Cold Lonely Courage

by Soren Petrek

  “Bonjour mon ami” Madeleine said in conversational tone.

  “I am glad you are my friend, Madeleine,” he answered after a brief pause. He had been asleep and unaware of her entrance. “I have so few.”

  Madeleine pulled the razor away and returned it to her pocket as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “I was wondering when you’d get around to finding me, Madeleine,” he said as he turned on a small lamp next to the bed.

  “To be honest, it was the first time I ever noticed you tailing me.”

  “My mistake?” He questioned.

  “The dustman. The same from the first day.”

  “My God, how foolish of me,” he said, shaking his head, an honest smile crossing his features. “Well, Madeleine, there will be no more testing, only work from here on out.”

  “Do you think I am ready?”

  “You have been since the day I first met you. You will remember that I talked to you about the difference between acting without hesitation and utilizing skills. We have been working on skills. You have shown innumerable times your inherent ability to act. Now you must do so.”

  “Will my instructions come from you?”

  “No, only from the SOE. They will discuss that with you. I expect that I will hear of your work. Like all of the people who do this work, you will develop a signature. At first only I will recognize it. But in time, others will as well. I trained you, therefore it makes sense that I will recognize it first. Besides, I have work to do back in Germany. Many Germans have not lost their humanity and need help fighting the Nazis from within.”

  “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “Trust no one. You have taken steps down a road you may be able to leave some day but it will always be there, expecting your return. Governments like assassins until they are no longer useful; then they send someone, usually a person of trust, to eliminate their concern for what you might disclose. I have chosen to be your insurance policy. I have told them that if you survive the war and they excise you out of some sense of necessity, I will kill everyone I know to be associated with this project.”

  Madeleine was thunderstruck. At that very moment she swore to herself that she would never understand men. One moment they were brusque and full of masculine bravado and the next capable of the deepest concern.

  “Have you made that commitment for your other trainees?” Madeleine asked, not knowing what else to say.

  “There have been no others.”

  “Then why do it for me?”

  “I know that you were recruited because you have already killed. I have no one. My family is dead. My blood and the blood of my Jewish brothers who fought in the Great War was spilled as willingly as the next man’s. My wife and daughters disappeared when I was away. When they needed me most, I was gone. I should have left Germany with them long ago, but my foolish pride and belief in my country has cost them their lives. I do not know where they’ve been taken. We Jews are being slaughtered with an unbridled hatred. Madeleine, the Nazis are evil. Kill as many as you can. You must be the hand of God.”

  As he spoke, a flood of pain filled his eyes. It was the first strong emotion she had ever seen in the man. It was so overpowering that she reached out and embraced him. It was a strange humanity between killers. She had already killed and she would do so many times again or die in the attempt. The lessons that he imparted to her were the most honest and frightening she had ever experienced, and she knew she would draw on them time and again for her survival. The German clutched at her arm and held on as his veneer of hate and death slid away for the briefest of moments.

  “I will,” Madeleine said firmly.

  The man smiled and shook his head, coming back from the private hell he held in his heart.

  “Then we are done. Be careful. Trust no intelligence. Know before you act.”

  “May I know your name?” Madeleine said needing to take something from the man other than the cruel lessons of death he’d imparted.

  “I am Berthold Hartmann,” he answered slightly raising his chin.

  “And your profession?” Madeleine continued.

  “I was an attorney in Wiesbaden, but my practice is on hold just now.”

  “Of course,” Madeleine replied picturing the stone killer in a courtroom arguing a case, and reminding herself never to underestimate anyone ever again.

  Madeleine rose and left the room, this time by the stairs. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

  His words were both a comfort and a sentence. They gave her hope that she would be successful and help to defeat the enemy. It also meant that she would be completely alone, walking through the terrors that would be constantly there until her job was finished or she was killed. She remembered that faith had carried so many before her through impossible odds. She resolved not to be alone. She too would draw strength from faith.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The night air was alive around her as Madeleine placed a powerful explosive charge under a railroad track, pushing rocks and debris around it. It was primed and hidden, one of two that when detonated would derail even the largest locomotive. A silenced pistol lay near her hand, an extension of her consciousness.

