Minds of Men (The Psyche of War Book 1)

by Kacey Ezell

  That’s a good idea, Carl said. The effort that he and Bob were having to expend in order to get the aircraft over the uninhabited forest was showing in his mind. You guys stay linked with Evie. Then you can rally up on the ground and work to get safe. Go north from here. It’s your best bet.

  No psychic has ever survived a bailout, Evelyn thought, her mind voice small and shaking at least as badly as her hands had done.

  No psychic has ever had us, Evie, Les said with his trademark cocky grin. His eyes, though, were troubled, and she could feel his share of the fear they all felt.

  Enough chatter, Carl said, as if they’d been talking on the aircraft’s intercom system instead of through the psychic net. We’re losing altitude too fast. We’re below ten thousand and just over the edge of the forest. Still closer to the target than I’d like, but those fighters aren’t going to give us any quarter. You’d better bailout now.

  “You?” Evelyn questioned, suddenly realizing that Carl hadn’t been including himself in the bailout plans.

  Carl and I will stay to keep the bird stable and give you guys time, Bob thought. We’ll ride it in to the trees and hope for the best. The young copilot’s mind was calm and resolute as he pronounced his own probable death sentence. Good luck to you all. It was a pleasure flying with you.

  You too, sir, Sean said as he grabbed Evelyn’s arm and began taking her along the walkway to the open bomb bay. Both of you.

  Wait...! Evelyn cried. But it was no use. Sean was too strong for her to get loose, and it wasn’t as if she could do anything anyway. They entered the bomb bay, accompanied by Les and Logan. Abram and Paul weren’t far behind, with John bringing up the rear. He’d stayed to make a mayday call. Rico was already there, waiting for them. Tears filled Evelyn’s eyes and froze to her cheeks.

  It’s good, Evelyn. This is what we do, Carl thought. Stay alive and keep my men safe.

  I— she thought. And then Sean lifted her off her feet and heaved her out through the bomb bay doors, and she fell.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Lina waited patiently in the outer office. She had been on the train bound for Paris when the conductor had informed her that she had an appointment here in Aachen, with the commander of the local Luftwaffe Gruppe.

  “You can go in now.”

  The commander’s secretary smiled at her from behind her desk. Lina gave her a tiny nod in return. Smiling made her look young, and Lina didn’t want this woman thinking of her in a motherly fashion or any such nonsense. Civility was one thing, familiarity another, and when in doubt, Lina had always found it best to err to the formal side of things. Especially in such an irregular situation as this.

  She entered the commander’s office and stood tightly at the position of attention. The commander (whose name was Hauptmann Krieger, if his desk plaque was to be believed) greeted her rather absently.

  “Please, Fraulein, be seated,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs that faced his desk.

  “If you please, Herr Hauptmann, I prefer to be addressed by my rank,” Lina said, remaining on her feet.

  The Hauptmann’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, and he looked directly at her for the first time. Lina stood unflinching under his sharp gaze. She knew what he’d see: a slender woman, tall, but sleekly muscular in her immaculate uniform. Her strawberry-blonde hair cut short and curled sensibly away from her face, her green eyes clear and steady. She had earned her rank, and she wasn’t wrong to insist upon it.

  “Of course, SS-Oberhelfer, forgive me,” he said, his tone stiff and offended. Lina felt a brief stab of regret at that. Perhaps she should have phrased her request a bit more diplomatically. However, to apologize would be to undermine her standing at this point, and so she simply gave him another of her small, formal nods and waited for him to tell her why she was there.

  Hauptmann Krieger settled back in his seat and pressed his lips together. Then he drew in a deep breath and looked down at an open file on his desk.

  “I see here that you’ve distinguished yourself in finding enemies of the Reich. Is that true?”

  His tone was aggressive and slightly insulting. Lina decided that she didn’t like this man. He seemed to be the kind who was overly impressed with his own importance, the type whose devotion to the Reich went only so far as his rhetoric. Lina was horribly tempted to sneak into his mind to see if she was correct, but she resisted. For one, it was wrong. For another, she really didn’t need her talents. All show and no dedication, this one.

