Minds of Men

by Kacey Ezell

  But I was the only one who had a chance of distracting him! If he’d seen any of you, he would have known for sure who we are. He wasn’t expecting a crying woman.

  Which is why it worked. But you did scare us. We all love you, Evie, even if we’re not puppies like Sean about it. We couldn’t make it if something happened to you. So just...keep that in mind, will ya?

  I...all right, she said, humbled by his frank honesty and unsure what to do about it. They loved her?

  Of course we do, Paul said. We’re all intertwined, you know that. To me, you’re what my sister was. To Sean, you’re his untouchable dream girl. To Abram, you’re the muse, the reason we keep moving. Keep fighting. You’re the heart of all of us, and you’ll be the reason we make it home. Now lie down and get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow’s going to be like?

  Perhaps it wasn’t the most reassuring note on which to end their conversation, but it was uniquely Paul. And despite that (or maybe because of it), Evelyn felt comforted anyway. She finished smoothing the cover over the mattress and sat down on the bed to remove her boots and her outer coat. Abram and Sean lay rolled up in their separate blankets, not far away. Paul sat against the wall, watching her. She gave him a smile and laid down, pulling the blanket up to her ears.

  You’ll be the reason I make it home, too, she sent to him. All of you will.

  That’s the plan, he said.

  * * *

  Evelyn woke with the late morning sun slanting across her face. She blinked and opened her eyes. A steeply-slanting attic ceiling stretched above her. Midway up, a skylight with a broken shutter let the rays of light into the otherwise dim room. Her empty stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet, and she realized abruptly she was alone.

  Hello? she said, reaching out along the lines of the net.

  Evie! You’re awake! Sean responded with his usual exuberant joy. Evelyn tried very hard not to think about what Paul had said about Sean’s feelings for her and sat up in the bed as a distraction.

  I am. Where are all of you?

  Cosca put us to work, Abram replied. I suppose he thinks we’re hiding in plain sight.

  Or he just wants free labor, Paul said. I swear, I’m the first one to sweep out this garage in decades.

  Is there food? Evelyn asked. On the one hand, she enjoyed their lighthearted responses after the ordeal of the last few days. But, on the other hand, it felt like her stomach was trying to eat itself.

  In the kitchen, Abram said. Cold meat and cheese, a loaf of bread. I guess it’s for us, judging by Cosca’s grunt when he put it out on the table this morning.

  Where is he? Evelyn asked. I’ll ask him.

  Gone, Abram replied. Once he got us started on our various chores, he took the Jerry truck and left. Go. Eat. We all did, and he said nothing.

  All right, Evelyn said. She swung her feet to the floor and got up, marveling at how stiff she felt. All of her muscles ached, and her still-healing ankle throbbed a warning. She was careful not to put too much weight on it and hoped they’d be able to avoid walking for at least a day or so.

  Downstairs, it was as the men had said. Bread and cheese and meat lay in covered dishes on the table. She took some of each and dove ravenously into the meal. The bread was dry and nearly stale. The cheese was warm and soft, and the meat greasy. It tasted amazing. She ate enough that her mother would have been embarrassed to watch her and then pushed back from the table. As she had done the last time she’d eaten in this kitchen, she began tidying up...then she began to deep clean. A few hours later, a glance out the kitchen window showed the sun lower in the afternoon sky than she would have expected. Apparently she’d awakened later than she’d originally thought, or she’d gotten so caught up in her task she lost track of the time. As she watched, elbows deep in soapy water, a truck pulled up the gravel drive, spraying dust up into the air in a brown haze.

  Someone’s here, she sent to everyone. I hope it’s Cosca, but in case it’s not...I’ll go see. Stay out of sight if you can.

