Allied HQ, February 17th 1944
Garrison stood to attention and watched the man in front of him prepare to deliver his message. He felt he knew what it would be, even before the man spoke.
"Switzerland. There's a double agent we need extracted. Your team will be doing it." He pushed a beige folder across the desk.
Major Johns didn't bother to look the Lieutenant in the eye. He simply gathered his remaining papers, thrust them into a highly polished leather briefcase and left the room.
The breath that Lieutenant Garrison had been holding onto was let out slowly and carefully. He glanced at the Allied Colonel lounged against the wall.
"I said you didn't have an option on this one."
Garrison gave a wry smile. "I had to try."
"You know that your men are expendable in the eyes of most of the Army."
"I thought they might give us a few days at least."
Colonel Thompson shook his head. "There are bigger fish in the sea at the moment. If your group can't do it, someone else will get the job... and however good your boys are, they're back in jail and you lose your commission. That's the way life is."
"I thought we'd at least get a chance to wait on Casino."
"It'll be at least 2, maybe 3, weeks before he's fit enough for a mission like this, and you know it."
Anger flashed in Garrisons eyes, but he bit back his retort. He knew Thompson was right, and maybe even being optimistic. Casino's wounds might heal in two weeks, but mentally?
The Colonel saw Garrison give way. "I've pulled a few strings, Lieutenant. I think I might have a plan..."
G G G
Later that night, Garrison thought through the proposal yet again. It might get him and his men off the hook – if they'd play ball.
Rumour that a mission was on the cards had got around by the time Garrison headed to the library that doubled as the briefing room.
"So where is it this time?" asked Actor, lounged comfortably on the best chair in the room.
"Switzerland. Zurich to be precise." Garrison took his men through the nuts and bolts of the mission and what it would involve. Now for the tricky bit.
So... when do we leave?" Chief had been gazing intently into his coffee cup. He looked up as he spoke.
"As soon as our new man gets here."
"You're taking seven of us into Switzerland? That's a bit much isn't it?" Even Goniff looked surprised.
"Just the five, Goniff. Sorry Diesel... Casino... you're staying home this time."
Diesel would, he found out, be loaned to a British unit for a raid on the submarine pens at La Rochelle. Garrison would get one of their men in exchange, someone who could open a vault. To Diesel it sounded a better option than Scotland.
Persuading Casino was more difficult. The ever-volatile New Yorker had been on a shorter than normal fuse since their return from Yugoslavia. Stress did that to people. Garrison knew the safecracker was trying hard to cover up how he was feeling, but he wasn't convincing anyone. Some minutes into a discussion on the man that would replace him in Switzerland, Casino finally lost it completely and stormed out of the office.
An hour or so later, briefing completed, Garrison went looking for Casino. He found him lying on his bed, curled on his side. The soft moccasins that were all he'd been able to bear on his damaged feet were lying on the floor. Salt tracks on his face gave testament to the fact he'd been weeping.
Garrison pulled a hard chair over to where he could look directly at Casino and sat down, facing the back rest.
"What did the medics say yesterday?"
"A week for the burns."
"And..?" Garrison prompted.
There was a long pause. Eventually Casino replied. "Two weeks before another mission. Maybe more."
"How about two weeks in Hampshire?"
The compromise had come out of the blue. An SIS training establishment had an issue. The man who did the lock and safe-cracking training had had a nasty accident, crashing his motorbike into a tree late one night. Someone experienced was needed to complete the course...
Casino had, of course, prevaricated. He'd never taught in his life... No one would take a con seriously... His arguments were in vain. Jail or Hampshire? There was no contest.
G G G
Twenty-four hours later, two changes of train and a local bus found Casino standing at the roadside opposite a rhododendron-lined driveway. Although he hadn't had to walk much so far, the partially healed burns on his feet were already complaining, just from wearing boots again. He hefted his heavy canvas kitbag over his shoulder, then crossed the road and made his way up the drive.
Turning a corner, he was confronted with a large country house, built of a mix of brick and stone, with tall brick chimneys. The drive swept across the front of the building, which faced out onto a sweeping expanse of lawns. It made the Mansion look like a country cottage.
With no obvious alternative, Casino made his way to the porch-way that hid a pair of studded oak doors.
