Deathwatch: Inspirational WWII Suspense

by V. B. Tenery

  She flipped the book’s pages then stared up at him. “Where did…? How did you get this?”

  A smug grin dimpled his handsome face. “American ingenuity and a lot of charm.” He placed both hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Actually, I met a lovely young Italian lady who happens to be as anti-fascist as you can get. And as luck would have it she also works in the Italian embassy in France.”

  “And she just gave it to you?” Grace asked.

  “Not quite that easily. She let me into the embassy. I opened the safe, took microfilms of the code book.” He bowed and spread his arms with a flourish. “And so I brought it to you, m’lady. A gesture of my deep affection.”

  She gave him an impulsive hug, looked down at the book, then back up at him, moisture filling her eyes. “Thank you, Sam. I know this came at great personal risk to you and the girl in the embassy. Does Charles know?”

  He nodded. “He said I should present it to you. This is your ticket home, sweetheart. I don’t want you to leave, but I know your heart isn’t here. The young Italian lady has promised to give me access to the code book the first of every month. Just consider it a gift from one Yank to another.”

  Prison Compound

  Calais, France

  Gunfire inside the compound ceased and Mack and the two Frenchmen joined Grey to open the other cells. A problem immediately became apparent. There were twelve men, not ten. The Germans had captured two British soldiers as well as the pilots. Only seven of them were mobile.

  One of the Resistance fighters led those who were able to walk to the truck, and the British unit joined to helped load those too sick to make it on their own.

  The commando leader pulled Grey and Mack aside. “We have to get these men out of here before reinforcements arrive. And there’s bad news for you two. We don’t have room for you in the truck or on the boat. We didn’t expect to find additional passengers and we were already crowded. I’m sorry, chaps, but you will have to make your way home on your own.”

  Grey wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed. It had been apparent the additional men would necessitate a change in plans. He’d hoped to be back in England to find Grace tomorrow. He was reminded of what one of his mentor’s had repeatedly told him, “Hope for the best but prepare for the worst.”

  He shrugged. “Fair enough. Good luck in getting back to Briny safely with your charges.”

  He stood with Mack and the two Frenchmen as the truck moved out in the heavy downpour and disappeared from sight.

  Mack wiped rain from his face, the lines in his rugged profile grim. He turned to Grey and shook his head. “I don’t believe this. What do we do now?”

  “Come, my friends,” one of the Resistance fighters said in French. “Follow me. We can always use extra gun or two in our movement.”

  “You understand English?” Grey asked.

  “Yes, you can come with us. It may take some time, but we will help you get back to your home.”

  “What did he say?” Mack asked.

  “This is not verbatim, but the gist was: Don’t worry. There is still work to be done.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Bletchley Park Mansion

  Buckinghamshire, England

  It had taken Grace only two days to wrap up her assignment in Cairo before boarding the long, dreadful flight back to London. With Stormy packed snuggly in his kennel, she boarded the military plane for home.

  She’d have to find a place for the cat when she reached England. The atmosphere in Cairo had been relaxed and he’d become a sort of mascot. It was much different at Bletchley Park. The facility was crowded and the tempo harried. Perhaps Aunt Edie would take him in. Animals had a healing connection to those sick in body and soul.

  As she stepped onto the tarmac, she shivered. She’d grown accustomed to the warmer climate in Egypt, and the wet-freezing temperatures of English weather whipped through her coat and gripped her with cold, icy fingers.

  The pilot unloaded her luggage. “I’ll be going near Amherst, Grace, if you’d like a lift. I’m stopping off to see my family before I head back to base.”

  “I’d love it. Thank you,” she said. She’d wanted to see Vic anyway. Aunt Edie would have Henry pick her up later and take her to the train station for Buckinghamshire.

  The pilot emitted a low whistle as he pulled under the Amherst portico. The place seemed to have that effect on people.

  With Stormy’s kennel in hand, she rang the bell while the pilot unloaded her bags from the boot. He smiled, tipped his hat, and then drove away.

