by Anne Barwell
Once Matt had finished washing Ken’s chest, Ken turned around so Matt could wash his back. Matt could hear Ken’s breathing, slow and steady, and he focused on it and the job at hand. After all the crap they’d been through, the last thing they needed was for everything to fall apart now.
“I think that’s as clean as it’s going to get,” Ken said finally. “You’ve done enough, Matt. If there’s any smell left, Sébastien is going to have to learn to put up with it.”
“We can’t stay out here forever.” Matt picked up the towel, finished drying himself, then handed it to Ken. There was nowhere to completely hide in this damn place. Only a few stolen moments here and there that could be the final memories either of them had of each other.
“Do you want to?” Ken’s question took Matt by surprise.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “but it’s not a luxury that bears thinking about.” He knew Ken knew what he meant, that they both wished they could ignore the war and just live their lives, or what was left of them.
“There are a few of those.” Ken folded the towel into quarters once he’d finished with it, picked up the bucket of dirty water, and poured it onto the garden by the side of the fence. He retrieved their filthy shirts and put them in the bucket, then placed the towel on top.
“Everything in its place,” Matt said. He’d noticed that about Ken very soon after they’d met in basic training.
“Not everything.” Ken gave him a smile. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Liang met them on the doorstep. “I was coming to find you,” he said. “We finally have news from London.”
“They’ve been in contact?” Matt frowned. Had he been that distracted he hadn’t noticed Cécile arriving? She usually brought any information Théo received that needed to be passed along.
“You could say that.” Liang’s voice shook as though he was trying not to sound too emotional. Whatever this was, it was big. “Kristopher and I were listening to the BBC. They broadcast the code phrase.”
“The first three lines of the Verlaine poem?” Ken raised an eyebrow, disbelief spreading across his face. “Are you sure it was that?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Liang said irritably. “Kristopher recognized it immediately, and Michel confirmed it.”
“The Allied invasion is imminent.” Matt placed one hand on Ken’s shoulder and squeezed it. “That’s what they meant by sending someone with a supply drop.”
“I thought they were referring to our mission,” Ken said slowly. “But they weren’t. This could be the beginning of the end of this war.”
Chapter Thirteen
“MICHEL?” KRISTOPHER reached out for Michel, but instead of the warm body of the man he loved, he felt the coldness of a bed that had never been slept in.
He sat up with a jolt and glanced around the room.
What the hell? What was he doing in his bedroom back in Berlin? He’d left that life behind him months ago.
Kristopher reached for his robe, only to find he was already dressed. The room felt chilly, and he could smell blood. He crept quietly down the stairs. He’d been here before. Not just in this house, but….
“No,” he whispered. “Not again. I don’t want to see this again. I know what I need to do. Isn’t that enough?”
“Too late.” Clara’s whisper echoed around him, impossible to ignore.
“Too late.” A new voice joined Clara’s. Kristopher recognized it immediately.
“Leo?” This couldn’t be real. Leo was dead. He’d died months ago, sacrificing himself to save a group of men he’d barely known.
“Kit!” Michel cried out. “Kit! Help me. Please.”
Kristopher didn’t think, just reacted. Throwing caution aside, he ran toward the dining room and threw open the door.
And found himself in Holm’s office.
“How nice of you to finally join us, Herr Doktor Lehrer.” Holm smiled. His expression sent a shiver down Kristopher’s spine.
To Holm’s left, Reiniger stood holding a gun. Michel knelt in front of Reiniger, his hands bound behind him.
“Why did you come? We agreed you wouldn’t.” Michel looked up at Kristopher. Blood ran down his face from a deep wound across the length of one cheek. “You’re supposed to leave me to die.” He turned away. “One more thing you’ve promised to do, and can’t. Being with you is a death sentence. This is your fault.”
Kristopher flinched at the accusing tone in Michel’s voice. “I… I can’t watch you die.” He bit his lip, but he couldn’t feel any pain. Couldn’t feel anything.
