Judgement Call

Chapter 1

"Lieutenant?" said Actor as the Warden came down the stairs.

"He's sleeping though I did get him to drink the tea."

"Good. Goniff will be pleased." He waited for the Officer to pass and head for his office. It was late but Actor had remained waiting. There were two things he wanted to get off his chest so he followed. When they were seated he started.

"With all that has happened I have been remiss. I wish to start with an apology." From the look on his face Garrison was not following him. "I apologize for yelling at you and talking that way to you when I thought you were trying to get rid…"

"It's all right Actor. As I told Chief I stand by my decision to give him a choice, I just went about it badly. He forgave me and told me he wanted to stay. No apology necessary."

"Good. Now the second part. We were wondering what you found out in your debriefing." Unfortunately he suspected that the answer would have to be pried out and he was right. All he got was a blank look.

"Look, Warden. Whoever set us up sent us on a phony mission. They sent you by yourself which you are quite capable of doing but there is a greater risk. Then they sent us with an untrained technician behind enemy lines and he was killed. These missions were phony. They endangered our lives and now Chief is unfit to assist if the next one comes too soon. Someone is responsible and they must be found and stopped; especially if G-CAT is involved."

There was a long pause while the Lieutenant considered Actor's request. Unfortunately they were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. The Officer picked up the receiver and listened. When he put it down Actor knew his chance of finding out who was responsible would be delayed. Lieutenant Garrison stood, grabbed his jacket and his cap and was out the door. He was headed for London.

Actor knew it would take time to travel there and back so they might as well get some sleep. Seeing the hour he might even wait until morning before he returned. He would let the others know.

The sun was up by the time the Lieutenant strode up the steps two at a time, swung around the newel post and headed for the double doors of the room his men were billeted in. Grasping the handle he turned it and pushed. The scene was as he expected; semi chaos. Even at this early hour Actor's cot was made up impeccably; even the pillow was centered, the case smoothed. Casino's was pulled together but the undulations of the blanket meant the sheet underneath was rumpled. Goniff's bed was unmade though he had picked up his pillow. The English born thief slept on his stomach and his pillow usually ended up on the floor. Chief's bed was half made. The sheet and blanket had been pulled up but the edges hung down untucked. Actor sat in his chair, a book in one hand his pipe in the other, as impeccably dressed as his bed was made. Casino, wearing pants and an undershirt sat at the table reading a newspaper. Chief was sitting by the window. Garrison had just opened his mouth to ask when he heard footsteps behind him and Goniff came into the room carrying a plate of toast and a cup of tea.

"You were told, no food in here. You eat in the kitchen."

"I was going to, Warden but I 'eard you come in and I wanted to 'ear what you 'ad to say. Go ahead," he said as he walked to the table and sat. "I'm listening." He picked up the first slice and took a bite.

There was a moment of silence as they watched Goniff and shook their heads in disbelief at his audacity. Within weeks of their moving in and eating in their room they had had a mouse population explosion. The rule, 'no eating in the room' had been strictly enforced especially by the cons who had been disgusted with the presence of mouse turds on their table and on their beds.

The silence was broken by the Guardian who said with determination, "I'm goin' with you."

It surprised the Officer that he had spoken but what he had said was expected. Chief was dedicated; too dedicated. "Not this time. I want you to rest, get back your strength."

"I'm safer with you."

"You nuts?" It was out of Casino's mouth before it registered. Just the thought of flying into a war zone and then jumping out of the plane, being shot at, bombed… as opposed to sitting here. Then he remembered their last mission and turned to their leader. "Hey, you ever find out who set us up? That Grayson's a real bastard." Someone had sent Garrison on a fake mission and then Grayson had sent them on another. The Ultimate purpose was a scheme by G-CAT to test a theory. Chief had said it was a failure and to top it off Casino had a concussion and the Guardian had cracked ribs. What if G-CAT tried again?

Garrison paused. He too had figured out Chief's logic. He might be safer with them unless he had to put up a fight. One blow to his ribs and he was done. They would have to protect him which left the rest vulnerable. Garrison was damned either way.

Chief had it figured out. "Look, Warden. If it comes down to it I'll run. That way you guys can do what you have to and if the worst happens I'll know where you went."

