Goniff looked around the tastefully furnished office. He was in yet another 'toff's' house, well a fully-fledged 'Château' this time, some people knew how to live. He shrugged his narrow shoulders, didn't make any difference now, it had all been taken over by the Nazis. A second door in the room caught his eye, much narrower than the one they had entered by and made to blend into the decor as much as possible, he wondered what was behind it. He turned to watch his colleague for a moment, the man was certainly good at his job and pretty fast too, shouldn't take him too long to get into the safe. He wished the Warden or Actor would turn up though, how would he or Casino know which documents to take?
Casino flexed his fingers, set his shoulder comfortably against the wall and placed his ear against the safe, then the air raid siren began to wail.
"Jeez! How am I supposed to hear anything with that racket?"
"'Coz you're good Mate. That's what you keep tellin' us anyway."
The New Yorker glowered at the blond but settled back into position to try to listen to the tumblers as his deft fingers turned the dial on the safe door. He should have time before the bombers got too close, if they were heading that way. They needed to be out of there by then anyway and where the hell was Garrison or the conman?
"Hey, nobody will come in with this raid startin' up. I'm gonna look in there."
Disturbed again from the task in hand, Casino glared at Goniff as he pushed against the semi-concealed door the safecracker had not noticed either. With an irritated shake of his dark head, he settled back into position for the third time. The pickpocket was like a magpie, he was probably going on the hunt for 'a souvenir' to take back.
The Englishman tucked his pistol into the back of his waistband; he might need two hands for this additional part of the mission. His blue eyes scanned the room for 'booty' and there it was! Lying on a small side table, gleaming in the soft light cast from the room he had just left, a pretty little silver trinket box. Drawn like a magnet, Goniff moved quickly to his target and picked it up, the precious metal cool against his fingers. The box was hexagonal in shape and small enough to go into a pocket which is precisely where he put his prize. He smiled to himself, he would enjoy looking at it properly in daylight. It might need to be polished too – he liked doing that.
Casino snapped his fingers, a habit of self-congratulation he sometimes displayed when he successfully conquered the tumblers on the many safes he had opened over the years. Grinning with satisfaction he opened the heavy door and saw three large, sealed envelopes. He glanced over his shoulder, no sign of Goniff and no sign of the Lieutenant or Actor, maybe that smooth Italian had picked up a dame and brought her up here to one of those rooms they had passed. Garrison would be more than furious if he had. The safecracker shook his head in anger at the two absent men; one of them should have been here by now. How did he know which envelope to take? He reached in and tested the weight, they were fairly full. He would just have to take all of them.
The noise of detonating bombs could now be heard. How long would it take for the bombers to be overhead? Were they heading this way? How the hell should he know? Garrison was the soldier boy, the military man. All he knew was that he and Goniff would have to get out of there and find Gaston or Chief on their own. The other two would have to take care of themselves. He put the envelopes on the desk, produced a cloth from his pocket and automatically began to wipe his fingerprints from the now closed safe. He paused and looked skywards, maybe the aircraft were coming this way after all, so why was he bothering? The whole place could be blown to hell, they had to move out and move now. He turned to pick up the envelopes and stopped dead.
Goniff looked up to the ceiling and wondered how far away the bombers were. He didn't want to die as a result of an Allied raid but surely one more look around the room wouldn't hurt. He was soon deeply engrossed in his final sweep and with the added noise of the bombing he almost missed the sound of voices next door. Must be the Warden or Actor and not before time, he had better get back to the office and fast.
"What d' ya think yer doin?"
The New Yorker's voice had carried to the smaller room despite the increasing noise level outside, he sounded nervous. Goniff froze. Casino nervous? What was going on? Moving swiftly but silently the pickpocket crossed to the narrow door, but something told him to stand back. The tableau before him looked more like a scene from a movie than reality. His colleague and friend was almost backed up against a now closed safe, a small stack of envelopes lay on the desk with Casino's Luger beside them. Facing the safecracker was Janine, her eyes fixed on the dark-haired man, the pistol she held, trained on his heart.
Goniff's mouth dried instantly, his blue eyes grew wide as he tried to absorb what was happening, he couldn't and wouldn't move, not yet anyway.
"Put the documents back." The woman's voice was calm and controlled.
