Henderson's Boys: One Shot Kill: One Shot Kill

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘So where do you get off the train?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘She needs a doctor,’ Justin said, as he went down on one knee and studied Edith more closely.

  ‘I know she does.’

  ‘You’ve got a gun,’ Justin said. ‘She’s got whip marks on her arms, and that looks like a cigarette burn on her neck. Did you kidnap her?’

  Rosie sounded irritated. ‘Answer my question. Where do you get off the train?’

  Justin smirked. ‘You’re not answering my questions either.’

  Rosie put her hand on the gun. ‘That’s because I’ve got this and you haven’t.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true,’ Justin said, as he sat down on the platform cross-legged. ‘I get off the train near my house. There’s a water tower where the train has to stop and fill up. I live right by it.’

  ‘She’s going to die if I don’t get her to a doctor quickly. Is there a doctor near where you live?’

  ‘You can walk to the doctor in town.’

  ‘She doesn’t have documents,’ Rosie said. ‘Are there checkpoints?’

  Justin backed up a little, scared, impressed and confused all at once. ‘You’re on the run from the Boche, aren’t you? Tunnel coming up in a second!’

  This time Rosie put a wet rag over Edith’s nose and mouth before pulling her jacket up over her face. This tunnel was longer than the first and when they emerged there was a blacked-out town silhouetted in a valley below the tracks.

  ‘I can pay if you help me find a doctor,’ Rosie said, as she showed a ten-franc note.

  Justin looked offended. ‘You think I’d take money for helping a sick person?’

  ‘And is your doctor a good person? Can we trust him?’

  ‘Her,’ Justin said, as he shrugged. ‘I think she’s OK. I went once when I went deaf and had to get my ear syringed. Mum was broke, but the doctor said pay something when you can. Have you ever had your ear syringed? It’s so loud, cos they’re shooting water right in your lughole.’

  Justin’s mix of street-smarts and boyishness lightened Rosie’s mood after bleak hours with nothing but dark thoughts for company. She reached into her backpack and passed over a stick of high-energy chocolate.

  ‘Suck it or it’ll break your teeth,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s survival rations. Like they give to RAF pilots, in case they get shot down.’

  Justin beamed as he peeled the foil off the chocolate and tried biting a corner off.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Justin said, before bursting out laughing. ‘Tunnel!’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Apart from nightly rides on the coal train, Justin didn’t travel much. When Rosie quizzed him about where they’d be getting off he gave the name of somewhere that wasn’t on her map and said that the local farmers sold goods at a market in Rennes. But he’d never been there himself, so he wasn’t sure how long the journey took.

  Still, anywhere near Rennes was well out of the military zone. Rosie had to take a punt on finding Edith a doctor who wouldn’t report her to the Gestapo wherever she wound up, which made sticking with Justin at least as good a choice as any other.

  It was near dawn as the train left its single track and merged into the regular railway. Rosie hoped they’d soon pass a station, which would give her a better fix on her location, but within a minute the wagons shuddered to a halt and the brawny steam engine began refilling its water tank.

  ‘You’ve gotta run in case there’s railway cops,’ Justin explained quietly. ‘Go down the embankment. I’ll meet you at the bottom.’

  Water gushed from the tower twenty wagons ahead as Rosie lobbed her backpack through trackside bushes. While she bent to pick Edith up, Justin had clambered inside a coal skip and began hurling out sacks, each filled with as much coal as he could lift.

  The embankment was too steep to navigate with Edith over her shoulder, so Rosie slid down on her bum, left Edith at the bottom then went back for her pack. When she returned, two little girls were dragging coal sacks over a weed patch, while the youngest – who looked about three – stood with hands on hips gawping at Edith.

  ‘Don’t touch,’ Justin said, before dumping his smallest sack of coal at the little girl’s feet. ‘Drag that back to the house, before I kick you up the bum.’

  The girl knew the threat was a joke and poked her tongue out at her big brother.

  Rosie picked Edith back up, while Justin burdened himself with Rosie’s pack and dragged a coal sack with each hand. Home was a terrace of three tatty cottages, less than fifty metres from the tracks.

  ‘Don’t leave me behind,’ the tiny girl ordered, making Justin look back and blow a big fart noise at her.

