Ulterior Objectives: A Lillian Saxton Thriller

by Scott Dennis Parker

  Graf smiled to himself. He had directed Ursula, Wilhelm, and Schmidt to pose as the stevedores for the first two cars. Graf had suspected the embassy would have some sort of backdoor deal with the trains to get their people out without any unnecessary encumbrances. He was correct. Now, the Geigers, Saxton, and Clark were on the second car. The only members of the British team he had noted carrying weapons were seated a few seats from the rear. Thankfully, there were only two of them. Ursula could easily take care of them.

  Looking out his window, Graf noted the urban sprawl of Brussels slowly faded into the springtime of the country. Refugees and stragglers clogged the streets trying to avoid the approaching German Army. Graf had little use for them. The Belgians had defied the Allies’ attempt to create a united front by joining with Britain and France. King Leopold III thought he could stay out of the war or, at best, defend his little country. According to the latest reports, the Germans were having little resistance moving toward the English Channel and crushing both the British and French Army.

  Fifteen minutes out of Brussels and halfway to Antwerp, Graf stood. He moved to the front of the car. He turned and faced the rear. Ursula stood by the door. With her hair pulled up into the hat she wore and the large, ill-fitting uniform, her gender was effectively concealed. The murmur of the passengers dimmed as each of them noticed Graf standing. They waited for instructions on what to do next.

  What they heard gunfire. The two reports proved surprisingly loud in the car. Women screamed and men yelled as they turned to look at what happened in the back of their train car.

  Ursula stood there, her smoking gun in her hand. Two men slumped in their seats and leaned against the window. Blood splatter coated the window.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Graf spoke in French, “please remain calm. I would hate to have my friend shoot you.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Lillian and James had been racking their brains trying to figure out a way to identify Graf and his men. They assumed he might have commandeered the engine and were driving them straight to capture at Antwerp.

  Now, however, as the outskirts of that port city came into view, Lillian wasn’t so sure. Out the right window that faced northeast, the signs of war filled the vista. Huge plumes of smoke snaked into the sky. Even over the train engines and wheels on the tracks, the bombardment by the invading Nazis could be heard. She looked at Henry. The concern in his eyes mirrored hers.

  The other window, however, the one that faced southwest, showed a nearly opposite vista. With the fighting armies still to the north, the south looked downright pastoral. Plowed fields were starting to show signs of new spring growth. The trees that dotted the landscape looked like something a French impressionist might paint. But what caught her eye most of all was a wide space off about a mile or two.

  She tapped Henry’s arm to show him, but before he could follow her pointing finger, two gunshots sounded. The passengers in this car gasped and murmured in alarm. James turned around in his seat. “What was that?”

  “That came from the lead car.” Henry pulled his gun and rose to see what had happened.

  “Sit down,” said the stevedore.

  Lillian caught a quick glimpse of something slicing through the air the second before the stevedore banged his gun down on Henry’s head. The Englishman doubled over in pain, but he didn’t drop his gun.

  Lillian reached for her pistol but the other stevedore, the one from the front of the car, approached. A gun was in his hand and he aimed it at them.

  “Your weapons.” The stevedore from the front swung his gun. “Give them to me. You first,” he said to Arnold.

  With defeat in his posture, Arnold surrendered his gun, butt first, to the stevedore. No one else in the car moved, so rapt with astonishment were they at what was happening in front of them. The stevedore from the rear yanked Henry’s gun from his hand and slipped it into a pocket. He extended his open palm to Lillian. “Your gun, Fräulein, bitte.” Seeing no choice, Lillian complied. The Nazi—for that’s who he was—took her gun and slipped it in another pocket.

  A knock came from the front door of their car. The Nazi in front—a blond man who appeared to be the epitome of the Aryan race Hitler favored—moved aside. Colonel Gunter Graf entered the train car. He wore a smile as big as his face. His eyes swept across the passengers and landed on Lillian. “Sergeant Saxton, we meet again.”

