Chapter Six

France 1943

It was three years ago that Eleanore had finally made it to her grandfather's correspondent, explaining the situation she was in. She showed them her grandfather's letter and the pin she had stolen from Burnard as proof that her grandparents were dead. Ending her story with the concern that it was entirely possible that the Germans were searching for her. The family, knowing her grandparents for many years, allowed Eleanore to live in their house. They had papers forged for Eleanore, claiming her new name was Charlotte LeClair.

The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. LeClair and their five sons, Alphonse, Christoph, Émile, Laurent, and Vincent. They all lived in a small house in the countryside of Reims, near Paris. Reims was an ideal place to be since it close to Paris but more rural.

Eleanore soon discovered that the LeClair family were heavily involved in the French Resistance. They helped pass along information to the British Intelligence Agency, plant explosives in German weaponry factories, as well as sabotage railways and roads. The LeClair's also owned a small bar located in the city. The bar was a perfect place to meet informants in private as well as get the supplies needed to make the explosives they relied so heavily upon.

Eleanore peddled her bike faster, moving as quickly as she could to get to work. The basket on the front of her bicycle held fresh bread, cheese, and a pistol. The very same German Luger Eleanore had taken from the devious Gestapo three years earlier. Eleanore stopped to grab the newspaper from a boy yelling in the street, paying him with the change in her pocket and a smile. She curled up the newspaper and placed it in her basket before taking off once more.

Arriving at the bar, there were five German soldiers at one table and six Frenchmen at the bar. Two French women were making their rounds with the men. The women were batting their eyes and interacting with the soldiers who laughed in an obvious drunken stupor. In the second room that was much smaller, held three officers who were taking in low voices.

Eleanore went into the storage room, carrying with her: the cheese, bread, pistol, and newspaper. Eleanore's eldest "cousin" Alphonse hid the pistol as Eleanore wrapped the apron around her waist. Eleanore fixed her hair and makeup before exiting the back room to join the loud bar. Going behind the bar, Eleanore walked around and asked each person if they needed any refills. Avoiding the small corner of officers, she let them talk in their hushed voices.

Eleanore served the drinks, thankfully with no trouble from the drunken soldiers, and the night was very smooth. One of the officers left the corner, asking her for three glasses of Scotch. Eleanore made the shot-glasses and brought them over to table, setting them in front of the men. When it came to officers, Eleanore always kept her eyes low and her conversation short.

"Thank you, Fräulein ," One said said as he picked up his glass.

Eleanore nodded her head and returned to her post behind the bar along side Alphonse. Eleanore grabbed Alphonse's arm, to signal him that a regular informant had just arrived. The man was carrying a wooden crate and went into the back room, followed by Alphonse. Eleanore ran the bar while Alphonse was gone, filling up glasses as needed.

Eleanore hadn't heard from Hugo Stiglitz since their last meeting. Eleanore wondered frequently if Hugo had known about her whereabouts as well as if she was dead or alive. Eleanore left no clues of where she was heading, not even to her neighbors or friends. The officers who spoke in hushed tones were the last to leave, exiting the bar while Eleanore cleaned. Alphonse left early to take the crate home, leaving Eleanore to close. Once Eleanore was finished, she went to the back room, cutting a slice of the baguette along with a sliver of cheese. As she ate, Eleanore picked up the news paper, unrolling it from it's previous state.

After pressing it flat, she looked at the front. She dropped her paper when she saw a familiar face staring at her. Hugo Stiglitz. The article described the slaying as executed by Hugo, the tone of the feature depicting him as a criminal and insubordinate. Eleanore touched his face. He was thirty now, even more handsome with age. Eleanore ripped the cover, folding it and put it in her pocket.

Eleanore wrapped up her cheese and bread, heading out to her bicycle. Realizing she had forgotten her pistol, she ran back inside to grab it from the shelf. Once again, Eleanore left and locked up the bar. As she was walking out to her bicycle, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She kicked up the kickstand and mounted her bicycle as she placed her belongings in the woven basket.

Eleanore took off into the night, unbeknownst to her there were three pairs of eyes watching her from the shadows.

Once Eleanore made it home, she parked her bicycle and entered the home with her belongings in her hands. The lights were turned down low, while the family talked in hushed voices. Eleanore greeted everyone before going into the kitchen to put away the cheese and bread. Eleanore took the newspaper up to her room before joining the family in the parlor.

The family always talked in hushed voices, not trusting who could be lurking outside of the home in the dead of night. Eleanore usually stayed quiet, not trusting her broken French. She could speak simple French but most of the time, she had to guess what they were talking about. Tonight she knew without a doubt who they were talking about.

Hugo Stiglitz.

She also picked up on the excitement in their voices when she heard the word, "Basterds". Eleanore had heard of the Basterds, a small group of guerrilla soldiers who killed Nazi's. They were most notable for taking the scalps of the dead officers.

That night, Eleanore dreamed of the beautiful Hugo Stiglitz.

Eleanore woke up the next morning and began her routine. She bathed, cooked breakfast for the family, and cleaned the house; the Gestapo officer never leaving her mind. Her family had noticed the difference in her behavior, that her mind was elsewhere. Eleanore could imagined Hugo whispering German against her ear, his large arms wrapped around her slender figure. Eleanore could only smile as she thought of the scruff of his face against her soft skin, the dimple in his chin, and the smile he seldom showed.

Just before the sun dipped down below the horizon, Eleanore hopped on her bicycle and peddled to the bar. Once she entered, she took a quick look around and noticed the same officers in the corner with an extra uniform beside the original three. She never looked them in the face, a habit she picked up when she fled to France.

Eleanore went into the back, tying her apron around her. Through the evening, the four officers talked in low voices like the night before. Eleanore refilled their glasses three times, not once looking any of them in the eyes. When a fight broke out amongst soldiers, the officers broke it up and forced them to leave. Eleanore thanked them with a free refill.

Eleanore was forced to close again, but it never really bothered her. She enjoyed the quiet bar, cleaning the floors and tables for the next day. Eleanore finished up, throwing her apron in the back room before locking the building up.

Eleanore got onto her bike, hiding the gun in the bottom of the basket. Right as she was about to take off, she felt something cold against the back of her neck.

Eleanore immediately knew what it was.

It was the barrel of a gun.

"What is your name?" The deep voice asked in German, a demanding hint in his tone.

"Charlotte LeClair," Eleanore replied in a quiet voice, her body not moving an inch.

"What did you say?" The German asked, the barrel of the gun pressing harder against her neck.

"Charlotte LeClair," Eleanore repeated in the best French accent she could muster, her hands shaking on the handles of her bike.

Eleanore heard the gun cock.

"Tell me your real name." Eleanore's heart stopped, a cold sweat building on the palms of her hands.

Eleanore breathed in and breathed out slowly, trying to steady herself.

"My name is Eleanore Elizabeth Vogel."

The cold gun left her neck.

Then everything went black.