Vera closed the curtain fully. “It stands a very good chance that they will be. Just remember to remain calm and don’t draw any attention to yourself.”
They both dressed into clothes that were hanging in the oak wardrobe on the opposite side of the room. Vera opting for a cream blouse, with puffed shoulders and short sleeves, a blue-grey sleeveless jumper to go over it and a grey knee-length pleated skirt. Alice chose a bottle-green dress with a high neckline and nipped in at the waist. She put on a pair of black sling-back sandals, whereas Vera wore plain leather shoes with a high thick heel. They made their way downstairs to the kitchen, where the others were already sat around the table, eating breakfast.
George pushed out the chair next to him and patted on the wooden seat. “Better eat something before you leave,” he told them both.
Josée plonked a plate in front of each of them. Then turning to the stove, she carried over a hot frying pan, with fried eggs and sausages still sizzling away. She stood between the two of them and scraped out the food onto their plates. “You will eat now, to keep up your strength,” she told them with authority in her voice.
Antoine walked into the kitchen, arrogantly striking a match to light the hand rolled cigarette that was hanging out of his mouth. “We will be leaving in five minutes,” he said to Vera and Alice. He clicked his fingers to get Josée’s attention. “Un café, s’il tu plait.”
Josée picked up the coffee pot and poured him some hot strong coffee into a cup. She handed it to him. “I will send two of them half-an-hour after you leave and then I will follow with Sébastien half-an-hour after that.”
“Très bien,” he said.
Sergeant Webb picked up a canvas bag that was at his feet. He plonked it onto the table and opened the front flap. Pulling out a pair of black rimmed glasses, he unfolded the temple arms. “These are no ordinary glasses,” he said to Alice. “You can wear these, don’t worry, the lenses are just plain glass. Now, see the little hinges? Well, if you flip the arm in its opposite direction, it will break away. The temple arm has a metal point inside. If you push the temple tip upwards like this.” He showed her what he was doing. “Then the small blade with flick out, creating a kind of flick knife. If you should need to, use it. Now put them on and act as though you have been wearing glasses all your life.” Alice placed them onto her face. He then handed her fake ID papers. “We will all carry some of these documents. If any one of us gets caught, at least there is a chance that some may get to the escaped prisoners. We must be sure to hide them in a safe place. If you are stopped by any Nazi, the first thing they will search is your bag. They will search your clothing and anywhere else they feel fit to. Make sure you hide them well.” He handed her the wad of papers.
Josée left the kitchen, shortly returning with two small hats in her hands. “You will wear these. Inside, there is a hidden compartment where you can hide the papers.” She placed the hats upside down on the table and lifted a flap inside the crown. She took the papers from Alice and hid them inside, tucking the flap back. “There. Nobody will think to look inside it.” She handed the hats to them.
Antoine finished his coffee and placed the cup down on the table. “Vite, we will go now,” he ordered.
Vera and Alice followed him out of the kitchen, closing the door behind them to avoid anyone in the street seeing the others. They walked through the hallway and stopped before he opened the door. He turned around and pointed to some coats that were hanging on hooks on the wall. They picked out one each and put them on. Antoine then opened the front door.
Stepping out into the street was unnerving for them all. As soon as the door was closed, a German bomber plane flew over the houses, moments later, three more rushed over. Grim-faced people walking in the street stopped and looked up. With having Nazi’s patrolling their streets, they were forced to show respect.
German manifestation was everywhere. Swastikas were hung from buildings, street signs had been changed to read German boldly and then in French, written smaller beneath. There were historical buildings of grandeur that had been made to look grotesque with paintings of the Imperial Eagle and Jews forced to wear the Star of David insignia. The strong presence of Wehrmacht soldiers was a constant reminder to everyone that they would be shot and killed where they stood if they were to act against Hitler and Germany.