As ambiguous as that sounded they knew what he meant. 'If they were captured.'

Garrison knew that if he asked the answer would be 'Fine', just as he would answer if the tables were turned so instead he instructed the Guardian to take a deep breath. He watched as the Guardian inhaled carefully without a flinch. From experience Craig knew it had to hurt; the fractures had not had time to heal. He had to hand it to him, the kid was tough. It would not be until later that he would wonder why G-CAT said Guardians were fragile.

"All right, you go with us." He paused and locked eyes with the injured man, "but you stay back behind us. If there's any chance of you getting hurt then you hide. You Got That?" He was gratified to see that Chief did not look away. He was taking this seriously. Seeing the nod, Garrison looked to each of the others. It would do no good if any of them resented this special treatment. The others had been watching Chief too, intent on his reaction. They were all in agreement.

Chief felt relief. He had worried about what was going to happen. If G-CAT came for him he could run. The security here at their base was laughable. Even Actor could leave whenever he wanted, if he wanted. Seeing as those bastards had the Army in their pocket the Trainers could walk in here anytime. His only fear was if they decided to sneak in and grab him. Being on alert at all times was tiring. He could do it for a while, he had done it too, but sooner or later he would get too tired and he would sleep.

Fortunately he had been able to convince Garrison to take him. That was the other part. Garrison was his Hearth. He had to stay with his Hearth. He might need him. Funny how that felt. He hadn't needed anyone for as long as he could remember. To need something was a weakness but this need was different. This felt good. Thinking back, he had been searching for something for a long time. Now he had found, found his Hearth.

"Everyone downstairs, my office."

Normally they dawdled or grumbled but for some reason the settling of Chief's inclusion had put that aside. Maybe it was all a matter of resisting authority. They had to show Garrison that they were doing this because they had to not because they wanted to. Chief had put up the show of resistance and had won. They rose as one and followed their leader.

Craig spread the map on the table. "This is Brussels," he said as he pointed to a section of the map before looking to their European con man. The silent question was if he was familiar with the area. The answer was a small shake of his head. Back to the map he continued. "There are a number of localized Resistance groups that operate in the country. Working with the Belgium Government in exile here in London we are to take some equipment to a group called the General Sabotage Group of Belgium, or Groupe G and help train them to it."

"What sort of stuff? Guns, ammo, bombs…" asked Casino, their resident explosive expert.

"Yes." He looked around but there were no more questions so he continued. "We go in by sub in," he checked his watch and was pleased that he had made good time from London, "Four and a half hours. They'll drop us off the coast, we'll paddle in to the breakwater where a fishing boat will pick us up and take us into the harbour. The equipment will have to be hidden on the boat and removed after dark. From there our contact should be able to get us inland to our target. Questions?" There weren't any so he added, "Out front, twenty minutes."

There were some comments about warm clothes and coats as they left the room but they did as they were instructed.

The calendar said it was almost Spring but the day had dawned cold and rainy so they waited inside until their transport arrived. The cons climbed in back and their leader rode shotgun. When they arrived at the Naval Base Garrison was greeted with bad news. He went around to the back where the men were waiting. "Stay where you are. Our supplies haven't arrived and the sub can't wait so an alternate route will have to be found. We may have to jump.

"Just great," muttered Casino.

Twenty minutes later they were on their way to the Air Base. When they arrived they were directed to the Mess where they could sit until a plane was readied. Bombers were scheduled to take off so they had to wait their turn. They walked in and headed for the unoccupied table at the far end after filing past the coffee urn. The brew was hot and strong.

Four soldiers, ground crew from the looks of them, came in and sat at the next table. Because of the men's past and present occupation they had learned to be ever alert so they heard the grumbles about civilians on the base. Garrison told them to ignore them. That was easy but then the conversation turned to Guardians. Their experience also taught them to not react immediately though Casino and Goniff's eyes wandered toward their own Guardian who had chosen a seat at the table across the aisle. His only reaction, if you knew him well enough to catch it, was a narrowing of his eyes just before he looked down at his coffee and took a sip. His eyes remained on the table but they knew he was listening. Garrison and Actor, who sat facing the newcomers, same as Chief, casually looked them over assessing the threat.

