"Goniff! I need you here - not away in dreamland. If you cannot do that, I might have to rethink this group! Get outside and relieve Chief."
Garrison banged his fist down hard on the table and pinned a glare on his second-storey man. As much as he sympathised, he had spoken to him twice and had no response. Frustration and irritation collided in his words. He didn't want to lose the Londoner. His skills were invaluable, he fitted in well and he liked the man. However, as leader, he did not have the luxury to like or dislike. He had to consider the effectiveness and welfare of the group as a whole, not just one member. Chief had been on watch for long enough, even his skills would have dulled by now.
The pickpocket slipped quietly from the cabin without a backward glance, glad to get away from the man he knew he had angered. He genuinely had not heard what the Warden had said to him, he'd been thinking about other things, but could not remember what they were now. It would be better if he was out of the way. The blond scuttled across the clearing towards the lookout point being indicated by a tiny pinprick of light from a pencil torch.
"Hey, Chiefy, you okay?" Goniff hissed.
"Yeah. You?" The softly drawled one word question somehow held concern.
"I'm always okay mate. You know me."
The younger man heard the words but was not convinced about the truth of them. He stood in silence giving time for his colleague to acquire his night vision, the general perspective and feel of their surroundings. Eventually his relief nodded, without a sound Chief moved away and headed back to the cabin. A drink would be welcome, a change of clothing and maybe some sleep, although he did not really believe that sleep would be possible.
GGGGG
Inside, Casino was about to open his mouth to challenge the Lieutenant in defence of his friend, but Actor's warning look and slight shake of his dark head silenced him. The conman was rewarded with a scowl and a hard stare from the New Yorker. Both men had been shocked by Garrison's threat and they now turned, as one, to look at him, his shoulders were rigid, his jaw tight and eyes still focussed on the map. He continued to tap his pen on the tabletop. Nothing was said.
The safecracker looked away, leaned his head back against the rough wall and with a heavy sigh closed his eyes. As usual the mission was an unholy mess. He would have been safer in Leavenworth, but would he have felt as alive as he did now, despite the danger? He took a deep breath and tried to move away from the events of the past few hours, but Goniff's stricken expression as he looked down at the dead woman kept pushing its way back into his mind. He knew the image would go, in time. Right now, his worry was about what the Warden had said - 'Rethink the group'. That meant only one thing.
Actor began to make a pipe, carefully tamping down tobacco into the bowl before applying a match. He continued to consider his commander through a thin haze of aromatic smoke. The younger man had already won his admiration and respect for his courage and ability. He was confident, quick witted and determined, sometimes to the point of blind obstinacy, but he also showed compassion, sympathy and care. He might have been to West Point, but he was no martinet, he was simply human and like all humans he sometimes made mistakes. He was, without question, blaming himself for allowing Janine to go with them and the consequences of his decision.
Suddenly the pen tapping stopped, a distinct low whistle from outside had reached the ears of the three men inside. The Lieutenant gave the agreed response and the door opened. Chief came in noiselessly, as always, he threw a dark-eyed look at the Luger that was trained on him. With a brief nod of recognition, the weapon was lowered, and the officer went back to his map. The newcomer's gaze moved quickly to the others, they both shrugged, but said nothing. It was impossible to ignore the mix of bristling tension, nervous energy and underlying anger bouncing around the confines of the small room. The youngest member of the group took a welcome drink of water from a tin cup and moved to his usual place at the window. The ensuing silence was broken only by the resumed, constant cadenced tap – tap – tap. - then nothing! Garrison flung his pen onto the table as if it were burning his hand, he straightened and looked hard at his three men for a beat.
"Chief, get some rest." He snapped and strode swiftly out of the cabin, well aware of three pairs of eyes following his path.
"What's eatin' him?" asked the Indian, jerking his head towards the closed door.
"Goniff," said Casino.
"Everything," countered the conman. Chief raised a dark eyebrow in question at the two statements. Actor continued to speak, not giving the safecracker the chance to add more.
"Gaston should have been here, but where is he? The Warden does not know if he was killed during the air raid or will come back with a troop of SS. His other contacts could be dead. In the light of what has happened, can he trust anyone in this cell anymore? If not, we no longer have a way out with any help from the Resistance. Garrison has got to get us out of France somehow. Then there is Goniff." Actor paused, his final sentence was barely audible. "He might be going back to prison."
Chief shot a long hard look at the Italian.
"Glad you asked now, Geronimo?"
"If we can't trust anyone, what are we doin' here, we could be sittin' in a trap?"
"Where else could we go? I do not think the Lieutenant will keep us here any longer than he has to."
"He told you his contacts, Actor?" The question was asked quietly. The answer came as a single nod of the head. "He trusts you then."
The older man considered the Indian's last statement, he shrugged. Trust was probably too strong a word and there was a certain irony in the placing of trust in a conman.
"The Warden shares necessary items of information. I have lived all over Europe, speak the languages and I am older than the rest of you. Maybe he feels my experience of life is useful and that I might be able to get us out of trouble, if something should happen to him."
"Type of thing you're experienced in won't get us out of trouble," Casino said with a grin, knowing the man's reputation with ladies. "You know nothing about his Yes Sir, No Sir, kinda life."
Actor turned slowly and gave the New Yorker a look of haughty disdain.
"Are any of us wearing uniform, Casino? Knowledge of the military life will not help if we have to get to Switzerland or Spain without the Lieutenant."
