Émile gave her now blue eyes a puckered smile. “You look a lot like my Rachel used to.”
“She wasn’t in that prisoner exchange last week?” Kat quit fidgeting as Émile bared his teeth.
“Stay focused.” He shoved his paper into a fancy leather satchel at his feet, twisting enough to peek at the station. The two open-topped cars spilled out barking Gendarmes that pushed all civilians well back from their vehicles. Even the station attendant slipped out the rear of the store as the paramilitary cops helped themselves to fuel. The third robin blue Delage in the middle held only a single bored passenger, rapping his fingers on the door while yelling at his driver fussing over the gas tank.
The older gentleman sported a chest full of medals and carried no weapon.
“That’s him. The commissioner sure looks in a bad mood.”
“Maybe the sabotage campaign is starting to have an effect. Let’s see if we can light up his day, eh?”
Émile cringed while she slipped a small black box out of her handbag and tucked it between her long skirt.
“Don’t you ever shut off with the cheesy…” Émile leaned over the table and stuck out his palm, a sudden and rare smile on his face. Kat tensed while slipping her hand in his. He poured on the odd charm in French while tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the right.
“We should do this more often, darling. It’s always a treat.”
Kat giggled and tossed her hair to the right.
Two young men plopped down on the table next to them. One of the strangers unbuttoned his tunic, letting the green-gray coat cover the Luger on his belt as he snapped his fingers at a waiter. The other Gestapo agent gave the café a scan with steel-gray eyes, settling too long on Kat’s coiled body. After a quick head to toe scan, he gave her a wink and muttered something in German at his partner.
Kat locked her gaze forward, ignoring Émile’s ever-tightening grip on her wrist. With his other hand, he waved his billfold at another waiter.
“Are you ditching me already? Am I really so boring?”
Émile closed his coal-black eyes as a sharp clack echoed out from under the table. It took a half-second from the ka-dush until the hot sand raced over the café. Kat covered her coffee with a hand while loose chairs clattered past. Both Gestapo men sprang to their feet, gawking at the mushroom cloud rising 10-stories high down the block and launching chunks of a blue car into orbit. One ran inside the café and shoved someone off the only payphone.
The other drew his sidearm and spun on the only two civilians around not shrieking nor seeking shelter. “Come on!” Émile bolted out of his chair and snagged Kat’s wrist, freezing as a cold barrel dug into the base of his spine. Someone barked over his shoulder in French with a sausage-thick German accent.
“Hands up, both of you. What do you know about this?”
Émile complied as the Gestapo man patted him down fast. He kicked Émile in the back of the knee and forced him to the ground. Growling, he leveled his gun against the nose of the girl still sipping her latte at the table. “I said hands up, you dumb b—”
Kat lowered her cup and flashed her dimples. “I’m looking for Oberführer Pernass. From Department E, I believe. Would you be so kind as to point me his way?”
The Gestapo fellow blinked fast, peering much closer at her dark hair.
In particular the red roots.
“You!” Émile jumped, knocking the Kraut’s gun hand a few inches away and sending his shot ricocheting off the curb. The man’s eyes popped out of his head. More thanks to the nails Kat drove into his pupils than from recognition.
“They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Considering you Gestapo bastards have no soul, you won’t be needing these!”
Flashing out of her chair, she straddled the collapsing man’s chest. “This is the last time I’m going to ask politely. Where is Pernass?”
“How… how the hell should I know where the devil is?” Tears mixed in with rivers of blood as the blind man whimpered. Émile cringed and turned away.
“That’s easy. She’s right here.”
While a dozen civilians puked and gaped on, Kat snagged a handful of the German’s hair and whipped out a scalpel-sharp stiletto from nowhere.
Three seconds later, she pried off the sticky scalp and flung it at the second Gestapo man barging out of the shop, feet away.
“So soft… should have asked what conditioner he used.” She heaved her screaming prey up to a sitting position, putting his white, naked skull in his partner’s line of fire. The second man bounded to the left to get a clear shot as Kat flicked her arm back and then down.
His weapon clattered away as he crashed into a table, clutching his crotch. Kat dropped the twitching corpse under her and stomped over to the other Gestapo boy. He yanked the blade out of his testes and waved it around while skittering away on his butt.
“Stay away from me! Please, I have a family.”
Kat picked up the Luger and blasted both his kneecaps to pulpy shreds. “So did my friend here.”
“Ah!” He clutched his legs, eyes widening at the long nose of the unflinching man hovering behind Kat. “No, we just help find and process detainees. We don’t have anything to do with what goes on in the camps. I was only following orders!”
Kat pried the blade from his quivering hand and traced a lazy circle above his ears. “But I’m not. Tell me where Pernass is, or at least what he did with the British spies he captured, and I’ll make it quick. Otherwise, I’ll take a new trophy for my collection.” Without the slightest hesitation, he locked eyes with her and boomed.
“They’re at SS headquarters downtown!”
“We’ve had lookouts studying everything going in and out of that compound for weeks. Her people aren’t there.” Émile straightened his tie and grunted.
“Um, ah, I meant the headquarters in Morocco.”
