by Kacey Ezell
“This way,” Deedee said in French, as she led them from the train platform into the large, bustling terminal. “Back toward the back. There is a washroom where we may freshen up.” People crowded close all around them, hurrying to and fro. The air seemed filled with a dull roar of conversation and movement. The noise and jostling seemed to crowd in on Evelyn. She’d never been in such a large train station before.
We’ve got you, Sean reminded her. Evelyn forced herself to take a deep breath and keep walking. It helped if she focused on the pleat at the back of Deedee’s coat, she found.
Eventually, the noise dimmed and began to sound like it was coming through a kind of echoing tunnel. Evelyn raised her eyes to see they’d entered a hallway off the main open terminal space. Two doors stood alongside the right wall, each bearing a picture of a vaguely human silhouette.
Deedee stopped suddenly and turned to Paul. She put her hands on either side of his face and lifted herself up on tiptoe so that she could press her lips hard against his.
Evelyn felt Paul’s shock zing through him. Something hard and warm pressed against his lower lip, and the abrupt realization that she was passing him something reverberated through the net. Both Sean and Abram jumped slightly, and Paul finally raised his hands to cup Deedee’s face as he pulled the metal object into his mouth.
“We won’t be long,” Deedee said with a smile, and reached out to take Evelyn’s hand.
Paul nodded and tried to look as if he wasn’t holding something in his mouth. Deedee gestured to the washroom door bearing the sign of a figure wearing trousers and then pulled Evelyn through the other door.
“What did you give him?” Evelyn whispered as soon as she realized that they were alone in the women’s room.
“A key,” Deedee said. “It opens the door that they will find on the back wall of the washroom. I told Paul about it on the train. How did you know?”
“I...just guessed,” Evelyn said. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Deedee. Indeed, the woman held their lives in her hands. It was just that she didn’t know whether Deedee would trust a psychic. “So someone is waiting for them on the other side?”
“Yes, one of our people.”
“Who is it?”
“What?”
“Who is waiting for them? What do they look like?”
Deedee narrowed her eyes and looked at Evelyn closely.
“Mademoiselle Garreau,” she said slowly, “Why? Will you tell them?”
“What?” Evelyn asked, startled. She took a step back from the intense young woman in front of her. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”
“Please, I have eyes, do I not? The doctor told me that you have a habit of...linking with your companions. Are you linked with them now? You must trust me, Evelyn. This could become a matter of life or death.”
It already is, Evelyn thought, and then to the men, Deedee knows about the net. She says that someone, one of her people, is waiting for you on the other side of that door.
What about you? Abram asked.
I don’t know yet.
We’re not leaving without you.
I know.
“They say,” Evelyn whispered, “they’re not leaving without me.”
Deedee’s lips may have curved in a tiny smile just a bit, Evelyn wasn’t sure, but her nod was all business.
“Of course not. Nor should they. They will wait in a café across the street with my contact. We will exit out of a neighboring shop. Buy a trinket, that kind of thing. What tourists do when they come to Paris.”
“All right,” Evelyn said, and relayed the plan to the men. Paul objected to having Evelyn out of sight for too long but was somewhat mollified by the information the “shop” was really an open-air booth next to the terminal exit. They’d be able to see her the whole time.
And it’s not as if we need line of sight like this, she added.
No, but if we can see you, we can get to you faster, Paul responded grimly, and Evelyn had to concede that his point was valid. In any case, this plan, too, worked like clockwork, and a few moments later, the two women walked across the wet-slick cobblestones of the Paris street to join the men at the café. In the shop, Deedee had purchased a lovely scarf of pale blue, which she had given to Evelyn with instructions to put it on.
“So if you need to change your look suddenly, you remove the scarf from your hair. Voilà, you are much harder to find,” the Belgian woman had said, matter-of-factly.
“Thank you,” Evelyn had said, but inwardly, she’d wondered how many times Deedee and her ilk had done this. She seemed to be almost frighteningly good at it.