  Lillian held her tongue. To occupy her time, she assessed Henry. He had a gash on his scalp that seeped blood. It was already staining the back of his collar. “Does anyone have a handkerchief?” she asked in French. “This man needs medical attention.”

  Graf chuckled as he moved along the aisle. “He’ll need more than that, Sergeant. But, if it’ll make you feel better in the near term…” He turned to the rest of the passengers. “Can anyone fulfill the Fräulein’s request?”

  The other passengers were too scared to move. One man finally held up a handkerchief. Graf took the cloth and gave it to Lillian. She immediately dabbed Henry’s head with it.

  The Nazi colonel turned his attention to James and Elsa Geiger. “Ah, the traitors.” He smirked and leaned on the back of the seat in front of them. The passenger in that seat, an old woman wearing an absurd headdress as if she were going for a stroll in the country, recoiled. “That is what the two of you are. Traitors.” He pointed at the two of them, waving his finger back and forth. “You, sir, I assumed to be a traitor from the outset. Anyone not born in Germany should have his loyalty questioned and proven over and over again. Am I right?”

  “No,” James said. “I have been loyal to the Reich up until recently.”

  “Which means you’ve never been loyal to the Reich,” Graf corrected. “If you’re loyal, you don’t make the choices you have made.” He leaned closer to James who sat by the window. “Why?”

  James remained mute.

  “Why,” Graf went on, “did you turn your back on the country that has offered you so much? That has offered you one of the finest women of her generation?” He gestured at Elsa as if he were presenting the winner of a beauty contest. “Why did you disgrace her family by bringing her along?”

  “Because of what the Reich is doing.”

  “We are merely consolidating our strength on the Continent to rule it as the great power we are.”

  “But you’re murdering innocents!” James’s voice rose in fury. “The camps, Colonel. Why does Hitler need the camps?”

  “To weed out all undesirables.” He spoke the words matter-of-factly. “It makes our dominion of the Continent all the easier. It also clears out the clutter. Think of them like the underbrush in a forest. From time to time, you have to clear it in order for the oaks to grow strong and tall.”

  He bent low to look out the windows. “Over here, you have the fire of purity in the form of our Wehrmacht burning through the underbrush of Belgium.” He directed his gaze to the other side. “And over here, this land awaits the purity to come. We’ll keep what’s best and eliminate the clutter.”

  “But who determines what is clutter and what isn’t?” Lillian blurted.

  Graf gave her a look. It was the same look he had given her back in her university days when she answered a question wrong. “Sergeant, our Führer determines that. And he has made his judgement. It is our job to follow his orders.”

  The colonel turned his attention to Elsa. “Frau Geiger, what is your opinion on the subject? Are you here on your own volition?”

  Lillian couldn’t see Elsa’s face from this angle, but she saw the muscles in her jaw flex and tighten. “Colonel Graf, I stand by my husband.”

  “Even if what he is doing is a mistake?”

  “I stand by my husband. I am in the process of talking him out of this foolhardy action. I was making progress, too. As much as I stand by James, he will stand by me. And let me tell you something, Herr Colonel. I may be here, but I still am my father’s daughter. You know him and his reputation. When we get back to Berlin, I will have
a word with him. You won’t like the outcome.”

  For once, Lillian admired the snottiness of Elsa Geiger when it wasn’t directed her way.

  Graf stood and waved his hand dismissively. “Your father will have a hard time saving your husband. You, on the other hand, will soon be free to marry a true German.” He winked at her. “A widow often makes an excellent wife to an army officer.” He made his way to the front door and stopped. “Enjoy your last train ride. We’ll be in Antwerp soon.” With that, he exited the train car and closed the door behind him. Blond Nazi assumed his place guarding the door. The other Nazi stood guard at the rear door. Both held their guns.

  Henry leaned forward. Lillian did the same. “That didn’t go well,” the British agent whispered.

  “Nope. How long do you think we have?”

  “Five, ten minutes. We have to get off this train.”

  “There’s an airfield off to the southwest. Did you see it?”

  Henry nodded. He winced and touched his head. His fingers came away bloody. He wiped them on his pants. With his bloody fingers, he smoothed out the fabric.

