by James R Benn
Grabbing the wirecutters from my pocket, I ran over the tracks, stooping, head down, and went straight to the fence. My boots kicked up dry dust and I prayed nobody was paying attention as I started on a bottom wire. The first snip sounded like a cymbal clanging. The taut wire gave out a twang that I was sure they'd hear all along the fence. I kept snipping, using both hands on the cutters to get good pressure. Snip. Twang. How could they not hear this? I was glad Rodney had taped the handles. My palms were sweating so much the bare metal would've slipped or flown out of my hands. I cut about three feet up and then worked down the other side, taking about a square yard out of the fence. If I had to pull Diana through here I'd need enough room to do it fast. I went through the hole easy. Now came the hard part.
I ran to the back of a storehouse and flattened myself against it. I could make out voices in the courtyard but couldn't tell what was going on. Ten yards farther along the fence stood one of the guard towers. The platform, about ten feet up, had a corrugated tin roof for shade with a railing around the side. They may have used the towers to watch the wire for anyone breaking in to steal supplies, but if I reached the platform it would give me a good view of what was going on inside too. There was a fair chance no one would bother to look up, so I ran for it.
Up the ladder I went in no time, crouching low, trying to squeeze myself behind the corner post. I peered around the side and could see over the tops of the storehouses and into the courtyard. The trucks and cars were lined up now, reaching almost to the gate. There were maybe ten SOL guys milling around. The door of the headquarters building opened and two uniforms came out. Gardes Mobiles. One big guy and one dapper Dan. Villard and Mathenet. It was too far for a burst from the Thompson, but I was tempted. Villard stopped and pushed Mathenet, pointing to the gate. Mathenet didn't seem too eager. There was a lot of hand waving and pointing toward the jeep. Finally, Villard rested his hand on his holster as two of his thugs came over and bracketed him. That settled it.
Mathenet walked towards the gate. I could see the snout of the machine gun over the top of a low stone wall, about fifty yards from the entrance. Duxbury had chosen a good spot. He had cover for the jeep and men, with room for the. 30 caliber to have a clear field of fire. Rodney shot a short burst toward the entrance, three rounds kicking up columns of dust exactly in the middle of the road, between the doors of the open gate. Mathenet was less than ten feet away. He got the message. He stopped and cupped his hands to his mouth, yelling something in French, then in English, but I couldn't make the words out. Someone yelled back, Banville, I think, about surrendering. Mathenet looked toward Villard, who signaled some of his men to follow him. They went toward the garage. I eased myself down the ladder, hoping everyone would stay focused on that front gate.
I worked my way toward the barracks building which was set back from the entrance, between the garage and the headquarters, and lifted my head to peer into the first window. It was at the end of a long room lined with bunk beds, footlockers against the far wall. It looked just like every barracks I had seen so far in the army: neat and tidy, a drill sergeant's dream.
Staying low, I ran along the wall, down to the first window facing into I the next room. Same setup, except the place was a mess. Unmade beds, footlockers open with the contents strewn around the room, and two SOL men sitting at a table, smoking. What were they doing in there with all the action going on outside? I ducked and ran the length of that room.
Two more windows at the end of the building. I raised my head again, and peeked in, grabbing onto the windowsill, the gritty, peeling paint crumbling beneath my fingers.
I saw Diana. She was lying on a bed, hands tied in front of her. There was another bed in the room, a desk, and a table. Officer's quarters? One SOL guard stood at the door. Diana didn't move. The guard left, maybe to check on things outside. Diana's head turned toward the doorway as she raised her bound hands to her face to pull at the knots with her teeth. I felt my heart race. She was awake, aware, and active! Should I tap on the window to signal her? I couldn't take the chance. If the guard heard, it would be all over.
I considered my chances. Three guards that I knew of inside. Maybe one more at the main door, which was within plain sight of the courtyard. But if no one was at that door, there was a chance I could get inside. If I could take care of the man guarding Diana, quickly and quietly, we'd be out the window and home free. Sure. If my luck held, and if I could do it, fast and silent. I pulled my combat knife from its sheath, held it in my right hand, and steadied the Thompson hanging from my neck with my left. Quick. And quiet. Don't think, just do what they taught you in Basic Training. I'd seen the results dozens of times on the beat-only back then it was a crime. Now it was me with the knife in my hand, heading for some slob who didn't know he was enjoying the last minute of his life. If I succeeded.
I heard the sound of an engine racing. If I acted now, the noise would be a distraction. I stood, took off my helmet, and strolled around the corner of the building. Someone might notice a slouched, running figure out of the corner of his eye. But walking casually, as if I owned the place, I might not draw a second look. I held the Thompson slung down at my side, the knife held blade up in my palm. I could see guys getting into their trucks and others running around, yelling and pointing. I made it to the front of the barracks and turned right. No one looked at me. Three more paces to the door. I mounted the wooden steps and turned the handle. It was dark inside. It took a second for my eyes to adjust. I was in a corridor that ran the length of the building. I shut the door behind me, kicking it closed with my foot to keep both hands free.
It was too loud. A voice, in French, came from the room Diana was in, off to my right.
"Albert?"
