Cross Purposes

Garrison had found three of his men back in their quarters following an afternoon on the firing range, evidently getting ready for an evening out. He had to admit that showered and dressed in their best, Goniff and Casino cleaned up nicely. Actor, even in fatigues after a hot, muddy day on the obstacle course, always managed to look ready for a soiree, but this evening he was the personification of elegance in a dark blue three-piece suit tailored perfectly to his tall frame, with matching tie and handkerchief. All three were predictably unhappy to see him, but after some grousing about having their plans ruined, they'd told him he could find Chief still out on the range.

Now, as he stood quietly in the shadows of the armory doorway, his arms folded across his chest against the early evening chill, Garrison watched the pair out at the firing line. Master Sergeant Doubek was career army, a solid little fireplug of a man a half a head shorter than Chief, who'd recently transferred into their unit to head up the mess staff. When his file had come across Garrison's desk, he'd given it a cursory review. Doubek was a veteran of The Great War who'd been on the verge of retirement when this war had broken out, and he'd re-upped. Garrison didn't recall seeing anything in the Sergeant's file about weapons expertise, but he had to admit that he hadn't given it that close an inspection, since he wasn't terribly concerned with mess hall administration.

The cool breeze carried their words away from him, but he could see that Doubek was explaining the rifle that Chief held between them. It had one of the new spotting scopes attached, and Doubek was going through a series of adjustments, animatedly pointing out various features, and gesturing toward the target a good one hundred yards downrange. Chief listened intently, nodding now and then, and when he asked a question, the Sergeant would give him a detailed explanation.

From the moment his team had arrived at this base, there had been an uneasy relationship between them and the regular Army staff. He'd had to break up numerous altercations that had been provoked by animosity and distrust on both sides. But their training and mission schedules left Garrison little time to deal with the problem, aside from the occasional reprimand about respect for the uniform. He'd hoped experience and familiarity would eventually take care of it. Maybe he was finally seeing that happening here.

When the two stepped up to the firing line, and Doubek began instructing Chief on his stance, Garrison hated to interfere. But they had a mission to tackle.

Doubek looked up and saluted as he approached.

Garrison returned the salute. "At ease, Master Sergeant."

"I'm sorry, sir. I should have asked permission first..."

"It's alright. I'll take it from here."

"Yes, sir." The Sergeant snapped another salute, nodded to Chief, then turned and headed back toward the armory.

Chief watched the man's retreating back. "He ain't in any trouble, is he?"

"No. But he's right. He should have gotten permission first."

"It's my doin'. I overheard him talkin' about the new scope, and I asked him to show me."

Garrison took the rifle from Chief and sighted it on the target downrange. All the bullet holes were clustered around the bullseye. "Nice shooting. Yours or his?"

"Both."

Garrison wrapped the rifle's sling around his arm and wrist and snugged the stock against his shoulder. Cocking a round into the chamber, he sighted again on the target, took a breath, released it, and gently squeezed the trigger. His shot left a hole slightly below and to the right of the existing cluster. Maybe he needed to make more time for practice.

"Not bad," Chief smiled.

Garrison frowned at his scout as he lowered the rifle. Chief couldn't really see that far, could he? "After the shot you made taking out that truck tire, you're the last one I'd think needed sniper training."

"Next time I wanna make the shot before the truck goes in the river."

He smiled and handed the rifle back to Chief. "Let's hope there isn't a next time. Come on, the others are waiting in the map room. We have an assignment."

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Before Garrison had even gotten the door closed behind him, Casino started up. "So what's so important that we gotta miss a party?"

"Haven't you heard? There's a bigger party in full swing on the continent."

"Oh yeah. That."

As Chief slid into a chair at the table with the others, Garrison went to the map of western Europe hanging on the wall. He picked up the pointer and sketched an imaginary circle around a small patch of blue on the northern coast of Spain. "Who knows what this is?"

Goniff squinted through his cigarette smoke. "Mmm, looks kinda like a camel with 'is head cut off."