“You chose to protect your work. You can’t save him.” Holm laughed. “People like you don’t get happy endings. It’s already too late for that.” He gave Reiniger a nod.
Reiniger drew a knife, yanked back Michel’s hair to expose his neck, and then pressed the blade against the skin, the steel drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down to join the stain already spreading over Michel’s shirt.
Kristopher rushed forward, but strong arms held him back.
“No, you can’t,” Michel hissed into his ear. “Don’t give in. You can’t let them have this weapon whatever the cost.”
Kristopher pulled free, turned, hope rushing through him. But there was no one there. He’d only heard another whisper of someone he couldn’t save. “Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.” He heard himself scream. “I’ll give you anything. I’ll help you destroy the world. Just let him go!”
“Too late.” Clara spoke again although he couldn’t see her.
Michel fell forward and lay still. He hadn’t screamed. His death was silent. Just like the ruined, abandoned city from an earlier nightmare that had haunted Kristopher for so long. Reiniger stepped over the body and handed Kristopher the knife. “You’ve killed the man you love,” he said. “Why save the rest of the world?”
“Kit? Kit!”
He heard his name yet couldn’t move. The man who called him was gone, his voice joining the choir of those who already haunted him.
“No!” Kristopher stared at the knife. Blood covered his hands, dripping onto the floor, coloring the gray world around him. He dropped the knife and ran to Michel. Kristopher turned him over, frantically looking for any sign of life. The ugly line that ran across Michel’s throat confirmed that the man Kristopher hadn’t loved enough had been ripped away from him. They’d wanted a future together. Was it really too much to hope for? “This isn’t real. It’s not too late. It’s not—”
“Kit! Wake up.”
Kristopher opened his eyes. Michel leaned over him. Kristopher backed away. “You’re….” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“Shh, mon cher,” Michel whispered. He pulled Kristopher close. “I’ve got you now, and I’m not leaving you. It was a nightmare. It’s not real. We’re both safe. We’re together.”
Kristopher saw the unspoken words reflected in Michel’s eyes. He nodded, acknowledging them, although he didn’t want to say them aloud.
For now.
LIANG PUSHED the chessboard to one side. “You’re distracted,” he told Kristopher. “Why don’t we continue the game later, hmm? It’s not much of a challenge when you keep making foolish mistakes.”
“It is that obvious?” Although Kristopher had figured a game of chess would help to shift his focus elsewhere, he had to admit it wasn’t working. Not only had he lost a knight, but he’d followed that not so brilliant move by placing his queen in peril.
“Just a little.” Liang took another sip of tea, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes for a moment. Frown lines creased his forehead, and when Kristopher’s chair scraped against the floor, he jumped.
If he’d heard Kristopher’s nightmare, he hadn’t said anything. No one but Michel had spoken of it. Yet Kristopher couldn’t rid himself of it or the words that still haunted him.
It’s too late. It’s too late.
“I’m not the only one who is distracted,” Kristopher pointed out, shoving the memory aside. He cou
ldn’t afford to dwell on it. “It took you two moves longer than it should have to take my knight,” he said calmly, “and I’m not entirely sure you’ve noticed my last move, or you would have made yours before pausing the game.”
“What?” Liang peered at the board. “Oh, of course.” He moved a pawn and knocked Kristopher’s queen over. “There, that’s better. Now we’re ready to pick up where we left off.”
Nicolas had found a chessboard tucked away at the back of a cupboard at his home. He and Cécile had played the game in the evenings before joining the Resistance. He’d passed it along to Kristopher with the comment it might make the waiting easier.
“You’re a good player and usually more of a challenge than this,” Kristopher said. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you?” Liang asked. “About what is troubling you, not what is troubling me, I mean.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “All right, that didn’t come out right. And before you say anything, yes, I know I just admitted there’s something.”
“It appears we are both avoiding conversations we need to have.” Kristopher didn’t waste time disagreeing with Liang’s earlier observation. Some of his distraction was because he knew he had to talk about what was on his mind but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.