I hope she’s that good, for our sakes, Paul said. Her attention to the details could be our salvation or our downfall. I suppose I’m happy she thinks the way she does.
As am I, Evelyn said. Besides, it really was a lovely scarf.
After the café, they boarded a streetcar that took them to an established, but apparently well-to-do neighborhood. Their guide, Mademoiselle Garreau, led them down one side street after another until they eventually entered a home through a small gate in a wildly overgrown hedge. Had Mademoiselle Garreau not been there, Evelyn would never have known the gate existed.
Beyond the gate, a small, neatly laid out garden sat at its winter’s rest. Stepping stones laid out a curving path that led to a back door in an unassuming white house with gray shutters.
“Inside, quickly,” Mademoiselle Garreau said, gesturing for them to hurry. The sun had set, and under the cover of the deepening twilight, they slipped one by one into the Paris safe house.
* * *
Thanks to all the walking they’d done, Evelyn’s leg had begun to throb in agony. She limped across the threshold of the door and nearly ran directly into someone who was standing on the other side.
“Come in! Come in! Ugh, this winter weather. Come in, child, sit by the fire and get warm!”
The man’s voice was deep and melodious, like that of someone who sang well and often. Evelyn looked up to see the flash of a white smile before someone gently took her elbow and guided her through a narrow hallway into the room beyond.
It was a kitchen...but such a kitchen! The room was large and sunken so Evelyn had to navigate about three steps on her healing ankle. The person holding her elbow helped, but before she could utter her thanks, she found herself whisked over to a large, cushioned armchair by the massive stone fireplace. The thing looked as if it were big enough to roast an entire cow, and a corner of Evelyn’s mind wondered if it hadn’t done just that at some point or another in the past.
Several more chairs ringed the hearth, their mismatched upholstery painted in an orange glow from the flames. Evelyn heard the voices of her men and then Mademoiselle Garreau’s soft murmur.
“Any trouble?” the man asked.
“Non,” Mademoiselle Garreau said in French before switching to English. “Papa, Deedee you already know. These are Paul, Abram, Sean, and the lady is Mademoiselle Evelyn.”
“Enchanté” Monsieur Garreau said, smiling over at Evelyn. “Welcome to our home. I am Marc Garreau, and you’ve already met Nicole. We have been expecting you. Will you have some wine? Food? Tea?”
Garreau and his daughter began to bustle about, slicing bread from the huge loaf that sat on the equally impressive wooden table that dominated the room. They poured warmed, spiced wine into tumblers and handed them out. Evelyn took a sip of hers and felt it burn a delicious trail all the way to her stomach. With the wine, the bread, some cheese, and a few slices of beef from a roast the Garreaus kept in their icebox, they made a merry, if exhausted, meal.
“So the plan,” Deedee said, “is you will rest here tonight and board the train for St. Brieuc in the morning. It will be early.”
“We will be ready,” Abram said.
“Good. Gentlemen, you will sleep downstairs in the cellar. Evelyn, you and I will share Nicole’s room,” Deedee said.
Paul looked like he wanted to protest, but Evelyn pushed h
im to be silent through the link. While they were eating, she’d noticed that the Garreaus’ decor carried a definite religious tone.
I think Garreau is a devout Catholic, Evelyn said. I know that war is war, but he’s been so kind to us. I don’t wish to upset him. And...I don’t think we’re in danger from them.
I don’t like it, Paul said.
I don’t, either, Abram put in, but Evie’s right. We need to respect the man’s beliefs in his own house. And if they wanted to hurt us...
We’d already be in a Nazi prison. You’re right. I just...
I know, Evelyn said, and sent a pulse of soothing affection down the lines of the net to all of them. I don’t like being far from any of you, either. But we’ll be linked. I think it will be all right.
And so it was. Evelyn found herself lying in a large bed between Deedee and Nicole Garreau, who made a quiet remark that it was almost like having her elder sisters home again. Evelyn smiled and wished for a moment that she’d met the quiet, dark beauty under other circumstances. She rather thought that she and Nicole would have gotten along well in the normal world.
