by Jason Walker
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
Jason Walker
Amazon Kindle Edition
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2018 by Mr F. McLeod (SNV76627792). No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. For more information visit Jason’s website at: https://repulsintechnology.com
Don’t miss the next story in the Down the Rabbit Hole series:
NAZIS IN TIBET
PROMO TEXT GOES HERE
Get Nazis in Tibet now,
and let the suspense continue!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Secret Agents
Part SIXTEEN
A British agent makes her way to Bordeaux France to find her contact who has been captured by the Nazi Gestapo. Meanwhile two French Resistance soldiers discover a secret Nazi operation within a mountain mine and the female agent who was captured struggles with a difficult decision within the Gestapo prison.
Based on true events.
Chapter One
Just outside of Marseille.
There was a light snowfall, which was doing nothing to make the already slippery road any better, and the thick slush was making headway more difficult than it could have been. In the distance was a checkpoint building with a barrier across the road. Her breathing was heavy, her heart pounding. There was no other way, she would have to proceed.
She continued pumping hard on the pedals, making slow but sure progress.
Manning the checkpoint were two junior Nazi soldiers, sitting inside to protect themselves from the harsh cold winter air. One of them stood and saw her bike approaching. “Hey, someone is coming, come on, we need to check her.”
The other grunted, making no effort to hide the fact that he, having just got himself warmed up, was not amused at being forced out into the cold once again.
They put on their thick coats, and stepped outside just as she came to a stop before the barrier.
“Your name?” one of the Germans demanded. “Nancy Foccia”, she replied.
“Papers.”
They both examined Nancy’s documents while continuing to ask questions. “Where are you heading?”
“I’m going into town. My family lives out in the countryside, they are running low on food supplies, so I will do their shopping for them”, she said.
The guards were both shivering, and their only interest at this point was to get the hell out of the cold and back inside. Her papers were handed back, the barricade lifted and Nancy, after having thanked them, went on her way, her pulse rate and breathing much slower now.
Both of the guards sat down and were briskly rubbing their hands together when one of them leapt back to his feet, a look of horror on his face. He arrived at the other side of the guard hut in one single pace, and held open a folder. Having flicked through some pages, his face turned white.
“Scheisse”, he whispered to himself.
“What is wrong with you now?” the other guard enquired.
Without replying, the guard threw the folder down and ran outside, looking up the road in Nancy’s direction. She was slowly increasing her distance from the checkpoint.
“Halt! Halt”, he ordered.
Nancy looked back for a fleeting second and decided that the only course of action to take was to peddle harder and faster. The second guard was now outside and his colleague explained what the panic was about.
“The folder, it has a bunch of photos, photos of people who we are supposed to look out for and apprehend should we see them. I think she is one of them, and we just let her ride straight past.”
The first guard started running towards her, while the other raised his rifle and shot in her direction.
Nancy could hear the bullets whizzing past her ears.
The guard who had given chase returned to the hut and picked up the telephone. After a few barked words, alarms suddenly started sounding through loud speakers around the entire area. Nancy was now peddling for her life, when she felt something; her left arm had been hit by a bullet. It was only a minor injury, but, with the shock of having been shot, she started to lose control of the bike.
She left the road, heading down an embankment. Her speed was increasing fast, the brakes having zero effect with the snow and steep incline. She noticed a large bush rushing towards her and before she had time to react, she had hit it. The branches and leaves swallowed her up, leaving her, and the bike invisible.
Nancy could not see a thing outside of the bush, and correctly concluded that this meant she was well hidden. The guards ran down the road to the point of the embankment where she had left the road, and she had quite simply disappeared.
After a few hours of silence, she found the courage to slowly and silently leave the bush which had protected her, and headed towards the forest, leaving the bike which she had borrowed behind, muttering a token apology to the owner to herself. She was sure that he or she would understand if they knew the full circumstances.
Chapter Two
French Resistance Bush Shack.
Pierre Nadeau and Adrien Fontaine sat at a small table playing cards to pass the time.
Fontaine was nervous and fidgety, his leg was shaking up and down on the ball of his foot. “You keep on like that and the Krauts will hear you”, observed Nadeau, offering his friend a cigarette to calm his nerves.
“How long do you think we will have to wait, Pierre?” asked Fontaine.
“As long as it takes. We need to wait for Captain Garrow’s decision. Trust him, he knows what he’s doing. He’s the only one who can get you out of here safely.”
Nadeau’s luck was on his side. He won the hand with a full house.
The captain entered the room and asked everyone except Nadeau and Fontaine to leave. “Gentlemen, I have a mission for you. I need you to go up into the mountains. There is an old tin mine up there, and I need you to keep your eyes open for any activity which is going on. You remember young Claude, here? You met him briefly on the day you arrived. He has spotted some Nazi movement. They’re obviously interested in something, and I need to know what. The three of you should get yourselves fed and rested.”
