Minds of Men (The Psyche of War Book 1)

by Kacey Ezell

  A soft cough sounded from behind the doctor, and he turned with a smile to let the newcomer step past him into their storage closet.

  “Deedee shall accompany you for the first part of your journey,” the doctor said, holding out his hand to Paul first, and then Abram and Sean. When Evelyn’s turn came, Doctor van Duren helped her to her feet, then embraced her and kissed both of her cheeks.

  “I cannot thank you enough,” Evelyn said, feeling her voice suddenly thick with tears. After so much inactivity, everything seemed to suddenly be hurtling forward. Twin threads of excitement and fear tangled inside her mind, ricocheting back and reflecting the similar emotions of the men.

  “Survive and thrive,” the doctor said with a smile. “Get home to safety. That will be thanks enough. Now go! There isn’t much time. Listen to Deedee and follow her instructions exactly. There is no one better suited to guide you.”

  Evelyn blinked back sudden tears and gave the doctor a nod, then stepped away and turned to face the solemn-faced nurse they’d met in the ruined farmhouse so many days ago.

  “None of you speak French, yes?” Deedee asked. Her English was passable, if accented.

  “Yes,” Paul said. “I speak a little Italian, that is all.”

  “I have some French,” Evelyn said. “Enough to teach it to schoolchildren back at home.”

  “That may be helpful, a little,” Deedee said, frowning. She turned to walk out into the basement hallway of the seminary, gesturing for them to follow her.

  Though her ankle twinged as expected, Evelyn was pleased with how she moved. Apparently all those hours of alternate rest and exercise had done some good. She stepped past Deedee, who watched her closely and nodded.

  “Good enough,” the Belgian girl said. “If the doctor says you are fit, you are fit. I wouldn’t want to take you over the Pyrenees for another few weeks, but if the sea rescue is working well, that is not an issue.”

  If? Evelyn heard Abram ask down the lines of the net. But he didn’t say anything. They all knew that nothing was certain, least of all a rescue or escape.

  “So, we shall travel together, the five of us. Evelyn, which of these men is your lover?” Deedee asked briskly.

  Evelyn first paled, then flushed red. It was too dark in the dim hallway to see, but she felt certain that her face glowed hot with embarrassment. It certainly felt warm enough.

  “Listen,” Sean said rapidly, as Paul and Abram both growled in angry protest. “Evie’s a good girl! Don’t you dare...”

  “Stupid man,” Deedee said, impatience coloring her tone. “I’m not trying to stain her honor! I’m trying to save her life. We will be much less noticeable if we appear to be two married couples traveling with an extra man, rather than three suspiciously silent men and two women. She will be more natural if she is paired with the one she likes best anyway. So which...”

  “I am equally close with all of them,” Evelyn said quickly. “I will be fine pretending to be married to any of them.”

  “Fine,” Deedee said. She flicked an impatient gesture toward Sean. “Take this one, then. And I shall be married to Paul. Abram can be your brother or cousin. The two of you look enough alike to pull that off. Our papers are being produced as we speak. We will collect them on our way to the train station. But for now, follow me. We must get you some other clothing.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, Evelyn leaned back into the hard wooden seat as the train lurched forward and began to move. Her hands, palms damp with sweat, lay curled in her lap, and she held herself very still, careful to keep her eyes on the toes of the shiny brown boots Deedee had given her.

  Sean reached over and pulled one of her hands into his own. She turned to give him a wan smile.

  Are you all right? he asked her, his concern flowing down the lines of the net.

  I’m fine, she replied. Just nervous. I’m supposed to be looking ill, right?

  Deedee had decided that the easiest way to avoid being questioned was for Evelyn to pretend to be ill and sleep most of the time. The train was to take them all the way into Paris, with a stop at the French border. In a small valise at her feet, Evelyn had the precious forged papers that Deedee had handed her an hour ago. From what Evelyn could tell, they seemed to be very good forgeries. They didn’t look new at all.