Her last thought as she drifted off to sleep was of Mary, the closest thing she had to a sister of her own. How was her friend doing? Evelyn wondered. And would she really see her again soon?
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Despite the early hour, Evelyn actually felt pretty good as they boarded the train the following morning. Deedee had stayed at the Garreaus’ house, and only Nicole accompanied them to the train station.
“Keep your wits about you and blend in,” Deedee had admonished Evelyn when they left the house. “Your tickets are to Guingamp, where you will meet with my contact. Look for a girl in a blue coat at the central market. She will be selling pears. Ask her if she’s got any work. She will help you backtrack to Plouha. Beyond that, it is better I do not know your route.”
“I understand,” Evelyn had said, and she did. Having been at the mercy of Adalina Sucherin, she knew very well the Nazi Reich had powerful interrogation assets. Deedee was clever and tough, but these were not true guarantees of safety. If she were to be taken, too much knowledge could cause the entire line to collapse.
“Good luck,” Deedee had said and then surprised Evelyn with a quick, hard embrace before turning to leave.
Unlike the previous day, this winter morning in Paris dawned bright and almost warm. This unexpected cheer contributed to Evelyn’s good mood as they made their way to the train. It wasn’t the huge, bustling terminal of the day before, but rather a smaller station with rail lines to several outlying provinces. As before, the police checked their documents as they boarded, but judging by the yawns, their particular officer was more concerned with his lack of sleep than with spotting fugitives. They settled in to a half-empty car and waited for the train to jerk into motion.
Everyone all right? Abram asked down the lines of the net once they started to move. I feel more rested than I have in a while.
Me too, Evelyn said. My ankle even hurts a little less, finally.
That’s terrific, Evie! Sean said. But...
I know, Paul said. He’d closed his eyes and was pretending to sleep, but Evelyn could feel the roil of his all-too-active mind. It makes me nervous, too. I feel like everything is going too smoothly. Like the other shoe is about to drop.
We just have to keep our wits about us and blend in, Evelyn said, thinking of Deedee. If we can do that, we’ll be all right.
Plus, Abram added, we have you, Evie.
I don’t know how much help I am, she said, feeling a jolt of self-deprecation.
Stop! Sean said, from where he sat next to Evelyn. His emotion cracked across the lines of the net like a whip. Just stop it, Evie!
What—? I—
No. You think we don’t feel how you devalue yourself? Just stop it! I wouldn’t be here. None of us would be here if it weren’t for you. We’d be in some Nazi camp, getting the sh—snot beaten out of us!
Paul rescued you, not me, Evelyn protested, mostly because she didn’t know what else to say.
Bullshit, Paul said, and for once, no one apologized for the profanity. The only reason I was able to do what I did was because you had that Nazi psychic’s attention all locked up. If it hadn’t been for you, she would have felt me as soon as I took out the first guard. I never would have attacked if I’d known they had a psychic. So you kept me safe. And I’m betting that it’s not a coincidence that the Nazi commander just decided to up and shoot his men and then himself, after strangling his psychic. I don’t know what you did, but it’s the reason we’re not all dead right now. Sean’s right. Stop devaluing yourself. It weakens all of us.
Evelyn felt as if she’d been slapped. She turned her face to the window and blinked to keep her sudden tears from falling.
Evie, Sean said, his tone less angry, but no less vehement. Don’t take it like that! It’s just. Damnit, Evelyn. We love you. Can’t you see that? You’re closer to us than...anyone. It just kills me...all of us...to feel how you don’t know your own worth.
I know I’m powerful, Evelyn said slowly, miserably. Her fingers sat woodenly in Sean’s, and she kept looking out the window. They’d left the outskirts of Paris behind, and sun-drenched, winter brown hills rolled past. I’ve always known that.
That’s not what we’re talking about, Evie, Sean said. He sighed quietly and let the matter drop, but he didn’t let go of her hand. Nor did she withdraw it. Even angry as she was, his touch helped to push back the memory of bloody bodies sprawled in a tent.