Fontaine was not overly happy. He was under the impression that the bush shack was a final stop-off before heading into Spain. He had not been expecting to be going on any ‘missions’.
“After this, will I be able to head into Spain?” he asked.
Garrow looked him in the eye and considered his answer carefully before giving it. “We will see. Right now, getting information on that old mine, and why the Krauts are showing so much interest in it is my top priority. Take this. It’s a camera from British Intelligence. Take photos, take notes, don’t leave any details out. Those conniving bastards are up to something and I want to know what.”
Garrow left the room leaving Claude, Fontaine and Nadeau alone. The two adults eyed the young boy, and he likewise. They needed to get along, for they were going to be spending a lot of time together over the course of the next few days.
Chapter Three
Vera Atkins’ Office, London.
Vera Atkins was sitting at her desk studying over some files, a task which seemed to take up a good 90 percent of her life nowadays. Her ever loyal secretary, Louise Sherington walked in and approached the desk.
“Miss Atkins, you have a message coming in from Montpellier. It’s from a Mrs Cambridge.”
That was enough to wake up Vera. Wide eyed, she jumped up from behind her desk, and, as fast as her short stocky legs would allow, ran to the radio office.
Inside sat a row of radio operators, one of whom was Cpl. Sarah Cooper, who was scribbling down a message letter by letter as it was received.
White Mouse was caught. Mousetrap sprung open and is back in the wild.
Atkins went from sheer panic mode to almost complete calm in the space of around two seconds.
“Louise, where was she detained, was it in Montpellier?”
No, Ma’am, about 130 miles north-west of there in a small town called Decazeville, This would suggest that….”
“It would suggest that she is heading north, Louise. But why? What are her intentions?”
Atkins was deep in thought and after a few moments, something suddenly clicked inside her.
“My God, Louise, you don’t think…you don’t think she’s heading to meet with….” Her eyes opened wide, and, after the initial shock at the prospect, she, as ever, managed to compose herself.
“Louise, I need a message sent to Bordeaux immediately. Go and find Colonel Walker and bring him to me at once. Tell him it’s of the utmost urgency and to drop what he’s doing, regardless of what it is. Go, Louise, get him now.”
As Louise ran off in search of the colonel, Vera Atkins whispered to herself: The Mouse is searching for its breadcrumbs, and we cannot allow her to go hungry. No, that would not do, that would not do at all.”
Chapter Four
Gestapo Headquarters, Interrogation room.
Danielle LeClair was tied to a metal table. In the middle of the room hung a single bulb from the low ceiling. Her face was bruised, her wrists raw from being tied for so long, and many burn marks were evident all over her body. She had been through hell since the moment she’d witnessed the cold blooded murder of her mother in the forest, but that hell was nothing compared to what was about to come.
Inside the room were two junior guards and Captain Herzog. While the two young guards were struggling to keep their stomachs intact because of the stench of fear coming from Danielle, Herzog was reveling in it. He was known, and feared, not only by the enemy, but even among his own men.
He had no wife, no friends, and most certainly no heart. As a child, he had been the one who enjoyed dissecting various animals from worms to mice, while they were still alive, learning how their bodies worked while honing new skills in keeping them alive for as long as possible under the most imaginable pain. It was wrong to refer to him as a human being, and, even he would admit to that. Still, here he was, as was Danielle, and he had a job to do.
He lit a cigarette and took a couple of luxurious draws before slowly walking over to the centre of the room, ogling her naked body, and smiling. He leaned on the table with one hand, took another pull from his cigarette and then extinguished it by placing the lit end into Danielle’s naval. The two guards couldn’t stop themselves from wincing from the intensity of the screaming.
Next to the table was a smaller one with an array of surgical instruments from which he picked one up. It resembled a scalpel, and he wiped the blade on his sleeve. Finally, he spoke.
“You have a strong spirit. I admire that, especially in a woman.”
Danielle, barely unconscious, opted not to thank Herzog for his compliment.
He removed his cigarette lighter from his pocket, flicked it alight and held the blade of the scalpel just above the flame for a full minute. He then moved close to her face, holding the hot sharp instrument close enough to her face that she could feel the heat.
“Now, Miss LeClair. I am going to remove a piece of your body to give you an idea of what is to come should you not answer the questions I wish you to answer for me.”
Every muscle in Danielle’s body was now as tensed up as it could be; she was breathing loudly through her gritted teeth, and she was looking at Herzog straight in the eye.