Antoine led Vera and Alice through the streets, keeping their pace leisurely, to avoid any unwanted attention. Turning into the corner, they were faced with stern-looking soldiers marching in the middle of the street—the Balkenkreuz Cross clearly showing on their sleeves. They stood watchful, blending in with the locals until the soldiers had passed.
They needed to board the next bus to take them to Rue Sainte-Catherine. The queue for the bus was long, many passengers were waiting to board but soldiers held them up with checking their papers. This was Alice’s first real challenge. She knew that she had to remain calm. There could be no eye contact with Vera, or Antoine, as that could be a possible giveaway that they were up to something. At this point, they were all acting on their own.
The passengers shuffled forward, each one boarding the bus after showing the soldier their papers. Antoine was next. He held his out for the soldier to read—he looked over them and let him board—Antoine didn’t look back. Vera, in front of Alice, held her papers out, again, he checked them over, handed them back and allowed her on board. Alice could feel herself trembling. She was petrified at the mere thought that she would give herself away instantly.
The soldier held out his hand—his face emotionless and his eyes glaring at her. “Zeigen Sie Ihre Papiere!” Alice, gripping her papers tightly, held them out for the soldier to take. He snatched them from her and read through. His piercing steel-grey eyes scared her, as they looked down, reading from left-to-right at the information, and then, inexpressively, rose quickly back to look at her face. He had taken longer with her than he had with the others, making Alice feel for certain that her game was up. “Nimm die Brille ab!”
Alice brought her hands up to her glasses, placing her fingers to the arms, she removed them very carefully.
Antoine and Vera could only watch Alice’s torment from inside the bus. Neither could act on her situation. If she was to be caught, then the whole mission would be jeopardised if they ever found the papers in her hat.
A young boy, holding his hand over his mouth, ran passed them to the front of the bus, his mother followed closely behind him, yelling at him to stop. “Arrêter de courir!” He didn’t stop and jumped off the bus. Crouching down behind the soldier, he held onto the front tyre and leaned forward, throwing up. His mother stood behind him, scorning him for over eating.
The soldier turned around to see what all the fuss was about. Seeing and hearing the young child, he held on to his stomach, heaving and retching as the vile smell rose to his nostrils. He shoved Alice’s papers back into her hand, waving at her to move quickly. “Beeile dich! Schnell, schnell!”
Alice whipped her papers back into her coat pocket and promptly boarded the bus. She sat in a seat two rows in front of Vera. As the commotion with the child continued outside, the soldier hurried the passengers on board. Stepping away from bus, he signalled for the driver to go. The driver started the bus and pulled away from the bus stop.
Alice could barely catch her breath—her throat feeling as though someone had just choked her, while her heartbeat pounded in her chest. She tried to keep calm by closing her mouth and breathing through her nose quietly. Every pulse point throbbing hard, as her adrenalin still ran through her veins, she clenched her fists tightly on her lap. Realising that her posture was rigid, she relaxed her shoulders and turned her head to look out of the window.
Chapter Nine
Reaching Rue Sainte-Catherine, the bus pulled in at the stop. Alice was quick to leave her seat and make her way to the front of the bus. Vera and Antoine followed close behind her. After stepping off, they walked casually along the street, being careful not to act suspi
ciously.
Walking for ten minutes, they found themselves standing outside of the house where escaped British prisoners were hiding. It wasn’t safe to enter through the front door, so they walked past the house, down to the end of the street and turned into an alleyway that led to the back of the house. They walked in silence until they reached the back gate. Looking around to make sure that they hadn’t been followed, Antoine opened the gate and ushered the women in quickly.
He wrapped his knuckles on the door three times, then waited. Then he repeated the knock. The door opened slowly and all three of them stepped inside, closing the door immediately behind them.
A fairly attractive woman in her late-twenties had answered the door. Antoine put his hand on her waist and gripping her blouse, he pulled her in close to him, kissing her cheek hard, as he held her tightly. After prising his lips away from her face, he turned around and introduced Alice and Vera to his wife.