"My old man brought one home one night," said the dark haired Corporal. He appeared to be the leader of the group. "My mom was pissed, said she didn't want it in the house. She made my old man put it in the garage. He told me to give it some water so me and my brother took out a full pail of water and made it drink it." The speaker snorted with laughter anticipating the punch line. "It was hilarious. It took a drink and then when it stopped we told it to keep drinking until it was all gone." His voice broke with barely suppressed glee. "It took a few minutes and then it pissed its pants." He laughed uproariously and the other three joined in. When he got himself under control he continued. "Then we took turns beating it with a broom." They were all laughing. "They're so stupid they'll do anything you tell it. It just knelt there crying."

Actor, who was closest to the aisle, started to get up but Goniff reached over the table and grabbed his arm. "Allow me, mate." He was going to insist but the Englishman was already up. He waited, his anger barely in check.

"'ey, you know about Guardians?" asked the Englishman as he sat down beside the soldiers. This was the friendly Goniff who got along with everybody.

"Yeah," said the raconteur. "My old man's a Handler. He promised to get me into the training program when the war's over. He's shown me some of the commands already."

"That's great. Wish I 'ad that kind of chance. What I was wondering is, is there any chance that your old man could get me a Guardian?" he asked eagerly.

"No way. They're too valuable to risk getting killed. Besides, they're too stupid. They'd walk right up to the enemy and wait to be shot. And if they did give'm to the Army, they'd go to high ranking officers not civilians," he added the last part disparagingly.

"Speaking of civilians," said one of the other soldiers, this one blonde and blue eyed like Goniff. "What're you doing here? I thought this was for soldiers only."

"I work for the Army. I 'ad a little misunderstanding with a Bobby a few years back," he said with a trace of embarrassment. "They won't let me enlist but a well-placed Officer gave me a job in procurement."

"In what?" asked the third, a timid looking man who looked too young to be there.

"Procurement. It means 'e tells me what 'e wants and I procure it for 'im."

"You steal stuff like the black market," stated the Corporal with a hint of anger.

"No, though I did steal something that the black marketeers stole in the first place. I just stole it back."

"So who do you work for?" They were still suspicious.

"Oh, I can't tell you that. That's between me and the Ge… I mean between me and 'im."

"You work for General Cartier?" was the awed response.

"I didn't say that," said Goniff with a guilty smile.

"How about you procure something for us? How about a bottle of whiskey?"

"Each."

"Now wait a bloody minute 'ere." He paused to consider then brightened. "Any of you know a bloke named 'Ayden?"

"Aiden? Is he assigned to this base?"

"Not Aiden, Hayden," he said breathing out to emphasize the sound, "with an aich."

"Oh, Hayden. No I don't think I do. He's not flight crew is he?"

"No I don't think so. 'Ey's with G-CAT. That's why I thought you might know 'im, your old man being a Trainer and all."

"Handler. My old man's a Handler. So why you looking for this Hayden?"

"We 'ad a deal. I got 'is money, now I'm waiting for me goods. Me boss's not a patient man."

"If we find Hayden, you give us each a bottle of whiskey?" suggested the youngest man.

Goniff considered the deal. "If you find him, I'll give you each a bottle. If you can't find 'im then 'ooever find out 'oo 'e works for then 'e gets a bottle. We got a deal?"

"Is Danny still in the hospital? He might know," suggested one of the other soldiers.

"Worth an ask. We'll be back. You going to be here long?" asked the Corporal as he stood.

Directing his inquiry to the man they called the Warden he said, "You know anyone 'ere to leave a message with?"

Garrison asked for pen and paper and he wrote a phone number on it. "Leave a message of where to call you. Don't say what it's about, just your name and your number. We'll be back."

"Deal." They shook hands and left quickly.

Goniff returned to his friends amid looks of astonishment.

"I am impressed," said Actor as he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"You better watch out Actor, the Limey's got a hidden talent." Casino enjoyed razzing the confidence man.

"Let's hope they hit pay dirt before we have to leave," warned Garrison.

"We can't leave now Warden. Not when we this close to finding out who set Chiefy up."

"Maybe it's that Grayson asshole. If it is then I'm gonna shoot him up with some of that compliance juice and watch him squirm." Casino grinned an evil grin.