"You put 'em back, Lady."
"Safes are not my forte, but it matters not. I will just hand them back to the Germans and prove my loyalty yet again. You, of course, will be dead either way."
Casino stared at her while his mind ran riot. Did this broad have others working with her right now or was she working alone? Had the mission been a set-up? Were the other three captured or already dead? The safecracker held the gaze of the Frenchwoman, if that is what she was. There was a weird look in her grey eyes now, no longer soft but, detached, dangerous and deadly. He would die if he put the papers back, die if he didn't, or die trying to rush her. He had a lousy hand to play and where the hell was that Limey Joker when he was needed? Then, without breaking eye contact with the woman, he spotted Goniff, framed in the narrow semi-concealed doorway and, he hoped, out of Janine's range of vision.
The cat burglar watched and considered his limited options, he also had a lousy hand to play. He could distract the girl and hope Casino would 'deal with her' one way or another, or he could try to 'deal with her' himself. Realistically he knew that was his only option, he had to shoot her, he was too far away to try anything else. He was almost surprised when he found he had already drawn his own gun. When had he done that?
Time slowed, the Englishman's breathing slowed, he saw Janine's breathing slow and then stop, her finger moved to squeeze the trigger. Goniff fired twice, the young woman's body hit the floor with a sickening thud. The pistol falling from her hand, outstretched in instant death as if she were still determined to reach it. Deep crimson blossomed over her white blouse and also stained the blonde curls that covered the remains of the right-hand side of her head. The neat black entry hole on her left temple stared back at the pickpocket.
Casino released the breath he was holding and fell back against the wall behind him, relief robbing his legs of their strength – that had been close! His dark eyes turned to Goniff, who hadn't moved and was still staring down at his victim. Outside the air raid continued to rain destruction and more death.
The safecracker shook himself; this might not be over. If the woman did have help, there could be half a dozen SS stormtroopers out in that corridor. He pushed himself away from the wall, took a single step towards the desk and his own weapon. Then the office door flew open.
GGGGG
Garrison ran, first to check the storeroom where Goniff and Casino were meant to be waiting. Finding it empty, he bounded upstairs to the second floor and continued to run along the corridor towards the room where the safe, the documents and the rest of his group should be.
"Leutnant!"
The American skidded to a halt, in his haste, he had not noticed a door to his right open. He turned slowly, holding his breath and half expecting to be looking down the business end of a Luger. Instead, he found himself eye to eye with the SS Major who had abandoned him earlier to listen to 'tales of Berlin' from the Wehrmacht Colonel. He snapped to attention this time, in deference to rank.
"You are in a hurry. The shelters are the other way, down in the basement." Two explosions fairly close by reinforced the man's words as the raid intensified.
"Yes, Herr Major, but the blonde waitress you saw me talking to earlier, is waiting for me up here."
"Aahhh! Lucky you, all French women are whores at heart, but I doubt you are very interested in her heart." He laughed at his own lewd comment.
The officer moved closer, his breath smelt of cigarettes, alcohol and food. When he clapped his hand solicitously onto Garrison's shoulder, the younger man had to try very hard not to recoil.
"I am told that having a woman during the danger and excitement of an air raid can enhance your performance." He gave another dirty laugh. "Go and show that waitress what a true Aryan male can do for her in bed." He leered and leant forward consiprationally. "Oh, and you must tell me all the details later, my friend."
While Leutnant Reiter smiled on the outside, Lieutenant Garrison cringed within at the Major's crude remarks. The man turned away and walked unhurriedly towards the main staircase. The American waited a few moments, consciously forcing his right hand to open and relax the clenched fist that had automatically formed, ready to punch the vulgar words straight back down the German's throat. Then above the noise of the air raid came two distinct gunshots, very close and obviously from within the building. The SS officer had only partially turned back to see what was happening when Garrison made it four gunshots, one to take him down and the other to ensure he would never make salacious comments again.
