For fifteen minutes, Garrison directed him through the ruins of the Paris suburbs, each street more devastated than the last. Chief flexed his fingers, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. He couldn't get the image of Jeanette's terror out of his head.
"Try not to think about it," Garrison said, as if he was reading his mind.
That wasn't possible. She'd tended his wounds, both physical and emotional, she'd risked her life for him. He remembered her tears that morning by the river, and the taste of her mouth. If there hadn't been a war, if she hadn't been a nun, if they'd both been free... Too many 'ifs'.
"It's the hardest part of the job." Garrison's voice was low with the weight of his own memories. "The people you get close to."
Chief took a deep breath, trying to banish unwanted images, and maneuvered around another pile of rubble.
"The middle of the next block," Garrison told him. "The tailor shop with the red sign. If anyone has any information, it'll be Augie."
It was a tiny shop, its short counter piled high with bolts of cloth in varying shades of grey. The tall, lanky, red-headed young man half hidden behind the stacks greeted them pleasantly, with the vaguest flicker of recognition. Chief could hear the German accent under his French.
Garrison exchanged what sounded like simple pleasantries with the young man, who then beckoned them to follow him into the back office. An inconspicuous door led to yet another small, windowless storeroom, and after the door was closed behind them, the young man shoved boxes out of the way and lifted a carpet to reveal a trap door. He and Garrison pulled the heavy door up, and they made their way, one at a time, down the steep ladder into the darkness.
Chief lowered the door over his head as he descended. When it was tightly closed, a match flared, and the young man lit a candle. The cramped, hidden cellar had a dirt floor and rough wooden walls. An incongruous rack of German Army uniforms was pushed to one side.
"I was not expecting you," the young man said.
"I know, Augie, I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to need your help. Have you heard anything about the Germans taking a prisoner this morning?"
Augie's blue eyes grew wide, and he slumped against the wall. "Mon dieu. It is true, then. They arrested Jeanette."
"You know her?" Garrison asked.
Of course he knew her. The sudden realization produced an unfamiliar tightness in Chief's chest. They were more than friends.
"She wanted to do this by herself," Augie explained. "I should never have let her go alone..."
Chief's control snapped. He grabbed Augie's shirt and slammed him against the wall. "You set her up..."
"Chief..." Garrison pushed between them and shoved him back, glaring an angry warning. Keeping a stiff arm against his chest, Garrison turned back to Augie. "You knew about the book?"
Augie's eyes narrowed. "I received the message yesterday. They said it was urgent."
"Who sent the message?"
"I only know the code name. He is the one I usually deal with."
Garrison just shook his head. "Do you know where they're holding her?"
Augie's face paled, and he licked his lips. "Probably at the barracks on Rue Mirabeau, but they would not keep her there long. They will send her to SS headquarters in the city." His wide blue eyes pleaded with Garrison. "You must do something. If they get her into the city..."
Chief felt the knot tightening. They'd already had her for over an hour. "You better have a plan, Warden."
He saw the muscles twitch in Garrison's jaw as a strategy came together. "We'll need uniforms, Augie. And a car, if possible."
gg gg gg gg gg gg
What used to be a school had been converted into the headquarters and barracks for the German Army unit in charge of the district. They'd driven around it twice. Now, from where they had parked at the end of the block, the only security seemed to be a guard at each side entrance, and two at the front door, who smoked and chatted leisurely.
"What if they already moved her?" Chief asked, resettling the German Army officer's cap on his head. He would've been more comfortable wearing the helmet of an anonymous foot soldier.
"One problem at a time." Garrison adjusted his own cap and pulled on the snug grey gloves. "You have to be prepared for whatever we find in there. I don't need you going off half-cocked, got it?"
Chief didn't like the doubt he saw in the Warden's eyes. It reflected his own dread. If they'd hurt her in any way, he didn't know if he'd be able to stay focused. He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I got it."
"Just relax and follow my lead. You probably understand more German than you realize. You'll be fine."
"Right. Relax." With another calming breath, Chief got out of the car and walked around to open Garrison's door, then fell into step behind him as he headed for the building's main entrance.