G G G
Two hours later and Casino closed the door to the room that was to be his for the next two weeks. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but he wasn't housed with the other staff. Instead, it looked as though he might be in one of the family's bedrooms. Large, opulent and with its own bathroom. He was pleased that he was unlikely to be heard if he woke screaming yet again.
Difficult though it was to admit, the day had tested his endurance to its maximum. In his hand he held the course notes. He had until Monday morning to make them his own. In the meantime, there was nothing more onerous than meals in the magnificent oak panelled dining hall.
That evening he simply grabbed what food was on offer (very little) and took it to his room, not wanting to meet anyone. Sunday morning, he was more adventurous, vowing to stay at least as long as it took to eat. It didn't take long... porridge, scrambled reconstituted dried eggs and toast... his stomach rebelled after a few mouthfuls, forcing him to flee before he suffered the embarrassment of regurgitating the little he had taken on board.
Lunch was no better, but then this was England, and Sunday lunch would always be roast 'meat' and vegetables. He quite liked roast potatoes and even Yorkshire pudding... when cooked by Molly... but vegetables boiled within an inch of their life and old mutton boiled for even longer curdled his stomach. Once again, despite his hunger, he walked away.
Sunday tea was the saving grace... more toast, jam and margarine pretending to be butter. At least it didn't sour his stomach. Casino piled his plate high with the bread and jam, collected a mug of tea (worse than coffee, but better than water) and found himself a place at a secluded table that overlooked the lawns. So far, the other incumbents of the dining room had ignored him, something he was grateful for.
He took a mouthful of bread and jam and tried to apply himself to the notes, but it just wasn't working. He didn't know who his students were, but instinct told him that if he'd been sat listening to this he'd have shut down in minutes. He stared out at the garden as ideas started to come thick and fast. His last thought before he applied pen to paper was to notice three young women, wearing winter coats, strolling along the paths, laughing with each other. One, in particular, attracted his attention with her shoulder-length, wavy dark hair and curvaceous figure. He looked away and thought no more about it.
His dreams that night were bad. He spent most of the night recreating horrors, both real and imagined, from the last mission. It was a relief when he finally decided it was late enough to risk making an appearance. Fortunately, the Principal was already at his desk and looked up in surprise when he spotted the dark-haired American in his doorway.
"Good morning, Mr Colletti. How can I help you?" He hoped there wouldn't be any trouble. He hadn't been sure when it had been suggested he use one of Lieutenant Garrison's convicts, but he had to admit that from everything he'd been told he wouldn't get anyone as skilled as the American standing in front of him.
Casino sat down opposite the man, even though he hadn't been invited. "This training... this all the men get before they go out in the field?"
The Principal looked puzzled. "Yes. Is there a problem?"
"Safecracking's all about feel. You can't just read the books. If I'm gonna teach this stuff I want them to be hands on." Casino thrust the notes he'd made the previous night across the table. "This is what I want to do – can you make it happen?"
The Principal scanned what had been put in front of him. "It's highly irregular, you know that, don't you?"
Casino nodded. He was a good poker player and used to watching an opponent. He knew the man in front of him was taken by the suggestions he was making. "They get a security check thrown in for free."
"No promises, but I'll make some phone calls. We should be able to set something up for next week. As for this week, there's a safe in the estate manager's office... would that do?"
Casino left the office a happier man than when he'd arrived. At least the men he'd be teaching would be the best he could make them in the time he had.
A few hours later, sitting with a plate of macaroni cheese in front of him, he reflected back on the day's progress. All in all, quite successful. Of the six men and two women on the course all but one had shown some aptitude – and one looked like they could be a natural. He'd spent most of the day showing them how to pick locks. Only right at the end had he taken everyone down to meet the safe they'd be learning on. It was perfect for his needs, with a single dial combination lock. Nothing too difficult, a good confidence booster.
"May I join you?"
Casino had been deep in thought and the request had taken him by surprise. The dark-haired girl that he'd spotted yesterday was standing in front of him, holding a tray of identical macaroni cheese. A quick glance around the room showed that there were very few chairs left unoccupied – clearly, he hadn't looked an attractive proposition to share dinner with.
Quickly he tried to gather his manners together. "Yeah, be a pleasure." He stood to help her with her chair, but she'd already put her tray on the table and sat down.