"How are you going to know if they are telling the truth?" asked Actor. "They could come back and tell you anybody."

"I came up with this part," said Goniff. "Now it's up to you two to figure that out. What? You want me to do all of it?" He asked with mock indignity.

"They supply the name, we check him out, then they get their bottle."

"Do you know anyone you can trust here on the base?" asked Actor as he turned to their leader.

Garrison considered for a moment then said, "Yeah. There's a Major I'd trust with a bottle."

"See," said Goniff. "I knew you'd figure it out." He looked pleased with himself until he looked over to Chief. He sat there burning. No one knew what to say. They could not imagine having to sit there and hear such cruelty. Their anger returned.

"Can we spike that bottle with a little compliance juice too?"

The response was several evil smiles. Chief continued to sit hunched over his coffee, head down.

Garrison stood. "I better go see the Major. Chief?" He glanced in his direction expecting him to follow but he remained unmoving. "Chief," he said quietly. "You don't need to be here if they return. Let's go." The Guardian stood but he avoided everyone's eyes. He did not want anyone to see his shame.

The trip to the Major's Office was accomplished in silence, the Officer in the lead, his friend at his shoulder but a step back. It was the position of a trained Guardian. Garrison wanted to call him forward but did not want to embarrass him any further. In his present mindset he would take it as a criticism. They walked on.

The Lieutenant knew Major Sean O'Connor from West Point. They had both played football and had attended many of the same games. He had lost touch with him when he had graduated but while waiting for their flight on a previous mission he had run into him again. Though it emphasized his own lack of advancement he was pleased for Sean. He was a good Officer.

Fortunately he was in his office so they quickly caught up with home news then, leaving out the Guardian details, Craig told Sean about trying to locate who Hayden had worked for and the deal they had struck with the soldiers. Sean, hearing that Craig was with OSS, knew not to ask too many questions but he readily agreed to hold a bottle of whisky for the four soldiers. Craig gave him enough money to purchase the bribe and they were on their way.

Back at the Mess they went to sit with the rest of the team. There was no word from the other soldiers. Craig was tempted to tell them to stay while he checked on their flight but they had sat there long enough. Time to move.

All together they headed for the airfield and the tower. They waiting at the gate as Craig checked to see if they were scheduled to leave soon. He was back within minutes. "Let's go," was all he said as he strode off. A jeep came racing up from the car pool and squealed to a halt beside the men. They jumped in and the driver took off as his fare hung on for dear life.

As the jeep took them down the road, they watched to see which plane was theirs. There were a few parked along the side of the tarmac but the driver passed them without slowing. Finally they saw a plane being brought out of a small hanger at the end of the strip. As they neared they saw it was not coming out of but rather coming from behind. The jeep pulled up and stopped beside the plane. Garrison got out but the cons just sat looking with disbelief. It was a Boeing 247 but it looked like it had just barely survived whatever its last sortie had been. There were bullet holes in the fuselage and it looked like the strut on the front landing gear had been reinforced. Worst of all was the black soot that covered the right engine cowling. It had caught fire not that long ago.

"We're not flying in that, Warden. You gotta be outta your mind. Things a death trap." Casino could be counted on to speak what they were, obviously all thinking.

The door opened and a man jumped down. He was wearing pilots' wings.

"Don't you sell 'er short, mate," said the Australian. "The old gals still got lots a life left in 'er. Come on board. Still got 'er original cushioned seats though we 'ad to give up our stewardess."

"Have our supplies arrived?" asked Garrison.

"I think that's them there," and he gestured to a truck that was heading in their direction.

With a quick look to his men, still sitting in the jeep, he said "Move." He then stood waiting for the truck and their equipment. Reluctantly they disembarked from the safety of the jeep and waited to board the plane. When their supplies arrived the cons each grabbed a parachute and put it on before boarding the plane. Garrison and the pilot stowed the crate onboard. It was true, the seats were cushioned and they could not see any holes from the inside but they knew they were there. They chose the middle seats with Garrison sitting behind the co-pilot's seat. The door was closed and locked and the pilot went up to the cockpit where they could see him doing what he had to with the instruments. The engines were started and they sounded all right, a little rough maybe but they were running on all cylinders though it was a little disconcerting to see the co-pilot tapping one of the gauges. Maybe it would even out once they warmed up. They hoped so.