“Why don’t you go first?” Liang said. “I’ll even make more tea before we start. I can only stomach this brew if it’s nice and… forget I said nice.” He got up and put the kettle on the stove to boil, then retrieved their cups and rinsed them. “It’s hot, and if we drink tea, we can pretend we’re being civilized. I’d prefer that than reality at the moment.”
“Given that we’re hiding in a safe house while our friends are out there risking their lives?” Kristopher didn’t like staying behind, but knew it would be foolish to take part in the mission and risk capture. While he had left the cottage for a few brief walks and traveled between there and the church, he’d taken care to ensure it was at a time when not many people were around and no soldiers were in sight. “I keep reminding myself that they’ve had several successful missions since we’ve started sending out two teams instead of one. But….”
“I know it’s not easy, and it must be worse for you with Michel out there.” Liang didn’t attempt false optimism. If he was unhappy about something, he didn’t keep it to himself, which was why it was strange he hadn’t already talked about what was bothering him now. “I’m clinging to the fact this will soon all be over. I don’t like staying here any more than you do, but I know my limitations. Besides, someone has to stay here and make sure you don’t wander off.”
“It’s a good thing I know your sense of humor can be sadly lacking at times, my friend.” Truth be told, Kristopher enjoyed Liang’s company, and it did make the waiting more bearable.
Liang chuckled. “I’m surprised you recognized the code phrase so quickly, given what it was.” He refilled the teapot and waited for the tea to brew.
“Verlaine’s ‘Chant d’automne’ is a favorite of one of Michel’s cousins. She plays the violin as I do, and given it speaks of the long laments of violins in autumn, Michel figured I might enjoy learning it and practice my French pronunciation at the same time.” Kristopher smiled, remembering Michel’s patience. “I’m afraid I mangled his language when he first started teaching me. Les sanglots long les violins de l’automne.”
“Blessent mon cœur d’une langueur montone.” Liang finished the stanza while he poured the tea. When those words were broadcast, it would signal that the Allied offensive would begin within forty-eight hours. “I think your French has improved a lot since we came to France.”
“I still have an accent that definitely isn’t French.” Kristopher was certain that as soon as he opened his mouth, any Frenchman would know he was German. Either that or English. “My English is much better as I learnt it as a child.”
“Your English is impeccable.” Liang handed Kristopher his tea, then sat opposite him. “I’d swear you were English when you speak it.” He started to pick up his cup, then placed it back on the table. “We are both procrastinating, aren’t we? How bad is this thing that you wish to talk to me about?”
“It’s… let’s say… hypothetical.”
“Right.” Liang nodded. “After all, if we don’t speak specifics, I won’t be lying if I say I know nothing when I’m questioned about it.”
“Exactly.” Kristopher knew he wouldn’t have to waste time explaining the reasons he’d chosen to discuss it in this way. During the months they’d known each other, they’d learned to respect each other’s ways of approaching a situation. Kristopher would miss Liang after this was all over. He was a good friend, as were Matt and Ken.
Kristopher took a sip of tea, using the motion to gather his thoughts and figure out how he was going to tell Liang what he needed to know. Michel had agreed with Kristopher’s decision to tell Liang of the code they’d decided to use, and it would be safer to send the message to him after the war. He wasn’t in the military like Matt and Ken and had said several times he planned to return to his quiet life at the university once this mission was over.
“I was thinking…,” Kristopher said slowly, “that not everyone is likely to survive this war. Sometimes someone is reported dead when they’re still alive. Hypothetically, if that were the case, it might be a good idea to work out a way to get a message to that person’s friends so they know he’s not dead.”
“Hypothetically,” Liang said slowly, “I think that’s a good idea. After all, those friends would like to know if he survived the war.”
