each other, bonded by their determination to rid the world of Nazism and by their love for Leo. René had sought out Ryan in the doctor’s garden. His injuries were healing well and he could sit again, although uncomfortably. The young partisans had returned to Nantes to get on with subterfuge and sabotage. Nicole’s wound had been worse than expected but not life-threatening. The doctor sedated her to remove a slug fragment touching a rib. She had lain impatiently in bed for two days, hanging on Erika’s promise that the four of them would head south the moment her healing allowed. Leo was anxious to lead them to Sophie. He described in detail the grand house in Bayonne, the crabby Madame, and the gentle Agnès who watched over the children day and night. Perhaps there would be other kids to return to their rightful homes, now that their kidnapper was dead.
“Well, my dear Ryan, rumor has it you leave for Paris this afternoon.”
“It’s time, right? My work draws me elsewhere. That intelligence windfall of yours will certainly be a welcome gift for the Allies. I thank you for that.” Ryan sensed something troubling his friend.
“Ryan, we’ve been through so much together, and now again we must say auf Wiedersehen.”
The American displayed a stubby pipe, a gift from the doctor quitting the habit to calm his lungs. “Share a smoke?”
“With pleasure.” René took a seat beside him. The Loire flowed leisurely in the distance, recalling times they spent together overlooking the Rhine.
“I’ll even provide the tobacco.” Ryan opened the pouch holding a handful of loose flakes, the last of the doctor’s monthly ration. He took his time tamping the pipe, and once lit, passed it to René. “I look forward to our next meeting, mein Freund. With luck and a bit of courage, it could be we gather to celebrate the Allied Powers’ return to France.”
“Ryan…” his eyes followed a river boat moving upstream pushing a barge, “…listen Ryan, we must talk about Leo, about your son…how to keep him safe in this insane world.”
“You and Erika have done a remarkable job, in spite of all you’ve been through. You’re both excellent parents, far better than I could ever be with what’s on my plate.” He took back the pipe. “Leo obviously loves you, you’ve been there for him through thick and thin, and I will never interfere with your relationship. He now has two loving parents to keep him safe in this crazy world…thankfully made a bit less so by ridding it of von Kredow.”
“‘Amen,’ as my believer friends would say.”
“So I propose a trade—I shall be his uncle and you his father, his only true father. I’ll always love Erika—I make no secret of it—and I love you and our Leo, as well. And someday I’ll meet the woman meant for me and have children to love and cherish. Perhaps then all four of us can raise kids in a more peaceful world. But for now, wherever the two of you go, I know you’ll find a safe place for Leo. But above all else…keep him away from compasses!”
René laughed and drew again on the pipe. “I thank you, Ryan…for risking so much to come to our aid, and for giving me the honor of being Leo’s father.”
“Here, take this.” Ryan handed him Ed’s contact information in Paris, Vichy and Washington. “If you ever need help for anything, anything at all, get in touch through my brother. I don’t believe for a moment you’ll ever quit this fight—it’s just not in the two of you. But know there will always be help when needed.”
René folded the paper carefully. “Our life is here in the Loire for now, doing whatever we can to free France. But liberating the French people is just the start. One day we’ll cross the Rhine again, heading east with those criminals on the run.’”
“Then it’s time for me to be on my way and let the ‘Lone Ranger’ go make more trouble for those outlaws.”
Ten minutes later he headed upstairs to pack his few belongings in a worn bag provided by the doctor. Erika appeared at his door. “Ryan?” He smiled in surprise as she embraced him. “Must you leave so soon? Leo wants to show you the garden.”
“I’ve a job to do in Paris, and yours takes you a different direction.” He kissed her forehead, remembering her scent from years past, memorizing it for when he would wish to recall this life-changing moment.
“I know…I know…but I thought I’d never see you again, and then you were there, and all the old memories came flooding back, everything we went through together, and all we survived.” He sought to ignore the lump in his throat as she spoke. “It was never truly meant to be, was it? For the two of us, I mean. Have you ever considered where things would be if we’d made different choices back in Marburg?”
Ryan dried her eyes with his handkerchief. He swallowed hard. “We make choices and hope for the best, then live or die by them. But all four of us made it this far despite adversity. Now you have a wonderful, devoted husband, a son we can all be proud of, and my love for all three of you, always.”
She pushed him away. “Then get out of here and be safe, and find us again when you can.” She kissed him and was gone from the room without looking back.
He found Nicole sleeping peacefully. The doctor had probably given her another sedative, a chance to heal before they all raced south to track down the children. Ryan knew she would finally find some peace once she held her little girl in her arms again. He had a train to catch, so he wrote a brief note and left it beside the bed. Perhaps he would see her again someday when all this horror had passed.
Leo played in the garden, and Ryan listened as his son named each flower he found, first in French and then German. The boy hugged him and waved as Ryan left in the doctor’s car for the train station. In his hand he held a small bouquet from Leo, a parting gift. While waiting for the next local to Nantes, Ryan singled out a single wildflower, the one Leo had named as his favorite, and pressed it between the pages of a tiny notebook purchased at the newsstand. The rest of the blooms he left on the wooden bench of the waiting room. He would keep the notebook nearby no matter where his journey might next take him.
The train pulled aside as a military consist heading east took precedence. He knew his Paris-bound express wouldn’t keep to its schedule at this pace. Upon arrival at Gare Montparnasse, he would leave a phone message for Ed, and he reminded himself to fulfill the promise made to the dying Englishman Devon Whitaker by getting a message to that girl Trish in London. Ed would contact the home office and make it happen. Once he’d checked into a hotel, a hot bath would be in order, and then—with a bit of luck—he’d head to Marita’s club. He would arrive right at closing time and surprise her at last.
He smoked the last shreds of the doctor’s tobacco as he watched the farms, fields and wood
s roll by, deceptively beautiful and showing few signs of Occupation. The little leather-bound notebook with the pressed flower remained in his hand.
At 11 Rue des Saussaies in the 8th arrondissement the agents gathered for the evening’s assignments. The night promised to be busy, and German Gestapo and French auxiliaries were in good spirits. After distributing mundane investigative and enforcement tasks, the lieutenant ordered all agents to remain in place for a special guest, SS-Hauptsturmführer Theodor Dannecker. Adolph Eichmann’s representative in Paris planned to attend the briefing and address his men in person. The agents whispered amongst themselves, wondering what called for such an unusual honor.
Voices hushed as Dannecker entered the room. The agents saw a pleasant-looking man with nothing in his features to distinguish him from any other SS officer. But this man had serious clout with SS and SD leadership, for he held responsibility for handling the Jewish problem in France.
“Gentlemen, I won’t detain you long from your important duties. I just want to tell you personally how much the Führer and Reich value the contribution each of you makes daily.” The audience rapped knuckles on the tabletops in applause. “Yet, despite your best efforts, our results in rounding up and deporting Jews have been very disappointing. Rather than the tens of thousands which the Reich Ministry of Transport can easily handle, we’ve settled for a fraction of that capability. But I’m here to tell you now that this is all about to change, and you men will be at the forefront of the effort. Homeless refugees and Jewish foreigners were only the beginning; soon we go after every Jew in France!” Heavy applause rose along with a few enthusiastic shouts of “Heil Hitler!” “With the knowledge that you will soon cleanse this country of the Jewish plague, go out this evening and do your job with confidence. Serve your Reich and your Führer, and make your leaders proud.”
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