He moved his hand slowly down her body, and with one swift swipe, cut off her left nipple. He picked it up between his thumb and forefinger and held it, showing it to her, goading her. Her screaming was deafening, but did nothing to deter Herzog. One of the guards ran to a corner of the room and lost the contents of the stomach which earned him a look of disapproval from the captain.
“Tell me, Miss LeClair, have you ever heard of the Trail of Tears?”
Danielle didn’t respond. She was frozen in fear, praying that God would grant her a massive heart attack or stroke and put her out of this misery, sending her off to be with her mother, Bridgette, for eternity. Sadly, her prayers would go unanswered on this particular day.
“No? Then please indulge me. The Trail of Tears happened during a glorious time in America. My grandfather was just a boy when he went to visit, just a very young boy. He saw Indians being killed as they were walking into the desert. Cowboys and American Soldiers were killing the Indians, Miss LeClair. But, the story doesn’t end there. You see, they didn’t merely murder the Indians, they slaughtered them. They would scalp them.”
Herzog now took a larger knife from the small table, holding the handle with one hand while caressing the blade with the other. Danielle had a sudden realisation of what was to happen.
“You have such beautiful hair. It would make a wonderful wig for someone who is not so fortunate.”
Knowing that he had now succeeded in putting the fear of God into Danielle, he took on a more cheerful tone; almost friendly.
“Now, Miss LeClair. Tell me something I need to know. Tell me something I want to know, something which is of value to me. Let’s start with locations, and other women with whom you might be acquainted, and maybe, just maybe you will not only leave here alive, but with your hair and scalp still attached to your head.”
Danielle clenched her jaw and stayed quiet. I’m not going to give you anything, you Nazi pig, she thought to herself.
Herzog moved closer once again and placed the tip of the blade onto her forehead with just enough pressure to cause blood to trickle down her temple. He grabbed a handful of her hair.
“Locations and people, schnell, Miss LeClair! My patience has a limit, and that limit has almost been reached!” he screamed.
“That will do for now, Captain.” There was a new voice in the room, a voice which caused Herzog to stand up straight and swivel on his heel towards the door. There, he saw Major Goltz.
“Guten nachmittag, Captain Herzog. How is your interrogation of the suspect progressing?” asked Goltz.
“Guten nachmittag, Major. I just need a little more time and she will talk.”
“Time’s up. If she knew anything she would have talked by now. I need this room, and I need it now”, said Goltz.
“Please, just a few more minutes, she is on the verge of cracking”, protested Herzog. Part of him genuinely believed that he could make Danielle talk, the other half was disappointed that he would have to give up his hobby only half way through the job.
“Captain Herzog, my orders come from high above, I need this room right now. Get rid of her.”
Following their orders from Captain Goltz, the two guards untied Danielle and carried her out of the room and back to her cell, one by her ankles, the other by her wrists.
Chapter Five
The Mountain Forest.
Adrien Fontaine and Pierre Nadeau trudged through the forest up the mountainside, led by young Claude. Every step of increased altitude made them feel a little more breathless, and a little colder.
Fontaine was becoming more curious about Claude. “Do you know this boy?” he asked Nadeau.
“He comes from a nearby vill
age. Every member of his family was….”
“…murdered”, interrupted Claude. “And, that is why I am doing this. It wasn’t only my family, the whole village was wiped out, like it never existed. Mothers, fathers, children, grandparents. All killed in cold blood by the Nazis. My brother and I were the only two to make it out alive. Two survivors from an entire village”, he explained.
“I’m sorry, very sorry”, said Fontaine.
“Now is not the time to be sorry. Now is the time to fight and to win. We can be sorry later. Now, messieurs, do you have any more questions you would like to ask me, or shall we continue our journey?”
It was a rhetorical question. Claude turned his back to Fontaine and Nadeau once again, and continued with the trek. They were both silent. Not because they elected to be, but because of the sheer determination and grit which they had just seen come from the mouth of a 14 year old boy. What they couldn’t see were the tears that were now streaming down his face, tears which he refused to allow them to see.
The day was coming to an end, and, as the rays of the sun continued their perpetual journey west, France was shrouded in darkness.
In another part of the forest, Nancy was walking in ankle-deep snow with only a light jacket with which to protect herself from the cold, and her feet had given up any feeling hours ago. She stopped by a tree to get some rest for a few moments when she heard the sound of a snapping twig. It sounded like it was close. She crouched down and found a branch which she picked up. Whoever it was out there was not going to take her without a fight.
Another twig snapped, even closer this time. She was holding the branch over her shoulder now, ready to swing. A leg appeared by her side, and then another. She stood up, and with all of her strength swung the branch in the direction of whoever it was standing next to her. The big man held out his hand as the branch fell down, barely disturbing a single finger. Nancy hadn’t realised she had grown so tired and weak.
