by Anne Barwell
Kristopher realized Théo was expecting an answer. “Oui, although the broadcast only means the invasion is imminent. It doesn’t mean it will happen tonight. This could be all over before any Allied troops set foot on French soil. I don’t like waiting. I’d feel better if I was doing something.”
If the Allies were arriving soon, he was running out of time to disappear. Although Michel had told Kristopher how to contact people who could help, he wasn’t sure how they’d react to the news that Michel was in custody.
“Apart from pacing?” Théo asked. “There is nothing we can do but wait. Nicolas is keeping watch upstairs. We should be safe here until it is all over.”
Since everyone else had left, Théo had suddenly found his voice. Perhaps it was because he hated waiting as much as Kristopher did?
“I hope Sébastien was right about the church still being safe.” Unfortunately Arlette knew about all their safe houses, so if Holm and his men had been told about the church, they probably had been given information about anywhere else they could hide too. “I’ll be relieved when this is all over.”
“Hopefully your Allied friends will evict all the German scum from France and we won’t have to worry about it. Vive la France!” Théo raised his hand in a victory signal. “We’ve waited a long time for this.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it will be as simple as that. Even if the invasion is successful, a lot can happen in a few hours.”
Kristopher couldn’t shake his growing feeling of dread. Although he’d reasoned that Holm didn’t know about the church, he’d been wrong before. He sat for a few moments and then started to pace again. At least there was the trapdoor if they needed to leave, although he had no idea where they’d go.
If Matt and the others had already been caught, Holm’s men could be on their way now.
What if Michel was already dead, or worse? Kristopher swallowed a lump in his throat, and he closed his hand around the gun in his coat pocket. He knew what he needed to do if it looked as though he would be caught. Holm could not get his hands on the information Kristopher carried. He hoped he’d find the courage to do what he had to.
At least if he were dead, there would be no reason for Holm to keep Michel alive. Better a quick death than long, lingering torture.
Kristopher stifled a sob. He’d been so naive when he’d first fled the institute. He’d only thought of the risk to himself, and already so many good people had lost their lives. How much longer could he go on like this?
Théo tilted his head to one side. “I thought I heard something,” he whispered.
A loud crash sounded above them.
Both men froze.
“You cannot commit this sacrilege,” Nicolas yelled. “This is a church!”
Something shattered on the floor directly above Kristopher’s head. It was quickly followed by a gunshot.
Théo began shoving his radio equipment into a small suitcase. “Get the trapdoor open,” he hissed. “I’m not leaving this here for them to find.”
Once he had the trapdoor open, Kristopher grabbed a chair and headed for the stairs. If he could shove something under the door handle it would give Théo more time.
“Open this door!” Someone yelled in German, then kicked at the door. When it didn’t open, he put more force behind it. The wood began to splinter.
Kristopher dropped the chair, sprinted across the room, grabbed Théo’s sleeve, and yanked him toward the trapdoor. Once they were both through, he reached up and closed it, slamming the bolt shut. Locking it might slow their pursuers, but it wouldn’t stop them.
He turned on his flashlight and shone the light around. The tunnel was narrow, but although Kristopher was able to stand upright, he didn’t dare run. A few minutes later, it split into two.
“Take the left,” Théo said, breathing heavily. “It comes out in a hall at the end of the street. Climb the stairs and you should find the back door open. I’ll be right behind you.”
Wood cracked behind them. Their pursuers had found the trapdoor. It wouldn’t be long before they were in the tunnel.
The left tunnel led to a dead end. A wooden ladder stood propped against the wall, a trapdoor above it. Kristopher climbed quickly and pushed it open. With men in the tunnel behind them there was nowhere else to go. Once out of the tunnel, he crouched down to help Théo haul the radio out. He slammed the door shut, and Théo helped him to drag a heavy box over the top of it.
“I need to find Cécile and warn her. There are others working with us too. We’re all in danger.” Théo picked up the suitcase holding the radio. “It’s almost curfew. We need to find shelter quickly.”
Kristopher nodded. He followed Théo onto the street, forcing himself to slow down to a walk. They needed to look as though they were ordinary citizens going about their normal business. Where could they go? Anyone who gave them refuge would put themselves at risk. Not just that, but Kristopher had no idea whom he could trust.
They’d barely crossed the road when Kristopher noticed two soldiers approaching. He fought to hide his panic.
“In here.” Théo ushered Kristopher into a doorway and handed him the suitcase. “I’m going to lead them in the opposite direction. Bérénice who owns the bakery on the other side of the square works with us. You can trust her, but make sure she hasn’t been compromised. Tell her you need to purchase two bagels for your wife’s anniversary and give her the radio. She has a good hiding place for it, and she will also be able to help you get out of Cyrville-sur-Mer.”
Kristopher nodded. “Be careful.”
Théo gave him a curt nod. “And you.” He yelled at the soldiers in French, waited until they’d all turned in his direction and then started running. They quickly gave chase.
Kristopher waited until they were out of sight, and keeping his head down, began to walk toward the square.
Chapter Seventeen
THE GEFREITER glanced at Matt’s identity papers, then scanned a document on his desk. “I have no record that you are expected,” he said.