"You're American? I didn't know we were training any of your people here."
"You're not. I'm not a student." Casino took a mouthful of the macaroni that was congealing on his plate. It was no more edible than any of the other meals he'd eaten here so far, but he was hungry and there was nothing else on offer.
He held out his hand "Charlie Colletti. I'm standing in for Tommy Lewis for a couple of weeks."
"Pleased to meet you Mr Colletti." The handshake was reciprocated. "Katherina De Luco, but everyone calls me Kat. I teach the Italian course." She took a mouthful of her dinner and pulled a face. "How can they make something so simple taste so bad? This is why I normally go back to my parents most nights. I'd starve otherwise."
So that would explain why she hadn't been at dinner last night, thought Casino. He forced himself to keep eating.
"I heard that Tommy'd had an accident of some sort. Motorbike, wasn't it?" Kat gave up her attempt on the macaroni. "Fancy some chips Mr Colletti? If we're quick, we can get to the van."
"Charlie," he corrected. "But most people call me Casino." He stretched a foot out from under the table, displaying a pair of soft moccasins rather than his usual black boots. "Quick ain't gonna happen, babe."
"I know where there's a wheelchair. I can push you." Kat jumped to her feet and waited for Casino to join her. The wheelchair was tucked under the stairs in the hallway and the safecracker initially baulked at the idea of being wheeled around the grounds, but the young woman was already pushing him into it and thrusting a tartan blanket into his hands. He gave in reluctantly. It might be a bit of fun.
Kat was as good as her word, managing a fair turn of speed down one of the pathways that Casino hadn't seen before. It led to a trade entrance outside which was a battered old van and a fair-sized crowd of people tucking into the contents of paper parcels. The smell of hot fat wafted through the air making Casino's mouth water.
"Here." The safecracker thrust a couple of notes into the teacher's hand. "Let me buy you dinner." He watched appreciatively as his 'dinner date' joined the queue. It didn't take long before she was back with two parcels.
"He had sausages tonight, so I got us one each. Hope you didn't mind."
Casino didn't mind. He was already taking a bite of the spiced treat and following it with a couple of hot, crispy chips. The two ate in silence for a while. Finally, Casino crumpled up his piece of newspaper and took out his handkerchief to wipe his hands before offering it to Kat to do the same.
"Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays," she offered, answering the unspoken question. "There's often fish on the Friday."
"Nice little earner," commented Casino as Kat started to push the wheelchair back up the path at a more sedate pace. "Don't suppose there's anywhere around here we can get a beer?"
Kat stopped briefly. "Weren't you shown around when you arrived? Of course there's a bar – it's the only way to keep everyone in the grounds." She resumed pushing, but this time was heading away from the main part of the building towards a second, smaller complex.
"So, what happened to your feet?"
"They got burnt."
Kat sensed that there was more to the story but clearly the man wasn't ready to divulge it. She changed the topic and instead started telling Casino about her Italian course. "Do you speak Italian Charlie? With a surname like Coletti you must have Italian ancestry."
Casino grunted in assent. The mention of his feet had plunged him back into the black place he'd just started to struggle out of. 'Get your act together', he told himself. 'It's not her fault.' Well, he might not be ready to talk about Yugoslavia yet, but he could talk about his family. With seven brothers and sisters that would give him plenty of options.
They'd reached the doorway to the bar. A man and a woman pushed their way through the blackout curtains bringing with them the smell of cigarettes and stale beer. Casino pulled himself to his feet and led Kat inside and up to the counter. "What can I get you?"
"I'd say Rioja – but I know they don't have any, so it'll have to be bitter." She put the change from the chips on the counter then watched while the drinks were poured.
Casino pulled a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and offered them across. Kat accepted then waited while the safecracker took one for himself and offered her a light. They found a table in the shadows at the back of the room.
Casino had planned to talk about his family, but in the end, it was the story of his last mission that he wanted to tell. He took a drag on the cigarette and followed it with a mouthful of the beer. For once it was cool and quite pleasant on his tongue. "I was captured by Chetnik rebels. They got a bit enthusiastic about persuading me to talk."
"You were on a mission?" Kat seemed shocked. She'd not expected her companion to be someone who was on active duty. She stubbed out her cigarette. She didn't really smoke, but since everyone else did she felt she should do the same.