  ‘I’m telling Mummy!’

  ‘Tell her,’ Justin said cheerfully. ‘I don’t care.’

  The coal sacks were piled in the hallway as Rosie entered through the back door. A huge hole in the roof sent dawn light down a staircase sprouting moss, and Rosie noted that the three girls looked exactly like their big brother.

  ‘Dump Edith in the armchair,’ Justin told Rosie, then grabbed his oldest sister, who was eight. ‘Agnes, run into town and get Dr Blanc.’

  ‘Say that Justin is hurt,’ Rosie added, as she put Edith down. ‘Don’t say anything about us being here.’

  Agnes looked at her brother for confirmation.

  ‘Do exactly what she says,’ Justin said firmly.

  ‘Who are they?’ the girl asked warily. ‘What will Mummy say?’

  Justin pointed at Edith, then raised his hand threatening a slap. ‘That girl could die. Just get Dr Blanc, and don’t let that nurse fob you off, even if you have to bite her.’

  As Justin knelt down to unlace his boots, he told middle sister Aimée to fetch him a bucket of water to wash with, then told little sister Belle that she was a good girl for helping bring in the coal, and gave her a square of the high-energy chocolate.

  ‘Suck don’t bite, and don’t tell your sisters,’ Justin said.

  He then moved in to kiss Belle, but she backed off yelling, ‘You’ll make me dirty!’

  Rosie spoke as Belle squatted beside Edith’s chair and took an experimental lick of the chocolate. ‘Does your mother work?’

  ‘There’s a small German garrison not far from here,’ Justin said, sounding embarrassed. ‘Mum cleans for them, and does laundry and stuff. But she doesn’t like them.’

  ‘She says they’re pigs,’ Belle said.

  Justin turned and spoke sharply. ‘Belle, what have I told you about repeating things? If someone outside hears that you could get Mummy into trouble.’

  Aimée was at the back door with a bucket of water, but Justin pointed Rosie towards it.

  ‘Ladies can wash first.’

  Aimée put her hand over her mouth and giggled. ‘You being polite. That’s a first.’

  ‘I’m always polite,’ Justin said.

  ‘You never say ladies first to us.’

  ‘Because you’re not ladies,’ Justin snapped back. ‘Make yourself useful, cut us some bread.’

  ‘I’m not your servant,’ Aimée said, but still went into the kitchen to do it.

  Rosie had given her only spare dress to Edith, so she couldn’t change out of her combat gear after wiping down with cold water and a grubby cloth. While Justin took a more thorough wash, Rosie sprinkled Edith with cool water, took the farm boots off her feet and unbuttoned the back of her dress.

  Dr Blanc arrived as Justin came back inside dressed in his good clothes. These were free of coal dust, but still appeared to have been worn through a great deal of muddy play. The doctor was a barrel of a woman, with a huge chest and bright red nose. She grunted when she saw Justin in perfect health, but forgot the deception the instant she saw Edith.

  ‘When did she become feverish?’ Dr Blanc asked, as she pulled down Edith’s dress.

  ‘Yesterday afternoon,’ Rosie said.

  ‘Christ, did they use her as a punching bag?’ Dr Blanc said furiously. ‘Someone did a half decent job patching her up. Was
that you?’

  Rosie nodded and half smiled. ‘I did a six-week nursing course.’

  ‘Good, you can give me a hand. I need her lying face down on the floor. She’s running a very high temperature, but she’s not sweating which means she’s critically dehydrated. I need clean water, salt and sugar if you have any.’

  Justin ushered Belle out of the room as Rosie swung Edith from chair to floor.

  ‘I want to see,’ Belle moaned.

  Dr Blanc made heavy work out of kneeling down. As she pulled a bottle and length of rubber tubing from her leather bag, Justin fetched salt and water, while Rosie took the two sugar lumps from her emergency ration tin.

  While Rosie shook the solution in the bottle, Dr Blanc pushed the rubber tube up Edith’s bum.

  ‘It’s not pretty, but it’s the quickest way to get water and minerals back in her system.’

  Justin backed away looking queasy, while his three sisters intermittently peeked around the doorway. When the rehydration procedure was complete, Dr Blanc began washing Edith’s body with cool water.