GGGGG
Garrison was angry. Angry with himself, because he had not seen through Janine's con and now they all had to deal with the outcome. Then there was the threat he'd made to Goniff just now, he should not have done that. He'd felt Casino's animosity and Actor's incredulity follow him out of the door. He tucked himself back into the right-angled recess where the lean-to kitchen met the main room of the cabin and let out a long, slow breath of frustrated resignation. He could not undo what had happened, nor could he take back his words.
Despite the fact they had the plans they'd been sent for, this mission could still fail. Thoughts spiralled round and round in his head as he stood in the quiet of the night. They could not stay in the cabin for much longer, but if Gaston was still alive, he had to give him a chance, didn't he? Could he trust the man to come back for them and get them out of France, or was he on his way with a squad of German soldiers? Could he get his men to a neutral country if he had to? The officer ran a hand through his hair and round the back of his neck, the muscles there were so tight, they felt as though they would snap. He sighed. Then there was Goniff. Pushing himself away from the roughly hewn boards, he stretched his spine, tried to relax his tense shoulders and took a couple of steps towards the lookout point, then with a shake of his head he changed his mind. The Lieutenant whistled softly, heard the response and went back indoors.
GGGGG
Goniff's blue eyes scanned the area, the moonlight kept playing tricks on him, making the trees look like men, which also meant men might look like trees. He forced himself to watch carefully and to listen intently for anything that could mean trouble. He could not change what had happened back at the Château, but why did it have to be him? His mind wanted to take him back there, but he knew he had to concentrate on his current task – or else! Or else what? The Warden said he might have to rethink the team. That would mean only one thing, he would send him back to prison. He did not want to go back. No. It was more than that, he could not go back inside again, it would be the end of him. Yeah, he could laugh and joke with the other three cons about stupid turnkeys, lousy food and some of the other characters in there doing time, but there were some things he could never joke about. The rigidly repetitive routines. The mind-numbing boredom that got to some men so much they ended up banging their heads against the wall. Those poor blighters ended up in straightjackets and in the cells with the special padding. Then there was the constant sickening fear of the vicious taunts that became threats and then turned into vile acts carried out by prisoners and warders alike. So far he'd got away with it, but he had heard the sounds and seen the self-disgust in men who had been through it. You couldn't joke about any of that. If he went back inside, he would not come out - not upright anyway. Going back to prison would kill him.
He peered into the green darkness of the trees surrounding him, listened for changes to the natural sounds of the night and prayed that he had not blown the best chance he'd ever had to make something good of his life. If he survived the war.
GGGGG
Thirty minutes later, relieved of his watch by a member of the Resistance, Goniff gave the bird call signal, waited for the reply and went into the cabin with Gaston. They were greeted by the sight of three drawn handguns and one wickedly glistening blade. The four men inside lowered their weapons once they were sure of who had come in. The sense of relief was tangible, but Garrison looked steadily at the older man, jaw visibly tight but his face totally expressionless. The incomer fidgeted under the rock steady blue-green gaze, suddenly uncomfortable, but not sure why. His dark eyes searched the room, his sense of disquiet grew.
"Is Janine here with you?" he asked
The Lieutenant took a deep breath and felt the three men around him tense again, Goniff had remained in position, standing just behind the Frenchman, staring down at his own feet.
"Janine is dead," said Garrison without emotion.
The Resistant paled, his hands clenched into fists and he shook his head, dismissing the information that, somehow, he knew was true. Even so, his first words were still words of denial.
"No. It cannot be." He paused, looking wildly at the men in front of him, who all looked straight back unflinchingly. He became aware of an undeniable air of discomfort from the blond haired man behind him. "Was she killed in the air raid?" he asked eventually.
"No, it wasn't the raid." The officer's voice was cold and deliberate, he caught and held the man's troubled eyes. "She was a traitor Gaston, she was going to stop Casino taking the plans and then kill him. Goniff had to stop her."
"No, you are wrong. She loved my brother, she worked with us against the Boche, I have seen her kill many Germans." The words tumbled from the man's mouth.
"'E's tellin' you the truth, Mate."
The Frenchman turned towards the quiet voice from behind.
"You did it?"
"Yeah. When I walked into the office, she'd got a gun trained on Casino, I 'eard every word she said."
Nobody moved, nobody spoke, then the Resistance leader suddenly slumped down onto the nearest chair as if his bones had deserted his body. Goniff stepped sideways, glanced at the Lieutenant, saw him nod once and went to sit on the floor, arms resting across his knees, head bowed. The officer moved towards Gaston.
"My men would not have acted if they didn't have to."
The American rested his hand lightly on the man's shoulder and stood beside him in silence for a few moments while the other stared into space trying to gather his thoughts. He knew he could only allow Gaston a short amount of time, he had to make him focus on the mission they still had to complete and soon. He checked his watch, and could not wait any longer.
"I have to ask you this. Do we still have our way out?"
"Er – yes. Yes, my friend, you know it is all arranged."
"Did Janine set it up. Did she know the details?"
"No, she was not involved." Gaston's voice was stronger, he got to his feet and looked Garrison straight in the eye. "I owe you and your men an apology. I should have known what she was doing, the signs were there. I missed them."
The Lieutenant made to speak but the older man raised his hand to stop him.
"In the past months some of our most important sabotage jobs went wrong, on other occasions our equipment failed for no reason and we did not get a much-needed arms drop from England. Janine had knowledge of all those operations, she worked on our weapons and our radios. Other things have gone wrong too, she must have been working against us for some time." He paused and took a deep breath. "I knew my brother Marc had been betrayed to the Germans, I am now certain she did it, but when it happened, I was too blind to see."
The Frenchman's eyes swept the room, he squared his shoulders, visibly taking on the mantle of leadership once again.
"We must all leave here. You have a rendezvous with the Royal Navy."