Kat shushed him with a finger to the lips. “You don’t have any clue, do you? Then I guess we’re done here.”
He was still screaming something about mercy while Kat sliced until she hit bone and flicked her wrist.
Three hours and a thorough shower later, Kat slipped through the double oak doors of the Banque Nationale d’Algérie. Neither security guard in the lobby gave her a second glance as she glided up the steps to a nondescript office on the third floor.
In the hallway, two more well-armed guards rose and nodded as she approached, one reaching for the office’s door handle.
“So anyone can just wander in here without being searched?” Kat froze in the doorway, hands on her thin hips.
“Ah… ma’am, the boss said to give you carte blanche access. And it’s you, after all…” The guards shuffled from foot to foot as she stuck her hands on the wall.
“How do you know I wasn’t caught by the Abwehr and turned against you? We’re too close to the end game to get sloppy now.”
“And I thought Émile was paranoid…” The oldest man bit his tongue while he patted her down. He gulped with the back of his hand between her legs and took a step back. Kat flashed him a grin a split second before flashing a blade in his face. She tilted the grip into his hand with a wince, clinging to the sheath as he tried to pry it from her grasp.
“Um, we could let this slide. It’s not like a bomb or something.”
Kat closed her eyes and released her grip, her whole body shaking from the instant withdrawal.
“No, no…good job.”
Naked of all steel, she clutched her blouse and slammed the door as she fled inside the packed office. Émile glanced up from his desk in the far corner and gave his usual frowny nod. The rest of his Bank Clerk Comma
nd Staff avoided the slightest eye contact with the girl.
Helping herself to the ever-full coffee pot against the wall, she weaved her way through the maze of typists and telegraph operators to Émile’s somewhat quiet corner.
A young woman leaned over the rebel’s shoulder and gossiped in French. “Sir, Brouchard’s team just finished cutting the telephone wires.”
“Snipers already in place to pick off the repair team?” Kat butted in before Émile even opened his mouth.
“We aren’t helpless, Kat.” He waved off his assistant and stubbed out his cigarette. “You had a great idea to keep the enemy on their toes, but have some faith that we can execute simple operations without shooting ourselves. By this time tomorrow, the Vichies will double their guard outside the city. A whole battalion worth of troops scattered to the four winds instead of ready to mass on the beach.”
Kat forced a smile and nodded. “Great. So, what’s the latest on Trufflefoot and the others? Tell me your spies found something.”
“Just like I tell you every hour on the hour when you ask. Nothing solid yet. Even that secret base with all the super fighters is cleared out and abandoned.” Émile pushed back his chair and stretched while Kat bounced from foot to foot.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Give me something to do while we wait.” Kat snagged a sheet of names off his desk. “Is this a target list? I’m sure I can scratch off a few of them tonight.”
“Damnit, woman.” Émile ripped the page from her hands and shoved her back. “Haven’t you had enough adventures today? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m seriously worried about you. There are warriors, there are vigilantes, and then there’s… whatever this is. Do you even remember where those came from?”
He splayed a hand across a trio of still red scars across her forearm. Kat followed his gaze, noticing the wound for the first time.
“Look, I have a doctor on my staff. He’s fully licensed in psychiatry back in France. How about a little sit-down—”
“Bullshit, you bloody tosser! You never beat my OPFOR. Overrunning the radio station is just half the battle. You have to hold it until American reinforcements get there.” Dore rattled the door on its hinges as he stomped in, booming with laughter. A snorting Karsenty followed, waving his middle finger.
“We still would have, if you weren’t such a lying, cheating English bastard. Flamethrowers aren’t standard Vichy infantry kit.” Karsenty hooted and rubbed his pink, hairless forearm. “And you’re going to find us a new training ground too since you torched our best one!”
“Hey, if you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’.” Dore yanked two warm beers out of his back pockets and pried the caps off with a bayonet hilt.
Kat rushed over and roared over the toasting men. “And just where the hell have you been, Sergeant? You should have been back from the drills an hour ago!”
“Relax, mum. Just stopped for a drink with the boys. Ten hours hitting the same mockup targets makes ya thirsty.” Dore swung a chair out from the big table in the center of the room and mounted it backward. He patted Kat’s thigh as her ears flamed out.
“So how’d it go with you? The local bobbies sure have their knickers in a bunch. Seems like there’s a constable on every corner today. I take it the chief of police was late for work?”
Kat deflated and melted into a chair, avoiding his gaze while staring down the wall. “Just a quiet afternoon. Pretty routine.”
“You scalped two Gestapo agents in broad daylight on a crowded street corner. I’d hate to see what you’d call an eventful day.” Émile clasped his arms behind his back and circled the table.
Dore chuckled at the deathly quiet office. “You tell ‘em about the time we sunk a U-boat with a truck? That was a rather interesting day.”
Émile kept stomping in ever tighter circles. “I’ve seen loose cannons before, but she’s an out of control wildfire. At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I’ve got to get you two out of here before she burns down the entire city.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time…” Dore sloshed his beer in the air as Émile cut his eyes. “That’s my little kitten. She means well. She gets a bit antsy when the boss isn’t around to rein her in. Speaking of which, you are right. It’s time to go.” He downed half his beer and threw his arm over the chair’s back.