Casino took another deep pull on his. "They used cigarettes on my feet, but they'll be OK in a week or so. They kept me blindfolded and... have you heard of waterboarding?"
"Yes," replied Kat, very quietly. No wonder he didn't want to talk about it. From what she'd heard they strapped you head-down to a plank, placed a cloth over your head then poured water onto the cloth to simulate drowning. She reached across and put her hand across the American's. He almost snatched it away but didn't. The sympathy almost broke him though and he had to fight hard not to break down.
Casino finished the cigarette. "Kat, I'm beat." He took a final mouthful of the beer and stood up. "You stay and join your friends." A noisy group of young people were having fun at the bar.
Kat watched him make his way past the blackout and into the night.
G G G
The rest of the week passed quietly. Casino's trainees were coming along nicely, growing in confidence each day. Even the no-hoper was making progress, although he would never have the finesse that the job required.
Despite having left Kat in the bar on the Monday night, Casino found himself seeking her out every lunchtime. The weather continued fine but cold, and the two took to walking gently around the large lake that fronted the house, well wrapped up with scarves and overcoats against the chill. Kat had been going home every night and the safecracker found himself missing her company in the long evenings.
On the Friday it finally started raining – and Kat didn't turn up for lunch. Disconsolately Casino swallowed the last of his stew and headed to the porch for a cigarette. He was just about to turn back inside when a motorbike and sidecar pulled up in front of him. Kat jumped out, retrieved a suitcase from the floor well then kissed the young man on the mouth.
Casino turned away. She hadn't mentioned a boyfriend, but it had to be. They looked good together, he thought. What was he doing, an old man of 30, getting interested in a girl who must be 10 years his junior? A loud whistle made him turn around.
"Hey, Casino, come meet my brother Franco."
Brother? He remembered her talking about her brother who was in the Navy. Now he looked closely he could see the similarity in the shape of their eyes and mouths.
"So, you're the Yank she can't stop talking about." If he hadn't been looking at the young man in front of him, Casino might have taken offence, but the smile was the clue. Just a big brother winding up his little sister. "See you Sunday – and don't be late. You don't want to upset Mama." The final remark was thrown over Franco's shoulder as he drove away, spraying loose gravel from the rear wheel.
Casino picked up Kat's suitcase and carried it inside, looking at her questioningly.
"Thought I'd join you for supper tonight." She glanced at her watch. "Oh Christ, gotta rush, my class starts in 2 minutes. Just stuff my case under the stairs. I'll pick it up later." Kat ran off down the corridor in a flurry of skirts leaving the safecracker standing in the hallway, her case still in his hand. More slowly he made his way to his own class, taking the suitcase with him.
G G G
A week's rest had improved Casino's feet to the extent he was able to make his own way to the chip van. He and Kat were early, in the hope of securing the looked-for fish. They were in luck, securing two chunks of succulent battered cod.
"So why the case?" The safecracker was curious. The suitcase had been large and heavy, quite a lot for an overnighter.
"There's a dance in the bar tomorrow night... swing band... Do you fancy it? You don't have to do much dancing but the music'll be good."
Casino liked swing music and on a normal night he'd have been on his feet for every dance. Tomorrow night he might have to sit most of it out, but he was definitely going to have at least one dance with the young Italian. Saturday dragged as Casino worked his way through the preparations for his second week's course. The Principal had come up trumps, persuading three local businesses and a bank to let the safecracker's team try and penetrate their security system. Ideally, he'd have liked to recce the premises beforehand, but there just wasn't time. He'd be going in cold.
Eventually, he could do no more and closed the folder. He would just have time to grab a bite to eat, shower and shave before meeting Kat in the foyer. He hadn't brought much in the way of clothes with him, certainly nothing suitable for dancing. In the end he put on the US Army uniform – with its stripes removed – that Garrison had found for him. At least he looked smart even if he wasn't strictly entitled to wear it.
Kat sashayed her way down the stairway from the women's quarters, knowing she looked good.
"You're one sassy dame," said Casino appreciatively, taking in the way the heart-shaped neckline accentuated her breasts and the net petticoats made the most of what was an already narrow waist. He helped her into her coat. It rather destroyed the image, but it was cold again outside.
