WHY?
Heavy clouds rushed in to cover the moon and obscure her light within twenty minutes of the successful parachute landing into Occupied France. Ten minutes later the same clouds began to disgorge their cold, wet contents. Lt Garrison eased his limbs slowly and silently, his clothing and the clothing of his four men was becoming colder and wetter by the minute. He knew he had to get them all into the relative shelter of the safe house soon, but he waited for a few moments longer, just to be sure.
"Chief," he said quietly. The man nearest to him moved away noiselessly and skirted around the edge of the clearing to go to the back of the small cabin all five men had been watching. The officer had to peer through the darkness and rainfall in an attempt to see, but Chief would not be seen until he wanted to be, or until he had no other choice. A wraithlike shadow appeared and crossed the open ground. Moments later a pinprick of light from the torch he carried gave the signal that all was clear. Using his own pencil torch the Lieutenant indicated to the rest of his men, waiting some yards away to his left. He watched, handgun drawn, as one by one, shapes emerged from the dripping undergrowth and scurried across the clearing.
Once his charges had accessed the cabin Garrison crossed the open space himself, light on his feet for a man over six feet tall, he moved almost as silently as the young scout he had sent in first. Entering the main room he automatically checked again to ensure that all four were present and safe. An oil lamp was spluttering to life on the square wooden table in the centre of the room, Casino replaced the smoky glass cover and moved towards the small fireplace. Another automatic check told the officer the shuttered windows would contain the meagre light given off by the lamp. The interior of the cabin smelt musty and unused, but that was good, and it was dry.
"Chief, take the first watch." He said, knowing the young man had the best night vision and sharpest hearing of the group. The French Resistance leader was due to meet them within the two hour watch the Indian would cover. "You know the password." It was a statement not a question. The man nodded and disappeared soundlessly into the night.
"Glad that's Chiefy out there and not me. It's bloody perishing. Can we light a fire?"
"No." Garrison was terse. "Not until our contact arrives, if he says it's safe, we might."
"Only might?" The slightly built blonde shrugged at the nod that was his only reply and began to beat his shoulders in an effort to warm up.
"Take off your jacket." Actor said calmly, his own jacket was already draped over the back of one of the two spindly chairs near the table.
"Are you deaf? I just said I was perished!"
"No, I am not deaf, but your jacket is wet, and you will feel colder with it on."
"Knock it off." Garrison pinned them both with a glare, before a full-blown argument could begin. "Goniff, Casino, go and have a look around, see if you can find blankets or old coats, anything." The Lieutenant wriggled out of his wet, green corduroy jacket and hung it over the chair beside him, plucking a damp folded map from the inside pocket as he did.
The two men ambled away muttering as the officer spread his map carefully on the table.
"He'd 'ave a fire to dry out his ruddy map if he could."
"Yeah! Well, if he does, let's hope it goes up in smoke and we can get outta here."
"Unhappy in your present job Casino?" asked Goniff in a posh English accent.
He gained only a grunt and a frown in response.
"Well, it's better than stir, come on Mate, let's get on, then we might get warmed up a bit."
The double bed in the only bedroom yielded an old blanket, sheets and a comforter. The two men dumped them on the floor in the living space and headed into the small lean-to kitchen. There they found a couple of fairly clean towels. On their return, Actor had already wrapped his broad, six-foot-four-inch frame, in the colour-faded quilt and was sitting in the one large fireside chair calmly preparing a pipe of tobacco.
"Blimey, would you be in my grave as fast?" grumbled the wiry blond. "I wanted that."
"It is more fitting for someone of my stature."
Garrison hid a smile at Actor's arrogant and deliberate use of double meaning and also at Goniff's resulting expression as he and Casino picked up an extra layer each to wrap around themselves and found somewhere to rest. He looked down at his map again, but the contour lines and roads remained exactly the same. They could do nothing more until their contact arrived. Raising his head, he rolled his shoulders very slowly to ease the all too familiar build-up of tension. His gaze fell upon the three men in the room. Actor, seemingly relaxed and enjoying his pipe, he could have been back at base in the library, the only thing missing was the book on his lap. Goniff and Casino sitting side by side on the floor, backs against the roughly hewn timber wall, although their eyes were closed, he doubted they were sleeping.
So, this was his unit, these three men and one more outside. A group of four convicts, an unlikely mix of characters and personalities, but each man had a skill the Army needed, and he had been chosen to lead them. If the four survived the war and served the army for another six months, their reward would be a parole. 'Your soldiers will be disciplined and trained to react instantly to your commands.' Well, that was the gist of the lecture back at West Point, but these men were not soldiers and some of their reactions to his commands would make even his toughest instructors weep. Some of the things they were teaching him would also make them weep, but they were all learning from one another and that had to be good – didn't it?