  Across the aisle, Deedee herself sat with Paul, her head leaning on his shoulder as she, too, pretended to sleep. Or perhaps she really slept. Who knew? Her unrelenting calm collectedness made Evelyn feel even more like a ball of nerves. How many times had the Belgian nurse carried out this particular ruse? Was it possible she’d gotten used to the risks?

  She’s not as calm as she looks, Paul said with a trace of humor. I can feel her pulse thudding in her wrist. I don’t think she’s asleep, either.

  I should have linked with her, Evelyn said, feeling a stab of regret. She also felt a surge of trepidation at the thought of allowing another woman, psychic or not, into her mind. She shoved that away, though, and refused to acknowledge it. I suppose it might be useful to be able to communicate.

  We can do that later, if need be, Paul said. I don’t think you need to worry about it right now.

  The train accelerated steadily ahead, sending a rhythmic, rocking motion through the train car. Evelyn closed her eyes and followed Deedee’s example by resting her head on her “husband’s” shoulder. After a moment, she felt Sean’s hand stroking her hair.

  She didn’t really sleep, but the motion of the train lulled Evelyn into a kind of semi-consciousness. She remained peripherally aware of her surroundings through the senses of her three companions and let her own mind drift. It wasn’t sleep per se, but it was better than nothing.

  Some time later, she felt Abram’s attention sharpen.

  We’re slowing, he said. We must be approaching the border.

  Sure enough, Evelyn felt it too: a building force that dragged at the train around them, forcing her weight gradually forward in her seat as they slowed. She blinked and lifted her head to find Sean looking down at her.

  I’m all right, she said with a smile, and reached down for her bag. Just as she pulled out her traveling papers, the door at the far end of the railroad car opened up, and a man wearing the uniform of a customs inspector stepped inside.

  Be calm, Paul advised them as he, too, sat up straighter in his seat. Remember, we want to blend in.

  Doing my best, but I don’t have a pretty Belgian to cuddle with, Abram shot back with a bit of humor. Evelyn fought the urge to smile and looked down at her papers.

  The inspector was quick, but thorough. Before long, he stepped up to stand beside Evelyn’s seat and reached out a hand.

  “Bonjour. Your papers, please?” he said in French.

  “Bonjour,” Evelyn whispered, and handed her papers over. Sean did the same.

  “You are bound for Paris?” the man asked. Evelyn transmitted his question over the net, and Sean nodded.

  “What is your reason for traveling?”

  “My sister is ill,” Deedee supplied from her seat across the aisle. “We are taking her to see a Parisian doctor. Please forgive my brother-in-law, monsieur, he does not hear so well.”

  “Ill, on a train? There is no risk of contagion, then?” the inspector asked sternly.

  “Oh, no, monsieur,” Deedee said. “It is a female complaint.”

  “Ah,” the inspector said, nodding. He handed the papers back to Sean and gave them all a nod. “Best of luck with the doctor then, madame.”

  “Merci,” Evelyn whispered again, and the inspector moved on. Once he’d made his way around the car, he exited, and Evelyn felt each of the men take a breath of relief. Without further incident, the train slid jerkily back into motion, and they continued toward Paris.

  * * *

  Lina had heard Paris called the “City of Lights,” but she didn’t see it that way. The sky, the light, and the buildings were gray and old, the streets crowded and dirty. Perhaps before the war, people h
ad been friendly and welcoming, but that was not the case now. Or at least, that was not the reception she received.

  With a deep breath, Lina squared her shoulders and stepped away from the train platform. The uniformed police officer gave her a perfunctory nod as she walked past him and out onto the rain-slick streets. The drizzle had stopped for the moment, but the gloom remained.

  Fortunately for Lina, she didn’t have far to go. The Paris office of the intelligence service was about a kilometer from the train station. As the day was chilly, Lina welcomed the exertion, especially after sitting so long on the train with nothing but her dark thoughts for company.