Casino chuckled. "And three humps."

It was hard not to laugh with them, but Garrison managed a straight face. "Yeah, well that three-humped headless camel is the reason you're missing the party tonight."

Actor leaned forward for a closer look. "That is the Duchy of Zabaletaña, is it not? I thought it was taken over by Franco's Nationalists after the Spanish civil war, and the family went into exile."

"It was, and they did. Duke Javier Pello Bidarte y Zabal and his immediate family have lived in London since '38, but he's been funneling a lot of his considerable fortune into the Basque resistance movement back home."

"So what's the problem?" Goniff yanked off his already loosened tie and threw it into the middle of the table. "He want us to steal his home back for him?"

"Not exactly." Garrison set the pointer down, lit a cigarette, and shook out the match, tossing it toward the ashtray. "Theoretically, Spain is neutral, but the Duke has gotten word that Franco's letting the Nazis use the manor house at Zabaletaña as a retreat for their officers."

"So we don't have to steal the whole estate, just the house. Gonna be a little tight fitting it onto a sub, don't ya think?"

"Not the house, Casino." Garrison picked up the thick, old book sitting on the table next to the pointer and opened it to the page he'd bookmarked. Setting it back on the table, he turned it so they could see the glossy full-page color artist's rendering of an elaborate gold, jewel-encrusted cross. "Just this."

Actor pulled the book toward him and whistled appreciatively. "The San Fermin Gurutzea. It is stunning."

Garrison knew he shouldn't be surprised, but he had to ask. "You speak Basque?"

"Not fluently." Actor ran his fingers over the picture as if he were caressing the real thing. "This is a legendary piece in the art world, supposedly crafted by monks in the early 13th Century in honor of St. Ferminus. It was rumored to be hidden somewhere in the Basque highlands, but no one has seen it for centuries."

"Now that's my kind of mission, Warden." Goniff flicked the ash from his cigarette. "A jewel heist."

As his men passed the book around, studying the picture, Garrison took his seat at the head of the table. "The Duke claims it's been in his family for generations. He was afraid to try and smuggle it out when he fled in '38, but now he's afraid the Nazis will get their hands on it, and it'll disappear forever into Hitler's collection."

Goniff studied the picture with as much relish as Actor had. "Is that a real ruby?"

"Purported to be one of the largest and most flawless ever found," Actor explained. "To say nothing of the countless diamonds, sapphires and emeralds."

Goniff was practically drooling. "Blimey, this thing's gotta be worth...a lot."

Casino leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Since when are we in the business of risking our necks to steal people's jewels back for them?"

"First of all," Garrison continued, "we owe it to the Duke. His family and followers play a major role in smuggling our people out of France, and they do it as much out of loyalty to him as for any idealogical or political reasons. This is an iconic cultural symbol for the Basque, and we desperately need them on our side." He smiled at his conman. "And as Actor so eruditely pointed out, it's an important piece of Medieval Christian art."

"You got a plan?" Chief drawled.

Garrison reached over to the sideboard to grab the roll of papers laying there, and unfurled them onto the table. Although they weren't true blueprints of the Zabaletaña manor house, they had been drawn by the Duke with just as much precision and attention to detail. Each sheet depicted one of the three floors and the cellar level. The ground floor drawing included the front courtyard, the sculptured gardens and outbuildings, and the surrounding walls. Garrison shuffled the papers until he found the one of the third floor and tapped on a small rectangular space at one end. "The cross is in a safe in this room. It isn't on the official blueprints of the house, and can only be entered by a doorway hidden behind the paneling in this adjoining room, a servant's quarters. "

"What kind of safe?" Casino wanted to know.

"The Duke wasn't sure. It's old. But would that really matter if you have the combination?"

Casino grinned. "Ah, c'mon, Warden. You're making this too easy."

"Don't get complacent. There are still a lot of obstacles before we get to the safe."

Actor relit his pipe and took a puff. "Do we know if the house is currently occupied?"