Chief was the youngest, outside now and on the outer edge of the group, Garrison had an idea that would always be the case. The man was a loner, quiet, intense but always in tune with whatever was going on around him. He was also deadly, a silent killer, his preferred method, the use of a razor-sharp switch-blade across his victim's throat or straight into the heart. His other skills involved cars, hot-wiring them, driving them and fixing them. Although the Native American was on the periphery, he was already developing a sense of loyalty and belonging. The Lieutenant was sure they were feelings that were alien to the solitary young man.
Casino, dark haired, darked eyed and stockily built, of Italian-American descent from New York's East Side. Brash, cynical and hard as nails on the outside but he had already shown a soft centre, not that anyone would dare mention it to him. His job was to open safes and handle explosives and he was an undisputed master of his craft. The man's other, self-appointed, task was to disagree with everyone, especially with him, as their leader. The safecracker had already become friends with Goniff, they constantly argued, but would stand up for each other too. A link was forming.
Goniff was from England, his accent more than a little different to the others, his skills were those of pickpocket, thief and second storey man. He also had a knowledge of alarm systems. The slightly built blond, whose blue eyes could claim innocence even when guilty, had become an ally to Casino, an irritant to Actor some of the time and joker to all, most of the time. He was, however, proving to be a complex little character to assess, either a pessimistic optimist or an optimistic pessimist, the officer had not yet decided which.
That left Actor, highly intelligent, well read and well versed in many languages. He was also charming, rather vain and a resolute ladies' man. Older than everyone else, the handsome, suave Italian had a variety of skills learned from life. His role within the group was to play the confidence game, of which he was the absolute Grand Master. Garrison wondered if he would ever find the real man behind his many masks. The other three already looked to him as their spokesman, a buffer between the army way and their way. He was also slipping naturally into position as his second in command, so another very important link was forming.
This was only the fourth time they had been sent out together as a group. With care, the still tenuous links would strengthen, and it was up to him as their leader to forge them into a solid chain and the effective team he already knew they could become. The Lieutenant acknowledged that he was already in debt to these four men society labelled as 'misfits'. When he had been captured by the Germans during their recent mission in Norway, they had gone back into a prison to get him out. Yes, he had chewed them all out for what was a risky move that could have cost the whole operation, but there was no denying that he owed them his life.
Garrison gave a slight shake of his head to clear his mind, reached for the chair upon which he had hung his jacket, spun it and sat astride. Removing the Luger pistol from the shoulder holster he wore, he began to check the weapon. With blue/green eyes still focussed on the map, his fingers moved quickly and efficiently over the cold, hard metal with the unfaltering confidence of familiarity. Pushing the ammunition clip home with the heel of his hand, he placed the gun on the table.
"Do you know the contact Warden?" asked Actor, using the title Goniff had almost instantly bestowed upon the Lieutenant when they first met as a group. He was not convinced the officer was too happy about it initially, but he seemed to have accepted it now. The four cons certainly felt more comfortable using the term, they could not call him 'Garrison' to his face, were not obliged to call him 'Sir' and would never use his Christian name.
"Gaston? No, I don't, but I've worked with his brother Marc before, he's a good man. We used this cabin on that job too."
The Italian nodded, the younger man had just confirmed why he had been so certain of his way, at night, to this well-hidden refuge. He stored away the fact that the Lieutenant had been to Europe before, working undercover. Along with other pieces of information he had gleaned from Garrison's dossier when he had read it, just before their first mission together. What he did not know was, that dossier was not the full resume of their commander's personal details, nor his military career. The complete version was safely held elsewhere.
"Well, I 'ope this Gaston bloke has some grub wiv 'im. I'm famished."
"Not your day is it Limey? Perished, famished and tomorrow you might get killed."
"Thanks Mate!"
Before Garrison could open his mouth to stop another potential argument, a soft three note whistle was heard coming from outside. Raising his hand for silence and with a hard look at Goniff and Casino, he answered with a similar call. Seconds later, Chief and two strangers entered the cabin to be greeted by four drawn handguns, despite the appropriate warnings. A short, dark haired man in his mid 40's stepped forward. He spoke in accented English.
"The apple blossom is late this year."
"There will still be a good crop," added the American officer.
"Lieutenant Garrison. I am Gaston." The newcomer's shoulders eased and some of the tension in his expression filtered away as the two shook hands.
"My men have taken over the watch outside, so your man may rest." He nodded towards Chief who remained inside the cabin but was still watching the strangers, his dark eyes wary.
"You have worked with my brother, M'sieu?"
"Yes, is he here?" Garrison remembered Marc as tall and fair haired, in stark contrast to the older man in front of him now. They had worked well together and had a very successful mission.