  The boy she remembered as Alfie, opened the door.

  Grace grinned down at him. “Hi, Alfie. Is Lady Amherst at home?”

  He nodded and cast a wide eyed glance at the kennel. “Wot’s that?”

  Grace removed the kennel cover, opened the gate, and lifted the cat into her arms. “This is Stormy.”

  “Kin I ‘old ‘im?”

  She handed the cat over. “He’s very gentle if you’re kind to him.”

  The boy’s eyes shone. “Oh, I’ll be gentle wid ‘im, ma’am.”

  “I see Alfie is acting as butler, today.” Vic laughed and held out both hands to Grace and gave her an appraising glance. “Cairo must have agreed with you. You look lovely. Come on in and I see if I can get you some tea. How did you get here?”

  “The pilot gave me a lift. I’ll call Edie to pick me up. May I use your telephone to let her know I’m here?”

  Vic pointed her to the library phone. “By all means.”

  After Grace disconnected, she returned to the parlor, where Vic had poured three cups of tea. Grace wondered who the third cup was for, then noticed Alfie siting nearby, stroking Stormy’s silky fur.

  “Edie said she’d be right over. I hope I haven’t interrupting your schedule.”

  Vic laughed. “My dear, I have no schedule.” A look of sadness washed over her. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Grey?”

  Grace shook her head. “I hope to find out something when I get to the Mansion. I’ll let you know if I hear any news.”

  Vic nodded at the boy. “Alfie is quite taken with your beautiful cat. Where did you get him?”

  Grace felt a tug at her heart, as she remembered that morning that seemed so long ago. “Grey found him freezing and starving and brought him to me. I hope to leave him with Edie if she’s willing. The frantic pace at Bletchley is not favorable for pets.”

  A tiny voice from across the table asked, “Cud I ‘ave ‘im, Miss?”

  Grace winced and sent her mother-in-law an apologetic glance, hating to have put her on the spot. “I’m sure you would take great care of him, Alfie, but that decision will be up to Lady Amherst.”

  Vic looked at the boy, then at the cat. After a long pause, she nodded. “Alfie, it will be your sole responsible to feed and take care of him. Make sure he isn’t destructive. Do you think you could do that?”

  The boy jumped from the chair. “Oh, yes ma’am, ‘e won’t be no trouble at all. I’ll see to ‘em real good like.” He started to rush from the table.

  “Alfie, come back and asked to be excused and tell Grace thank you.”

  He walked back in a slow stiff gait and stop in front of Vic. “May I be excused, ma’am?”

  “Yes, you may, Alfie.”

  He gave a little bob at Grace, his eyes shining. “Thank you, Miss Grace.” Then he bounded from the room, Stormy clutched to his chest.

  Vic refilled Grace’s tea cup. “He’s been so depressed of late. I’ve worried about him. That cat may be just what he needs. Sometimes I’m absolutely amazed at God’s grace.”

  Aunt Edie arrived at Amherst, and Grace spent an hour with her and Vic, before Henry deposited Grace at the station. The train seemed to inch along the rails and the frequent stops drove her mad. She fidgeted like a two-year-old all the way to the Park, impatient to arrive and get news of Grey. Surely, C would have some news . . . provided he would share it with her.

  After wha
t seemed days, she reached her destination. A porter collected her luggage and took them to the curb outside to await a shuttle to the Mansion.

  “Hey, Grace,” a familiar voice called from the end of the platform. She turned to see Nigel Lewis trotting towards her. “Did you just get back?”

  “Yes, just this morning.”

  “Come, I have a taxi. We can share a ride to the Mansion. I’ll need to drop my bag off, but it’ll only take a minute.”

  He stowed her luggage with his in the boot and slid in beside her. “I say, you look smashing. You have a golden glow you must have attained in Egypt. It becomes you.”

  “Thank you. You’re not staying at the Mansion?” she asked.

  “No, an old university chum’s parents live near here. They packed off to America when the war started. Not very patriotic of them. He lets me use their home when I’m here. It’s more of a castle, really, and they should let our troops billet there, but they’re snobs of the first order.”