"Hmmn," I grunted, and flattened my back against the wall, as I heard the shuffling of heavy feet, and in a second the large form of a man filled the doorway to the room. He was holding his rifle by the barrel, dragging it along the floor as if he couldn't be bothered to pick it up. I pivoted on my left foot and brought my right hand around in an upward arc, driving the knife between his ribs and into his heart. He looked surprised, his mouth hung open for a second, and then I felt a weight pressing down on my hand as his legs trembled a bit and gave out from under him, so that all that was holding him up was the knife blade in his ribs. The rifle dropped from his hand. I stopped it with my foot so it wouldn't make a racket. I eased him down, grabbing his shirt with my left hand so he wouldn't hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. His eyes sought me out and a small sound escaped his mouth, a gasp, or a last word, I don't know. By the time he was flat on the floor he was dead, even though his eyes were still locked on mine. I went around him and pulled his body into the room, so it couldn't be seen. When I drew out the knife, thick blood dripped from the blade, drops splattering on the dead man's face. I focused on the knife, not wanting to look at him. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion, and now I couldn't get back up to speed. The air itself felt thick, slow and deathly.
"Billy. Billy!"
Her voice snapped me out of it. Diana was sitting on the bed, holding up her hands, which were still tied with a thick, knotted rope, although she had chewed part of the rope almost through.
"Hang on," I said as gently as I could.
I started to wipe the blood from the knife on my pants, then thought better of that and wiped the blade on the shirt of the guy on the floor. I had expected to feel something more, but it had happened too fast, there was too much to manage, the weight of him, the rifle, the need for silence. Then the stunned aftermath. And now Diana.
I went to her, knelt down and whispered, "Be very quiet. We're getting out of here, now."
She stared at me, as if my words were hard to understand. Then she nodded, slowly. She held up her bound hands. I brought up the knife to cut the rope. There was still sticky blood between my fingers.
The front door to the room began to open. I backed away from
Diana and stood against the
adjacent wall, next to the corpse. She lay down again in the position I had seen her in through the window.
Mathenet strode in. He went right to the desk, to the left of the door. He hadn't seen me or the body. He opened a drawer with a key and took something out, put it in his jacket pocket and picked up a briefcase from under the desk.
"Jean?" he called out as he straightened up. I had the Thompson leveled at his gut. He opened his mouth again but no sound came out.
"If you don't want that nice uniform all messed up, then do what I tell you."
His face went white. He nodded.
"Shut the door," I said.
He did. Diana sat again, holding her hands out to me. I cut through the rope, and I saw Mathenet s eyes dart to the guard's body and back to the knife.
"What do you want?" he said.
I was about to say, to get the hell out of here in one piece, when I heard yelling and footsteps outside. Loud engine noises reverberated in the courtyard again, and then the door flew open, in the midst of a torrent of French from Villard. He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw me, one hand on the doorknob, the other at his holster.
"No," I said.
Moving the Thompson to cover him, I debated killing him right then and there, but we needed to make a getaway and pissing off a dozen or so SOL thugs by gunning down their boss would not help us. Diana walked over to pick up the dead guard's rifle.
"No," I said again, for her benefit.
"Lieutenant Boyle, once again I must protest your interference with purely French internal affairs. Formulation of charges will have to wait though, as we must be on our way. Lieutenant Mathenet, give me the briefcase," said Villard as he held out his hand.
"Not so fast," I said.
"What are you going to do? Shoot us? Then what? You will be dead within the minute."
"It's not a very good plan, I'll admit, but it does have something going for it," I said.
"What is that?" Villard said with a sneer.
"You'll die first."
He laughed. "You are too gallant to sacrifice the life of this young lady in order to kill me," Villard said. "Come, Mathenet, now!"
Mathenet was still thinking. He didn't have Villard's bravado and his indecision showed. Villard took a step toward Mathenet and grabbed him by the collar. I tried to keep my aim on Villard but he ducked behind Mathenet and then propelled him toward us, as he snatched the briefcase from his hand. The door slammed behind him as Mathenet bumped into us. Diana went down, her rifle firing into the ceiling. I staggered, trying to keep my balance as Mathenet struggled to untangle himself from her, but I steadied myself a split second before he broke free and gave him a rap on the head with the butt of the Thompson. He fell to the floor just as the door opened and two SOL goons spilled into the room. I pulled the trigger and sprayed them with the Tommy gun. They went down with arms and legs flailing. Smoking cartridges littered the floor and now there were three dead Frenchmen in the room plus one who was unconscious. It was getting crowded.
I lifted Diana. She still looked dazed, not quite sure where she was.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, my eyes on the door.
"You came for me," she said. "I was dreaming about you… You were on fire."
"I'll explain later. We've got to blow this joint in a hurry. Come on."
"Wait." She knelt and unbuckled Mathenet's holster. She pulled out his revolver, cocked the trigger and held it to his head.
"No!" I said. "I need him. I need his evidence."
"He injected me, kept me drugged. I won't let him escape." The barrel was still pointed at his temple.