“Bonjour, Mesdemoiselles.” She unlocked her hand from Antoine’s and approached Vera and Alice—her hands held out, ready to receive theirs. She took hold of Vera’s hands first, pulling her in close, she kissed each cheek. “Comment alez-vous?”
Vera kissed her cheeks back. “Bien, merci.”
She then turned to Alice and repeated the ritual of kissing her cheeks. “C̖a va bien?”
“C̖a va,” Alice replied.
“Ah, good, I’m glad that you are both fine and that my husband has been taking good care of you. There are many Germans patrolling our streets, it is not safe for anyone to be out anymore. Please, come, come, I shall take you to the British men.”
They followed her to the end of the hallway, where she opened a door that led to the cellar. They walked down the concrete steps into a cold room with a low ceiling. Two men, who were huddled in the far corner, hiding beneath a blanket, showed great relief when they realised that these women were there to rescue them.
Vera crouched down in front of them. “We don’t have much time. The others will be here soon, to take you to safety. We have your papers for your identities.” She looked up at Alice.
Alice removed her hat and opened the flap inside the crown. She pulled out the papers and handed them over to Vera.
“Are either of you hurt?” she asked, quickly scanning them over.
“No, no, we’re okay. Thank you, Miss. Thank you for risking your life to come and save ours. I’m Reggie and this is John.”
She handed them their papers. “Not anymore, you will now be known as Christophe Belan and Edouard Deboe. How is your French?”
“We both speak a little, at least enough to get us by.”
“Good.”
•••
Three knocks wrapped on the front door, followed by another three shortly after.
Antoine gave a quick nod to his wife. “Mariette, fais gaffe, make sure it is someone we trust.”
Mariette walked back up the concrete steps, closing the door at the top behind her. The front door could be heard opening from the cellar, as the latch turned and the hinges creaked, footsteps sounded above their heads. The door opened once again. Mariette was the first to walk down the steps, followed by Gordon and Sergeant Webb.
“Were you followed?” Antoine asked them firmly.
Sergeant Webb put down his canvas bag and went over to the two men, where he knelt down in front of them. Checking over his shoulder, he glanced up at Antoine. “No, we weren’t followed.” He turned to look at the two men. “Now, how did you get yourselves here, then boys?”
Reggie shook his head. “We were shot down during a dog fight. We managed to take the Jerry out but we’d taken several shots to the engine from the blasted scoundrel.”
“We’re lucky to be alive,” John interrupted.
Sergeant Webb reached over for his bag. Opening it up, he produced the radio equipment. Motioning with his hand for Alice to join him at his side, he instructed her to send a Morse code message that they had arrived at their destination and the package would be sent.
Alice remembered her training and sent the message:
Have arrived. Package ready for departure.
“Message has been sent, Sir,” she told him.
Another three knocks on the door, followed by another three, indicated that George and Josée had arrived. Mariette, under Antoine’s permission, went and answered the door. Again, she could be heard walking across the floorboards and the front door opening.
Alice, Vera and the others, all looking up at the ceiling, kept silent. All eyes focused on the steps, waiting for Mariette to bring the last of their team down into the cellar. But there seemed to be some sort of hesitation. Mariette did not return as fast as she was supposed to.
Sergeant Webb stood up. He tapped Gordon on his shoulder and pointed his fingers, motioning for him to crouch down in the dark at the back of the steps. Gordon walked quietly over and hid. Sergeant Webb then motioned for Alice and Vera to stand behind a brick pillar. He covered the two British men with a blanket and waited in the dark with Antoine.
Footsteps walked slowly along the hallway and stopped at the door at the top of the steps. Alice held her hand over her mouth to prevent her heavy breathing from being heard. Everyone knew that something was wrong.
Standing close to her, Vera placed her hand on Alice’s shoulder—her fingers pressing down firmly.
The door opened, letting in a stream of light down into the cellar. Suspended dust particles scattered in the air and reflected the light. At first, it looked as though Mariette was about to walk down the steps but this ideal scenario was short lived when it became obvious that she was in some sort of distress. Mariette collapsed in the doorway—her body slumped over the top of the steps.