"No, he is in a labour camp now." The pain held within, was evident in the man's voice. The four convicts exchanged solemn looks, while the Lieutenant lowered his eyes and turned away, his jaw tight. He was all too aware of the horrors the man would be enduring, starvation rations, vicious guards, punishing work and no end to his torment in sight.
"Janine, his girlfriend, is in our cell now. Do you remember her?" Gaston's brighter tone was forced, but he was obviously pleased to have someone close to his brother working with him in the fight against the hated Boche.
The figure beside him stepped forwards, most definitely female, she removed the dark woollen hat she wore, to reveal a head of blonde curls, soft grey eyes looked around the small room taking in the five men returning her gaze. Shifting her focus to Garrison she nodded, her English had an even stronger French accent.
"We met briefly, M'sieu. You may not remember me." The young woman did not wait for a response, just picked up the bag she had placed beside her. "I have some food for you all." She moved to go to the tiny kitchen.
"Good lass," said Goniff, jumping to his feet and following her, "I'm starvin'. What 'ave you got for us in there, Luv?"
The woman turned to look at the man who had spoken, he had kind blue eyes, a likeable face and a broad smile. She could not help but smile back at him.
"I'll 'elp. Many hands make light work."
She tipped her head to one side, a slight frown furrowed her brow as she worked out the meaning of his last words. The man was grinning at her now. She nodded her understanding, and they went into the kitchen together to prepare the food.
Casino's eyes hit the ceiling at his friend's comments and actions. He looked at his colleagues, all four were shaking their heads. Actor's hazel eyes had tracked Janine's progress across the room. Garrison may, or may not, have remembered her, but he certainly would have done. This could prove to be an interesting mission. He folded the quilt, he would offer it to the young woman later, as a way of making conversation, to begin with. The Lieutenant took his map off the table, folding it back into the still damp pocket of his jacket. He glanced up as the Englishman returned with two loaves of bread, some sliced meat of indeterminate origin, a couple of bottles of wine and some tin cups. He decided to ask the question before Goniff could.
"Is it safe to have a fire Gaston?"
"Yes, a small fire will be safe, you will be more comfortable, yes?"
Chief moved without being asked and began to work with the dry kindling on the hearth.
"Come my friends, let's eat."
GGGGG
"That's it!" The Lieutenant finished his briefing, drained his cup of rough red wine and looked around the table, first at his men, then at Gaston and Janine.
"Yeah! Well, it sounds okay, but they never work like that!" Goniff shook his head.
"We're the guys who are gonna make it work, Limey." Casino punched the air.
Garrison ignored the man's sarcastic tone and false enthusiasm, distracted by a tirade of rapid French that had broken out between the Resistance leader and the girl. She was both agitated and upset, he exchanged a steady look with Actor who was also following the conversation, if that is what it could be called. The other cons looked from speakers to colleagues and back, unable to understand the words but all were aware of her anger and also an element of fear from the young woman.
"What's goin' on Warden?" asked Chief quietly. As he spoke the salvo of words stopped and the sudden silence swamped the tiny cabin. Garrison sighed heavily.
"Janine is worried because you three do not speak French or German. She thinks it is too much of a risk, especially using Goniff as a waiter at the reception."
"Bloody 'ell, I think it's a risk an' I'm the one doin' it!" The Englishman looked slightly hurt.
"Ma'am, he will be in that room only minutes, a deaf mute."
"It is too dangerous Lieutenant, there will be high ranking officers there."
"Much too high in rank to bother with a mere waiter." Assured the confidence man, offering her his most charming smile and cutting in before Garrison could answer.
"What if someone write things down? He will not understand."
"Janine, you worry too much, that will not happen." Gaston now tried to console her.
"Look, Luv. I'll be alright, just 'ave to keep 'em all plied wiv booze. They won't even see me."
The grey eyes looked puzzled.
"He means, they'll be too drunk to notice him," explained Casino, his strong features now wearing an expression of pure resignation. The safecracker was not happy with the set-up, but knew it was futile to even try to change the Lieutenant's mind. Those documents would be lifted from that safe and taken back to England, just as long as one of them lived long enough to get them there.
"I do not like it!" The woman paused, arms crossed, looking stubbornly at the American officer. "Let me serve the drinks instead of your man."
Goniff grinned and nodded in agreement but knew to stay silent. Deep down he was very uncomfortable. He admired the bravery of women like her, risking their lives for the freedom of their country, but he did not like the fact that they were 'on the front line' and in danger. War was men's business and should be left to them to fight.
The cons watched Garrison closely, a strong challenge brought against him was a new one. They all complained and griped about his plans and he always ignored them, but Janine was adamant. Why would he even consider the opinion of the Frenchwoman they knew nothing about? Was he even bothering to consider or was he just reaffirming that the mission would begin as he had planned? How it would end was anybody's guess.