  She glanced a short distance down the track, seeing Teach working silently to place additional explosives to ensure maximum destruction and derailment of the munitions train. He felt her eyes on him, flashed her a quick thumbs up of encouragement, and returned to his task. She knew this was one of many missions that he had successfully completed. This was her first. She reluctantly pulled her eyes away from him and rechecked the bomb’s wiring to make sure it would trigger with a slight delay once the train traveled a short distance over it. Her thoughts were a jumble of fear and excitement, not only for the mission but for being in the field with Captain Teach.

  Once her final training had been completed Madeleine was put into action immediately. Under cover of darkness Madeleine and Teach were flown to a temporary airfield and deposited not far from their target. They were far too valuable to risk injury during a parachute drop. Both were trained to jump but preferred the safer, more reliable Lysander aircraft. It flew under the radar and could take off with little runway.

  As she stood, she was aware of everything around her. The night had its own pulse and being. She smelled the dampness from the light rain that had fallen earlier leaving a mist through which there was only a hint of a town in the distance. The train would pick up speed here and most of it would be over the blast zone when it arrived. She felt alive being back in France and in action. The simple things around her energized her; the road signs in French along the meandering roads and the architecture. She was not in her native Provence, but she was home.

  “Charges set and timed?” Teach whispered, motioning her into the shadows along the side of the track. His face was close to hers and she felt his alert ease and confidence as she moved closer.

  Teach sensed Madeleine was in her element. His faith in her skills and courage were being rewarded and he was there to see it. Her cool demeanor was remarkable, as this was her first time in the field. Her additional training had given her a fluidity of movement. There was no indecisiveness on her part. Teach almost felt like he was in her way. There was also a new, frightening aspect about her that came from the training she’d had with Hartmann. Even in the gloom he could sense the fierce strength she commanded. Although petite and feminine, she was born for this work. He had seen it first in training and now it was confirmed. Although he had been in combat and on many missions he felt himself strengthened by her presence and confidence. As he thought of her, he was cautious not to allow his mind to wander too deeply into the other qualities he admired in her. His physical attraction to her was consuming. She was a true beauty, dark and lithe, smoldering with sexuality. She seemed to regard her looks as a tool or an asset but in no way a definition of herself. Experience had taught him how to focus on the mission and ignore the jumble of emotions run
ning through his mind. He had struggled with thoughts of her since the first day of SOE training. He tried to ignore them but it didn’t help in the least. He knew few people could do this work and it had little to do with physical ability. What was most important was focus. Everyone was afraid of what might happen or what could go wrong. He had learned to concentrate on what was happening. Worry was for the planning stages and had no place in mission execution.

  “Charges are set, Captain. Everything is on schedule.” Madeleine whispered, glancing at the luminous dial of her watch. Just as she did so the darkness was split as a match was struck. A German sentry extended the match as a second leaned in to light his cigarette.

  “Danke,” the soldier said quietly as he moved away from the match.

  The two soldiers separated and began walking towards Madeleine, Teach, and the explosives. They seemed to be paying particular attention to the ground in front of them, glancing around repeatedly as they moved forward. Teach could tell from their manner that they were not green recruits. These men had walked point in combat, perhaps countless times. They would find the explosives.