"We don't. We'll have to determine that once we're on the ground."

"And what about local support?" Actor picked up the book and turned back to the page with the picture. "Do we have a contact?"

"A distant cousin of the Duke's, a local shepherd."

"When do we leave?"

Chief asked the question, but Garrison looked around the table at each of them. "Monday night, by sub, into San Sebastián. You have two days."

"Two days?" Casino straightened out of his slouch. "Then why the hell are we missing that party tonight?"

"Study these plans and come up with ways to approach this. Between the four of you, you should be able to cover all the angles. I want at least two good plans by tomorrow morning."

"C'mon, Warden, we can do this kinda stuff in our sleep..."

Taking the book back from Actor and slamming it shut, Garrison rose and headed for the door. "Tomorrow morning, 07:00, back here. Two plans. Now's a good time to start."

He closed the door firmly behind him, then heard whatever Casino had thrown hit the other side.

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The thunk of his pack of cigarettes hitting the door hadn't been nearly loud enough to express Casino's frustration. And now he had to get up and go get them. He needed one bad. He lit it and shoved the pack back into his shirt pocket.

"Two plans, huh? Here, gimme those." Sliding the stack of drawings away from Actor and spinning them so he could see them, Casino quickly flipped through the pages. "Okay, plan number one. Create a diversion here at the front, sneak in through this kitchen door and up these back stairs, break into the hidden room, snatch the cross, split." He took a drag on the cigarette. "Plan number two. Get in through the secret tunnel, go up to the third floor, break in, snatch the cross, split."

"Secret tunnel?" Goniff raised an eyebrow and leaned over to look at the plans. "I don't see no secret tunnel."

"That's because it's secret, stupid. This place has gotta be as old as Methuselah. Those Medieval guys were always running from somebody, so there's gotta be a secret tunnel."

Goniff smirked at him. "And fairies are gonna build us a bridge of rainbows so we can escape."

"Yeah, fairies, whatever. The Warden wanted two plans, we got two plans. Now let's get to that party before they start without us."

"If I'm going to risk my life, I would like a little better plan than an imaginary tunnel and fairies." Actor slid the plans away from Casino, his brows knit together in concentration as he compared the different levels. "This looks like a stairway, but it doesn't seem to have a matching outlet on the second floor, and if these dimensions are accurate..."

Chief had pulled the drawing of the cellar level towards him and was studying it. "I don't see no outside door to the basement. That don't make no sense."

"Guys, c'mon..."

"Casino might be right. There appears to be unaccounted for space..."

"What? Really?" Casino had just been making stuff up, but if there really was a tunnel, that would make the whole operation a lot easier. He sat in the chair next to Actor and leaned in for a closer look.

Taking a small notebook and a pen from his jacket pocket, Actor started jotting notes. "I wonder how far this tree line is from the house. It might be a possible retreat..."

By the time they'd called down to the mess hall to have some coffee sent up, they'd identified several different ways to get to the third floor and two possible escape routes. Dinner had arrived with the coffee, and they ate as they continued to throw ideas back and forth. When Casino finally stopped to think about whatever it was he'd eaten, it was gone, and the coffee was cold. When he looked at his watch, he was surprised to find that it was well past 9 p.m. And they had the outlines for three different plans and several pages of questions for the Duke.

"I dunno..." Casino leaned back and lit another cigarette. "I still don't like the idea of relying on some sheep herder to get us outta there."

"That's something we will have to decide once we've made contact," Actor conceded. "But I think we have some very workable ideas here."

"Whaddya wanna bet the Warden already has a plan." Goniff stood and stretched out stiff back muscles. "He ain't the type to leave this kinda stuff up to somebody else. 'Specially not us."

Actor rolled up the manor house plans and put his notebook back in his pocket. "The Warden lacks first hand experience in art theft. Our plans would certainly have more potential for success."

Chief tossed his mangled paperclip into his empty coffee cup. "That second plan's the Warden's style. Quiet and slick."