Finally the pilot leaned around and yelled to buckle up. There was no need, they had already done so. The taxi out was a little rough but finally they stopped while the pilot spoke with the tower. Then the engines revved and they began to move. The takeoff run seemed to be very long and just when Garrison expected an abort the nose rose and finally the tail left the ground. Only the two soldiers saw how close they had come to hitting the trees at the end of the runway but they were air-born.

To get on course a steep bank was required which unnerved the anxious flyer.

"Wish we'd been on that sub," ground out Casino.

"No you don't," answered Garrison.

"Whata you mean. I hate this."

"The sub was torpedoed."

"What?" The shock over rode his fear. "Are they…"

"All I hear was that they were under attack."

"Shit."

Finally the plane levelled out and followed its course for Belgium. As they crossed the water the plane gained altitude. The plan was to fly high over the coast to avoid the eighty-eights but the starboard engine began to cough and sputter. Casino was on the other side of the plane so he did not notice at first but when he realized the difference he got up to look. Staring out the window as he moved he forgot about the main wing spar that ran through the cabin and if he hadn't been holding the backs of the seats he would have fallen over it.

"Fuckin' engines quit," he shouted in panic. He turned to yell to the pilot and tripped over the spar again further adding to his aggravated state.

Garrison quickly unbuckled and stood grabbing the safecracker. "He knows! Now sit down!"

"But the engine…"

"This plane can fly on one just not as fast or as high."

"Just great. Anyone tell the Jerries to shoot slower?"

Trying to relax in an airplane while wearing a parachute was not easy, being worse when you knew that only one engine was working. Casino was too upset to realize that even worse would be to be sitting on this plane with no parachute. The pilot tried to climb but with only half the horsepower he was limited. Off in the distance in the gathering dusk they could see the results of the last bombing run.

As they neared the coast the flak started and Garrison got up and moved in closer to each man to remind them about the count before pulling the ripcord. He hoped it would not be necessary but just in case. For a time it looked like they would be all right but the last burst caught the wing with the dead engine and they felt the blow. The damage did not appear that great but it was enough to throw the balance off and the plane began to roll. The pilot and co-pilot worked frantically finally levelling the plane but the overtaxed engine sputtered but then caught. They thought they were safe but with a final puff of black smoke it quit. They were going down.

"Bail Out, Bail Out!"

They headed for the door. Having done this a few times their exit was orderly with the cargo dispatched first and the men following.

There was no static line for the hook up so it was a matter of counting then pulling the release cord. Goniff had no fear of heights so leaping out of a plane held no fear for him but he worried about finding the handle so he grabbed it before jumping. He counted slowly then pulled. Actor had overcome his fear of the unknown with his first con. Jumping out of a plane was easier; at least here he had a parachute. A slow count and he pulled the cord. Casino knew he panicked so he counted twice then pulled.

Lieutenant Garrison had enough experience to qualify as an instructor but still each jump was a thrill. To drift free without a worry or a care was his time of peace; his bit of relaxation before the actual mission. On the ground there were plans to make, plans to follow, contingencies to prepare for. Up here there was nothing he could do but worry and he knew that was unproductive.

Chief loved to fly and this was as close as he was ever going to get to flying. Back when he was younger he liked to sit on the ledge and watch the eagles and condors soaring on huge wings outstretched wings. A slight shift and they turned gaining altitude or sliding off to the side. This was freedom. His count was slow so he could enjoy the feel of the wind.

Goniff was the first to land. Ever the dancer quick on his feet he released the catches freeing himself from the harness as he looked up and around. There was still enough daylight so it was easy to see the other parachutes. Actor was about a hundred yards away heading for a low-lying area. Goniff was concerned for his safety but wondered if he would complain about his shoes if there was water in it. He saw Casino off to his left as he started pulling his chute up into his arms. Drat, the cords were getting tangled in his fingers. He stopped to shake his hands free. A quick look showed him that Garrison was about to land far enough away that he couldn't see him. He started gathering the chute again.