Getting past the guard outside had seemed a little too easy. He’d studied Matt’s and Sébastien’s identity papers, saluted, and let them through to the narrow flight of concrete steps that led down to the command bunker.
Liang tried not to shiver. This place with its narrow tunnels reminded him too much of a rat trying to find its way out of a maze. According to the map Sébastien had managed to secure, there were another two exits off the personnel shelter. That bloody map had better be right.
While Matt talked to the guard outside, Liang had distracted himself by listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore below. It did nothing to quell his anxiety, despite telling himself it was better to be heading into the bowels of the earth than standing close to the edge of a cliff.
On reaching the bottom of the staircase, they’d found themselves in a decent-size room. A series of tunnels connected each room with a long corridor leading to the command building. According to Sébastien’s contact, that was where Michel and Ken were being held. All they needed to do was get past the armed guards. Good thing they weren’t here to destroy the artillery battery itself, as that was surrounded by barbed wire, soldiers, and land mines.
“There is definitely nothing here,” the Gefreiter repeated. He moved one hand to his holster, ready to draw his weapon.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Liang said. “I seem to have forgotten to make an appointment. That’s the thing with betrayal. Often it is spur of the moment rather than planned.”
The Gefreiter blinked a couple of times and relaxed his stance, replacing his look of suspicion with one of confusion. Often all it took was a flippant remark to throw a man off guard.
“I am under orders from Standartenführer Holm to deliver Herr Doktor Zhou to him personally, as he has information regarding Herr Doktor Lehrer,” Matt said. “I hope I misheard you. I wouldn’t want to have to tell him you questioned his orders.”
“No, Herr Hauptmann. Of course not
, sir.” The Gefreiter checked the document again, frowning. “There is a note that he is expecting a Herr Doktor Lehrer, sir.”
Liang smiled. “There you go, then,” he said. “Unfortunately Herr Doktor Lehrer was unable to keep the appointment, so I’m here instead. It looks as though whoever was on duty before you forgot to pass along that information to you.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You must excuse my earlier comment. I’m nervous about meeting Herr Holm. I do hope we can keep this between ourselves.”
“Of course, Herr Doktor Zhou.” The Gefreiter gestured to the man standing guard nearby. “Keep watch while I—”
Sébastien drew his gun and shot him, the silencer masking the noise of the bullet. The Gefreiter fell forward, blood smearing the papers on the desk from the bullet wound in his head. The guard leveled his weapon at them.
“Drop your weapons, or I’ll—” He cried out and dropped to the ground, clutching his leg.
“Quiet!” Matt ordered, “or I’ll aim for somewhere that will hurt a lot more.” He turned to Sébastien. “There was no need for that. You’d better find somewhere to hide the body.” He threw Liang a pair of handcuffs. “Take his weapon, restrain him, and find something to gag him with.”
“He was reaching for the telephone.” Sébastien shrugged. “If he’d told Holm we’re here, we’d be finished.” He began to move the body, stopped, and rearranged some of the papers on the desk so they covered the bloodstain. “There. Now he looks as though he’s sleeping.”
Liang closed the handcuffs around the guard’s wrists, used the man’s handkerchief to gag him, and then forced him to his feet. The man stumbled and gasped in pain through his gag. “Why don’t we leave him here?” Liang said. “We’re wasting time, and he can’t walk far. Trying to find somewhere to hide him will only draw attention to ourselves.”
Where the hell was the Resistance contact? Liang wasn’t happy about pretending to betray his friends although it gave him a better chance of making it out alive if the plan went to pot than playing prisoner and having to wear handcuffs.
“If you’ve changed your mind, this is your last chance to leave.” Matt spoke to Sébastien, but he looked at Liang as he said the words.
And be the one to tell Kristopher they’d decided to leave Michel in custody? “We’d better split up before someone finds these two,” Liang said. “Sébastien?”
“Good hunting, mon ami.” Sébastien nodded to Matt, waiting until he’d headed into the tunnel ahead of them before speaking again. “Remember your role in this,” he told Liang. “Do not let anyone know you are armed. It is better for them to see you as a civilian and therefore less of a threat.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Liang muttered. He’d refused to walk into the lion’s den without a weapon.
“I never said you were,” Sébastien said. “If anything, I think you are very brave, especially as it is very obvious that you have not had much in the way of training.”
“Thank you,” Liang said. “I think.” He followed Sébastien down the tunnel toward the radio bunker. Thankfully the tunnels widened out substantially almost immediately, so it was easier to pretend he was in a corridor in a building above ground.
A couple of minutes later, he heard voices.
“In here.” Sébastien shoved Liang into a small darkened office and followed him inside. Liang pressed himself against the wall while Sébastien quietly pulled the door toward him until it was only slightly ajar.
“I am very impressed with your technique, Beutel, but there is still much you could learn,” Reiniger said. He sounded very pleased with himself.
“Thank you, sir.” Beutel’s tone was a mix of respect and pride. “I appreciate this opportunity. It has been most satisfying, although I must admit the prisoner is very stubborn.”