The two slouching guards snapped to attention at their approach, and Garrison breezed past them with a cursory salute. Chief had seen Garrison and the others do this countless times, and he wondered how they kept from sweating, kept their stomachs from wadding into knots. He'd slipped his knife into his pocket, but it wasn't enough. He rested his hand on the side arm at his hip.
The lone sergeant at the desk inside the front door stood and saluted. Garrison pulled a folded paper from his breast pocket and flashed it open quickly for the sergeant to see, before replacing it in his pocket. The mock-up of official papers that Augie had provided was good enough for a glance, but wouldn't have passed a closer inspection. Coupled with Garrison's commanding presence, it was enough.
Chief caught the occasional word of Garrison's German. He recognized 'prisoner' and 'interrogation'. The sergeant seemed reluctant at first, questioning Garrison's orders, but again the Warden's insistence, and the SS insignia on his collar, convinced the sergeant to do as he was ordered. He picked up the phone, dialed a number, and barked some instructions.
The wait felt endless. Garrison turned casually to him and mumbled something, pulling out a cigarette. Chief took out his matches, struck one, and lit it. Garrison gave him a quick, reassuring smile. "Danke."
The commotion of doors opening drew his attention down the hallway, and a pair of soldiers appeared, pulling Jeanette between them. As they approached out of the shadows, Chief could see her hands were cuffed behind her, and she could barely walk. Her face was badly bruised and her left eye was swollen almost shut. There was dried blood matted in her blonde hair. When her eyes finally focused on him, she whimpered and began to sob. Anger flooded him, threatened to choke him. He took a step forward, his hand closing over the gun...and he realized Garrison had spoken to him. "Leutnant, bekommen Sie das Auto."
He heard the word for 'car', and saw the warning in Garrison's eyes, as he gestured toward the door.
"Leutnant..." Garrison repeated.
He tried to take steady breaths, tried to swallow his anger. It took every fiber of willpower he could muster to pull himself to attention, turn away from the bloodied, frightened girl, and walk calmly out the door.
As he pulled the car up, Garrison was coming down the front steps, holding Jeanette firmly by the arm, supporting her. Chief jumped out and ran to open the rear door, to help Garrison ease her into the back seat. She tried to smile at him, tried to speak.
"Not now," Garrison whispered. "You're my prisoner. Act like it. Chief, take us slowly out of here."
gg gg gg gg gg gg
They'd driven up and down random streets for an hour. Chief knew they weren't being tailed, but Garrison was taking no chances. When Chief wasn't keeping his eyes on the traffic, he watched Jeanette in the back seat through his rear view mirror. Garrison had released her handcuffs, and at first she'd tried to speak, but all she could do was sob. Eventually she'd curled up next to Garrison, his arm around her, and fallen asleep.
They dared not take her back to Augie's tailor shop, so Garrison eventually directed him into a warehouse district. It once might have been a bustling center of commerce, but the buildings were now abandoned. A few rusting trucks were still parked where they'd been left when the shelling started. Far to the rear, near the railroad tracks, Garrison had him pull up next to a one-story cinder block building. Together they lifted the sleeping girl from the back seat, and Chief followed Garrison inside, carrying Jeanette with her head resting on his shoulder. She was weightless, as slender as a fawn, and warm against his chest.
The inconspicuous building had been used as a safe house before. One back room had a table, a couple of chairs, and a cot with some worn blankets. A black shade covered the single window, and there was only a nub of a candle for light. He gently laid Jeanette on the cot and covered her with one of the blankets, easing another under her head as a pillow.
Sitting on the side of the cot, he gently brushed her soft hair away from her eyes. The bruises were already turning purple, but the swelling had stopped. On her forehead was the gash that had left her hair streaked with dried blood. It was red and puckered.
"How is she?" Garrison asked quietly.
"How do ya think she is?" That sounded more angry than he intended. He took a breath. "Think we could get some water? And soap? Maybe some bandages?"
"I'll bring some back with me."
"Where're you goin'?"
"I'm going to return the car and uniforms to Augie, and let him know what happened. You stay here with Jeanette."
"She's comin' back with us."
"If she wants."