Casino rolled his chute and trotted over to the Englishman. "Here gimme that," and he reached for his friend's chute. "Go get Actor." He trotted over to a rock wall at the edge of the field and began pulling rocks away to make a hiding spot.

Goniff scanned the area, spotted three more chutes descending. Off in the distance he could see what looked like a stump? Actor? He ran as quickly as he could over the rough ground. By watching the ground he managed to miss the worst spots until he approached the con man. A quick look to see if the Italian was badly hurt and he missed the pot hole. His foot did not and he was thrown to the ground.

Actor had landed in what would have been a perfect landing if the ground had been level. It was not. This had been a farmer's field until the artillery had driven their tanks and trucks through to set up the coastal defences. From there the Allies had tried to bomb these same defences. The result was not a level field but ground that had been torn up into ruts and then blasted into craters. Actor had landed in a crater or more accurately slammed into the side of a crater.

Garrison landed and hauled in his chute. On his way down he had noted the positions of his team and the ammunition. They were scattered over a wide area so they were going to have to hurry.

As if on cue gun fire sounded off to the right and he swung around to look. All he could see was the last parachute canopy as it collapsed in the next field behind the stone wall. Who was it? There was nowhere to hide the chute so he dropped it and ran for the wall as he swung his weapon into position. Daylight landings were the most dangerous so they each carried weapons. Crouched behind the wall he peered over and saw the pilot struggling to get out of the harness. He was about to vault over to assist when another burst of machinegun fire erupted and the pilot lurched several timed and fell still. Even from his position he could see the blood. He wanted to check but a jeep appeared filled with German soldiers and they were headed for the downed flyer.

He had a decision to make. If he fired on the jeep he might be able to force them to retreat but there was no way he could get there to check on the wounded man. He also might be dead. If he assumed he was dead and ran to the others they might be able to escape. Another look and he knew it was too late. He could not save the pilot but he could save the others. He ran back the way he had come.

From the air he knew Chief was up ahead between him and the others so he ran on. From off to the side he saw a lump rise and join him. Chief was at his shoulder.

With enough missions behind them they were ready. As The Guardian and his Hearth approached the others were heading for the far corner of the field and the shelter of the few trees that grew there. The bad news was that two of them were supporting the third. No time for that now; they had to run.

Once in the trees they regrouped. Goniff had twisted his ankle and landed heavily on his shoulder. Though obviously in pain, he said nothing. The height disparity between Casino at five eleven and Actor's six foot four made it awkward for Goniff so Garrison took over for the con man. They ran on.

Chief kept up even though each step jarred his ribs and the exertion forced him to take deeper breaths. He also knew that he was a closer match in height to carry Goniff but the thought of having someone that close and touching him made his skin crawl and his stomach heave. He hoped the day never came that he had to do it to save someone's life, especially... Could he do it to save Garrison? He was saved from that thought by a familiar sound.

"Down," was all he had to say and they all dropped. Here crossing the field there was no cover. All they could do was lie low and hope whoever it was would pass by and it looked like it was going to work. The driver of the horse and wagon was looking straight ahead as he made his way down the road that ran less than a hundred yards in front of the men. He passed them but then stopped the horse. It was hard to tell his age but from the way he eased himself down from the driver's seat he was probably elderly. Slowly he made his way up to the horse. Standing beside the animal's front leg he touched it and the beast shifted and raised his hoof. The driver bent and picked up the foot. From his pocket he took a tool and began digging at the foot. As they watched he began whistling a tune as he carefully looked toward the field. He knew they were there and was waiting. This was confirmed when Garrison whistled a few notes. A reply and they were all up and running. The driver put down the horse's hoof, patted his shoulder and returned to the wagon.

"You, American friers?" he asked in heavily accent English.

"Americans, yes. We need your help to get away."

He waved them to climb onboard as he slowly climbed up. He chucked to the horse and flipped the reins. They were underway. Within thirty yards the driver turned the horse and wagon down a narrow dirt lane that ran between two stone walls.

Another 'down' saw them flatten as a military truck rumbled down the road they had just left. All they could do was hope that if anyone was looking down the lane all they saw was the driver.

