“It won’t be easy,” Jack said, grimly. “The perimeter looked well patrolled, from what I could see.”
“Look,” Mel pulled open the German overcoat. “Have one arm inside the coat, holding onto it, and then stroll, like you’re out for a smoke. Once you’re as close as you can get, let it drop and slip your arm back in the sleeve. If anyone approaches, cough a lot, like you have a cold.” She looked at Mouy. “And if anyone gets persistent, you’ll have to give them a little nap.”
And pray the bombers came. Otherwise they were kicking the equivalent of a fire ant’s nest. As Mel had cause to know, that was not good.
“At least three must go for the bombers to see,” Mouy said. He looked at Mel and Jack. “Yours must go off as close to the bunker as possible.”
“I know.” She tried to look tough and competent. “If you can get them close to something that will burn it will help with our painting project.”
Mouy and his comrades went first, slipping quietly out the door one at a time. Behind them, through the closed door between the storage room and the kitchen, they heard the clink of dishes and cutlery. And the smell of food, it was enough to make her kick the door down and jump on the food.
Jack went with Larsen to the doorway. Now that they were to the point, Mel sensed Larsen was pretty freaked out. Not that she could see anything, but she sensed his restless movements and felt his agitation.
She didn’t blame him. They were in the middle of an enemy camp, armed with explosives and dressed as spies. He didn’t speak German. They were tired. They were hungry. They all wanted to go home. And it was dark. Really, really dark.
Mel moved close to the two men and said, softly, “Jack, why don’t you walk with him, at least part of the way? I’ll meet you at the bunker.”
Jack was torn, she could feel it. He felt responsible for them both.
“I’ll be fine,” Larsen said.
He didn’t sound too convincing.
“I’ll wait a bit, to give you time, then head that way. We can hook up on the North side?”
“What if he comes in here?” Jack nodded toward the closed door.
“I’ll give him a little nap,” Mel said. “With a physics lesson.”
Jack’s smile cut the darkness briefly. “Right, north side in three minutes? Let’s move out, Larsen.”
Before they slipped out, his hand found hers. A brief squeeze and he was gone.
She was alone. And that wasn’t the worst part. She was surrounded by food and there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t dare make a noise that would bring the other cook out here.
How much time had passed? The fluxing thing was interfering with her sense of time. She tried not to think about what happened last time she was here…though not here. What if fate’s wheel had a locking mechanism and her death was determined? What if Jack died and she didn’t get picked up? What if…stop it, Mel, she ordered herself.
She didn’t know what to do except press forward and try to do her best and hope. It was, she realized, all anyone could do, in peace or war. At this moment, more than any other, she thought she understood Norm and Jack and even her father. The fine line between a brave man and a coward was a step forward…or a step back. Like them, she hadn’t started out brave, she just started out and now she had to finish what she’d started, no matter the outcome.
There were people all around, but she felt terribly alone. It was as if she stood at the center, while the world spun past…
She heard the clank of plates in the kitchen. Well, not quite alone.
* * * * *
Kass climbed out of his vehicle, but before he could dismiss his men, a figure stepped out of the shadows. Herr Ullstein of the Gestapo.
“Herr Leutnant, you’re out late. And without the Oberst?”
Kass licked suddenly dry lips. What if the woman had complained about him? Was he about to be arrested?
“He is dining out with a…friend.”
“He and Oberst Trump went to school together,” Herr Ullstein said, strolling toward Kass from the shadows. “One hopes the old friends will resist the urge to…do more than reminisce.”
What did Ullstein mean? Kass had not known who the Oberst was dining with or where, but clearly Ullstein did. Rather than expose his own ignorance, Kass remained quiet, settling for a slow nod instead.
It was cold and he wished they could move inside. Behind him, his men shifted uneasily.
“So, you are in charge?”
“Yes, Herr Ullstein.”
“Please assemble every available man. I have information that the underground is busy tonight. We will need to be busy as well.”
Kass hesitated. Surely the Herr knew about Goering’s agent in the area? Or perhaps she was his contact? Whatever his questions, he couldn’t afford to do other than comply with Herr Ullstein. He snapped a salute and gave agreement, then turned to the waiting men.
“Are you deaf? Have the men fall out. Now!” The three men jumped and almost ran from sight. Kass turned back to the Herr. He wanted to ask questions, but wasn’t sure he should.
Herr Ullstein made it easy for him. He signaled for him to follow him into the Oberst’s office. The warmth was welcome, particularly if he had to go out again.
Ullstein opened a rolled up map and laid it on a desk. “Your orders are to secure this section of ground, between this point and the aerodrome. Detain any and all personnel, including our people, until their identity can be confirmed by me—unless you personally know them, naturally.”
“Yes, Herr Ullstein.”
“You understand, Herr Leutnant, you are not authorized to question anyone or remove any material from anyone except weapons. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” Kass said woodenly. He was reserving the right to interrogate them himself. It was a pity Kass didn’t work for Ullstein. Thorhaus kept him on a very short leash.
As they headed back outside, he also wondered what it was Ullstein was afraid the underground was after.
