by April White
If Karl had kept his mouth shut, if he’d taken the beating like a man, I could have left them to it. They were Bestien – beasts – all of them, and they’d made their little Nazi beds with perfect corners and blankets you could bounce a mark off of. They’d drunk the Kool-Aid and swallowed their Aryan master race bollocks hook, line, and sinker. And when they turned on each other like sharks, I didn’t get in their way. Let them take each other out. It would save me the trouble.
But the whimper had come from a piece of humanity that somehow survived the brainwashing. It was weakness in a world where the weak were exterminated, and suddenly it was the only thing worth a damn in the whole place.
I turned and went back up the stairs.
“Hört sofort auf!” My German was good enough to communicate with the bullies, but the tone of my voice would have sufficed on its own. “Stop it. Right now.”
They froze and stared at me. The smaller, weasel-faced sniper had been about to punch the kid in the kidney, and he braved a question. “Why?”
“Because I said so.” I was already bored and regretting my brief, altruistic impulse.
The sniper dropped his arm and shared a look with his fellow Bestien. There were five of them, because of course five on one was sporting, and I could almost hear them wondering if they could take me.
I smiled.
They left.
I was that terrifying.
A reputation can be a useful thing in war, and mine was becoming the sort from which legends are made. At first it was just playing the odds – Germany was going to lose this war, so if I threw in my lot with them, somewhere along the way a bomb or a tank would take me out. I was counting on that.
At first, they weren’t sure what to do with me, an apparently traitorous Englishman. They tried to shoot me as a spy a few times, which didn’t work, obviously. Then, when they realized my skills might be handy, they put me to use, though they kept me pretty far away from any of the senior Nazi officials, because, well … I’m hard to explain. Then the Crimea happened.
The regular German army was taking its cannon fodder to Russia, and since I preferred to kill Russians rather than Englishmen, I signed up. I also knew the Russians were going to wipe the floor with the Germans, so naturally, that’s where I wanted to go. The Germans’ view of me changed the night I cut through a swath of the Red Army with a sword. A Soviet officer intended to run me through and I was tired of smelling like my own blood, so I took his ceremonial blade from him and added his to the mix instead. His comrades started shooting, and that pissed me off because … more blood, so I removed them, one by one. In the end, I stood alone in the middle of a Soviet command camp, surrounded by the bodies I’d hacked to pieces, and covered in … yes, blood. The smell of it sickened me, even as I craved it. My reputation as a killer to be feared was born.
It wasn’t really how I’d planned things, but since then I’d made it work my advantage. I got myself attached to the Werwölfe, who got the jobs no one else wanted because the body count on both sides was always so high.
But they were bullies. I didn’t care about them, and the way Karl was looking at me, like I was his personal savior, made me want to kill the bastard myself.
I was no one’s savior.
“Thank you.” He had to clear his throat of weakness to make his voice work.
I glared at him. “They’ll be back. You should go.”
He looked stricken. “I can’t leave the Werwölfe. My mother would cry if I dishonored my family.”
I shrugged. “She’ll cry when they beat you to death, too.”
I left him there, on top of the tower of a commandeered estate just outside Limoges where the Werwölfe had come to quell recent resistance activity from the French terrorists known as the Maquis. My boots were silent on the stone steps, and my entrance into the study startled Diekmann, the SS Sturmbahnführer in command of our small terrorist unit. He wasn’t afraid of me, which made him dangerous, and he carefully schooled his expression to betray nothing. I didn’t like him – I didn’t like any of them, and Diekmann was most likely insane – but he was also meticulous, thorough, and he left nothing to chance.
“Take Karl off my team,” I said in German.
“No. He’s a useful navigator. You need him.” Diekmann studied a map of the villages around Limoges as he spoke so he didn’t have to meet my eyes. “You are also fluent in French, are you not?”
I stared at him. “Yes,” I said carefully.
“You speak it without accent.”
“I speak it with a French accent. What’s your point?”
Diekmann ground his teeth together. “SS Brigadeführer Lammerding has requested that the Werwölfe infiltrate the local resistance so that we may discover their weapons caches. They have been entirely too active in this area recently, and Lammerding suspects a bigger plot.”
I stared at him. “You can do with the rest of them what you like. I’m only here in France waiting for the quickest way to London.”
Diekmann faced me properly, and there was madness in his eyes. I actually wondered if he would attack me, and part of me wouldn’t have minded. “You do not have a say in the matter, Werwolf. Did you not wonder why Berlin would send you to England via France? This mission is your first priority. The English mission was merely the carrot they dangled to get you here.”
I glared at Diekmann. “They don’t intend to go forward with London?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Of course they do, but they don’t need you to do it. Your interest in the London mission is obviously personal. We’ve decided to exploit that.” His gaze turned sharp. “Find the Maquis weapons, or you will be removed from the English mission.”
I growled furiously. “Remove me and the mission will collapse.”
Surprisingly, he growled back. “Locate the resistance headquarters, slay some terrorists, and I’ll send Karl home.”
Bastard.
Finally, I grit my teeth. “Send him home now. Oskar and Johann will kill him while I’m gone.”