Twisting away, the Lieutenant ran quickly to the room he'd been heading for. Throwing open the door and with sidearm still drawn he stopped, frozen with shock. Janine was dead. Her body lay crumpled in the middle of the floor, blood gathering darkly around a neat hole in her temple and seeping onto the carpet beneath her bloodied curls, another deep red stain was still spreading slowly over her white blouse. What the hell was she doing there? He glanced in momentary confusion towards his two men, Goniff was as still as a statue, gun in hand, staring down at the woman's body. Casino, standing between the closed wall safe and the desk, looked straight back at him, dark eyes angry but relieved.
"What happened?" Garrison asked, his voice sounded much calmer than he felt.
"She was a collaborator Warden, a traitor. Tried to stop us getting the papers. Goniff took her out before she could kill us both."
"You got the papers?" The officer's eyes turned back to the dead woman, disbelief turning rapidly to a bitter acknowledgement of the truth. Close to her outstretched hand, lay a Mauser. No wonder she had been so keen to 'help'. He huffed in anger at himself but said nothing.
"Yeah, I got 'em."
The building shuddered, plaster fell, and lights flickered as a stick of bombs, stitched a line of destruction across the town. The aircraft were now much closer than they had been, the bomb aimers above, bombing on fires already set.
"We've got to get out of here now." Garrison's command was not really necessary.
"You're not kidding." Casino made for the door. "Goniff, Goniff, come on!" he yelled.
The pickpocket did not move, ashen faced, his eyes were still fixed on Janine, the Lieutenant grabbed the Englishman around the arm and forced him in front, pushing him out of the room and into the corridor. Noise was increasing by the second and the reverberations from explosions rattled windows and doors, as more bombers moved into the overhead. The three men ran down the stairs and entered the deserted hallway just as the lights finally went out.
"We going to the shelters Warden?" shouted Casino.
"No, we've got to get out."
"We're going out into that?"
"Yes!" Garrison did not have time or patience left to argue. "Unless you want to sit in a cellar full of Krauts for God knows how long. We'll be safer out there and we have to get those plans out of here!"
"Knew he wasn't bothered about us. The man is crazy," muttered Casino under his breath to Goniff who could scarcely hear anything other than the clamour of hell taking over outside.
"Yeah, well 'e's got his job to do – come on."
Suddenly the almighty crash of a nearby bomb sent all three men to the floor, they lay flat, hands over their heads, waiting for the next one to stop their flight forever but the next one landed elsewhere. After what seemed to be a long time but was only minutes, Garrison raised his head, ears ringing, covered in plaster and brick dust, he coughed the mess from his mouth and got to his feet. The front door had been blown off its hinges and the wooden shutters now hung drunkenly from the window frames, allowing light from incendiaries and fires to illuminate the whole scene with an eerie orange glow. Wondering if Actor and Chief were still alive, he looked around for his other two men and was rewarded straight away with the sight of a strange coloured and very dusty Goniff scrambling to stand up.
"Bloody hell Warden. That was close." The quiver in his voice, before he also started to cough didn't matter, the man was alive.
Once upright, the Englishman wiped his hands on the front of his jacket, a futile attempt to rid them of the grit and dust that covered everything and still clogged his throat and mouth despite the coughing. He patted his pockets, his silver trinket box was missing! He glanced at the filthy floor and then toward the stairs, the box could be anywhere between here, and the room they had left minutes ago. A room he did not want to return to, even if he could. He shuddered, the box might have held bad memories for him in the future. However, it might have come to remind him, that by looking for his souvenir, he had saved Casino's life, but right now, that was not enough, bile rose and he coughed again.
Taking a step forward Garrison felt the crunch of glass beneath his feet, a mixture of shattered, splintered windows and what had once been a grand chandelier.
"Jesus, doesn't the RAF know we're on their side?"
The Lieutenant heard the safecracker before he saw him, he picked his way carefully across the hallway, the grating noise accompanied every footstep as he moved over the shimmering shards, still audible despite the ongoing cacophony. Reaching down he helped the stocky New Yorker to his feet.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, piece a cake, go in, get the plans, get blown to bits!"
Garrison managed a brief smile, if Casino was grumbling, he was okay, he shepherded his two men out into the man-made maelstrom. They ran from the building, jinking and jumping over debris in their path, the light from the fires now showing them their way towards the car, they hoped was still there, with their colleagues safely inside. Ash, sparks and dust filled the night sky. The smell of cordite, brick dust and of burning wood assaulted their noses and explosions hammered their ears. The car was sitting just where it had been parked less than two hours ago, with unparalleled relief they flung themselves in. Chief gunned the engine and drove off before the doors were closed.
