Before the Dawn

by Candace Camp

  Alyssa took the gun and slipped her hands into the pockets of her dress. With the full-skirted dress and both hands in her pockets, the larger lump of the gun was hardly visible.

  “I want you to go to Gersbach and offer to bring me to him for a payment. Then come back and get me.”

  “Yes, mademoiselle.”

  Hearing Georges’s footfalls, Alyssa hurried up the stone steps into the basement to meet him. “Did he believe you?”

  “I think so. Philippe nearly took my head off when I made my offer to Gersbach. He knows I wouldn’t betray you, but he’s sure we’re up to something that could endanger you, and he was furious.” Georges grinned. “I think his reaction convinced Gersbach I was telling the truth.”

  “Good.” Quickly Alyssa sketched out her plan, what little there was of it, and they sat down to wait for enough time to elapse for Georges to have brought her back from a hiding place in the woods. After twenty minutes, Alyssa stood up. “All right, let’s go.”

  Chapter 24

  They emerged from the second set of stairs into the kitchen and paused to listen for a moment before continuing into the hall. The house was abnormally quiet. Their steps on the wooden floors reverberated in Alyssa’s ears. Her fingers clenched around the revolver in her pocket. The blood was racing through her veins, and she felt amazingly clearheaded, aware of every tiny detail. Her stomach was cold as ice, and her heart was pounding so hard, it felt as if it might shoot straight out of her chest. She didn’t feel frightened, only determined and pumped full of adrenaline.

  Georges walked a little behind and to one side of Alyssa as they approached the formal drawing room, and he held a large pistol pointed at the back of her head. A Gestapo agent stood guard outside the door to the drawing room, arms crossed over his chest. He glanced at Alyssa and Georges and motioned for them to go inside. Georges pushed open the door, and Alyssa walked into the room.

  A guard stood near the marble fireplace, a Luger in his hands. Gersbach was several feet away. In front of him Philippe was seated in a straight-back chair, his hands pulled back and tied behind the chair, stretching his arms painfully. One of his eyes was reddened and swelling, and there was another red, swelling area beside his mouth. His lip was split. Rage and nausea added to the tumult in Alyssa’s stomach, and she looked at Gersbach with loathing.

  Fire shot from Philippe’s eyes. “Damn it, Alyssa!”

  “Well, well, well.” Gersbach grinned and walked toward her, running his eyes down her in a vulgar assessment. “Even prettier than before.” He stopped in front of her and ran a hand over her breasts. Alyssa was so intent on what she was doing that his touch hardly registered. She stared back at him without a trace of fear on her face, knowing that would annoy him more than anything.

  It did. He frowned and snapped at Georges to leave.

  “What about my reward?” Georges asked, not budging.

  Gersbach smiled. “Your friendship with the Gestapo is your reward. Your neck is your reward.” He gestured. “Get out.”

  Reluctantly Georges left. Alyssa knew he would linger in the hallway as long as he could, but the Gestapo guard would soon chase him off. Things had to move quickly. She continued to stare coolly at Gersbach. “I give myself up in return for Philippe’s life.”

  Gersbach laughed at the ridiculous statement. She had known he would, but she wanted to present a fighting front to Gersbach, for that would arouse him the fastest. “So you are offering me a deal?” he asked. “I would say you aren’t in much position to offer me anything. I can take whatever I want.” Gersbach glanced over at Philippe, whose eyes flamed with hatred. “Schlieker said I wasn’t to interrogate you, Michaude; he wants you all for himself. Special hatred, you see, because you made him look like a fool. So I have restrained myself with you. But Schlieker didn’t say a word about not touching the woman.”

  “Goddamn you, Gersbach,” Philippe said in a grating voice. “You hurt her, and I’ll kill you.”

  “You will kill me?” Gersbach was highly amused. “So you don’t like me touching your whore, eh?” He squeezed Alyssa’s breast, and she tried not to wince.

  Gersbach was close enough to her, but Alyssa waited, hoping he would send the guard outside. If he didn’t, she would simply have to go ahead and play her hand. She cast a sideways glance at the guard. At least he was getting very interested in the action and was holding his rifle loosely.