“Get me French weapons information and I’ll put him on a train myself. Until then, I’ll send Oskar and Johann into the woods to hunt. God knows we could use the fresh meat.”
Those two were trained snipers, so it was logical to send them out for food. If I was lucky, maybe they’d manage to get themselves murdered by the French terrorists so I wouldn’t have to do it. “When does my transport leave for London?”
“You’re set to depart on June 12th.” Diekmann could sense he was gaining ground with me.
“The inside man is expecting me?” After the Crimea, the Werwölfe had recruited me for the mission in London. But the inside man was the reason I took the job.
“He’s expecting an English art broker, which means, yes, he’s expecting you.” Diekmann’s tone was dismissive.
“The man’s a thief. What makes you think a man who betrays one country won’t betray another?” I allowed contempt to lace my voice.
Diekmann snorted, no doubt thinking it was ironic to hear that from an Englishman in the German army, then he ground out the words. “George Walters contacted us regarding this gift to the Führer, and he will be paid very well for his services. Additionally, we have his wife and his brother in our custody.”
“That presupposes he cares about their well-being,” I said.
Diekmann scoffed. “Only a monster would willfully cause the death of his family.”
What he didn’t know was that George Walters was a monster.
George Walters was my great-grandfather.
Bletchley Park – June, 1944
Never mind the Clocking, I almost puked from disorientation. It was pitch black in the hidden library room, and Ringo’s clutch on my arm was the only thing that proved I wasn’t trapped in the nothingness of between.
“Is ‘e ‘ere?” Ringo struggled to keep his voice low.
I quickly stifled my relief at the sound of his voice. A tiny, niggling part of my brain had wondered if he would actual
ly make it to 1944 with me, or if he would be kicked through to a date he didn’t already occupy. It begged the question of why Ringo wasn’t already here, considering it was still within a natural lifespan, but it wasn’t a question I wanted to ask, and certainly not out loud.
But since I could barely find my voice anyway, I had to whisper. “I don’t think he’s here. I didn’t focus on the time, only the date. So it’s probably the same time as it was when we left.”
“After midnight, then. Right. Can ye sense any Mongers in the library beyond the wall?”
I’d been getting better at sending my spidey sense, as Archer called it, out beyond me. It was actually more like my Cougar sensing predators in her vicinity, because it was particularly effective with Mongers, but I could often sense regular people too.
“No Mongers.”
“That’s somethin’, at least.”
Ringo set his satchel down against the wall and I did the same. Before we left Archer, we had handed over everything that didn’t fit 1944, including my phone, which would have been dead in about eight hours anyway. I kept a Maglite and my daggers, and then changed into the wartime clothes Ringo and Sanda had scrounged from the closets at Elian Manor. Archer had admired the wool wide-legged trousers and suit jacket I wore, and I had to admit, I felt a little like Katherine Hepburn in the outfit. Apparently, women in Britain had taken to wearing their husbands’ clothes to work because of rationing, and to save their dresses for special occasions, so according to Archer, my preference for practical clothes would finally blend into the period.
“I’m goin’ out to find my own place. Are ye stayin’ in, or will ye go find ‘im?”
“You’re not going to sleep here?”
I couldn’t miss the scowl in his voice. “I wouldn’t take kindly to another man where my woman slept, and I’ve no idea ‘ow long it’s been since ‘e’s seen me. I’m not willin’ to risk it, thank ye very much.”
Ringo slid his hand along the wall until he found the hidden latch. He flipped it and then waited a breath before allowing the door to open a crack. The library beyond was dark, but the moonlight shining in was like daylight in comparison to the pitch-blackness of the tiny room hidden behind the fireplace wall. There were desks set up near the windows, and I realized that any room without curtains would be dark because of the general blackout restrictions throughout England that were put in place during the Blitz. That’s why Archer had managed to hide his secret room’s existence – no one worked in the library at night.
I followed Ringo out and he closed the door behind us.
“I’ll walk ye to H Block,” Ringo whispered in my ear.
I nodded, and we slipped out of the library and down the hall to the front door. The front of the mansion had the biggest windows, so it seemed safe to expect it to remain unused at night. The air outside was crisp and remarkably silent, and we walked quickly down the drive toward the blocks. They were also dark and silent, but we could see that those windows had blackout drapes, and the occasional seam of light spoke of night shifts working inside.
Ringo checked the war-era watch on his wrist. “A tenner says they’ll be breakin’ for tea in five minutes.”
“Then we better be in H Block by then.” Four minutes later we had made it to the outer door.
Ringo put an arm out to stop me from entering. “Wait. Tuck back against the wall for a minute. Let’s let ‘em leave first.”
As if by some alarm bell we couldn’t hear, the doors to various blocks opened at once, and Wrens emerged chattering in whispered voices to each other like wind rustling through trees. Then, a minute after that, the men emerged. Some wore suits, and some wore khaki pants with their shirtsleeves rolled up. Their voices were low but carried further on the night air, and from their conversation, I gathered these were the engineers and mathematicians.
My heartbeat slammed in my throat, and I realized I was terrified to see Archer.