Reiniger laughed. “They always think they are, Leutnant, but everyone breaks eventually. It’s important to remember that and to exploit any weakness.” He paused. “Meet me outside the traitor’s cell after you’ve had your meal break. Fräulein Huber should be finished with him by then, and I would be happy to teach you some of what I’ve learnt from watching the Standartenführer. He is an excellent interrogator, and I’d be happy to demonstrate some of his methods for you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Liang grimaced. Those bastards needed to pay for what they’d done. “He can lead me to Michel,” he hissed at Sébastien. If they’d miscalculated where Michel was being held, at least this way one of them would find him. “You stick to our original plan. I’m going after Reiniger.”
IT TOOK Kristopher longer than he anticipated to reach the square. He didn’t dare run and draw attention to himself, although he was very aware it would be curfew soon. If he were caught out on the streets after that, the Gendarmerie wouldn’t need an excuse to arrest him. Already there were very few people around. An older couple nodded to him as they passed, and he returned the gesture, as it would have been rude not to.
The bakery was where he remembered it. He picked up his pace, relieved that he’d soon be somewhere safe. Hopefully Bérénice would have news about Cécile as she would have been on her way back to the church when the soldiers had arrived. Kristopher had already decided he wouldn’t impose on Bérénice any longer than he had to. Once he knew Michel’s fate, he’d either wait for him or ask Bérénice to help him organize safe passage to Bernay to meet with their contacts there.
A truck rumbled past him, and he ducked out of sight into a nearby alcove. The truck stopped outside the bakery and soldiers climbed out. One of them strode up to the front door and banged on it.
“Open in the name of the Führer!” The soldier—an SS Unterscharführer—gestured to two of his men, who headed around the back of the shop.
A few minutes later, a woman answered the front door. Kristopher strained to hear and edged as close as he dared without risking being seen.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” she exclaimed. “There is no one else here. I live alone and have done so since my husband and son presented themselves for national service.”
Men pushed past her. Kristopher heard glass smashing and the thud of heavy objects hitting the floor. Bérénice—Kristopher guessed it must be her—protested, and the Unterscharführer slapped her across the face.
“You work with the Resistance,” he said. “You know the penalty. However, if you can tell me the whereabouts of Herr Lehrer, I might be persuaded to show some mercy.”
“Herr Lehrer? I don’t know anyone by that name. Nor am I involved with the Resistance. How dare you suggest such a thing!” Bérénice held her head up high.
“We’ll see.” The Unterscharführer nodded toward one of his men. The soldier entered the truck and a few moments later dragged another man from it.
It was Théo. His mouth was bleeding, and his hands were handcuffed behind him. The soldier forced Théo to his knees.
“Now, Fräulein,” the Unterscharführer said, “I will ask you again. Do you work for the Resistance?”
Bérénice shook her head.
“In that case, this man is of no further use to me. I had thought he might persuade you to cooperate, but I see he will better serve as an example.” The Unterscharführer shrugged, then drew his gun and shot Théo. He fell forward, twitched, and then stilled.
Bérénice put her hand to her mouth. “Meurtrier! I will not help you.” She spat at the Unterscharführer.
Scheisse.
Kristopher’s stomach churned. The Unterscharführer had asked for him by name before killing Théo without a second thought.
“We’ll see.” The Unterscharführer shrugged, took Bérénice by the arm, and ushered her back inside the bakery.
How long would it be before they found others who knew of the Resistance? How much did the SS already know? Kristopher didn’t know whom he could trust, and if he approached anyone, he’d only be signing their death warrant.
His heart sped up, and he forced himself to think. Pan
icking wouldn’t solve anything. He shoved his hand into his pocket. He still had his gun. His fingers closed over the small cyanide capsule he’d wrapped in his handkerchief.
He couldn’t see a way out. If he were Holm, he’d have roadblocks on all the roads out of the area. Reaching the bunker by Holm’s deadline now wasn’t an option. Holm would have realized Kristopher wasn’t coming and would be setting up his next move. With Holm there was always a next move—he’d never given up and wouldn’t do so now. The only chance Kristopher had to win this game would be to do something Holm wouldn’t expect. He’d go to the one place he should be staying the farthest away from.
Matt and the others could already be in custody or dead. Kristopher couldn’t rely on help from them.
He took a deep breath. To hell with waiting to be caught. At least if he took action, he’d die knowing for sure that he’d done what he could. If his attempt to rescue Michel failed, he’d use either his gun or the capsule to ensure he wouldn’t be persuaded to reveal the formulae to Holm—or anyone else.
Either way he’d be killing Michel—if he wasn’t already dead—but at least this way, Holm would have no reason to torture him. Better a quick death than a long, horrible, lingering one.
“I’m coming, Michel,” he whispered. “Whatever happens we’ll be together soon. I promise.”
MATT SALUTED the two soldiers when they passed him and kept walking as though he was meant to be there. Unsurprisingly the soldiers returned his salute and did not stop to question a superior officer.
The closer he got to the hospital bunker, the colder he felt inside. What if he was already too late and Ken was dead? He’d worked through several scenarios in his mind, yet as soon as he reached the part where Ken was—Matt couldn’t get his mind to go any further.