  She couldn’t have said why, but all of her instincts drew her here, to Paris. If she was going to track the Ami psychic and her butchers down, she had to start here. The hand of the Reich had been much lighter here than in Warsaw, she knew. Perhaps that would encourage the fugitives to make a careless mistake? She could only hope so. One thing, however, was certain. The Ami bitch would make a mistake eventually.

  And when she did, Lina would be there.

  “Lina! As I live and breathe!” a jovial voice called out her name, and despite everything, Lina felt her lips curve in a smile. “You made it! I was thrilled to get your note and learn you’d been posted here.”

  A moment later, Lina found herself enveloped in a crushing bear hug. She let out a little laugh and patted the wide shoulders that held her.

  “Herr Sendler! Some air, please!” she said softly and dryly. The big man let out a booming laugh and immediately let go.

  “My apologies. My enthusiasm overcomes my better sense,” Neils Sendler said, giving her the disarming grin she’d seen so many times before. As ever, his red hair looked slightly disheveled, and his blue eyes twinkled in merriment. One of the qualities that made him so effective as an intelligence operative was that Neils Sendler was the best she’d ever seen at disarming people. He played up his cuddly, harmless image and used it to get people to open up to him, to trust him. Next to Lina herself, he’d had the best record of successful interrogations during their time in Warsaw. And, as he was a man, he did it all without psychic abilities.

  “I see you’ve been promoted,” Lina said then, glancing around at the interior of the office. It was sparsely furnished, but clean, and what furnishings there were looked well-made and expensive. “Congratulations.”

  “And to you, Oberhelfer,” he said with a smile. “You certainly deserve it. Shall we step back into my office and have some tea? I’m afraid it’s going to rain again soon, from the looks of the damned gray sky.”

  “I would like that, thank you,” she said. He patted her hand and gestured for her to precede him down the hallway.

  “Just here, on the left. The tea is already on its way,” he said as she stepped into the small room. It, too, held a minimum of good quality pieces: a fine wooden desk faced two cushioned chairs. Behind the desk, a window opened onto the Parisian street. As she watched, a few fat drops of rain began to patter down and splash against the glass. She let out a little sigh and sank into one of the chairs. Perhaps she should have waited for an invitation, but Neils was, after all, an old friend.

  “You are well, then?” he asked as he gently closed the door. “I was somewhat alarmed at the tone of your note.”

  “I am,” she replied, smiling up at him as he seated himself at the desk. “As well as I can be.”

  “Krieger did not hurt you? We have taken steps already, of course, but if he dared to outrage you...”

  “No,” she said. “I have no doubt that was his intent, but I got out of there quickly enough. And I thank you for your actions on my behalf.”

  Neils waved a hand as if to say that it was of no moment. Just then, the door opened and a young Frenchwoman brought in the tray of tea.

  “Ah, thank you, Sophie,” Neils said. The woman gave him a smile and let herself back out. Though the door closed silently behind her, Lina could hear the creaking of the floorboards as she walked away. The psychic raised an eyebrow at Neils, who smiled back.

  “Elegant,” Lina said.

  “Thank you,” Neils said modestly. “I am relatively certain that Sophie can be trusted, but in Paris, who knows?”

  “That was what I wished to speak to you about,” Lina said. “Has there been much in the way of resistance to our occupation?”

  Neils shrugged and tilted his head to the left, then to the right.

  “Some,” he said. “Nothing we cannot handle, of course, but some. Why?”

  “Specifically, I am interested in knowing if the people here are sheltering enemy airmen.”

  “It happens,” Neils said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his desk. “We have caught some. I am certain there are more. Again, Lina, I ask. Why?”

  Icy hatred gripped Lina’s throat; she found herself unable to speak for a moment. She swallowed hard and forced the words past teeth that wanted to clench.

  “My last assignment, we found four of them. They were prisoners, but they killed my men and escaped. I want them captured. I want them to pay.”

  She hadn’t meant to add that last bit. In truth, even revealing the personal nature of her quest was a risk. Revenge was all well and good, but there were some who would argue it did not serve the needs of the Reich. Lina herself had been one such, only a few short weeks ago.

  A few short weeks...but a lifetime ago.