  “This should be quite entertaining,” Gersbach said, taking Alyssa’s arm and dragging her over to stand directly in front of Philippe. Philippe was deathly white, his eyes blazing green. He had been cursing Gersbach vividly, but now he fell silent. His jaw was set, his body taut and straining forward against his bound arms. “It would be interesting to take her in front of you, Michaude,” Gersbach continued slimily. “Something I haven’t done before.” He slid his hand over Alyssa’s backside and she hoped fervently that he didn’t get too near her pocket with the gun in it. Luckily he was more concerned with upsetting Philippe than anything else. He described in disgusting detail what he would do to her and Philippe lunged forward. The chair he was tied to toppled over, crashing with him to the floor.

  Gersbach laughed. “Braun, turn our turtle here right side up again. He can’t see as well that way.”

  The guard laid down his gun and heaved Philippe’s chair upright. Alyssa knew this was her chance. Her grip tightened in her pocket. Gersbach pulled her closer, his fleshy lips coming down to her face.

  Alyssa raised the gun, still inside her skirt pocket, and jammed it hard into Gersbach’s groin.

  Gersbach froze, grunting in pained dismay. Alyssa smiled. “Yes, it’s a gun.”

  Braun, who had just finished setting up Philippe’s chair, whirled at her words. His mouth fell open, and his eyes went across the room to his automatic rifle. “No!” Alyssa jabbed her weapon deeper into Gersbach’s flesh. “Tell your boy not to try anything, or you’ll be missing a vital piece of your anatomy.”

  Sweat broke out across Gersbach’s forehead, and he spoke to the guard. The guard nodded and stood with his arms dangling loosely, making no move toward the gun.

  “Tell him to untie Philippe.”

  “No!”

  “Yes, unless you’d like me to squeeze the trigger.”

  “If you shoot me, the guards will shoot you.”

  “All the other guards have been taken care of, and I could probably shoot both you and Braun here before he reaches his gun. Even if I didn’t make it, you’d be dead anyway—and rather painfully, too. Tell him to untie Philippe.”

  He barked out an order to the guard, and Braun began to untie the knots that bound Philippe. Braun was nervous and fumbling, and it took him several minutes to unfasten the bonds. Sweat poured down Gersbach’s face. Philippe tugged sharply against the rope, and his arms were free. He was up in an instant and used his ropes to bind Braun’s hands and feet, finishing by gagging the man with his handkerchief. He crossed the room to pick up Braun’s gun and leveled it at Gersbach’s spine. “All right, step back.”

  Gersbach did. Alyssa lowered her arm; it began to tremble. She felt as though she might start shaking and not stop until she lay in pieces on the floor.

  “Tie him up, my love. Take the cord from the inner curtains.”

  Alyssa obeyed Philippe, going to the curtains and jerking down the thin white cord. Slipping her own gun back into her pocket, she returned to Gersbach, reaching out to bind his hands. But with a swiftness that surprised her, he grabbed her hands and jerked her toward him, twisting to place Alyssa between Philippe and himself.

  But he couldn’t move fast enough. Philippe fired and the bullet blasted through Gersbach’s chest. Alyssa dived to the floor as Philippe fired, Gersbach’s blood splashing over her. Philippe whirled around, dropping to his knee, to train his gun on the door. There was the sound of three quick shots in the hall. The door flew back, and the German guard fell into the room. Georges stepped over the body, a Luger
in his hands, ready to fire. For a moment all three stared at each other, frozen.

  Georges relaxed. “Thank God.” He bent to feel the neck of the guard he’d shot. “He’s dead. What about that one?” He motioned to Gersbach.

  Philippe shrugged, and Georges cast a glance at the guard Philippe had bound and gagged, who was staring at them in wide-eyed fear. “He seems secure enough.”

  “Where are the others?” Philippe asked, his gaze still fixed on the door.

  “Incapacitated. I’ll have all of them taken down to the cellars. Him, too.” Georges jerked a thumb at the bound guard. “We’ll figure out what to do with them later.” The bound guard, looking, if possible, even more terrified, began to babble, the words muffled by his gag. Georges ignored him, going over to take Gersbach’s pulse. “Gersbach’s dead, too.”