  We’re fine, Evie. You just be careful! Abram sent. Before her talk with Paul the previous night, Evelyn would have been tempted to quail at the tone of their leader’s thoughts. All her life, she’d been taught it was the ultimate wrong to do as she’d done...twice now. Three times, if one counted the man in London. She must never, never use her abilities to harm anyone else. That maxim had been drummed into her by repetition since she was old enough to understand the words. And she had broken that most sacred of laws multiple times. She couldn’t have blamed the men one iota if they abandoned her in fear and disgust...but they hadn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact. By their simple acceptance of her, they’d shown they understood the necessity she’d perceived. They understood, and they supported her decisions...as long as her decisions kept them all safe and got them all home.

  All truly was fair, she realized, when in love and war.

  With these thoughts circling in her mind, she dried her hands and stepped out of the swinging kitchen door. She waited on the step for the truck to roll to a stop between her and the garage. As it did, she felt a flash of relief. That was Cosca in the driver’s seat. And on the passenger side...

  The door to the truck cab swung open, and the occupant tumbled out like a little cyclone.

  “Evie!” Deedee cried, as she ran up and wrapped her arms around Evelyn in a surprisingly hard hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right! We were so worried!”

  “Deedee!” Evelyn gasped, as she hugged the other woman back. She’d forgotten just how much energy Deedee carried in her petite frame. “So were we!”

  “Call the men, let us go inside, quickly. You must tell me everything, and then we will make further plans.”

  With that, the little cyclone swept her inside the house, where they were joined moments later by the men. Each of them received the same effusive greetings Evelyn had, which surprised Abram and Paul. Sean, however, took it in stride and gave Deedee a wide smile as he hugged her back. Something twisted in Evelyn as she watched, and it surprised her. She clamped down on the nasty, unpleasant feeling and shoved it away from the rest of the net, but Paul met her eyes with a knowing look.

  “I am so pleased you are all safe...for now,” Deedee was saying. Evelyn forced her mind back to the present moment and followed the other woman over to Cosca’s table. Deedee and Evelyn sat, as did Abram. Paul and Sean stood close by, while Cosca moved with a sort of growly bustle to make some tea. “This was a heavy blow to our organization.”

  “I’m sure,” Abram said. “How many were caught?”

  “Many,” Deedee said, all of her joy gone as she spoke the stark truth. “Both of your airmen and our helpers. The airmen, at least, will mostly be treated well as prisoners of war. Our helpers, however...” She spread her hands wide in a wordless gesture of helplessness.

  “Deedee,” Evelyn breathed. “I’m so sorry to have put you and your people at risk...”

  “No!” Deedee said, her smile flashing back into being, though her eyes stayed sober and hard. “You must not regret. They have acted according to their conscience and have been incredibly brave. This was not your fault. None of you. You must honor them and keep fighting to get home.”

  “All right,” Abram said, smiling slightly and making a “calm down” gesture with his hands. “So how do we proceed from here?”

  “I think we must return to Paris,” Deedee said. “It will be dangerous, but Paris is a large city. There are many ways to hide there, and...we have ears in certain places there. From Paris, you can take the train to Bayonne, to see my friend Madame Ballasdens. From there, we shall go south to the border and take you across the mountains.”

  She turned to give Evelyn a long look.

  “It will be a difficult journey, I am afraid. The passage takes nearly twenty hours, and it is all climbing in the mountains. We will ford the Bidassoa River. Will you be able to keep up?”

  “She’ll keep up,” Sean said quickly.

  “Or we’ll carry her,”
Paul added. “We’ve done it before.”

  Deedee shook her head in the negative.

  “You will not be able to carry her on this journey, I am afraid. But I am willing to take you, Evie, if you are willing to go and give it your all.”

  “I am willing,” Evelyn said softly. I will keep up, I promise.

  We have no doubts, Evie, Abram said, and Evelyn could feel the strength of his confidence in her flowing down the lines of the net.

  “Very well. We will board the train in the morning to Paris and then continue on to Bayonne overnight. It will be a chance for rest. It is good you brought Cosca a truck; he was able to sell it at his other garage and earn enough funds to pay for your tickets.”

  “How did you sell that truck?” Abram asked, swiveling in his chair to look at Cosca. “It had the Jerry Army’s markings on the door.”