  “I see,” Neils said softly. He looked at her for a long moment, his blue eyes grave. “You cared about these men.”

  “Yes,” Lina said, her mind flinching away from the thought of one in particular.

  “Well,” he said slowly. “As it happens, I do have orders to look into that very thing, though it’s not the top priority. But Lina, I need to know...can you do this? As a professional? I know that this is personal with you, and I do not object...so long as you are able to do the job properly.”

  “I am,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “I give you my word. If I find otherwise, I will tell you. I will follow procedure and provide appropriate documentation and updates.”

  “I know that you will, Lina, my friend,” he said, his blue eyes soft and sad. “And...I am very sorry for your loss.”

  “So am I, Herr Sendler. So am I.”

  * * *

  They made it to Paris. Evelyn felt as if she were on edge the whole time. Her nerves echoed back through the net, ricocheting off of the men and magnifying their own anxiety. She should have disconnected the net for all of their sakes...but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even entertain the idea without the specter of the howling storm rearing up in the back of her mind.

  So she didn’t think about it. Besides, there were significant benefits to remaining in a constant net with the men. She knew when one of them was asleep; she could see through their eyes; she could tell when they were angry, or nervous, or in pain. They could communicate without words. She could even, after a fashion, teach them a few words of French.

  This was a game that they played on the train. None of them could really sleep, so they practiced thinking of simple words and phrases. Evelyn found them to be quick studies, but she worried about their pronunciation.

  You must make your consonants softer, rounder, she said at one point, when Sean was trying to say “good morning” in his head. French is a romance language. You must speak it like...like...

  Like kissing a girl? Abram said slyly. Evelyn felt her face blush and looked to where he sat, leaning against the opposite window, eyes closed. A bit of a smile curved his lips. Soft and round and gentle-like?

  I suppose so, Evelyn said, rather primly. I’ve not kissed many girls, so I’ll defer to your greater experience.

  Sean snorted softly and squeezed Evelyn’s hand in acknowledgment of her hit. Across the aisle, Paul coughed softly into his hand to cover a bit of laughter.

  Evelyn would have cautioned him, but just then the train’s horn blasted through the air. She felt her body jerk forward and shudder as the en
gineer began to brake. A look out the window showed that the winter countryside had faded away, leaving cold-looking old buildings stacked cheek-by-jowl next to one another. The conductor opened the door at the end of the car and made a short announcement: they had arrived in Paris.

  The train pulled to a stop, and in the bustle of gathering up their things, Deedee managed to whisper instructions to Paul.

  “Stay close, and don’t say anything,” she said. “Have your papers out so that you needn’t speak.”

  Paul nodded, and Evelyn bent to retrieve her traveling papers from her bag. She could feel her tension ratchet up again as the passengers began to file off the train. In order to keep her hands from shaking, she wrapped her arm through Sean’s.

  It’s all right, Evie, the redhead said, patting her arm and giving her a smile. We’re all here. We’ll be all right.

  I hope so, she said. She smile and put a brave face on, even though her insides roiled with fear. What if someone tried to speak to them as they got off of the train? What if they were caught? What if...?

  No. That way lay madness. Evelyn forced herself to focus on the here and now. She pulled strength from Paul, Abram, and Sean. Each of them acted as a pillar of steadiness in completely different ways. Sean focused on her, allowing himself to sink into his role as solicitous husband. Abram adopted a pleasant expression and glanced around like a country boy visiting the big city for the first time. Paul remained stony-faced and stoic, much as he must have once done as a mob enforcer.

  Evelyn felt her shoulders straighten, and she forced herself to smile tremulously at Sean. Her men were here, with her. They would keep her safe. She would be all right.

  With this litany running through her mind, Evelyn and Sean followed Paul and Deedee off the train. Abram brought up the rear of their little group, his bumpkin-like gawping serving as an excuse to look for police or anyone who might give them trouble. The only potential problem was a bored-looking sergeant waiting as they disembarked. He barely glanced at their papers before waving them through.