  “Yes, Herr Hauptmann,” she said calmly.

  “Excellent. The Reich has need of your talents. During the bombing raid this morning, one of the enemy bombers made a forced landing nearby. At least four parachutes were spotted. You will retrieve the survivors and bring them to me.”

  “Herr Hauptmann...” Lina drew in a deep breath, preparing to explain that her abilities didn’t work quite that way.

  “What? Were my orders unclear? Or perhaps you feel that your vaunted talents are...inadequate to the task?”

  Lina felt anger ignite under her skin.

  “No, Herr Hauptman,” she said, her voice cold. “My talents are more than adequate to any task.”

  “Good,” Hauptmann Krieger said with a thin smile. “Now, I would certainly not send such a valuable asset as one of our precious SS-Helferinnen out to look for enemy combatants alone. You shall have an escort of six men: a group of Fallschirmjager detailed to me for light duty during convalescence. They should prove ample protection for you during your little adventures. I believe they await you outside my office. Good hunting, SS-Oberhelfer. Unless you have other questions?”

  Lina kept her hands closed so that they didn’t betray her anger by trembling.

  “No, Herr Hauptmann,” she said, somehow keeping her voice level. And then, very correctly, she raised her arm and rendered the appropriate salute. The Hauptmann returned it in a somewhat lackadaisical fashion, which only further cemented Lina’s low opinion of the man. Lina then turned on her heel and walked out of the room with her head held high.

  Sure enough, a young man in the uniform of a Luftwaffe Stabsfeldwebel stood outside. A diving eagle clutching a swastika glinted on his left breast pocket as he turned to face Lina.

  “Guten Tag, Fraulein,” he said. “I am Stabsfeldwebel Josef Wolffs. My men and I shall escort you on this mission,” he said, his expression formal and correct. He was tall, of course, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes that assessed her even as she assessed him. Mindful of her misstep with the Hauptmann, she allowed her lips to curve in a small, not-quite-warm smile.

  “Hello, Stabsfeldwebel Wolffs,” she said. She tried to make her voice sound light and pleasant, but she feared she just sounded young and possibly flirty. That was not the impression she wanted to give. “My name is Adalina Sucherin. I am a graduate of the SS-Reichsschule at Oberenheim. I’ve earned the rank of SS-Oberhelfer.”

  Wolffs gave her a small nod and turned to gesture toward the doorway. His expression gave nothing away, so Lina was left wondering if she’d once again offended.

  Such a stupid thing! she groused internally as she preceded him out of the office. Trust a man to be angered by a woman who insists on being called by a title she earned! I don’t imagine he’d have liked it if I refused to address him as “Herr Hauptman!” I just hope that the rest of these Fallschirmjager aren’t so egotistical. This shall be quite the “little adventure” otherwise!

  “Where are we going, Stabsfeldwebel?” Lina asked. She’d exited the Hauptman’s office into the hallway outside, but from there, she didn’t know where to go.

  “To meet the rest of my unit, Oberhelfer,” Wolffs replied in that same formal tone. “They await us in a conference room down this hallway and to the left. I was told you would likely want to meet us all, and then I will brief you on the details of the mission so far. Does that suit?”

  “Admirably, Stabsfeldwebel,” she said, again trying to sound pleasant and competent. Aga
in, she was afraid she’d failed. She stifled a sigh and opened the door to the conference room he’d indicated.

  Five men in Luftwaffe uniforms with the Fallschirmjager Eagle on their breast pockets stood as she entered the room. They were, to a man, tall and athletic, with the upright carriage and broad shoulders touted as the German ideal. Stabsfeldwebel Wolffs followed her in and closed the door behind them.

  “Men, this is SS-Oberhelfer Adalina Sucherin. She is detailed to us for this mission. Oberhelfer, would you like to be seated?” Wolffs asked as he walked around her to the front of the table. He spoke with clear confidence, and Lina swallowed hard against her sudden nerves. She nodded and reached for the nearest chair.

  One of the Fallschirmjager beat her to it and pulled the chair out from under the table. She glanced up at him, startled by the sudden, silent courtesy, then nodded again and sat down. He gently helped push her chair in so that she could see the maps and documents spread over the table and then stepped away. All without a single word.