Ringo gripped my hand for an instant and whispered in my ear. “Go on. ‘E didn’t come out.”
“Come with me?” Nerves made my voice shake.
“I’ll be behind ye for back-up, but ye can do this just fine.”
I took a deep breath, then stepped around the open door and almost ran into a girl about my age and nearly my height just pulling on a uniform jacket as she ran out.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” She said a little breathlessly.
Her voice hit me like a jolt, and I grinned at her. “Hi, Stella.”
I slipped in past her and caught a glimpse of her startled look as I turned the corner into the Colossus room.
The massive machine was making a humming, clacking noise that wasn’t unpleasant, just rhythmic, and it was definitely putting off heat. It was at least ten degrees hotter in that room than it had been outside, and I took off my jacket without thinking.
There was a man kneeling behind Colossus, and the movement must have caught his eye because he stood suddenly, and I stepped backwards, startled.
“Saira?” His voice sounded like shock and surprise and hope and wonder all wrapped up in a whisper I could barely hear over the clack and hum of Colossus.
I managed a smile somehow, despite my nerves, and was surprised to find my voice actually worked. “Hi, Archer.”
He looked different. The same, but somehow less … himself. Until he smiled.
“My God, it’s really you.” He was already moving toward me, and my own body was in motion before I could think the command. But he didn’t fling his arms around me like I expected, and my arms were already held wide when he stopped right in front of me. I dropped them self-consciously as he searched my face with his eyes.
“You’re here,” he whispered. His eyes brimmed with tears, which to my complete shock, rolled down his face. He didn’t even seem to notice.
I nodded and reached up to wipe a tear off his cheek. He held my palm to his face and closed his eyes. His hand trembled, and I whispered, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”
His smile was back, and it was so heartbreakingly beautiful I wanted to cry. Then his eyes shifted, and he suddenly saw Ringo behind me. They widened in surprise. “Ringo? Is that you?”
I turned to find Ringo grinning at Archer. “Ye think I’d let ‘er come see ye without me?”
The surprise was replaced with pure joy as Archer strode to Ringo and threw his arms around him. It was the hug I’d expected. “God, man! It’s been a half a century since I’ve seen you like this. It’s so good to see you!”
Ringo hugged him back. “You too, my friend.”
Archer stepped back from him and his eyes locked on mine again. “So I did find you.”
“You knew you would. I told you that you would.”
He looked at me with something like longing. “There are times I wonder if it was all just a dream. But then I remember the things you told me,” he waved his hand around the room, “and I trust that you are real.”
I touched his face again. I couldn’t help myself. “I am real.”
Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I spun around to find a young Indian man standing next to Colossus. I was about to say hello to Ravi when Ringo poked me. He shook his head sharply when I turned to glare at him.
Archer reached for my hand. “Ravindra Singh, this is my … this is Saira.” Despite the hesitation, his tone was proud.
Ravi’s expression, initially suspicious, became something friendly and warm. He stepped forward to take my hand. “Miss Saira. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” He bent to kiss the back of it, and his smile was bright and genuine.
“Thank you, Mr. Singh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”
“Oh, please call me Ravi. It is what my friends call me, and I would be honored if you would as well.”
Archer introduced Ringo to Ravi as his brother, and I could see the pride shine in Ringo’s eyes. Despite their physical differences – Archer was dark-haired with blue eyes and refined features, and Ringo had
sandy blond hair, green eyes, and an impishness that would probably still light up the old-man-face he would eventually wear – they both held themselves with calm confidence, and they moved with a similar athletic grace. They really could be mistaken for brothers, and I knew it was how they thought of each other.
“I’ll go for tea, Ravi,” Archer said. “Can I bring you anything?”
Ravi shook his head and gave me another smile before returning to his work. Archer ushered us out and spoke in low tones. “I have a private place to talk.”
“Your secret room. It’s where we came in,” I said quietly.
He looked startled for about half a second, then smiled again. “Hearing you say that makes me absurdly happy. It just confirms that we’ve been together in your time.”
“Still are. You’d be here with me if you weren’t here already.”
Something clouded in his expression, but he didn’t say anything else until we had all slipped into the hidden room inside the mansion. “As you’ve no doubt assessed, the public rooms at the front of the mansion are unused from sundown to sunrise. With rationing being what it is these days, the big blackout drapes originally made for these windows were cut up long ago to cover the windows in the huts. That’s where the important work is being done.”
He lit the stub of a candle on a stool next to his bed, and I dropped down to sit cross-legged on his bedroll. I patted the spot next to me. “Sit. I can’t think with both of you looming over me, and I’m too tired to stand anymore.”
Archer hesitated for a brief moment before he finally sat. Ringo squatted with his back to the door and his arms around his knees.
“As you say, my future self would be here with you if I weren’t already here. That takes this visit out of the realm of a social call. So, how can I help you?” Archer’s voice had a clipped, formal edge to it that hadn’t been there when he first saw us.
Ringo was silent, obviously waiting for me to take the lead. So I bit my tongue against all the lame protests his tone inspired and ran down the bare facts about the message they’d be receiving tomorrow.