* * * * *
Thorhaus lifted his wine glass in a mute salute to the excellent meal. Dieter had always liked his food and it showed in his waistline. What was less clear was how he got it. This type of meal was more typical for Hitler’s inner circle than a meal for an obscure Oberst in an obscure compound in France. Did that mean Dieter wasn’t that obscure? Or that he was just good at finding food? Or was there something much more important than was readily apparent going on here?
He looked around. Dieter’s quarters were Spartan, even factoring in the war and the location. Other than the food, there was no sign of privilege. He’d scrapped together some china for them to eat on, but none of it matched. The chairs were shabby and the corner of a military cot was visible through the slit of the bedroom door.
“I could believe I’m back in Germany.” Before the war, he could have added, but didn’t. It wasn’t wise, even with an old friend.
“There is no reason to live like savages in this benighted country. These French are not pleasant to live with, though they do produce a good wine. I will be happy to return to Germany.”
“You are leaving then?” He’d mentioned he might be, when he pressed the dinner invitation.
“Christmas day. Too late to spend it with my family, but we take what we can get, do we not?”
Thorhaus hesitated, wondering if he dare ask what he was doing here, but he found he didn’t have to. Dieter was in the mood to talk. It was not unexpected.
“When we have finished, I’d like to show you what we’ve been doing here. As an old soldier, like me, you’ll find it most interesting and most puzzling. And most rewarding.” His thick face looked strangely intent for a moment and then he smiled. “I know you were wondering if I’d started dealing black market. I’m sorry to worry you old friend. They are perks for dealing with these primitive conditions. Let’s have our dessert and then I’ll show it to you.” He lifted a bell and shook it pointedly. “It’s your favorite. Apfelstrudel
mit Sahne.”
Thorhaus smiled his pleasure. Apple strudel with real whipped cream. It had been a long time. He’d almost forgotten what it tasted like. But along with the pleasure there was a tiny chill of worry. What could Dieter be involved in that would produce such rarities as real coffee and cream? And was it safe for someone like him to know about it?
Chapter Sixteen
Mel slipped up next to the outside door of the storeroom and peeked out, then jerked back as two soldiers strolled by, smoking quietly, their rifles hanging off their shoulders. It was so like a scene from Hogan’s Heroes it was almost freaky. She kept expecting Corporal LeBeau to pop out and offer her some of the delicious food she could smell. She heard the muffled sound of a bell and footsteps. It was awfully late for a dinner party, wasn’t it? Of course, it lacked a couple of hours to midnight and this was Europe…
Mel padded quietly toward the door. It was ill-fitting and a small sliver of light cut the darkness. Mel applied her eye to the gap and saw the non-napping kitchen guy bent over a tray. Two plates of something delectable were being prepped. Mel’s mouth watered again, just looking at it. Plates with the remains of dinner were stacked to one side. It looked like the kitchen staff had eaten well, too. But she wasn’t jealous. Really. Two more servings were set aside. One was most likely for the napping guy.
He stood back from his handiwork, apparently satisfied, lifted the tray and moved to another door and went out, giving Mel a brief glimpse of Oberst Thorhaus sitting with another man.
Thorhaus?
Mel leaned against the wall. What was he doing here? If he died here, what ripple effect might that have on the future? What about the people he’d saved or would save, or was supposed to save? Mel rubbed her aching temples, trying to think of what she could do about it, but there’s wasn’t anything. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, but options. At the moment, she had something else to do. She used the patch of light to check her watch. Less than twenty minutes until the bombers were due. She needed to get moving.
Mel padded back to the doorway and took a quick look out. Nothing. The clouds had mostly cleared out overhead, which was good for the bombers but bad for them. The light from the sliver of moon seemed sullen in this grim place, but it was brighter than was comfortable. That made her smile. Comfortable? She’d left comfortable in another century.
The bunker was almost dead center in the compound, with the various support buildings forming a rectangle around it. This wasn’t a POW camp, so from what they could observe, the security efforts were focused on the perimeter—with one notable exception. There were two guards posted at the entrance of the bunker at all times. Mel moved left, following in the fading footsteps of the two guards, straining for advance cues to any danger in her path ahead. Around her she could hear the small sounds of the living drifting on the cold night air. The shuffle of booted feet, a cough, even a soft laugh. She’d done a night op on a compound not unlike this one, though it was simulated, with the SEALs. Boy, did she miss them now. They could have taken out the whole camp without a sound.
Look for the little things, Rockman had instructed. The glow of a cigarette, someone shifting their feet in the dark, the sound of breathing or just the lift of the hairs on the back of your neck giving warning that something is wrong. Well, she was looking, but it would have been nice to have night vision goggles or even a scope.
As Mel padded forward, she realized there were footsteps approaching her six. She sped up, landing lightly and silently on her toes, thankful her coat muffled the charge banging against her leg. She sure hoped it was stable or she’d be a spot on the ground.
At the corner, she took a quick look. It was clear for the moment. She darted from one shadow to another. From her right she heard a noise, and a soldier came around the corner, passing within inches of where she pressed into the wooden wall.
Peripheral vision was the most dangerous, and she didn’t dare breathe until he’d passed from her sight. She let the pent-up breath out in a rushing whisper. Oh how she missed the soft sound of comrades in her ears. Radios would have been such a huge help.