  Lillian watched as the blood soaked into the fabric. The blood began to reveal the shape of something in Henry’s pocket.

  A knife blade.

  “Listen,” Henry said, “I’ve got a plan for getting us out of here.”

  CHAPTER 50

  After a few harried minutes of planning, Lillian and Henry had the strategy fixed. Through the narrow gap in the seats in front of them, Lillian whispered, “James.”

  “I heard,” came the reply. “We’re ready.”

  “Tell Arnold.”

  James leaned forward and whispered. From over the seats, Lillian saw Arnold’s head nod once.

  While they were talking, Lillian had wormed her leather belt off her traveling suit. At the same time, Henry had worked the knife out of his pocket. In order to avoid attention, he moaned loudly and leaned forward. That left his left pocket exposed for Lillian. Swiftly, she snaked her hand into his pocket and slipped out the knife. She played nurse and brought him back to her, tending to his head wound. She glared at the Nazi standing one row behind them at the rear door.

  The train engineer deftly applied the initial brakes. The train began to slow.

  Lillian whispered to James. “It’s time. When we move, lean down and avoid the bullets if either Nazi starts shooting.”

  “Won’t that bring the others?” James asked.

  “Yes. Be ready.”

  Henry had taken Lillian’s belt and wrapped the non-buckled end once around his hand. The rest of the belt and the brass buckle rested on his knee. He looked at Lillian.

  She looked back at him. He nodded once.

  They moved.

  Henry stood in the aisle and turned to face the Nazi in the rear. As expected, he brought up his gun to shoot. Henry lashed out with the belt. The weighted buckle found its mark on the Nazi’s arm. It wrapped once. Henry yanked. He pulled the Nazi forward and planted a massive punch in his face. Dazed, the Nazi fell to his knees.

  While Henry was concentrating on the Nazi in the rear, Blond Nazi was Lillian’s concern. When Henry moved, Blond Nazi noticed. He started to move forward a step, yet only then did he think to raise his gun. That hesitation cost him.

  Lillian stood up and threw the knife at Blond Nazi. The blade thunked into his chest. He stood a moment, dazed at what had just happened. He coughed once. His gun hand fell to his side, the weaponed skittering across the floor. He sank to his knees and fell face first in the aisle.

  They had completed their task without any gunshots. For that, Lillian was thankful. She hadn’t anticipated any of the passengers screaming.

  One did. The sound was earsplitting.

  Through the windows in the doors that connected the first and second train cars, a woman standing guard in the first car turned. Her eyes widened. She began to move.

  “Let’s go!” Henry yelled. He kicked the fallen Nazi and picked up his gun.

  Lillian hustled James and Elsa out of their seats and to the rear of the car. Henry had already opened the rear door. The smell of exhaust flooded into the train car.

  Arnold had moved from his seat, too. He bent down and retrieved Blond Nazi’s gun. “Go!” he yelled at Lillian. “I’m right behind you.”

  Lillian shuffled right behind Elsa to the rear of the car.

  Two gunshots rang out. The first took out the connecting windows of both doors between cars one and two. The second slammed into Arnold’s back, pushing him forward. He caught his balance on the backs of two seats. He remained standing.

  Lillian turned. “Arnold!”

  He tossed her the gun. “Get them out alive.” He smiled. Blood coated his teeth. “I’m your shield.”

  As if in answer, two more gunshots erupted. Both landed with wet sounds into Arnold’s back. He fell forward, but Lillian was already moving to the rear door, keeping her head down as more bullets pinged off the interior of the train car.

  She reached the bellows connecting cars two and three. No one was there. She glanced out and behind them. Henry, James, and Elsa were already getting to their feet and running away. Trying to judge the speed of the tracks, Lillian leaped into the air.

  She landed hard on the ground and rolled twenty feet. She held onto the gun for dear life. Finally, she stopped. She saw stars and wondered if she had a concussion. Shaking her head to clear it, she rose to all fours. The rear of the long train was approaching, which meant the first train car with Graf and the woman Nazi was far enough away that Lillian didn’t have to worry much.