  ‘Is she going to be OK?’ Rosie asked warily.

  ‘Did she have any health problems before this happened?’ the doctor asked.

  ‘None that I know of,’ Rosie said.

  ‘We’ll keep her cool and hydrated,’ Dr Blanc said. ‘She’s young and healthy, but there’s nothing I can do about the infection. It’s a matter of keeping her comfortable and waiting to see if she has the strength to fight it off.’

  *

  Dr Blanc hurried off once she’d done all she could to help Edith. Rosie couldn’t travel outside in combat gear, so she negotiated the purchase of a shabby dress belonging to Justin’s mum, for a price that would easily buy two replacements on the black market.

  After she’d shared Justin’s breakfast of egg, fake coffee and coarse black bread, a horse and buggy organised by Dr Blanc arrived. Joseph the driver was the doctor’s handsome son and he carried Edith outside and laid her out over straw in the back of the buggy.

  Rosie felt uneasy putting so much trust in strangers, but Dr Blanc seemed reliable, and with Edith fighting for life there was little choice.

  ‘Where are we heading?’ Rosie asked, as the horse moved down an unfinished path between tightly spaced cottages.

  ‘To my brother’s house,’ Joseph said. ‘There’s a lot of families around here. They’re decent people, but the right information in a Gestapo officer’s ear can earn your husband or son repatriation from Germany, so it’s best not to waft temptation under their noses.’

  ‘What about checkpoints?’

  ‘We’d have to be very unlucky,’ Joseph said. ‘There’s nothing of strategic value around here. You can go a month without seeing a German.’

  ‘Justin said there was a garrison.’

  ‘More of a geriatric ward,’ Joseph said. ‘You only get posted out here if you’re no use anywhere else.’

  ‘So does your brother have family?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘He’s an army doctor.’

  ‘A prisoner?’ Rosie asked.

  Joseph nodded, and Rosie’s paranoid side linked the fact he was a prisoner with the comment about rewarding informants by sending prisoners home.

  ‘I was studying medicine in Le Mans, but the Gestapo shut my academy down after a student protest,’ Joseph explained, as the buggy picked up speed. ‘Now I’m living out of sight, hoping the Compulsory Labour Service doesn’t track me down and pack me off to Germany.’

  ‘Aren’t doctors exempt?’ Rosie asked, as they turned on to a narrower track.

  ‘But I’m not a doctor yet. And even doctors get sent to Germany. They’ve got more wounded soldiers than German doctors can care for. And what about you?’

  ‘What about me?’ Rosie asked defensively.

  Joseph laughed noisily. ‘Well, there must be a good story. Not many girls your age turn up on a coal train, with a machine gun in their backpack and an unconscious friend who’s been tortured half to death.’

  They both glanced behind as Edith’s body rumbled.

  ‘That’ll be water coming back out the way it went in,’ Joseph explained.

  ‘I’m with the resistance,’ Rosie said. ‘But frankly, the less you know, the safer you’ll be.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Joseph Blanc lived in a large brick house that belonged to his older brother. It was several kilometres from the railway and surrounded by farmland.

  The house had the rare luxury of a coal-fired water heater and after a hot bath Rosie used the water to wash out her underclothes. But she kept her pistol within reach, because she’d been taught never to trust anyone and people who showed kindness were among the most likely to betray you.

  Being alone with Edith had been frightening, and Rosie was relieved seeing her in a proper bed in an upstairs bedroom. Joseph repeated the hydration and once in a while they wiped Edith down with cool water, but the unconscious body gave no clues about the battle being fought by her immune system.

  *

  As Rosie napped, Joseph cooked chicken and potatoes. It was the best thing Rosie had eaten since landing in France and they shared a bottle of wine over the meal. When Dr Blanc arrived at the house shortly before 9 p.m. she found the two of them sitting on a rug playing draughts.

  Although the wine made her a touch drunk, Rosie soon found herself in serious conversation with the buxom doctor.