  “Are you here to visit with C?”

  He patted a leather bag with a locked clasp, and nodded. “Ever the diplomatic courier. I’m surprised to see you back so soon. I thought they might keep you for the duration of the war.”

  He appeared pale and thinner since she’d last seen him. “We were fortunate to get assistance from American’s OSS. They obtained access to the Italian navel codes and I was no longer needed.”

  They pulled into a long driveway and it was indeed a castle. Three stories of ivy-covered walls complete with turrets. All the windows were dark, no sign of life.

  After he dropped off his bag, Nigel hurried back to the taxi. He slipped into the seat beside her and opened a silver cigarette case. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

  She said no, but she hated being closed in a car with the smoke. However, it would be rude to refuse him since it was his taxi. “That place has a sinister look about it.”

  He laughed. “It does, rather, doesn’t it? That’s probably because it’s unoccupied. No servants, not even a gardener.”

  He inhaled a long draw on the cigarette. “Where is Grey? I haven’t seen him since we dined in London.”

  “I wish I knew. I’m praying C has information he will share with me.”

  The taxi pulled through the Mansion gate and stopped at the entrance. A guard hustled over and carried her bags inside.

  “If you’re going back to London, we can travel together. I’d love to have company for the trip back.”

  “Thanks, Nigel, but I’m here until given further notice. I’ll return to my old job in Hut 3.”

  “Well, I’ll be off then,” he said. “C is expecting me and I can’t keep the big man waiting.”

  No, he couldn’t keep C waiting. And as soon as C finished with Nigel, she would make an appointment for herself.

  French Farmhouse

  Near Calais, France

  The two Frenchmen took Grey and his partner to a new location. The accommodations were much the same as the first safe house, but this one was larger and the tunnel longer, with multiple beds for “guests”. The new stronghold was also the home of a French family and the meeting place for the Marquis guerilla fighters, complete with a wireless radio.

  These brave people rescued downed pilots, Jews, and refugees, helping them get to safety in unoccupied countries. Two such RAF pilots were billeted in the cellar, both recovering from crash injuries.

  He and Mack stored their gear when the farmer entered with seven men, one he introduced as Big D, the underground leader. He stood about five-foot-ten, thin and wiry, with a neat Charles Boyer mustache.

  The newcomer shook their hands. “You men arrived just in time for some action. Do you speak French?”

  “I do.” Grey nodded at Mack. “My friend doesn’t so I’ll have to interpret for him. He’s American but speaks perfect German.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “You know this man? You can vouch that he’s not a spy?”

  “Yes. I assure you he’s a patriot. I just completed two missions with him.”

  “Good, his German may come in handy. No need to interpret for me. I speak English.” He immediately switched into accented English. “We run two to three missions a week to destroy enemy ammunition depots, telephone lines, and identify German defensive positions for aircraft. In short, anything to harass the German army. When things get hot, we stop for a while, then continue our work.”

  “Are either of you familiar with explosives?”

  Grey and Mack nodded.

  Big D clapped his hands together. “Good. We won’t have to waste time training you.”

  ***

  For four weeks, that’s exactly what they did, with Big D directing their activities. They would leave after dark and return just before dawn, having disrupted enemy supply lines, communication centers, and rescuing captured underground fighters, then releasing them to fight again.

  On the fifth week there, their solemn-faced leader called them and six of the Marquis together in the tunnel.

  “Large convoys of troops are being sent to fortify the French and Belgian coasts. We believe the Germans are planning to invade England. The Marquis have been asked to disrupt and delay them however possible.

  “We will break into two raiding parties. One will blow up the train bridge that crosses a deep gorge on the route into Calais. The second team will destroy the road bridge that crosses the river from the city to the coast. Guards are posted in both places, but they are lazy and like to stay warm in their trucks.” He pointed to boxes stacked in the corner. “Pick what you need, plastic explosives, dynamite, or whatever. Get the job done and get back here as quickly as you can. If you succeed, the Nazis will swarm like a nest of angry hornets.”