It did not take long for the farm to appear. The house was ancient as was the small barn that stood behind it. The horse was home and she headed straight for the barn. Garrison hopped down and opened the door. The horse walked in and stopped.

Once the horse was taken care of the farmer gestured to the loft. "You stay; I bring fool, eh," he paused to think, "food. I bring food. You rest now."

"Merci," said Actor.

That brought a smile and a flood of words. There were gestures as the three men talked. Garrison explained and the farmer frowned and then apologized and pleaded. The three English speaker stood waiting. Finally he left.

"What's going on?" asked Casino.

"Our host, Monsieur Verhoeven," started Garrison, "is a part of the underground that smuggles downed airmen to Gibraltar and from there to England. He thought we were airmen."

"'E called us American friers," interjected Goniff.

"His English is not very good," explained Actor.

"Fliers, friers, close," said Casino with a grin. "So what's the problem? He seemed upset when he left."

"I told him we were here to harass the Germans," put in the Officer. "He fears the Germans. His sons were killed in retaliation for a train derailment that was blamed on the civilians. He worries that more civilians will be shot because of what we do. He worries about his wife and who will help the other airmen."

"So what're we going to do? If you haven't noticed, we lost our bang back there."

"I know, Casino, I know." They headed to the loft.

Once they were there Garrison turned to survey the area. Chief had immediately gone to the door at the end. It was closed but he had released the latch and opened it a crack so he could see out. Goniff's injury was his first concern. Actor was removing the Englishman's boot and even being careful he had elicited a gasp as it slipped off. The ankle was swollen, probably sprained. Hopefully nothing was broken.

"We will need cold water and something to wrap it," said Actor.

"There's a well over there. Want me to get the water?" asked Chief quietly.

"Casino."

"I can get a pail of water," he replied with a touch of anger.

Garrison realized that he was right. He could not allow him to come and then prevent him from doing something as ordinary as fetch some water. He changed tactics and said with all innocence as he turned to the Indian, "I was going to tell Casino to take the watch." He felt that twinge of guilt when he saw the look of embarrassment on Chief's face. On the other hand he could not allow an injured man to dictate to him either. He gave him a smile to ease his discomfort and a ghost of a smile was returned. He waited until Casino moved to the loft door before he headed down to the well.

Chief looked out from the door before he entered the yard. The big old draft horse had been put out in the paddock and now stood, eyes closed, by the rail. An occasional tail flick was the only motion. As much as he liked the peaceful scene he needed water so with another look he headed to the well. As he neared the house he listened and heard voices, the old man's and a woman's. There were smells as well, good smells. Coffee, real coffee and vegetables simmering. His mouth watered as he grasped the pump handle. The bucket was old but sturdy so he filled it half full as he watched around him. With the house to one side, the barn behind him and the horse standing in the paddock, it was a peaceful spot. Though the weather was still cold and damp he imagined this on a summer day. He inhaled the smell of hot food mixed with the smell of earth and horse manure; the smell of a real farm, the smell of peace and contentment. If he had a choice this was where he would stay. A far back secret corner of his mind imagined coming back here after the war and asking if he could stay with them and work for them. It was a stupid dream which was why it was filed so far back that no one would ever see it, not even Garrison. The pail was filled so he slammed the door on his foolish dreams and headed back to the barn. As he reached for the loft ladder he heard the farmer coming. He had food.

The farmer was true to his word. He brought a pot of stew and bowls. Garrison asked about first aid supplies and he obliged. They were set except for their mission.

"I say we just sit out here for a week or two," suggested Casino as he wiped the bowl with the last scrap of bread and then popped it into his mouth.

"Me too," said Chief causing all other eyes to zero onto him.

"You would like to live on a farm?" asked Actor casually.

He hadn't meant to say it out loud but here it was. He looked from face to face to see if anyone was laughing at him. Actor looked seriously interested but then he was a con man. Garrison was watching, face neutral. Goniff was looking at him with an odd look like he couldn't understand why and Casino was surprised. Why surprised?

Casino turned to Goniff and said with a grin, "Mark that down, Chief just agreed with me, halleluiah." Goniff played right along, taking out an imaginary pencil, touching the tip to his tongue and wrote on an imaginary paper on his hand. Actor grinned but continued to watch. His question had not been answered. Garrison turned back to his map.