After they'd changed back into their street clothes, Garrison drove away in the black sedan. Trying to shake the restlessness out of his muscles, Chief wandered the other rooms, opening drawers, rifling through cabinets and boxes, looking for anything useful. Or edible. His stomach growled. Garrison would come back with the ugly old Citroen, where they'd stashed the remainder of the morning's dried fruit and cider.
He drifted back to the room where Jeanette slept, and stood in the doorway watching her, feeling oddly alone for the first time in a long time. He preferred being on his own, but he was unprepared for being responsible for someone else. He lowered himself to the floor next to the cot, in the gloom of the dark room, and leaned against the wall, watching Jeanette's steady breathing. Her pale hair was longer now, and her complexion had lost its healthy glow, slowly being replaced by the darkening bruise. He knew what she'd been through. He had those memories. The thought of them doing the same thing to her made his stomach churn. She was a girl. A child.
He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and tried to concentrate on something else. The book. He knew they weren't leaving without it. But he silently thanked Garrison for not shaking Jeanette awake to question her about where she'd hidden it.
At the squeak of the cot springs, he looked up. Jeanette was pushing up onto one elbow, trying to sit upright. He got to his feet and helped her turn and lean back against the wall.
Her smile transformed her swollen face into an angel's. "Boris..."
He grinned back at her. It was the name she'd given him at the convent, when his head wound had kept him from remembering his own.
"You're not a dream," she whispered.
"You alright?" It was a stupid question. Of course she wasn't alright.
She shuttered, then started shivering uncontrollably. "I don't think so." She held a hand out to him. "Please hold me."
He settled next to her on the cot, pulling her to him, wrapping both arms around her slim shoulders. She felt frail and fragile, as if he could crush her if he held her too tightly. She huddled against him and buried her face against his chest. Her trembling made his heart hurt. He needed to take away her pain, erase the whole hellish experience for her, make her the sweet, talkative, scrappy school girl he'd first met. It wasn't going to happen. He pulled her tighter, the rhythm of her heartbeat soft under his hand.
Slowly her shaking subsided. He thought she'd fallen back to sleep, until she suddenly sat upright. "Augie. Where's Augie?"
He was right. There was something between them. "He's alright. He told us where to find you."
"And the Lieutenant?" she asked, just realizing that Garrison had been there, and now he wasn't.
"He went to give Augie back his stuff."
She relaxed again, laying her head back on his chest. "Augie was right. I had no business making that pick-up. I must've given myself away somehow."
He hugged her closer. It wasn't her fault. She needed to be protected from men like Augie, who'd use her and then leave her to the Germans. She needed to be far away from this whole godforsaken mess.
"Augie is so sweet and patient." A smile lit her voice. "He's taught me everything. He didn't want me to do the pick-up, but I insisted. I was getting so frustrated just running errands and messages."
"Once we get that book, you're comin' back to England with us."
She sat up again, and frowned at him. "Augie didn't give it to you?"
"He has it?"
"That's why I was scared. I thought I'd given him away, too, when I left it with him."
This didn't make sense. He mentally replayed their meeting with Augie earlier that morning, remembering the young man's German accented French. Had the guy just been too concerned with Jeanette's arrest that he'd forgotten to mention he had the book? Did he not know they were the pick-up team? Or was there something else? Now he had a new worry. Was Garrison walking into another trap?
He looked at his watch. Garrison had been gone an hour. With all the twists and turns they'd taken, he had no good sense of how far away Augie's shop was, or how long it would take Garrison to get there and back. How long should he wait before coming up with a new plan? And what plan? If only the others were here...
Chief could feel Jeanette's heart start to race, her tension returning. He gently rubbed her arm. "When the Warden gets back, he'll have the book, and we can split for the coast."
She pushed away from him and leaned against the wall, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. "Augie asked me to marry him."
The knot in his chest tightened again. "He did, did he?"
"There's no future here. Not with the war and the occupation. Maybe, if this ever ends, if we're ever free again..."
"It'll end." He didn't know why he felt he had to lie to her. He agreed with Casino. They were fighting the war all by themselves, and they'd never see the end of it, never be free.
The sputter of the old Citroen's engine was unmistakeable. He let out a sigh of relief, but still slipped the blade into his hand as he pushed off the cot and headed for the window in the front room. Jeanette followed him, the blanket still draped around her shoulders.