"No, he won't. We've got the exit covered, but you and I need to get out now!" I grabbed her arm and pulled her along. She held on to the revolver but she followed me. We stepped over the twisted bodies of the two guards in the doorway. I had expected the SOL to send reinforcements, but no one else was in the building. The other barracks room was empty, the only sign of life two cigarettes in an ashtray burning down, the gray smoke curling up from them, left by the two dead guards.
I heard a faint, muffled yelling coming from somewhere. Then, from outside, a loud noise of engines again, and machine gun fire. It sounded like a full-fledged battle. Maybe the rest of the commandos had arrived. I ran to the doorway, signaling Diana to stay low, leaned around the doorframe and saw a bright muzzle flash as bullets hit the wall just above my head, wood splintering, concrete from the walls spraying me with gray dust.
I lay in the hallway, my head buried under my arms. What the hell was that, I asked myself.
"Armored car," said Diana.
"Whose?" I said.
"They have an armored car in the garage. An old model, from the First War."
"Damn!"
I sneaked another look. The armored car was there all right, moving up to the front of the line with its machine gun chattering, firing away at the jeep from behind the safety of steel plate.
Villard must've given us a parting shot with that burst. Now he was focused on the exit, and forcing his way through. I ran toward the gate, wondering if I could get close enough to lob a grenade under his vehicle. Then the tarp on the back of the last truck in line flew up; more rifles than I could count were pointed at me. I dove and rolled to the side of the headquarters building as bullets sang past my ears. Lying flat on the ground as more shots dug up dust and dirt, and slammed into the wood at the corner of the building, I caught a glimpse of Diana, still standing in the doorway. She had her revolver up, the grip cupped in the palm of her left hand, squeezing off carefully aimed shots at the guys shooting at me. After the fourth shot, they turned their fire on her, and she dropped to the floor.
Slugs from the SOL men peppered the doorway. I stood and fired a burst at them, then ran around the back of the headquarters building, discarding the empty clip and ramming a new one in as I went. The shooting died down. As I peered around the corner, I could see the armored car going through the entrance as Duxbury backed up the jeep, wisely retreating. There was no way four men in an open jeep could take on an armored car. Villard led the procession, the column of SOL trucks and cars following. I could have peppered any of them, but I didn't know which held prisoners, who were now hostages. And without the machine gun firing to cover me, the SOL riflemen would gun me down in a minute. I watched the column disappear down the dirt road, out toward the desert.
Diana! Had she been hit?
She was alone. With Mathenet, and he was the only link I had to Villard now. I ran to her, hoping not to hear a single revolver shot.
Chapter Twenty-five
Diana was inside the room, unharmed, leaning against the desk, reloading the revolver. She had emptied Mathenet's cartridge pouch and tied his hands, using the same rope on him that she had been bound with. He had a nasty cut on his forehead from where I'd whacked him, but he was awake, murmuring in French and wincing every time he moved his head.
Diana didn't look at me. She chambered the last round and closed the cylinder. I touched her shoulder and she flinched.
"Sorry," I said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm glad you're alive." She reached up and touched my arm, to be sure I was real. Her hand didn't linger. As if she couldn't wait to trade the feel of flesh for steel, it closed around her other hand which held the revolver.
"What now?" she said.
"Watch him for a minute. We have friends outside."
I went into the courtyard, saw Banville on foot at the entrance, and the others waving from the jeep. I waved back and they drove in, parking in front of the barracks. I heard muffled shouting, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from.
"Is there a basement in this building?" I shouted to Diana.
"Yes, I'll show you, if you find someone else to watch Mathenet."
I told Duxbury to guard our prisoner. I thought he was faking now, waiting for us to leave him alone. Rodney stayed on the. 30 caliber, Harry with him in the jeep, complaining about his leg. Banville came with Diana and me.
"Help me get these men out; they've been down in the cellar for two days." She led us into the other room of the barracks, where the SOL men had been posted and pointed to a trapdoor closed by an iron padlock, attached to a ring on the floor. We could hear pounding and yelling more clearly now.
"Who are they?" Banville asked.
"Twelve men from this post," Diana said quickly. "The others were called away on some pretext, then Villard and his men took over. I think he still has the key."
"Stand back," Banville said. He took out his Webley revolver and aimed at the lock. The first round dented it, the second shattered it. He lifted the door.
French soldiers poured up from their underground prison, shielding their eyes from the light. Carefully, they hoisted up their captain. His face was bruised, his uniform tunic stained with blood. They helped him to a chair. He issued orders. I couldn't understand what he said, but I could tell they were commands by his tone of voice and the way his men jumped to. Most scurried off, while one man brought him water. He drank and only then seemed to notice us.
"Americans?" he asked.
"American and British, sir. Can you tell me what happened here?"
"My name is Captain Victor Gauthier, and what happened here is a crime."
"What exactly do you mean, sir?" I asked. One man's crime may be another man's natural exuberance.
"My men and I were ready to welcome the Allies and join the fight against the Germans. We are not among those who believe in collaborating with our enemy. When that Gardes Mobiles officer came here with his orders, we had to obey, to give him food and supplies, to house his prisoners. Orders from Headquarters," he said, almost spitting out the word.
"Signed by Captain Bessette," I added.
"Yes, how did you know?" He looked up, surprised.