Horrified, Antoine ran to the foot of the steps, taking great strides as he made his way to the top. Seeing that she was dead, he fell to his knees at her side. His Mariette had been his reason for living. Her kindness and acceptance of his arrogant ways had drawn him in to her, giving him hope that he could one day change his ways. He placed his hands on her body, brushing them over her clothing, until…blood. Seeping from her chest and into her clothing, blood oozed and quickly pooled onto the floor beneath her. Antoine bellowed out a hurt cry. “Not my Mariette!” he sobbed—his eyes closed, as he couldn’t face the pain.
His flash of insanity was short lived when his attention was drawn to his left. Turning his head, his eyes swollen, he was faced with a black pair of leather boots walking towards him. He lifted his head, his onset of sobs still menacing. Through his salty tears he was faced with a member of the gestapo. His cries turned to gritted anger.
Removing his black leather gloves, pulling one finger out at time, an astute man, wearing black rimmed glasses and a long black-leather coat, looked down at him. Showing no mercy through his cold-hearted grin, he said, “Antoine Garceau, I take it that this was your wife Mariette?” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded at the two soldiers standing behind him. “Nehmen Sie ihn weg.”
The two soldiers marched forward. One of them kicked Antoine in his stomach before they grabbed his arms and dragged him along the hallway and out of the house. At first, Antoine was defenceless but he took one last look back at his dead wife, before deciding to fight for his country one last time. Seeing a pistol hanging from one of the soldier’s hips, he yanked his arm free and grabbed for it. He managed to shoot one of them, injuring him in his leg. It was to be Antoine’s final glorious moment. The other soldier, standing behind him, pulled his pistol from its holster and shot him in the head. Antoine fell to the ground, his arms and legs splayed and his face pressed against the pavement.
Fearing for the worst, Sergeant Webb cautioned the others to maintain their silence. He carefully crouched down and hid the radio equipment behind a pile of recently cut fire-wood. He gradually stood back up—hiding in the dark shadows.
Alice was petrified. Her chest heaved in and out, while she covered her mouth with her hand to prevent herself from screaming out. She cou
ld see Mariette’s arm dangling lifeless over the top step and feared that they would all meet with the same destiny.
“I know you’re down there,” the cold voice mocked from the hallway. You had better show yourselves, or you will find that you’ll be joining your friends sooner, rather than later.”
Feeling Alice’s body tremble, Vera wrapped her arms around her. Pulling her in closer, she pressed her lips against her ear and whispered, “If we are to die today, I want you to know that I’ve fallen completely in love with you.”
Alice gripped hold of Vera’s arm, squeezing it tightly.
“We have your friends up here. If you do not comply, I will have them shot in the street and leave their bodies for the starving dogs to feast on,” the man told them callously.
Sergeant Webb brought his hand to his pistol on his belt. He placed his fingers over the butt and slowly pulled it from its holster. Knowing that her handbag was on the ground next to her, Vera crouched down and reached out in the dark for it. Pulling it close to her, she opened it up and pulled out a knife. Tapping Alice on the top of her shoulder, she placed the knife into her hand. Then, stepping back further into the darkness, she picked up an axe that Antoine had used for chopping fire-wood.
“I do not tolerate disobedience. Let me show you what I mean,” the man called down to the cellar.
Sounds of shuffling and muffled voices came from above the cellar. Moments later, appearing on the top step, was a male figure. At first it was hard to tell who it was but it soon became apparent, when halfway down the steps, George came into their view. His hands were bound in front of him and a gag had been placed into his mouth. He took each step slowly, being cautious to alert his colleagues if he had to make any sudden movement. As he reached the bottom step, he was ordered to stand still.
“Now, take a good look at your friends, all hiding in the safety of the shadows like the cowards that they are.”
Silent Killing Page 9