Kat had been right, the band were good and the room was packed. Casino fought his way to the bar where he managed to secure a beer for himself and – miracle of miracles – a bottle of red wine. Kat had used her elbows to lay claim to two chairs. She looked surprised at the bottle then laughed. "I hope you're going to help me with that."
"Next time, babe, you can go. I'd rather face a jeep full of Krauts than battle that crowd again."
By the time the band packed up and people started to make their way back up to the house, Casino was sore of foot and probably heading for a sore head in the morning. He didn't care, it had been worth it. He'd not only danced with Kat, but after having seen the way he moved, he'd been dragged onto the floor by a few of her friends.
They walked hand in hand, comfortable in each other's company.
"What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?"
Casino stumbled slightly, a combination of tiredness and too much red wine. "Nothin' much."
"How about a traditional Italian lunch?"
A picture came into his head from a long time ago. He must have been 7, maybe 8. Grandparents, parents, cousins, siblings. All crammed into a tiny New York apartment. Not much in the way of money, but such joy. Where had things gone so wrong? He stopped, suddenly sober, and turned to Kat. "Yeah, that'd be great."
She kissed him briefly on the cheek. "See you here at 10. The bus goes from the end of the drive at 10:15. Don't be late."
G G G
When his alarm sounded at 8:30 the next morning, Casino was in two minds about throwing it out of the window, pulling the sheets back over his head and not moving for at least another eight hours. What had happened last night? Had he really drunk that much or was he seriously out of practice? 'Probably the latter,' he thought as he struggled to the bathroom and contemplated the red eyes staring back at him. 'Face it,' he told the mirror image, 'you're getting old.'
Two aspirin, a shower and shave helped somewhat, enough to let him force down a slice of toast and marmalade washed down with weak tea. He was pleased to see that he wasn't the only one looking worse for wear this morning... he was passed by several green faces as he stood waiting for Kat in the foyer. Even she looked less sprightly than normal.
They stood and looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "It was worth it though", Kat said, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Let's hope we both feel a bit better in an hour or so."
Kat's parents lived in a pleasant large Victorian terrace in the middle of Lymington. Outside it was quintessentially English. Inside, Casino felt transported back to his parents' place in New York, although he wasn't quite sure why. It wasn't just the statue of the Madonna, it was more the feel of the place.
Franco and Kat's father were lounging in the front room when they arrived, two typical Italian males putting the world to rights. Finding a small gift at such short notice had been difficult, but Casino had managed to bribe the gardener to part with a pot of snowdrops. It seemed to have been a good choice, if he understood the flood of Italian that came back at him. Introductions over, he was bundled off to join the bachelor herd while Kat was directed to join her mother in the kitchen. The safecracker saw her roll her eyes and nearly burst out laughing but stopped himself just in time. He'd forgotten just how different life was in a traditional Italian home.
Conversation was difficult, since both of Kat's parents insisted on only speaking Italian – even though she'd assured him that they were both perfectly capable of speaking English, but Casino got by, dredging up words he thought he'd forgotten from his childhood and relying on Franco and Kat for translations when words failed him.
What he couldn't fault was the meal.
It was almost dark when they finally headed down the road to catch the last bus that would drop them at the end of the drive. Franco had left a little earlier. His leave over, he was heading back to his ship in Portsmouth. The house appeared emptier without him.
Out of sight of her mother's prying eyes, Kat slipped her hand into Casino's much larger one and walked closely at his side, their arms touching.
"So, what did Mama have to say to you?" She'd seen her mother take the American to one side, and suspected that it might have been an uncomfortable conversation.
"Respect my daughter, I know what you Americans are like. She's a good girl." Casino did a fair job of mimicking the older woman's accent, making Kat laugh.
"And what did you say?"
Casino laughed. "The same I'd have said to any Italian Mama that had a carving knife in her hand." He paused, then was more serious. "I told her that I liked her daughter very much, but that we had only just met and I would be going back to the war, and might not come home."
"Is that the case?" asked Kat, quietly.
"That I'm going back to war? Yeah, the medics'll pass me fit when I get back, so I guess I'll be back behind the lines a couple of days later."
It hadn't been the question Kat had wanted answered, but she kept her peace. He was right, they had only just met, but she couldn't help herself from being attracted to the charismatic New Yorker.