  Once she was seated, Wolffs made a gesture, and the other Fallschirmjager seated themselves at the table. Lina glanced around, impressed at their cohesion and apparent discipline.

  “Oberhelfer Sucherin, we’ve been ordered to find the crew of an American bomber that crashed in the forest to the northwest of here. Luftwaffe spotters counted between four and six parachutes, depending on whom you ask. We’ve narrowed down their probable landing areas to this section of the forest, here.”

  He slid a terrain map across the surface of the table. Lina leaned forward to see the section that had been outlined in red pencil. It was large, several kilometers across, and roughly wedge shaped. It was also, according to the map, heavily forested with several creeks twisting through the terrain. Anxiety began to skitter along Lina’s nerves. The search area was huge. In her mind, she could imagine the Hauptman laughing at her.

  “Where—” She stopped, cleared her throat, started again. “Where were the parachutes spotted?” she asked.

  Wolffs stared at her for a moment, then a tiny smile curved his lips. Something that might have been approval flashed in his eyes.

  “Here,” he motioned. “And here, here...” Then he looked up at her. “And a fireball was spotted here that very well may have been the aircraft crashing.”

  Lina nodded, then waited. Though she held a rank and a title that she’d earned, SS-Helferinnen did not give orders to men. She would do as her title suggested and help when called upon to do so. Wolffs met her eyes again and then nodded slightly.

  “So, we will begin our search here,” he said, pointing to the spot where he’d indicated the fireball. “Now, what are your capabilities? Why are you assigned to assist us in this?”

  Lina drew in a deep breath. Time to come clean.

  “In truth, Stabsfeldwebel Wolffs, I am not certain. I have had some success in interrogating criminals, but in this situation...I am not sure what assistance I can provide.”

  Wolffs nodded, and to Lina’s relief, his expression did not change appreciably.

  “But, you are psychic, yes?”

  “I am.”

  “Very well. Perhaps you cannot act as an instant locator for our downed enemies, but I think, perhaps, you may be able to help us in another way. Can you make it possible for my men and I to communicate over distance with one another?”

  Lina blinked, startled, then straightened slightly in her chair.

  “I can,” she said, her voice stronger. “Yes, of course I can.”

  “That will allow us to spread out and cover more ground,” Wolffs said. “I had hoped that this would be the case. Excellent. Have you arrangements to make, then?”

  Excitement replaced the anxiety that skittered along Lina’s nerves.

  “No, Stabsfeldwebel,” she said. “I was leaving for Paris when I was ordered here. I am all ready to go.”

  “Then we shall leave immediately.”

  * * *

  They made the first part of the journey via motorcar. Lina sat with Wolffs and one of the other Fallschirmjager, a young Unterfeldwebel by the name of Kristof Schmied. During the journey, Kristof had relaxed from the uniform formality of the conference room and had begun to try and draw Lina out. He did this by smiling at her, then asking her about herself. When her short answers proved uncommunicative, he bravely soldiered on, cheerfully telling her about himself and his family.

  It seemed that his father, Herr Schmied, had been a pilot in the Luftstreitkrafte during the Great War and had been wounded when his Fokker E. I. was shot down by British fighters. Herr Schmied had managed to dead stick his bird to a crash landing near the German lines and had been given a hero’s welcome and prompt medical attention. His injuries were bad enough that he’d missed the end of the war, but he’d raised his son on stories of Max Immelmann and Oswald Boelcke, and the legendary Manfred von Richthofen.

  Post-war Germany was, however, a bleak place. With the military destroyed by the humiliating War Guilt clause of the Treaty of Versailles, young Kristof’s dreams of following in his father’s footsteps seemed out of reach. He apprenticed to a local brewer and had made something of a name for himself in adapting newly emerging technology for the preservation and serving of beer. Kristof never lost his deep patriotism, though, and when the opportunity arose to volunteer for the elite Fallschirmjager unit, he jumped on it.