The Lieutenant was completely still, He glanced briefly at the young woman, his expression gave no clues of what was going through his mind. She was right, he didn't like the way this had to be done either, but he liked splitting his group even less. Chief had to be alone, outside with the vehicle in case they needed to get out and get away fast. Casino had to be on the safe, Actor and he were needed at the reception initially, both there to ensure the German officers and invited town hierarchy did not leave the soiree and go into the office that held their target. If they were able to glean any information by being with the guests, that would be a bonus. Goniff, was the catalyst that would set the operation in motion. Once the pickpocket and Casino were in the building, he was to go into the party with his tray of drinks, circle the room and then go out to join the safecracker. Actor or himself would follow and all three would then go upstairs and take the documents from the safe. The officer's time spent thinking was seconds although it felt much longer both to himself and to those waiting for his response. No change, Goniff would still be a waiter.
"M'sieu, you might need another person at the reception, extra eyes, let me help."
He felt a light touch on his forearm and turned to face the girl directly.
"I can dress as a waitress or even as a guest, it makes no difference." She gave a slight shrug and waited for an answer, her grey eyes intent upon his face.
Garrison met her gaze, unconsciously gnawing the inside of his lower lip as he considered her idea. She probably knew some of those on the guest list and the German officers too. Maybe another pair of eyes in the room and her local knowledge would be useful. She obviously wanted to take an active part. He looked around the room, he could feel Gaston willing him to take her with them, Actor and the others were non-committal, but the decision was his regardless. He nodded.
"Okay, Janine, you're in – as a waitress."
"Marc would be pleased," she said softly, "if I could tell him." The woman picked up some of the empty cups and disappeared quickly into the lean-to kitchen.
The Resistance leader looked up, a sad smile flickered across his lips, he inclined his head in thanks to the American officer.
"She has been lost without him. This will give her purpose, M'sieu." He paused, the only noise came from the kitchen as Janine dealt with the detritus of their meal. The five men watched as the Frenchman visibly pulled himself together, he smiled again, this time a broad smile of satisfaction. "Now Lieutenant, outside in the log store, there are some bags, they contain the uniforms and other items you may need."
"Goniff, Casino, go help with the bags." Garrison said firmly.
"Why us," moaned the Englishman, "wot's wrong with Actor?"
"There is nothing wrong with me, thank you." The Italian eased back into his chair and continued to blow clouds of aromatic smoke into the air as he enjoyed another pipe of tobacco.
"Well get off your backside and..."
"Goniff, I told you, not Actor."
"Aw, but..."
The officer silenced the blond with a hard, no nonsense, look. His eyes followed the man who meandered towards the door and glared at the tall Italian as he passed his chair. Casino followed on, his attitude mirroring that of the slender thief. Garrison shrugged his indifference to their behaviour and waited eagerly to see what the Resistance had managed to acquire for them.
GGGGG
Janine trimmed away the excess cotton threads, laid the tunic flat on the table and studied her handiwork. She was glad of the light from the extra lanterns she and Gaston had brought to the rendezvous, but her eyes still ached. Her needle skills were good and the uniforms she had worked on for the past few hours now showed rank and insignia, to match the false papers the men would carry. It would have been hard to obtain clothing to fit the tall Italian had London not advised them of his height and build. He would wear the uniform of a Wehrmacht Colonel at the reception that night, the American Lieutenant would keep his own rank and also wear the distinctive field grey. In addition to officers' uniforms London had asked for an ordinary soldier's uniform, work overalls and a waiter's outfit, none of which had needed much attention from her. She rubbed her fingertips and thumb together. The heavy wool had not been easy to push the needle through, despite her thimble. She smiled sadly, even the more feminine skills were of use when men made war.
The Frenchwoman stretched her back and pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked up simply to change her focus and met the dark, almost black gaze of the former lookout. Although there was no need, he was wide awake, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, watching and listening. She shuddered and turned away, his intense look had unnerved her for some reason. The Lieutenant was also awake, still studying the maps and drawings he had resting on his knees. Gaston had curled into a ball, sleeping close to the hearth and the other two dark haired men were uncomfortably asleep on chairs, but there was no sign of the slightly built blond. She glanced towards the open bedroom door and caught a glimpse of his tousled fair hair, he had commandeered the whole bed for himself! Janine shook her head and bit down a laugh at the man's audacity, she had expected the smooth, rather handsome Italian to claim the bed and bedroom. She wondered whether her refusal of the quilt he had offered to keep away the chill had offended him. He accepted it with grace, but his soft honeyed eyes had appreciated her body just a little too much. The woman packed away her sewing materials and thought again about the wisdom of sending in a team with three men who had no knowledge of French or of German. She huffed softly, 'Military Intelligence', were words that did not sit well together in her opinion.