GGGGG
Driving through an air raid was not something the young Indian had ever done or expected to do. He spun the wheel right and left, trying to avoid the debris, craters and flames, jinking and swerving just as his three colleagues had done when they fled from the Château. The car was heavy but responsive and it felt much better to be moving rather than sitting. Every waiting minute he had expected to be approached and questioned and every minute had seemed like an hour. When the bombing started, he had forced himself to stay in the car. His survival instinct told him to take cover but where could he go? He was determined not to let the Warden down, so he stayed where he was. The noise and the percussion from the explosions savaged his ears and the weird light from incendiaries pierced and burned his eyes but he did not move. Something or somebody was keeping that car safe while hell erupted around it. His own sense of relief when Actor appeared in the front seat beside him was immeasurable, as was the tension while they waited for the others, but they made it and now it was down to him to get them out of there and fast.
Chief glanced into the rear-view mirror, the orange glare from the burning town filled the glass, just where it should be, well behind them. Why it had been a target for the Allies he had no idea, but it was, and he was just glad to be out of it. Trouble, however, had not been left there, the young man sensed that 'something' had happened, and it was something serious, but for now his job was to drive. Eventually he began to slow the powerful Mercedes and turned smoothly into the lane that would become a track and disappear into the woods wherein lay the cabin they had left only hours ago. The Indian twisted round to look at Garrison, sitting in the back behind Actor.
"Warden?" Chief's single word asked the question.
"Get the car out of sight, we'll go in on foot."
The young man nodded and drove forwards slowly, his dark eyes searching for a place to hide the large and very distinctive vehicle. The bright three-quarter moon was providing enough light to see, if not clearly, then adequately. The Lieutenant was content to leave it to his scout to find a suitable place. Goniff sat in abject silence, sandwiched between him and Casino and he could almost feel the Englishman shrinking as he withdrew into himself. The blond had not even risen to his friend's mutterings about why the RAF had bombed the town, other than the fact they were in it. That thought had flashed across Garrison's mind too, but he had more immediate problems to consider. Just how safe was the safe house he was heading for? Could he trust Gaston? Was the man still alive? Did they have a way out of France? What could he do about Goniff? Realising they had stopped, the officer opened the door and stepped out into the densely wooded area they had now driven into. Chief was already out of the vehicle, trying to cover their tracks.
"Goniff, Casino, see if you can find some downed branches and help hide the car."
The New Yorker trotted away, without comment for a change, while the pickpocket stood, stock still, head down, staring at the ground.
"Goniff!" The Lieutenant's voice was sharper than intended but he wanted to keep the man busy. "Go and help Casino."
"Oh! Yeah. Sorry, Warden."
Despite the shadows cast by moonlit trees Garrison saw Actor's eyes turn, first towards him and then move away to track the little thief as he wandered aimlessly after his colleague. It was only then he remembered that the Italian had no idea what had taken place back at the Château. The drive through the air raid had been made in tense silence, other than Casino's low mutterings and his own scant orders to Chief, who was also unaware of the events, although he acknowledged that by now the safecracker would have told him. The officer knew his second had worked out that something serious had happened, he decided to answer his question before it was asked.
"Janine is dead, Actor." This time he felt, rather than saw, the man's hazel eyes flick back instantly to rest on him. "She was a collaborator. Goniff shot her before she could shoot Casino." Garrison was surprised at how matter of fact his voice sounded. He could still feel the residual sense of shock that had coursed through him when he first entered that room and in his mind's eye, still see the dead woman's outstretched hand reaching for her gun. He gave an involuntary shudder.
The conman said nothing, his mind took him straight back to the previous night, even with his many years of experience in the confidence game he had not tuned into the young woman's ploy. She had been somewhat cool towards him, but had he been so distracted by her pretty face, blonde curls and full figure that he'd failed to see through her? Could he have stopped this happening? He pushed the disturbing self-doubts away and found his voice, there were other priorities.
"What about Gaston? Can he be trusted?"
The Lieutenant ran a weary hand across the back of his neck and shook his head.
"I don't know," he replied quietly.