  “And so now you know everything about me,” Unterfeldwebel Schmied said with a smile, as the motorcar bounced into the forest. Their well-maintained road had disappeared a half a kilometer ago, and Lina was afraid that she might bounce the fillings right out of her teeth. “So, since we are to be comrades in arms, will you not tell me something about yourself, Fraulein Oberhelfer?”

  Lina shook her head with a small smile. Some men would never give up. This she’d learned early in her nineteen years.

  “What would you know, Herr Unterfeldwebel?” she asked. She intended to sound tart, but she wasn’t sure it came across.

  “Where is your home, to start? Have you any family?”

  Lina drew in a deep breath.

  “I was born in Hamburg,” she said. “And I have no family any longer. They died while I was at school.”

  “Ah, I am sorry,” Schmied said. “How did they die?”

  A spike of anger flashed through her. How dare he ask something so personal? She lifted her eyes to his and let him see the seething rage therein.

  “Their house was bombed while they slept,” she said, her voice icy. “My father and mother and my little sisters were sleeping. They never had a chance to get out.”

  Schmied sat back in his seat, his pleasant expression draining away.

  “I see,” he said. Then his lips stretched in a different smile. This one was less pleasant and more...feral. It also seemed more real.

  “So you are one of us,” he said softly.

  Lina’s eyebrows went up, and the ice in her expression remained.

  “I told you,” Wolffs put in. He’d been so silent up until then that Lina had almost forgotten his existence. She turned sharply to the Stabsfeldwebel.

  “Told him what?” she asked, anger threading through her tone.

  “That you were more than a pretty face in a uniform,” Wolffs said, apparently unperturbed. “I read your file from the Reichsschule. Your instructors praised your dedication and drive.”

  “How did you...?”

  Wolffs waved a hand as if to say that the “how” was immaterial, and that he wasn’t going to tell her anyway.

  “The important thing is that you are here with us, on this mission. As I requested.”

  “As you requested?” Lina asked, startled. Wolffs nodded.

  “Again, how I know this is not important. But we’ve intelligence that the Americans are putting psychics on board their bomber crews. Why they would risk such a precious resource is beyond me, but Americans are crazy. So far, we’ve never found one of their psychics alive. However, due to the precision of the attack yesterday
, I believe there were psychics on board those aircraft. This might be our best chance to find one. That is why we’ve requested your presence on this mission, Oberhelfer. And why it was granted. My superiors trust me. We’re the best in the world at what we do, and what we do is find those who’ve bombed our families, and we bring them to justice.”

  A shiver that had nothing to do with cold ran through Lina’s body. Her throat felt tight with pride and deep, angry longing. She cut her eyes from Wolffs to Schmied, who smiled that feral smile and nodded slowly.

  “Yes,” Lina said, and to her surprise, the word came out in a defiant hiss. She squared her shoulders and nodded. “Yes,” she said again, letting the ferocity of her need for vengeance fill her up and bleed out of her pores. She clenched her fists together, and in the ancient way, gave her assent a third time to seal the pact. “Yes!”

  Wolffs smiled, then tapped on the driver’s shoulder. The man, another of the Fallschirmjager, braked as gently as possible on the rutted forest track, and the motorcar came to a stop.

  Schmied opened the door, exited, and then extended a hand to help Lina out of the motorcar as well. Lina was grateful she’d worn sensible shoes, as the ground was rough and uneven. The other Fallschirmjager were also extricating themselves from the vehicles and coming to stand near her. The young man who’d been driving went around to the trunk of the motorcar and pulled a valise out of it. At Wolffs’ gesture, he brought the valise over to Lina and handed it to her.

  “I have some things for you,” Wolffs said. He took the valise and opened it, then pulled out a sturdy-looking pair of ladies’ ankle boots, a wool coat with a hood, and a strange-looking object that Lina didn’t see clearly before he palmed it.

  “Thank you,” she said, feelingly, and immediately reached for the boots. Wolffs chuckled and pointed to the open car door. Lina seated herself sideways in the passenger seat so that she could still listen to him as she put on her new boots. They were slightly large, but they had warm, thick wool socks stuffed inside, and she was grateful to have them.