  Teach made an instant decision. He made eye contact with Madeleine, pointed to himself and the guard on the far side of the track. Madeleine then touched herself and pointed to the other. Teach nodded firmly and slid farther back into the shadows and several yards farther up the track. Madeleine moved back and to her right, slowly raising her pistol and training it on her soldier. Her focus was razor sharp. While her mind saw the other sentry, everything else went away as she concentrated. As he passed she silently stood, taking measured steps towards the track and fired into the middle of the man’s back. Two more steps and she fired a second round into his brain. She heard the almost simultaneous double spit of Teach’s gun and the clatter of the sentry’s gun as he fell. She walked up and grabbed her soldier by the feet and dragged him off the track and into the darkness. Teach did the same. They both quickly returned to the track and scanned it for debris. Together they pulled the soldiers farther back into the woods along the track, covering them with a quick layer of forest debris, moving silently off into the dark, away from the train tracks. The entire operation had taken a few long minutes.

  Madeleine and Teach began a loping trot through the darkness and towards safety. They moved as one, two parts of a dangerous animal seeking the safety of its lair after a kill.

  As they ran, Madeleine allowed a little of what had happened to enter her mind. She had killed a soldier in combat. It was different than killing the SS officer who had raped her those many months ago. She was taking revenge then. Now, it was offensive and not defensive in nature and she preferred it this way, like so many soldiers in ambush throughout the ages. Her father’s words came to her as she ran. Soldiers die. After enough killing of their own, they come to expect it. He knew of what he spoke. She had seen the memories of Verdun in his eyes. They told the story of a place where the innocence of his youth died in mud and horror.

  They slowed as they approached a small car. It was parked to the side of a cart path under the branches of hedge, hidden in gloom. Teach got behind the wheel and Madeleine slid into the passenger seat. The car looked old but when Teach hit the starter it immediately roared to life. The engine had been lovingly maintained and improved by a sympathetic mechanic somewhere along the line. Both Madeleine and Teach eased a little as the little car pulled forward and moved them out of the immediate danger zone. Teach carefully drove by moonlight down the grassy track, thankful for the way the woods deadened the sound of their passing.

  After a few moments, Teach allowed a surge of excitement to build in him as he realized that, absent an explosives malfunction, they had pulled off a very dangerous operation. He turned and grinned at Madeleine and playfully slapped her knee in camaraderie. She took his hand and squeezed it in return, holding it in both of her hands, living the moment of their success to the fullest. He glanced at her, expecting her to release his hand quickly. When she did not he relaxed and held her hand firmly, not daring to hope that her gesture was anything other than a product of their comradeship in arms. He fought the urge to turn and look at her. There were so many reasons that he should have pulled his hand away, all of them very military and reasonable. He ignored them. He felt the importance of this moment more strongly than anything he’d ever felt before. Everything else in his mind shimmered away. She was the fiercest and most beautiful woman he had ever known. There was an unspoken acknowledgment between the two that they had transcended some boundary as elusive to some as it is magical. It was the gift of love, at least on his part. The magnitude of it filled him with a new courage and understanding for why he fought. It was so that nothing be allowed to destroy the good in the world, manifested in the simplest of gestures of love between people, holding hands against the dark.

  Teach and Madeleine drove through the night, keeping to secondary roads, some not much more than a trail through meadows and farm fields. The first sunlight glowed in the east as they pulled up to a dilapidated barn, almost completely obscured by a tangle of trees and shrubbery shielding it from a nearby country lane. They had been traveling west and had covered several hundred kilometers during the night. Now they were only a short distance from Spain, a quick sprint out to the sea, and a fast boat ride back to England.

  “We’ll be here for the night and then you’re on your own, Madeleine,” Teach said as they approached the barn door. There was an unmistakable reluctance in his voice. Madeleine said nothing and nodded as he spoke. He tried to read her expression but it was clouded and set. Her brow was furrowed and she avoided making eye contact.

  They walked to the barn and swung open the door. Teach went back to the car and pushed it inside as Madeleine closed the door. They looked around the interior of the barn. It had been out of use for a long time. Dust and straw littered the floor, but it was clean. It must not have held any livestock for sometime. There was a small room off to the side, separated from the barn by a door. Perhaps the room had served as a living area for the farmer or his helpers during the harvest or as the family’s shelter while their permanent home was built. It was rustic, but it would keep the wind and the rain out and some heat in if they could get a fire going. The area was remote enough that a small fire wouldn’t attract any attention.