Deep in their own thoughts, the two men stood in silence, the only sound now being the swish of branches being heaped on top of the staff-car. The Allied bombers had turned away heading for home, taking their noise with them, leaving death, destruction and an ear splitting quiet in their wake. It was Actor who spoke first, knowing that Janine and her fate were not for discussion right now, he turned to more practical matters.
"Warden, do you want us to disguise our uniforms somehow? If the Resistance are already in the safe house or the woods, we are prime targets."
Garrison was relieved to have a question he could answer.
"We'll try to play it both ways," he said with a wry smile. "If they are there, we'll be Goniff and Casino's prisoners, if the place is full of Germans, they'll be ours."
The other three men were on their way back having completed their task, Casino and Chief checking over their shoulders every few paces to confirm that the car was well out of sight. Goniff trailed some way behind his two colleagues and failed to see the looks of grave concern from both the Italian and the Lieutenant. The five then set off in silence for the cabin with the Native American out in front, on point, his acute hearing and excellent night vision once again working hard for their safety. Garrison positioned himself at the back of the group, mainly to keep his eye on the Englishman. Moving as quietly as possible through the trees, they arrived at the edge of the clearing that surrounded the small wooden building. With a hushed command from their leader the men spread out into line abreast, and all lay down to watch. There were no vehicles and no sign of life, but that meant nothing. Twenty-four hours ago they were doing exactly the same thing, but now everything had changed.
Garrison could feel Chief's dark eyes watching him, even at a distance, he knew the young man was waiting for a signal to go and check inside. He raised his hand and with a distinct sense of deja vu watched a shadowy figure cross the open space and make his way carefully to the door. Moments later the same shadowy figure waved his colleagues forwards, the cabin was clear.
GGGGG
"Chief, take the first watch," Garrison ordered, once all five men had entered the rustic refuge. He did not like using the youngest member of his group yet again, but he was the best man for the job right now and that had to be his only consideration. The Indian nodded once and stripped himself of his German uniform jacket, replacing it with an old coat he had noticed hanging on the back of the door, it smelt musty with a vague hint of animal, but would do its job. In minutes he was outside in a good position to observe most of the area.
The men inside followed suit in ridding themselves quickly of what they were wearing and trying, as best as they could, to get rid of the filth from the air raid. They all changed into the clothes they had arrived in the previous night. On his return to the living room the Lieutenant spread a map on the table and began to study it and his thief, who was sitting on the floor in exactly the same place as he had the night before, but he was neither resting nor talking, he was just different. The officer worried his lower lip gently, he knew the pickpocket was troubled by what he'd had to do back at the Château, once again he decided to give him a small task.
"Goniff, go and see if you can find some food."
"Okay."
The blond got to his feet, no argument about why he had been asked to do it, just a flat acknowledgement and meek compliance. He wandered into the kitchen and moments later came back with a rather stale baton, cut into rough chunks and half a bottle of red wine. Casino took a piece of bread and began to chew. He washed down the dried offering and the remaining dust in his mouth, with the wine. Actor accepted a drink but refused the unappetising bread, grateful that he, and the Lieutenant had eaten at the Château. Garrison declined both, opting instead for a cup of water. They all noticed that the Englishman neither ate nor drank.
The four men waited, the suffocating silence surrounding them was punctuated not by words, but by the rhythmic tapping of Garrison's pen on the surface of the table as he continued to study his map and cast surreptitious glances at Goniff. The conman and the safecracker, exchanged an occasional look over the head of their colleague. He was completely still, his blue eyes fixed on a point somewhere only he could see. Time passed; tension mounted.
Outside, Chief, watched, listened and waited, but who would come through the woods? Gaston and the Resistance or the SS? He was ready whoever it was. The normal night sounds had returned in the aftermath of the air raid, a gentle rustle of leaves as the light breeze moved through branches above and around him, the distant barking of a dog and the random hoot of an owl. His own heartbeat provided the only other noise. He wondered how Goniff was reacting to shooting Janine. They had all killed before. Sometimes he had to kill with his own body in contact with his victim, he could feel their heat, smell their fear and hear their last breath. He doubted the English thief had ever done that, he also doubted that he had killed anyone at close quarters before, collaborator or not.