  “Parts,” Cosca grunted. “Dumped the door, sold the parts back to the Boches.”

  “You sold the Jerry truck back to the Jerries?” Abram’s eyes went wide at the old Frenchman’s audacity.

  Cosca just smiled and pulled the whistling kettle off of the stove. He poured them tea and then, without another word, walked out of the kitchen, back toward his bedroom.

  “He is a very good man,” Deedee said softly. “You are lucky.”

  “We know,” Evelyn replied.

  “I suppose you do,” Deedee said. “I know it is early, but we should get some sleep. Our train leaves Guingamp an hour before dawn.”

  * * *

  “Unfortunately, they disembarked in Paris and immediately boarded another train for Bayonne, rather than seeking refuge somewhere within the city. However, while we had hoped the Amis would lead us to further collaborators in Paris, we were at least able to positively identify the female escorting them. Her name is Diandra van Duren. She is a resident of Brussels, and we believe she, along with her father and possibly other members of her family, are at the very heart of the fugitive network,” Lina reported. She sat at strict attention in Neils’ office, conscious of the gaze of not only her friend, but his superior officer from Berlin.

  “Who is the father?” Neils asked.

  “A Belgian doctor by the name of Frederic van Duren. He may, in fact, be the mastermind behind the whole network, though I suspect otherwise. He does appear to be running the Belgian portion of the operation. He’s been questioned before, but has always been able to explain his activities under the guise of his medical practice,” Lina said.

  “So who, then, is the mastermind?” the other man, Regierungs-und Kriminaldirektor Warren Smolenk asked, speaking for the first time since Lina had entered the room to give her report.

  “I believe it is Diandra herself, Herr Smolenk,” Lina said, addressing the man by his civilian title rather than his detective or SS rank. As he was dressed, like Neils, in plainclothes, this was the appropriate protocol. Though she rather got the impression he would have preferred otherwise.

  “A woman? I hardly think that likely. A network of this size is incredibly complex. The female brain isn’t capable of that kind of organization.”

  Lina fought to keep her face neutral.

  “Regardless, mein Herr,” Neils said smoothly. “It is clear this woman is deeply involved. You were saying, Oberhelfer, that we should continue to surveil her movements, I think?”

  “Yes,” Lina said, grateful for his tact. “She and the current group of fugitives boarded a train for Bayonne not an hour ago. If I may take a motorcar, we can beat the train down there and be in position to intercept and capture her, along with the American fugitives.”

  “That seems rather a waste of resources,” Smolenk said. This time Lina couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows.

  “How so, mein Herr?” she asked, which earned her a sharp look from Smolenk and a warning one from Neils. After a moment, Smolenk deigned to respond.

  “Because,” he said, speaking with exaggerated slowness, as if talking to a child. “If we have the information on the father, what need have we to go chasing the daughter across France? Let us go pick up the man and interrogate him. We will decapitate this network of criminal dissidents and watch it fall into disarray. From there, it is just the mopping up of pieces. We can arrest the daughter at any time. The father is the key. Capture him.”

  Dread slammed into Lina’s mind. Her eyes cut to Neils’. His look turned from a warning to a plea, as if he were beseeching her not to say anything. Though her instincts and desires screamed at her to defy this little-minded man who stood in the way of justice, Lina held herself perfectly still and trusted in her friend and mentor. After a brief moment, Neils gave her a barely perceptible nod.

  “Very well, Herr Smolenk,” Neils said, coming to his feet. Lina followed suit, as did Smolenk, slowly. “We will begin right away.”

  “Excellent,” Smolenk said. “And be sure you take your pet witch to Brussels with you. I don’t have to tell you how critical this interrogation will be. Let us ensure we do the job right the first time.”

  “Of course, mein Herr,” Neils said. He stepped around his desk and gestured to Smolenk to precede him out of the room, leaving Lina standing forgotten in the middle of his office. She heard the pair of them walking down the hallway and the muffled sound of Neils’ goodbyes as his superior left the office. She didn’t move, not even when Neils walked back in and closed the door behind himself.