  ‘I have a resistance contact in Paris,’ Rosie explained, as she sat across from the doctor, who was eating chicken leftovers with bread and cheese. ‘We didn’t get a chance to prepare identity documents for Edith before the Germans stormed in, and I could only carry the absolute essentials after Eugene was shot. The blank identity documents and miniature camera were in his pack.’

  ‘So you want to leave Edith here and travel to Paris?’ Dr Blanc asked.

  ‘Tomorrow, if that’s acceptable,’ Rosie said.

  ‘I telephoned the station and got details of tomorrow’s trains,’ Joseph added.

  Dr Blanc nodded. ‘I can see the sense in that. There’s nothing you can do to help Edith by being here.’

  ‘I expect I’ll be gone for two or three days,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m not short of money and I’d be happy to leave enough to pay for any treatment.’

  ‘There’s nothing to pay,’ Dr Blanc said. Then she leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Are your resistance colleagues well connected?’

  ‘Please don’t take offence, doctor,’ Rosie said warily, ‘but the less I say the safer it is for everyone.’

  Dr Blanc accepted this, but pressed gently. ‘I have two reasons for asking. Firstly, there’s a drug known as penicillin. It’s impossible to get supplies around here, but it might be available on the black market in Paris.’

  Edith had seen stories about penicillin in newsreels and newspapers. ‘Isn’t that the miracle drug?’ she asked.

  ‘Everyone’s heard of it, nobody can get it,’ Dr Blanc explained. ‘The Germans produce it in small quantities, but it’s only made available in their military hospitals. Edith is extremely sick and a vial of penicillin would tilt the balance of probabilities in her favour. The second reason I ask is this.’

  The doctor reached into her medical bag and produced a crumpled grey notebook. Rosie caught Joseph’s expression, and he apparently had no more idea what it was than she did.

  ‘Two Germans came to my doorstep after Easter,’ Dr Blanc began, as Edith reached across and took the notebook. ‘It was all rather gothic. We drove out several kilometres into woodland. Pitch dark, rain lashing the car. They took me down into a bunker – a vast underground warehouse. There were a great deal of military supplies in storage, everything from bombs to boxes of grenades.’

  ‘You’re talking about the old army storage bunker,’ Joseph said, interrupting his mother. ‘You never told me you’d seen a patient out there.’

  Dr Blanc gave her son a look of surprise. ‘How do you know about it?’

  ‘When Fréd�
�ric and I were boys we used to explore in the woods. It was built as an ammunition store during the Great War. There would always be a soldier guarding the perimeter and boys would sneak up and throw acorns or chestnuts at him.’

  ‘Then you know more about it than I do,’ Dr Blanc said. Then with a half-smile, ‘And apparently my sons were not as well behaved as they led me to believe at the time.’

  ‘I haven’t thought about that old place in years,’ Joseph said. ‘The soldiers used to get cross and shoot their guns, but they knew we were kids and always aimed high into the trees. With so much bombing now, I can see why the Germans would want to make use of it.’

  As Joseph spoke, Rosie flipped through the notebook and saw pages of tiny writing, plus equations and intricate pencil drawings of gyroscopes and clockwork mechanisms. There were also pages of maps, with dashed lines plotting what looked like the course of a ship. It all looked like the work of one man, who was quite possibly bonkers.

  ‘My patient was a suicide attempt,’ Dr Blanc continued. ‘A well-spoken Frenchman who’d cut his wrists. Luckily he’d made the classic mistake of cutting across the vein and hadn’t lost too much blood. There seemed to be other Frenchmen there. I saw very little, but got the distinct impression that they were scientists being kept underground in some sort of research facility.’

  ‘How did you get the notebook?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘I was there for some hours stabilising the patient. I asked to use the bathroom and it caused a minor fuss, because the toilets in the bunker were foul and there were no facilities for ladies. The Germans were apologetic and sent an elderly Frenchman to clean a toilet for me. As he passed me in the hallway, the cleaner pressed the notebook upon me. He told me it was valuable. He said to hide it in the bottom of my bag and get the information to someone on the outside.’

  ‘But you didn’t try passing it to anyone until now?’ Rosie asked.

  Dr Blanc shook her head. ‘This is a remote area. I’ve heard the resistance spoken of in BBC radio broadcasts, but you’re the first time I’ve physically encountered any sign of it.’