The silence stretched on for several miles. As the train wound its way west, the sun rose higher in the sky, and the long shadows of the track-side telegraph poles shortened to nothing.
After a while, Abram shifted slightly in his seat and put down the book he’d been pretending to read. He turned to look out the window and reached out along the net.
We’re going to St. Brieuc, right? Anyone know why we’re continuing on for two stops beyond that one? he asked.
Deedee told me, Evelyn said, trying not to sound tentative. They used to go to St. Brieuc and then take a local to Plouha, but the Germans closed that route down. There were arrests, apparently.
What does that mean? Abram asked, pushing.
She didn’t fully say, Evelyn said. I got the feeling she didn’t really want to talk about it. All I got was that one of the escapees blew their cover. Spoke too loudly in English, I think she said. Anyway, there was a German officer nearby, and that particular group got caught, along with their helper. They haven’t heard from him since. They know he was shipped to a prison camp in Germany, but that’s it. She fears he is dead.
Sobering, Paul said, in his laconic way.
Yes, Evelyn said. So now we take the train to Guingamp and backtrack to Plouha. She said we were to look for a girl in a blue coat selling pears at the market.
There had better be only one girl who fits that description.
I think it’s a small market.
Let’s hope so.
* * *
The market in Guingamp was, indeed, small. Really, it was nothing more than a few stalls lining the street that led to an impressive church. Though she wasn’t Catholic, Evelyn could appreciate the grandeur of the buildings belonging to the Church of Rome. France was a predominantly Catholic nation, and even though the Nazi Reich officially frowned upon the practice of traditional religions, Evelyn could see the people of Guingamp flowing into and out of the beautiful old stone building in a steady stream.
Pears, she said? Abram asked, breaking Evelyn out of her reverie. There doesn’t seem to be a single piece of fruit for sale at this market. There doesn’t seem to be much of anything for sale, for that matter.
Times are hard, Paul put in. There’s a war on. Maybe you’ve heard?
Thanks, wise guy.
There’s a girl in a blue coat, Sean said, interrupting the mental bickering. Perhaps she’s the one?
I don’t know, Ev
elyn said, doubt shading her mind. What if it isn’t? We could be in big trouble if we approach the wrong person.
We could be in just as much trouble if we approach no one, Abram pointed out. I say we ask her. I don’t see anyone else in blue, so it’s worth a shot, at least.
You’re the boss, Boss, Sean said. Evie and I will go, and maybe Evie can tell if she’s going to turn on us.
I can try, Evelyn said, and shoved down the sudden geyser of fear that erupted deep within her mind. She hid it away quickly, hoping that none of the men would feel that treacherous bit of doubt. It had been plaguing her ever since the ruined farmhouse in the wilds of Belgium. She’d avoided thinking about it, but the truth was getting harder and harder to ignore: Evelyn wasn’t sure she could do that anymore. The thought of linking with another woman made her mouth go dry and her pulse accelerate with fear. And then there was the issue of disconnecting from the men...no. She couldn’t even think about doing that. Even if it meant she had to risk exposing the net to another person. She couldn’t disconnect. The storm would swallow her again.
You can do it, Evie. We all believe in you, Sean said firmly, as he laced his hand in hers once again. He lifted a hand to the others, as if he was telling them that he’d be right back, and then strode over to the girl in the blue coat as she worked to disassemble one of the booths.
“Excuse me, Mademoiselle,” Evelyn said in French. “My husband and I are wondering if you might have any work?”
The girl’s head came up sharply, and she looked narrowly at them.
“No. I have none, as you can see. Who told you to ask?”
“A Mademoiselle Deedee, in Paris?”
Her face shuttered, and she turned away.
“I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Reach out, Sean urged Evelyn, squeezing her hand lightly. Try!
Evelyn pulled in a deep breath and tentatively began to push her awareness out toward the girl. It was harder than it should have been, likely because she was out of practice, but she judged she was gentle enough as she touched the girl’s public mind. It also took much more of her concentration to keep that particular line of connection isolated from her net with the men, but she managed.