  A new sound screamed through the stillness. It was the sound of the emergency brakes being applied. The train lurched forward and slowed.

  “Great,” Lillian murmured. She got to her feet and ran.

  CHAPTER 51

  When Gunter Graf heard the screams from the second train carriage, he pretty much knew what was happening. The prisoners were trying to escape. He stood from his seat at the front of the car and walked to the rear.

  He watched as Ursula pulled her gun and fired through the two door windows. The first bullet cleared the glass. The second bullet hit a man standing in the aisle of the second car.

  Graf hurried forward, drawing his own gun.

  Ursula opened the door from train car one and stepped through the opening. Before opening the second door, she let loose two more shots.

  The man standing in the aisle fell forward. He tossed an object at another person at the far rear of the aisle. The person was Lillian Saxton. The object was a gun.

  “Keep at it,” Graf ordered.

  He didn’t need to waste his breath. Ursula was already opening the front door to train car two and moving forward. She fired more shots at the fleeing American soldier. The bullets ricocheted around inside the car. One of them found a home in the neck of a passenger. The man pitched forward, blood spurting from his wound.

  Ursula stepped over the prone form of Wilhelm and jumped into the bellows. Through the window, Graf saw the prisoners who had been so recently in his grasp. His temper flared.

  A passenger tried to reach up and take the gun from Graf. With a vicious punch, Graf struck the man, then turned his gun on him. One shot to the head ended that short battle.

  Without missing a beat, Graf leaned over and yanked the emergency stop cord. He held on while the train’s emergency brakes engaged and the train slowed to a stop.

  Graf righted himself and bent to see if Wilhelm was alive. The colonel found the younger man’s pulse. He slapped his assistant numerous times before Wilhelm awoke. He looked up at Graf, his nose bloody.

  “Sir? What happened?”

  “The prisoners have escaped.” He stood and lent a helping hand to Wilhelm. “We’re going after them.” He shoved Wilhelm to the rear door and out into the bellows. Ursula was already on the ground.

  “Move it, Lieutenant.”

  Wilhelm jumped to the ground and immediately fell.

  Graf notic
ed that the passengers in train car three were looking to see what had happened. He held up his gun. The people fell back. Graf smiled at the power he possessed.

  Making his way to the ground, he joined up with Ursula and Wilhelm. “You see where they went?”

  “That way.” Ursula pointed at a pasture that bordered a small stand of trees.

  Graf pulled a map of Belgium in his mind. He merged that with the landscape he had seen from the train. “The airfield. Did you see it?”

  Ursula nodded. “Down to the south?”

  “That’s the one. Take Wilhelm. Lieutenant, are you armed?”

  Wilhelm took both confiscated pistols from his pocket. Anger seethed across his face. “Double.”

  Graf nodded. “Try to take them alive, if at all possible. If any has to die, let it be the British. I want the Geigers and Sergeant Saxton.”

  “Why?” Ursula asked. “Why not kill them all and be done with it?”

  “You have your orders. Alive. They are worth far more alive than dead. They’ll be enough dead when the invasion’s complete. We can make better examples of traitors when they are captured alive. And to have an American army sergeant also captured will enable der Führer to use her as he sees fit.”

  “What are you going to do?” Wilhelm wiped blood and mucus from his shattered nose.

  “Flank them. You both, get to the airfield!”

  Ursula and Wilhelm scurried away. Graf turned and started walking back to the head of the train. The big locomotive had stopped near a street. In fact, it blocked all traffic. Cars and motorcycles were halted in a haphazard fashion. Horns blared and shouts were heard.

  Graf stormed to the train’s engine car. An engineer had climbed down from the cockpit. Seeing the uniform Graf still wore, asked in French, “Do you know why we stopped?”

  The bullet Graf put in the engineer’s head ceased all conversation.

  A few of the drivers saw what had happened. Some tried to drive away, but got caught between other cars, signs, and buildings. Others merely evacuated their vehicles and fled on foot.