"No way, babe." Maybe sometimes, Casino thought, but if Garrison thought some fiery chaos was the quickest way, he'd use it. "He'd go with that first plan. You can't beat a good, noisy diversion."

"Nah, you're the only one who likes to blow stuff up."

"Okay, smart guy, wanna make it interesting? Five quid says he's already decided on plan number 1." Casino pulled a wad of bills from his pants pocket and peeled off a £5 note.

The small smile crossed Chief's face. "Get ready to lose, pappy."

"I'm with Casino." Goniff threw a bill into the middle of the table. "The Warden does like his fireworks."

"You want a piece of this, Actor?"

"No, thank you. I think you're all wrong." Actor stood and headed for the door. "And 7 a.m. will come very early tomorrow."

Casino looked at his watch again and sighed. "Ah, hell. I guess there's no sense in going to that party now. They probably already finished all the champagne anyway."

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Chief folded his legs in front of him on the hard, hide-covered dirt floor and leaned his elbows on his knees as he wiped the last crust of coarse bread around the inside of his bowl, soaking up the greasy broth. He bit off a chunk and let the rich flavors linger on his tongue. When he offered the last scrap of crust to the dog lying beside him, the animal snatched it out of his hand and swallowed it whole. In these tough times, even the animals had learned to grab whatever they could, when they could. He scratched the dog between its shaggy ears and received a lick on the hand in return. But the dog was probably just licking off the last of the mutton grease.

They'd been staying in this stone one-room shepherd's cottage for several days while they adjusted their plans. It was built part way into a hillside and roofed with thatch. A couple of ewes occupied a fenced off area in the back. It was a snug but comfortable space for Señor Todor Bidarte, his wife and three dogs, but the addition of five more bodies was a tight fit.

Señora Bidarte stepped carefully over the dog, and leaned down to Chief with the steaming pot. "Mas?"

He returned her smile. "No. Gracias."

On his other side, Goniff sat forward, reaching out his bowl. "I'll take some more. I ain't eaten so good since that prison job in Norway."

"That's your third bowl," Casino admonished. "Ya wanna leave some for the cook?"

Goniff frowned. "But she offered..."

The Señora grinned and happily ladled more stew into Goniff's bowl.

For a man well past 60, Todor Bidarte easily lowered his tall, sinewy body into a seated position on the floor between Actor and Garrison, and set the oil lamp in the center of their little circle to illuminate the mansion plans spread out in front of them. Silver streaked his black hair, and his face was as creased and tanned as the sheep skins that covered the floor and walls. He was obviously a man who'd spent a lifetime in the sun with the livestock, and now he worked as a grounds keeper at the manor house. With one gnarled finger, he pointed to a spot on the plans. "This section of the wall cannot be seen from the house. It is hidden in underbrush and neglected by the guards. But the Germans are bringing in another squad tomorrow."

"And you said the General and his staff will be arriving on Sunday?"

"So it is said."

"Then tonight's our best shot." Garrison set his empty bowl next to him on the floor and leaned in to study the plans, although he must've already committed them to memory. "Let's go over it again. Casino?"

"But it's almost a full moon tonight."

"It's either the full moon or an extra two dozen Krauts. Take your pick."

"Yeah, okay, so maybe there'll be some cloud cover." Casino sighed and leaned in, too. "Me, Chief and Goniff break in through this back door. Goniff'll stand watch on the first floor while me and Chief head for the kitchen and up these back stairs to the third floor bedroom. Chief and I'll hack through the paneling, get into the hidden room, and Chief'll stand guard while I open the safe. Then we split the same way we got in."

Garrison tapped a spot in the center of the paper. "I'll be outside near this garden shed. Actor, you'll have the watch back at the outer wall." Garrison looked up a Bidarte. "How much of the staff should still be in the house tonight?"

The shepherd shrugged. "No one that I know of. Only the guards. The two outside and two more inside."

"Good. Any questions?"

Only a ewe bleated from her pen in the back.

"Then blacken your faces. It's almost midnight."