  “I am sorry,” he said quietly.

  “You know I must go,” she said, her voice low.

  “Yes, I do. But you must come to Belgium, first. He said it again as we were walking out. To do otherwise is to court destruction, Lina. You see how he feels about women. And he called you a witch. I am afraid, for your safety, we must obey.”

  “But if I lose them?” Lina asked, ice in her voice, ice in her veins.

  “You will not. We will double the roadblocks in Bayonne. They will not make it out of the city.”

  “You do not know that.”

  “No,” he admitted. “But perhaps you can follow them even so, as you said you could, yes?”

  “Not from so far away as Brussels,” she whispered. “I must get to Bayonne while they are still there.”

  “I will do everything that I can to see that you do, Lina. Again, you must trust me.”

  “I do,” she whispered. Even though the ache of failure loomed.

  No, she whispered to Josef’s memory. Even if I have to escape myself from Brussels, I will find her, and I will destroy her, my love. No matter how long it takes. Even if I must wait until the war is lost or won.

  “Lina?”

  She blinked and focused on Neils’ face.

  “I trust you,” she said. “Let us go.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seventeen

  The train from Paris to Bayonne took all night. Thanks to the funds that Cosca had handed Deedee, they were able to purchase a private luxury compartment. Inside, the five of them slept, hoarding their strength for what would be the most difficult, but hopefully last, leg of their journey. Evelyn found the rocking motion of the train to be soothing, but sleep didn’t come easily to her. The end of their journey seemed incredibly far out of reach. Her mind kept drifting back to the other members of her crew. The lost pilots: Carl with his quiet assuredness and Bob with his eager arrogance. In the violence of her bailout, she hadn’t felt them die, but she ached for them anyway. And what had become of the others? Logan with his irreverent grin and slightly inappropriate humor? Rico with his smooth Latin charm? Les with his rough exterior covering his golden heart, and John, their quiet radio man? Had any of them made it out of the aircraft alive? Had they survived the parachute landing? Had they, too, made their way into the welcoming arms of friendly resistance forces...or were they even now dying slowly in a Nazi prison camp?

  Her mind circled these questions, doubling back on itself as she worried about her crew...and about the helpers who risked so much to get them home. Deedee hadn’t told them who had been arrested. She ref
used, saying it was better they didn’t know. But the quietly intense woman had a haunted look about her Evelyn didn’t remember from before they’d left for Bonaparte Beach.

  Haunted or not, Deedee was all business when they pulled into the station at Bayonne. She handed each of the men a beret and instructed them how to wear it flat, in the Basque style.

  “You look very uncomfortable,” she said as she eyed each of them critically. “Try to relax. We do not wish to draw attention. Follow me off the train, and we will meet up with my friend who will take us the next part of the way.”

  She says “relax” like it’s going to be easy, Abram groused.

  Hunch your shoulders, just a little bit. Don’t avoid eye contact, but don’t stare. Try to move at the same pace as the crowd around you. That’s the best way to avoid notice. Blend in, Paul said.

  What are you, an actor?

  Paul turned to give Abram a look while Deedee fussed with Sean’s beret a bit more.

  No. But it works on cops, the bombardier said, and gave a little smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The train came to a complete stop with a squeal and a slight bump, causing them to all rock back and forth in their seats.

  “Good,” Deedee said in French. “Now follow me.”

  They exited the compartment and made their way off the train and onto the platform outside. The morning light shone from the eastern sky, illuminating the throng of Bayonnais workers starting their days. Evelyn tried to follow Paul’s advice and blend in as the group of them wound their way through the crowd and out through the main passenger terminal. Once outside, Deedee led them down the street for about a block, then turned into a small courtyard bordered by a low stone wall.

  Inside the courtyard, a tall, strongly-built woman smiled and held out her arms to Deedee.

  “Auntie,” Deedee said, walking into the other woman’s embrace. They kissed each other’s cheeks, and Evelyn found herself smiling at the evident pleasure with which Deedee was received. Her aunt seemed to genuinely care.