Garrison was just climbing out of the driver's seat, and Augie was with him. Chief eased the door open a crack to let them in. Augie pushed past him and rushed into Jeanette's arms, hugging her tightly and whispering to her in French.
Chief tried to ignore the sight of Jeanette in the arms of a man he didn't trust, and he turned to the Warden. "You got the book, right?"
Garrison's brows came together. "No. Did she tell you where she hid it?"
Chief spun and grabbed Augie's arm, dragging him away from Jeanette. "Where'd you put it?"
Augie eyes widened as he tried to back away. "Put what?"
Chief snapped the blade up and pressed it against Augie's jugular, drawing a bead of blood. "The book she gave you. You have it, right?"
Garrison pushed between them, pulling Chief's hand away from the frightened Frenchman's neck, but his glare bored into Augie. "If you have that book, I want to know why you didn't tell me."
Augie rubbed at the bloody spot the knife had left. "I didn't...it's just that...the message told me to give it only to my contact, no one else."
"Who's your contact?" Garrison demanded.
"I only know his code name," Augie stammered.
Garrison took a breath and laid a hand on Augie's shoulder. "I don't know where the signals got crossed, but Chief and I were sent to pick up that book. We need to get it and rendezvous with the sub tonight."
"But..."
"You know me, Augie. We've worked together. The information coded into that book is critical."
Jeanette took his hand and squeezed it. "Augie, the Lieutenant is right. Something just got confused somewhere. Give them the book."
Augie stared at his feet for a moment, then relented. "It's back at my shop."
gg gg gg gg gg gg
Garrison rode in the passenger seat, while Augie sat in the back with Jeannette, tending to her cut with supplies from the first aid kit Garrison had brought. Driving on a direct route, Augie's shop wasn't far. Still, Chief circled the block. There was too much foot traffic on the street, so he parked the Citroen in the narrow alley in the back.
Augie led them through his storeroom and into his cramped, windowless office. Reaching into a bottom desk drawer, he pulled the tattered book from the middle of a stack of papers, and hesitated only slightly before handing it to Garrison. It was a cheap volume, with a French title, and a lurid picture on the ragged front cover.
Garrison opened it and slowly turned each dog-eared page, concentrating, as if he were reading it. A smile crossed his face. "This is good. You can barely make out the encryption."
Augie wiped the sweat from his upper lip. "What do I tell my contact when he shows up?"
"Can you get a message to him? Let him know it's been handled?"
"I don't know..."
Chief heard it first, and the blade was back in his hand. Someone was rattling the shop's front door, trying to get in.
"Customers," Augie explained. "I must open the shop."
Augie headed for the front, but Garrison held a finger to his lips, warning them to silence. Chief couldn't see who Augie unlocked the door for, but the voices were unmistakably German, and unhappy. As they listened, Garrison didn't look happy, either.
The German demands became more insistent. Garrison gently guided Jeanette into Augie's desk chair, indicating with his eyes and a gesture that she needed to stay put and stay quiet. He touched Chief's shoulder, beckoning him to follow him through the back door, into the alley.
He knew what the Warden was thinking. Chief reached to his right boot, pulled out his second knife, and handed it to Garrison. They quickly circled to the front, and he followed his commander's lead, casually strolling through the door as if looking for tailoring services. The two men shouting demands at Augie were SS, and the sergeant was pulling handcuffs from his belt.
As the two German's turned at the sound of the opening door, he and Garrison made their moves simultaneously. He punched his blade through the sergeant's ribs, slitting his heart, and he watched as the life drained from the startled dark eyes. Garrison just as silently killed the major.
Augie stood frozen, his eyes wide.
Chief grabbed the dead sergeant under the arms and pulled him toward the back rooms. "Ya wanna give us a hand here?"
Augie rushed to help Garrison maneuver the major in the same direction. Once the bodies were out of sight, Garrison started stripping off the major's jacket. "I'll bring their car around back. We'll load them in the trunk, and I'll get them away from here. Augie, start cleaning up your shop. Don't leave any evidence."
Chief could almost read Garrison's mind. "Where do ya want me to meet you?"
Garrison picked up the book and shoved it inside his shirt, securing it under his belt. "You remember that crumbling bridge we crossed? Give me a ten minute head start, then pick me up there."