  Philippe looked at Georges, who was now helping Alyssa up, and scowled at him. “I ought to beat you senseless—except you’re obviously already in that state! Do you realize how crazy that was? What could have happened to Alyssa?”

  “Do you realize what could have happened to you?” Alyssa retorted crossly.

  Philippe took her in his arms and held on to her as if for dear life. “I’ve never been so scared in my life as when you stepped into this room.”

  Alyssa hugged him back fiercely. “Then you know how I felt when Georges told me Gersbach was taking you back to Paris.”

  He rubbed his cheek over her hair. “Please, don’t ever do that to me again.”

  Georges had been busy confiscating the German’s weapons, and now, arms full, he turned to Philippe and Alyssa. “I’d suggest that we get out of here. You’ll need all the time you can get to escape.”

  “Right.” Reluctantly Philippe released Alyssa, but kept an arm around her shoulders as they walked out the door. “Now, tell me. How did you two ‘incapacitate’ four Gestapo guards—without any noise?”

  Alyssa laughed and began her story.

  The final Gestapo agent lay on the grass beside the Germans’ cars. Georges siphoned gas from one car into a can and stuck it into the trunk of the other car, which they took to leave the estate. Georges drove about ten minutes, taking increasingly poorer roads, then stopped the car.

  “Where are we?” Alyssa asked.

  “As close as we can get by car to the Scorpion’s camp,” Philippe replied. “We’ll have to walk from here.”

  They climbed a fence and trudged through the trees until at last they saw the glimmer of a campfire. Seconds later a voice demanded their names, and they were spotlighted in the beam of a flashlight. “All right.” A man stepped out from behind a tree. “Go straight on.”

  Scorpion rose from the ground when he saw them approaching. “What took you so long?”

  Briefly Philippe explained what had happened, and Scorpion’s eyebrows rose. He thought for a moment, then said, “It doesn’t matter. Our plan will still work. Mother instructed us to send you to Laval when I told them you were probably blown. They’re sending in a plane tomorrow night to pick you up.”

  “I’ll take the German car and drive in the opposite direction,” Georges offered. “If I abandon it in the south tomorrow, it will look as though you’re escaping to Spain.”

  “But, Georges, aren’t you coming with us?” Alyssa protested.

  He shook his head. “What would I do in England? I’ll stay here, join Scorpion or one of the other groups. I’m not important enough for the Gestapo to hunt for me.”

  They argued over it for a while, but in the end they did as Georges suggested. Camp was broken up, and the men scattered, taking the confiscated German weapons and ammunition with them. Georges dressed in a uniform he had taken from one of the Germans and stuffed the man’s papers into his pocket, then, Luger beside him, drove off in the staff car.

  Scorpion walked with Philippe and Alyssa to the nearby village. He disappeared inside his house to whisper good-bye to his wife, then returned, and the three of them rode northward in Scorpion’s old, battered truck.

  As they rattled along the back roads, avoiding German checkpoints, Alyssa glanced over at Philippe. His face was less careworn now, and there was a brightness to his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. He seemed excited, almost happy. Philippe felt her gaze and turned his head. He smiled and leaned over to kiss her. Alyssa realized that he must feel free now. The matter had been taken out of his hands; it was no longer possible for him to spy on the Germans. He had been released from the role of collaborator which his stern sense of duty had impelled him to play. Even though they were in danger, at least now he could fight it openly. Alyssa was sure that he would face it eagerly.

  She snuggled up against him and closed her eyes, drifting into sleep. She was awakened sometime later by the truck’s jouncing over rough ground. She opened her eyes and straightened to look around her. They were off the road behind a group of trees. Scorpion stopped the truck.

  “We’ll go the rest of the way on foot,” he told them, and they swung out of the truck after him.