Chief had survived that one. He returned to his place at the loft door.

"Are we far from our target?" asked Actor coming over to where his leader was standing.

"Yes. I was hoping to get closer to Torhout. About thirty kilometers."

"Seeing as we have, as Casino put it, lost our 'bang', what do you propose to do?"

Casino chortled. "Can't you just see the wheels going round? Gotta find something to blow up, steal, con… Maybe we better find something before he goes crazy." Garrison ignored him but Actor's mouth twitched in amusement.

"This guy is scared of retaliation so how be we move somewhere else if you have to do something, like, say England."

"Yeah," chimed in Goniff. "I gotta go back and get a Doctor to look at me foot. Let's go back 'ome."

"How about it?" The safecracker waited then said with a lack of enthusiasm, "Didn't think so. So what now?"

"We were to meet in Torhout. Best way to get there?"

"I shall go have a talk with Monsieur." Actor headed for the door. When he returned he did not look happy. "He was willing but I am afraid he could not help. There is no fuel to be had for a vehicle and there are passenger trains twice a month. The Germans use the trains for troops and munitions. And before you ask he does not know the schedule or when any munitions will be moving in the area."

"That's it then, let's go 'ome," said Goniff.

Garrison said nothing but he folded up his map.

"He did offer to take us to the next stop on the Réseau Comète, the escape route to Spain and Gibraltar," offered the conman. From his tone they knew there was a 'but' coming. "He did say that five was too many altogether. We would have to split up." It was not that they had never split up before, they just preferred to remain together to help each other and to be sure they were all safe.

"You have a contact in Holland," suggested Actor.

"And that guy in France," added Casino.

"Yes, we could go with our host as far as France and then make our way to Duchamp's unless you have other contacts."

"Stay here." Garrison picked up his map and left.

"Do ya think he bought it? Are we on our way 'ome?"

"Too easy. Five'll get you ten he's gone to find another target."

No one took the bet; they all agreed with him.

Garrison returned. "He'll get us Belgian papers so we can travel and then take us to someone who might be able to help."

"When do we leave?" asked Actor eyeing the accommodations.

"He has to make arrangements so tomorrow or the next day."

"Might as well get comfortable, Actor. You're going to be here for a while," said Casino as he sat back in the hay.

"Least no one is shooting at us," added Goniff who had his foot up on a bale of hay. He looked comfortable or as comfortable as a man can with a sprained ankle.

Early morning, two days later and it was time to go. Each man carried forged identity papers that had been delivered during the night. After a light meal they had all headed for the wagon when Garrison had asked if anyone had checked to make sure nothing had been left behind to incriminate their host. Chief had volunteered and when it had looked like he was going to get an argument Chief had taken off back to the loft.

One last good look and then Chief made his way down the ladder just as the farmer brought the big horse through the barn to hitch her to the wagon. She was a beautiful rich reddish brown with a light colored mane and tail. Just watching her walk Chief couldn't help admiring the strength and power. He wanted to watch so he stood along the wall to let the pair pass. That way he could watch the animal move.

As they drew alongside in the aisle the animal swished her tail hitting the broom handle. It fell clattering on the cement floor and the horse sidestepped as she turned to look over her shoulder. The sudden sidestep swung the giant's belly pinning him against the wall. It was only for a second until the horse took another step and turned back but it was enough to compress his already injured ribs. It was so unexpected that he did not have time or breathe to call out. All that came out was a gasp.

All the farmer heard was the sound of the horseshoes on the cement and the horse nickering question about the noise behind him. He was further distracted by the massive head that swung around almost hitting him.

With the horse's next step the pressure was gone and Chief's compressed ribs rebounded. Pain followed by more pain. All he could do was brace his legs and try to remain on his feet. The inability to breath and the fire in his chest caused his knees to give out and after several heartbeats he slid down the wall.

There was nothing but pain; his vision faded and the sounds inside the barn receded. Nothing but pain. Something told him to breath. It was going to hurt but he had to breathe. He started with tiny breaths fast and shallow and his hearing began to return. The horse was outside and it was quiet in here. Slowly his vision returned. He tried deepening his breathing and he was finally able to get his feet under him but it was too late.