Mel summoned Rockman’s voice to fill the void as she moved like a well-trained ghost through the shadows until she could see the bunker entrance ahead of her.
As predicted, two guards marched a path in front of it. Mel watched them, timing their movements, noting they passed each other precisely in front of the entry point, then marched away for about thirty seconds, give or take a few. Thirty seconds to cross the space undetected and get inside. It would be close.
And if there was an alarm?
There’d be trouble in River City.
Where was Jack? Surely it had been longer than he’d asked her to wait? Yes, they needed a look inside the compound, but it was more important to set the charges and make sure it was destroyed.
She gripped her charge and her Luger, and then counted silently as the men marched away from each other. The trick was to move across the space without triggering their peripheral vision.
She took one quick look around, but didn’t see any sign of movement. She didn’t dare wait…
She walked smoothly and lightly toward the entry point, counting in her head. Danger could come at her from any direction, but there was nothing she could about that. She had to be out here…she reached the edge of the bunker and leapt down into the hollow that surrounded the entrance, dropping below the level of the sandbags just before the men made their turn. Her heart was pounding as she listened to their dual approach. The footsteps stopped and Mel tensed, easing the Luger clear of her body…until she heard the scrape of a match, another pause and then the footsteps resumed again. She pushed up with hands, just enough to see the glow of a cigarette retreating into the darkness. She let out another silent, relieved sigh. When her heart quieted its pounding, she eased the charge out, set the timer and tucked it back in the shadow of the sandbags.
Ten minutes until it blew. She couldn’t wait for Jack. She was almost out of time. She’d have to go in herself. Then out of the darkness, she heard someone softly call her name…
* * * * *
Jack walked beside Larsen and they set their charge without incident, tucking it under the chassis of a large parked truck. It should burn nicely once the charge went off. Now all they had to do was get to Mel.
At first he was surprised how quiet it was, but they weren’t trying to keep anyone in, just intruders out. Silently, afraid to talk, they made their way toward the center, moving between dark buildings and through the almost silent night. As he passed one building, he heard the low murmur of voices and figured it must be a rudimentary barracks. The whole place looked pretty make-shift to him. What was it hiding and why was it so important for one side to protect, the other to destroy it?
They were east of where they were supposed to meet Mel. Across from them, he could see the two guards making a path in front of the bunker. Where was Mel? They were fast running out of time before the bombers were due. And the charges would blow. As he watched the men walk away from the entrance with measured beats, a shadow emerged from the shadows and strolled quickly between them, then dropped down behind the sandbags.
It had to be Mel. Dang, why hadn’t she waited for him? Larsen was right, though. The girl had guts. Well, if she could do it…
Larsen leaned close.
“Did you see her go in? Dang.”
Jack had an idea. He grabbed Larsen. “We could take out the guards and take their places. We look just like them.”
Larsen didn’t hesitate. “Let’s do it.”
Jack patted him lightly on the back. “Good man.”
They separated, moving in opposite directions and toward where the men would make their turn. Jack approached his man and waited, crouching in the darkness, for the heel spin. It came and Jack made his move. The guy went down like a rock and without a peep. Jack dragged him into the shadow of nearby jeep, took his gun and his place. It wasn’t easy to match the slow but deliberate steps
of the replaced guard when he own heart was pounding like a piston. There was a tense moment when the other guy approached, but Jack relaxed when he realized it was Larsen. They both grinned at each other, but once past, Jack tried to look without looking at where Mel was hiding.
“Mel.” It wasn’t easy to be both quiet and insistent, but he must have got her attention. He saw her head poke cautiously up.
Like a wisp of breeze, he heard, “Excellent.”
“Change places with me.” Did she hear him? He moved out of her sight line, wondering just how much time they had now. When he made the turn and return, he was relieved to see she hadn’t gone in. Like a wisp of smoke, she rose from the shadows and fell in beside him, matching her steps to his. He handed her the rifle and then stepped around her, so that he was marching in her shadow. At the entrance to the bunker, he dropped down, crouching behind the sandbags and listening for any sound of alarm.
All he heard was the sound of Mel and Larsen’s boots hitting the ground. He turned to the door. The lock securing the door had already been breached. The girl was good. He eased the door open, bracing for some kind of alarm to go off, but only silence greeted him. He pulled the door closed and pulled out a flashlight. He pointed it first at his watch.
Five minutes. He’d better hurry. They were almost out of time.
* * * * *
Mel paced toward Larsen, feeling possessed by the spirit of Sergeant Shultz. I see nothing, she mouthed. The funny part, she couldn’t see much of anything. There was a faint shimmer of light from that sullen moon. It was a good thing she was living this and not writing about it. There were only so many ways to say it was dark. She could have seen more with night vision goggles, but then it would have been green dark, a luminous green dark, but still dark. And she was starting to think to herself. She’d have talked to herself, but it wasn’t an option. Too bad she didn’t have more to think about to herself—other than how freaking scared she was to be in the middle of an enemy camp. And here was the other funny part—funny ironic, not funny, ha, ha—at the moment it was kind of boring.
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