  “If there’s food, I could make us something to eat,” Madeleine offered.

  “There had better be. There were strict instructions to the local Maquis group to provision this location.”

  “Have the Maquis here seen much action?” Madeleine asked. “There’s never much news about the armed groups taking the fight to the enemy.”

  “We can’t afford any continuity yet. We must keep these groups individual and secret so that when the invasion comes we can hit them from everywhere at once.”

  “When the invasion comes. There will be a hard road for France and her people before that day,” Madeleine said quietly.

  “I think your road will be the hardest, Madeleine,” Teach said gently as he put his hand on her shoulder. Madeleine moved in closer to him and leaned against his tall, spare frame. Her hands at her side, she leaned her head against his chest, seeking shelter against the enormity of it all. Teach put his arms around her and held her quietly. It didn’t seem like a time for words and he was afraid the embrace would end if he spoke. He marveled at her control. There were no tears or sighs. He could feel the force of her in her small body. She had a center like iron and yet there was nothing inflexible about her. He worried for her as she went forward. He knew that she would probably be safer without him, as she would blend in and move among her people easily. Her looks were disarming. Although she was clearly a woman, her youth lingered in her features everywhere but her eyes. He had absolute confidence in her abilities. He remembered the machinelike efficiency with which she had killed. No emotion, no remorse. She was magnificently formidable, like a seemingly frail flower masking the most deadly poison.

  “We should eat,” Madel
eine said without breaking the embrace. She was here now and didn’t want to be the one to pull away. As if by some unspoken command they parted and moved toward a table and a small stove.

  “At least we won’t have to freeze,” Teach said. “Hopefully there’s something to eat.”

  Madeleine looked into the small room off to the side, cluttered with tack for the animals that had once sheltered in the barn and found a weathered, gray wooden crate that looked promising. She pried back one of the panels and saw several jars inside and pulled them out.

  “We are in luck,” Madeleine said. “Someone prepared a meal and preserved it for later use. There are peaches, vegetables and a stew.” She pried the top off of one jar and smelled it. “It’s lamb,” she said with delight.

  “How do you know?” Teach said casually as he inspected the stove and pushed some tinder into the firebox from a small pile left at the side of the stove. When she didn’t immediately answer he glanced at her. The expression on her face was priceless. She was looking at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

  “What did I say?” Teach laughed, grinning helplessly.

  “You should know better than to question the French about food. We invented cuisine. And never question a Toche. We are legendary cooks, and that is something in a nation where everyone knows food.” For a moment he saw Madeleine as she was, before war and death had invaded her soul. He felt a joy come into him like an unquenchable light. The weight of struggle and worry lifted from him. He knew that he should be confused but he wasn’t. His experience of the love for his family and friends was but a glimpse into this. He knew this was the type of love that once felt could never be burned from a person’s soul.

  Madeleine looked at Teach and saw the way he looked at her. He couldn’t be more beautiful. He shone with an inner light that was barely contained. His confidence and character was the mortar that held him together. She felt a raw fire building out of the smoldering physical attraction she had always felt for him. She brushed past him to set the jars on the counter. He made no move to get out of her way. Every part of her making contact with him screamed as it passed along his body. She set the jars down, her hands shaking with physical need. She turned and burst upon him like a wave, pulling his face down to hers as they desperately threw themselves together. Nothing was tentative, nothing held back. Together they took from each other with a fury that was without control. Madeleine pushed the table out of the way as they collapsed to the floor into each other. There were no sweet kisses or tender caresses as their pent up lust crashed together and raged. Their clothes were torn as they struggled becoming one, their breath ragged and snatched between their gasps and moans. They gave in completely, raw and base as they fed their desire trapped in a madness of hunger. For a moment nothing else existed. Their fears and the hopelessness of the world vanished.