“You know, this insurgent stuff is fun and all, but what about getting our guys back? Émile, your assault teams are more than ready for the big leagues. Karsenty has done a helluva job whipping them into shape. I don’t know what more I and Kat can help with at this point. Not to be the cold-blooded type, but they will break Trufflefoot eventually. Getting him back needs to be our top priority. He knows too much about the invasion plans. This is all for nothing if the Americans and Royal Marines never get off the beaches.”
Émile whispered something to one of his many secretaries and shuffled a wad of papers. “Nothing’s changed since yesterday. All my sources agree that they haven’t left North Africa, and that’s about it. After that, we’ve got a hundred supposed sightings of your prisoners from Morocco to Libya. Just not enough resources to check them all out. If you can narrow the target list down to one or two hot picks, we’ll be happy to put a raid together.”
“We’re asking the wrong questions. If we find Pernass, we’ll find the team. Trust me. I know the way he thinks.” Kat sprang from her seat and stomped around, cursing under her breath.
Émile cocked a slick eyebrow. “No doubt you do, but we have even less on him. The Oberführer dropped off the face of the Earth five days ago. Rumor in the ranks is that the SS is whipping up a special surprise for the invaders. Another one of those Wunderwaffen tales.” Émile rested his balding forehead against the bank’s third-story window.
Kat squeezed Dore’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t do stalemates. You’re right. It’s time to quit playing around and end this.” She unfolded a massive city map across the tabletop and slapped transparent plastic overlays with unit positions on top. “Thing is, your average Vichy or Wehrmacht Officer wouldn’t have a clue what the Gestapo is up to. So the first step is to find a public figure that’s high enough up the chain to know what’s going on.”
Karsenty deflated. “Good luck with that. The Germans treat the Vichy army like an unwanted pet, on the best of days. An extreme need to know policy. No one short of a General, and a very senior one at that, could tell you anything. The highest-ranking guy we’ve ever turned was just a Major.”
“Exactly.” Kat rifled through a stack of newspapers on a nearby desk and tore out a sheet. “So let’s make an appointment with one. This gent seems friendly enough. I’m sure it wouldn’t take long to break him.” She slammed the article on the table, stabbing a pen straight through the Kepi cap of the grinning Officer.
“General Alphonse Juin? The supreme Commander of all French land forces in North Africa? Seriously, though, there’s this Vichy supply Colonel at the port who—”
Dore scratched his stubbly chin and glared at Karsenty. “Mate, she ain’t joking. You should get to know that look in her eyes.”
“The dear General operates right here in Algiers.” Kat pointed at the map while never taking her unblinking gaze off Karsenty. “Big old compound on the outskirts of the city. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
“Oh, that place.” Karsenty rubbed both hands through his smooth-shaven scalp and snorted. “I’ve also noticed an entire regiment stationed at his headquarters, with beaucoup artillery and tanks.”
“So get some of your turncoats to sneak a small snatch and run team in and out. I thought you guys have been developing assets in the Vichy army all year? The Americans told us they were in close contact with the Resistance here. That we didn’t have to worry about anyt
hing in Algeria.”
Émile sighed from the window and poured his fifth cup of coffee. “As usual, the Americans are far too optimistic. They give us directions and tips from time to time, always through a Polish intermediary. The money and weapons they promise rarely get through, yet they assume we succeeded somehow.”
He drained half his mug in one gulp and slammed it on the table. “Nonetheless, we do what we can. Yes, I have a dozen assets in that regiment, but none we could rely on for this. It’s one thing to slip the Resistance information and promise to swap sides when the big, scary invasion comes. Quite another to actively take up arms against your own side, as well as the Gestapo, without any friendly backup around.”
“Fine.” Kat stomped her feet. “Then have your informants give us a head’s up next time he leaves the compound. He’s got to get some fresh air every now and again. Maybe a mistress in the city or some public event? Either way, we’ll hit the convoy hard and try to take him alive.”
“Try?” Émile snapped ramrod straight. “I thought you were talking about a kidnapping?”
“Of course, that’s the goal. But no plan survives first contact with the enemy. Either way, we’re taking him out of the equation. Have to do so before the invasion anyway.”
Karsenty and Émile swapped a look before stepping back. “You can’t simply shoot a Top Axis Dog like that.”
“What now? Is he bulletproof?” Kat crossed her arms and matched Karsenty’s disgust. He shook his head.
“You don’t get it. There’s a balance of power with any insurgency. Look, we can pick off a patrol, blow up a few supply trucks or assassinate a collaborator. Anything that’s really painful to the regime guarantees massive reprisals. Like depopulating entire towns.”
Kat swatted her hand back and forth. “Ah, no worries. We just have to hold out a few more weeks. Once the Allies get here, you all will be free.”
“A lot can happen in a few weeks.” Émile gripped the table’s edge until his knuckles burned white. “I’m sure you Brits didn’t mind sacrificing so many pawns, but ask the average Czech civilian if it was worth 5,000 of their own to take out Reinhard Heydrich.”
Kat's Rats Page 8