  Grey and Mack were assigned to the same team with two members of the Marquis. Grey instantly memorized the map, but the other three spent an hour going over it in case they became separated, so they could find the target and get back to the farm.

  The team filled their packs with explosives and detonators. Grey still had his weapons and grenades from the last mission but needed extra ammunition, which his host supplied.

  French Countryside

  Near Calais, France

  A vegetable truck that routinely traveled the route picked them up at eight o’clock and dropped them off in the wood near their destination. There would be no ride home when the job was finished. It would be a long trek back to the farm on foot with German troops tracking behind them.

  Under the dark moonless night, the team stalked silently at the edge of the trees. They soon spotted a point where the railroad tracks crossed over a wide ravine on a narrow bridge—their target.

  Raul, the leader of Grey’s team, set him as lookout while the other three placed the plastic explosives under the bridge trestles and dynamite under the rails.

  They halted when the roar of a truck engine reached them, the sound came from the road that ran parallel to the tracks. Raul jerked his head towards Grey. “Boche!” he whispered.

  Mack raised one brow in Grey’s direction.

  “Germans,” Grey told him. “It means about the same thing as Krauts.”

  He moved up beside Raul. “Keep working. I’ll check it out.”

  Knees bent in a crouch, Grey darted down the hill towards the sound of the truck. It had pulled onto the shoulder and deposited two men. The guards stood outside, said something to the men in the cab and laughed. Must be the regular inspection team to ensure all was well. The Nazis turned and strode towards the location of Grey’s team. Two additional troop trucks passed, headed towards the coast.

  Raul had better be ready, Grey thought. German troop traffic was heavy in the area, and he couldn’t allow the German soldiers to spot the Marquis team.

  Bletchley Park Mansion

  Buckinghamshire, England

  As Grace cleared her desk after work, a female co-worker approached. “Grace, there’s a handsome gentleman in the lobby to see you.”

  Wondering who it mi
ght be, she grabbed her handbag and hurried out the door. Perhaps it was Grey. Her questions to C had gone unanswered. All he would tell her was Grey was still on the mission and unharmed.

  She immediately recognized the man in the brown Macintosh, his hat set at a jaunty angle, his back to her. “Hello, Aubrey. It’s so good to see you.” She grinned. “I’ve missed your cooking.”

  He whirled, crossed to her quickly, and placed a kiss on both cheeks. “I’ve missed you, too. I’ve tried to get in touch with Grey but no one seems to know where he is. May I buy your dinner?”

  “I’d love that. We can catch up on what’s happened since our group were our separate ways. Let’s eat in the canteen. There’re not a lot of choices but the food is good.”

  They filled their trays with clam chowder and corned beef sandwiches, then found a booth.

  Aubrey placed his coat and hat on a rack and slid into the booth across from her. “I stopped by Moorhead to visit Bunny on my way down. She looked smashing. Country life agrees with her. She has the patients eating out of her hand.” He positioned his paper napkin on his lap and grinned at her. “Bunny tells me your mum-in-law has kindled a romance with the local doctor who comes to Amherst to check on the children in her charge. Bunny says it’s sweet to watch them together.”

  “I stopped by there on my way back from Cairo. She didn’t say a word about it. I’m so glad for her. Vic deserves something positive in her life.”

  She dipped a spoonful of chowder into her mouth and smiled. “This is good. How are things with you at Scotland Yard?”

  Two wrinkles formed across his brow and he shook his head. “Not too well. I don’t think my superiors like my Jewish ancestry. I’ve been moved from the investigative staff. Now I just push papers or whatever mundane job they can give me. I think they hope I’ll toss in the towel.”

  Grace placed her hand over his. “I’m sorry. You are so good at what you do. It’s their loss. Can I help?”

  “Actually, that’s what I wanted to see Grey about. I hoped he might put in a good word for me at MI6. I can’t take much more of the Yard. I’m not military, but I have other skills that might be helpful. Do you know where Grey is?”