  They walked along the road for a few yards, then turned onto a smaller dirt road. Before long they came upon a small gray stone farmhouse. Scorpion led them to a wood-sided flatbed truck beside the barn and instructed them to get inside. He disappeared in the direction of the house and came back a few minute later with a middle-aged farmer. The farmer handed them shoes and clothes more appropriate to a farm couple than their own conspicuously elegant attire. Philippe and Alyssa changed clothes inside the barn, and when they returned they found that Scorpion and the other man had laid a thick layer of straw on the truck bed.

  “You can sleep here for a couple of hours,” Scorpion told them as the farmer walked back to his house. “Early in the morning he will hide you in a load of vegetables and take you to Laval.” Scorpion paused and thrust out his hand to Philippe. “Good-bye, sir. I—it’s been an honor to work with you.” He flashed a smile at Alyssa. “Mademoiselle.”

  Alyssa gave him her hand and he shook it as well. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  Scorpion vanished down the dark dirt road, and Philippe helped Alyssa into the truck. The straw made a passable bed, and they snuggled up together on it, gazing up at the remote black sky, sprinkled with bright pinpoints of stars. Gently, leisurely, they made love again, the summer night cool against their heated skin, their bodies open to the vast night. They touched and explored and rediscovered the delights they had known together so long ago, moving without urgency, seeking the sweetness of each moment as much as the end itself, and exploding at last into a hot, dark fury of love.

  Afterward, they cuddled and talked, too much in love, too happy to be with each other to waste the time in sleep. They talked of the golden Paris spring when they had met and loved and of the years between, the things they had done and seen.

  “Why did you start this?” Alyssa asked him.

  “What? My masquerade?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was suggested to me by a mutual friend of ours.”

  Alyssa’s brow wrinkled. “A mutual friend? Who?”

  “Pliny.”

  “Ian Hedley?” Alyssa’s voice rose in amazement. “You know Claire’s uncle?”

  “I’ve known him for several years. We met through a friend of mine.” He sighed. “Actually, it was Charles—the man you knew as Dragon—who introduced us. We saw how things were going. Charles knew the army and how foolish their reliance on the Maginot Line was. The army refused to listen to any of the younger men who pointed out how vulnerable we were, like de Gaulle.”

  “The man who’s heading the Free French in England now?”

  He nodded. “Yes. He was regarded as a renegade and a hothead. Anyway, it was obvious that if it came to war, as we thought it would, the Germans would overrun France without much trouble. As events turned out, the invasion was accomplished even more easily than we had feared. If France were occupied by the Germans, a spy among them would
be invaluable. I was the logical choice. I had no family who might be hurt. I traveled to Germany on business and could build friendships there. And I had a business that would be of value to the Germans.”

  “So you laid the groundwork to become a collaborator.”

  “Yes. It had been decided long before I met you. Then you came along and made me regret bitterly what I had pledged myself to do.” He shrugged. “But I had no choice. I had to do it.’

  “How awful for you! And I was so harsh and unforgiving.”

  “I could hardly expect anything else from you. I knew your principles. You wouldn’t have been the woman I loved if you had been able to live with a collaborator. I returned to Paris after you left and dropped by to see my German friends who were now there. It was easy to make more friends in the army, and I was able to get a good bit of information from them. But I soon realized that I wasn’t doing as well as I could. So I contacted an old friend of mine, Geneviève. You remember the woman you saw me with in Paris?”

  “I certainly do.”

  He chuckled. “There was nothing between us. She was a friend of mine from long ago. I knew she was a successful prostitute—and patriotic as well. I set her up with a house and a complement of young girls, and she’s obtained more facts than I ever could have hoped to.”

  “You mean you set up a brothel to spy on the Nazis?”

  “Most of the girls have no idea what Geneviève is doing. But she is very adept at getting information, both from the officers she knows and from the girls who work for her.” He paused. When he spoke again his voice was low and dark. “Can you accept that—what I was, what I did?”

  “Oh, Philippe!” Alyssa rose up on her elbow to look down into his face. Her eyes glittered with tears. “Of course I can. I’m hardly one to cast stones; a lot of the things I did in Washington weren’t exactly pure and sweet. Whatever you did, you did for your country. For what you believe in—and what I believe in. I love you, and I’m very, very proud of you.”