Further conversation had to wait, as she suddenly spotted the bus rattling round the corner heading for their stop. The driver was clearly intent on finishing his shift as quickly as possible. Mindful of Casino's sore feet, she let go of his hand and sprinted to stop it, waiting half in and half out until he could catch her up. Once on board there were too many people, most of whom she knew, to interrogate him further, so they sat in silence, ignoring the curious glances, until they reached the driveway and its lodge.
Out of sight of both road and house, Casino stopped suddenly. 'This might be the last chance I get,' he thought. "Come here," he said, turning the girl to face him. He had to bend his head slightly to kiss her. He was expecting Kat to pull away after a moment – but she didn't. Instead, she moved in closer, intensifying the contact. It was Casino who pulled away first, the feelings almost too much to bear.
"Let's slow it down, Babe" he said huskily.
Kat misread what he meant. "I'm sorry, I thought you meant it..."
"I did... I do... But if you go on like that, I'll be doing things I shouldn't."
The penny finally dropped. "Oh." She blushed, although Casino couldn't see her reddened cheeks in the darkness. "I thought you meant you have someone at home, a wife or a girlfriend."
"No. Nuthin' like that, not here or in the States." He had his control back again and reached in once more to resume the kiss and this time neither pulled away for a long time.
Both were deep in thought as they finally reached the house.
"Before this goes any further, we need to talk," Casino said abruptly, taking Kat by the hand and leading her into one of the ground-floor reception rooms.
The library was deserted, just a small desk lamp casting a low light in one corner and the remnants of a wood fire glowing redly in the grate. The fire was still giving out a fair amount of heat, and Casino shrugged off his overcoat, throwing it onto the back of one of the sofas before sitting down close to the fireplace. Kat unbuttoned her coat but left it on, nervous about what the American was going to say. She sat alongside him.
"You're right. At my age I should have a plump little wife back home waiting for me and five or six kids filling the house. But I don't. And the reason why is that I've spent most of my adult life locked up in one Pen or another. I've run booze out of Chicago for my uncle, I've robbed banks and hijacked cars for the mob over most of the north-east. Once they get their claws into you, they don't let go."
"I was doing time in Leavensworth when the war came along, and they'd thrown away the key. Then one day in early '43 this young Lieutenant turned up. Offered me a parole if I'd come over to Europe. Well, I signed on the dotted line, thinking I'd scarper as soon as he had his back turned."
"But you're still here?"
Casino had expected Kat to be shocked, repulsed, by what he'd been telling her, but she sounded curious.
"Yeah. There were five of us for that first mission, all cons, all out for ourselves. Four of us made it home and we came back starting to be a team. Don't get me wrong, we fight, but the Warden just picks up the pieces, pulls us back into line and throws us back against the enemy."
"You respect him a lot, don't you? It makes a big difference."
Casino nodded. He was still surprised how he'd put himself on the line for the Army officer. Not that he'd admit it to anyone back at the Mansion.
"You're not shocked, that I'm a con?" Casino was still curious as to why Kat was still here, talking to him like he wasn't a hood.
"No. I hadn't guessed exactly, but it all fits. You had to get your skills from somewhere and you wouldn't get as good as you are in the Army." Kat hesitated. "The mob... it's part of being Italian, I think. My uncle, back in Italy, he's involved. That was why Papa came to England – so that Franco could grow up without having to look over his shoulder all the time."
She stood up and pulled Casino, who was staring at the fire, to his feet. "I don't know about you, but I need some sleep."
Casino raised an eyebrow at the slight innuendo and was rewarded with a back-handed slap to his arm. He laughed.
"Charlie, I have a class to teach tomorrow and so have you. I'll see you for lunch and you can tell me more about your Lieutenant and the other convicts."
Casino smiled wryly. "We won't be here for lunch for the next four days. They've set up some live skills tests for me. The guys will get a go at some real safes in real offices, and we'll see whether they've been watching and learning over the last week." He tried to sound flippant but was actually feeling pretty down that he'd not get to see Kat. He'd enjoyed their lunchtime strolls.
"How about you walk me to the bus each night? You're going to be back before I finish the afternoon classes, I imagine?"
"Deal." Suddenly the next week looked a lot more attractive.