Kristopher nodded. “It might not be wise for him to reveal he’s still alive.” He took a deep breath. “Perhaps he has information that could be used to do a lot of damage and shouldn’t be allowed to fall into the wrong hands, whether there’s a war on or not.”
“The last war was supposed to be the one to end all wars, and just over two decades later we’re fighting another one.” Liang grew quiet for a moment. “Are you certain this is the right thing to do?”
“I can’t see another way. I thought perhaps just until the end of the war, but Michel….” Kristopher shook his head and took a long sip of tea.
“Michel is right.” Liang reached over the table and squeezed Kristopher’s hand, a gesture that not only was unexpected but appreciated. “You shouldn’t trust anyone.” He hesitated. “Very few people are whom they seem to be.”
“I wish I could forget what I know, but I can’t.” Kristopher hated his eidetic memory and wished he could forget so much of what he’d seen. At least he was still alive to remember. So many weren’t, and he knew there would be more deaths before this was over. “I considered not faking my death, but I couldn’t do that to Michel.” The look of horror and pain on Michel’s face when he’d thought that was what Kristopher intended still haunted him. They’d found some privacy that night, their lovemaking desperate as they’d held on to each other as though they could be ripped apart at any time.
“He has lost enough.” Liang cleared his throat and let go of Kristopher’s hand. “This is all hypothetical of course, because if you were planning anything, I wouldn’t know about it. I couldn’t know about it.” He bit his lip and flinched. “We already know I’m not good at keeping secrets.”
“No one is good at keeping secrets under torture.” Kristopher kept his tone even. “Unfortunately, even when there are no secrets to tell, that doesn’t stop anyone asking about them.”
If his friends were captured, they’d be tortured for information about his whereabouts whether they knew the truth or not. Holm wouldn’t stop until he got the answers he wanted, so Kristopher wasn’t about to share his and Michel’s plans for their future. They’d all done enough things they’d never forgive themselves for without carrying guilt for something they didn’t need to.
“As much as I want to believe we will all have a good life after this, I don’t need to know the details. Just knowing you survive is enough.” Liang shrugged. “Although, of course,
we’re not talking about us, just some blokes we haven’t met and aren’t likely to.”
“Of course.” Kristopher could hear the shake in Liang’s voice. Despite his nonchalant tone, he obviously wouldn’t be happy about parting ways forever either. “Sometimes I wonder if the cost of all of this is too high already.”
“Yes,” Liang said, “it is, but we don’t have a choice. Tell me about this code of yours, and then we’ll change the subject. I don’t really want to think about all of this until I have to. It doesn’t sit well with what is already on my mind.”
“I’m nearly done,” Kristopher said. They should have talked about what was troubling Liang first. “I’m sorry, Liang. This isn’t easy.”
“Kristopher,” Liang started to say.
“Kit,” Kristopher said softly. “Call me Kit. You’re more than just a good friend, Liang. This team is the closest I have to family now.” Kristopher blinked rapidly to clear his eyes of the tears that threatened to form. Why did he feel as though he was saying good-bye already?
“The code… Kit.” Liang’s voice was hoarse. “Then we’ll take a walk, and I’ll tell you what you need to know. I’m hoping like hell you can help me come to terms with it, because I’m struggling.”
“We could—”
“No.” Liang spoke firmly. “Finish this, and then we move on and never speak of it again.”
“All right.” Kristopher drained his tea. After this he’d be happy to join Liang for some fresh air. His head was beginning to throb. He’d dreaded this conversation, and with good reason. “This person who can’t survive….” Oh to hell with this. They both knew who they were talking about, although Liang would deny it afterward. “If Michel and I survive this war, we’ll send a playing card to your office at the university. Four of hearts means we are both alive and well. You can find a way to let Matt and Ken know. I’m going to talk to Matt about meeting in Paris a year after the war ends. Michel has spoken of a café we could use, but if it no longer exists, we’ll find another. You should have somewhere to meet, even if we can’t join you. I… I’ll find a way so… I need to know what happened to my sister. If it’s possible….”