Garrison pulled on the major's jacket and put on the cap. "Augie, apparently they're on to you, too. You and Jeanette need to go underground. Can you handle that?"
"Jeanette's comin' with us," Chief insisted.
Garrison frowned at him, but then turned his gaze to the battered, bruised young woman still sitting in Augie's desk chair. "It's your decision," he told her.
She bit her lip, looking from Chief to Augie and back.
When she hesitated, Garrison said, "We have to move. You can come back to England with us, but you only have ten minutes to make a decision."
gg gg gg gg gg gg
After Garrison pulled the Germans' car around to the alley, they forced the two bodies into the trunk, and Chief watched him drive away, the unfamiliar feeling of loneliness returning. He glanced at his watch as he walked back to Augie's office. Ten minutes wasn't a long time.
Jeanette was still huddled in the chair, her knees pulled up, her arms wrapped tightly around them. He could hear Augie busy in the shop, cleaning up the blood.
"C'mon, let's go."
She looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, her sweet mouth puckered into a frown. "I can't."
"You can't stay here."
"My work is here. My life is here."
"You mean he's here." It sounded bitter, and he hadn't meant it to.
She slowly unwrapped her arms and stood, coming so close that he could feel her warmth and her breath. "He needs me."
"They'll kill you. They'll kill both of you."
"Boris..." She pressed her fingers to his lips, and fresh tears escaped her eyes. "I can't."
Chief reached up and lightly touched the bandage taped over the gash on her forehead, slid his fingers down her bruised, swollen cheek, to come to rest at the corner of her mouth. The clean, earthy fragrance he remembered had been replaced with the smell of fear and sweat, but even as battered as she was, she was still sweet and enticing. He gave up fighting, and leaned down to kiss her soft mouth, tangling his fingers in her hair, savoring her taste and her heat. Some part of him heard Augie at the office door, but he no longer cared, as long as she clung to him, responding to his need.
And then it was over. She pushed away, unable to meet his eyes, and choked back a small whimper. "I can't."
He had to leave, before the urge to grab her and force her into the car overwhelmed him. He looked at Augie, still standing in the doorway holding bloody rags and a pail of water. And he looked at Jeanette one last time, lifting her chin to see her eyes. He could tell her to be careful, stay safe, watch her back, but none of it would make any difference. He walked away, closed the door behind him, and drove off to meet Garrison.
gg gg gg gg gg gg
The transfer onto the sub had been sloppy. As much as they practiced, they could never duplicate the conditions of the Channel in a storm. Sitting alone now in the sub's hot, cramped mess, Chief was still sweating, his shirt still clinging to his back, his hair dripping into his eyes. He leaned back against the bulkhead and made a conscious effort to loosen taut muscles, and take deep breaths of the stale air, thick with the smell of sweat and diesel fumes. He craved the oblivion of sleep, but it wouldn't come.
His thoughts drifted back to the convent, when Jeanette had nursed his wounds and his soul. She'd been sunlight and a warm breeze, a refuge from an ugly world. When she'd teased him on the river bank, and cried at the thought of his leaving, he knew then that he would only bring her darkness and destruction. Then it had been him who'd said "I can't".
He opened his eyes at the sound of the hatch squeaking open. Garrison maneuvered through, carrying a tray with bowls and coffee mugs. "There aren't any empty bunks. But I did find food."
The Warden slipped onto the bench across the table from him and pushed one of the bowls and a full coffee cup toward him. The smell of the coffee and oatmeal reminded him that he hadn't eaten much besides some dried fruit and cider in the last 24 hours. He sat up and dug in, but it didn't taste as good as it smelled. He didn't care.
"You okay?" the Warden asked.
He nodded, swallowing a mouthful of oatmeal.
"After we're done with the debriefing, you can hit the rack for the rest of the day."
Suddenly the lumps and sags of his cot back at the mansion seemed surprisingly inviting.
"You did good work back there."
"I almost blew it."
"But you didn't. You held it together. I should put you in an officer's uniform more often."
Chief looked at his commander, trying to decide if he was serious. He hoped not. But it didn't matter. The Warden would do whatever he thought would work.
Garrison finally slid his empty bowl out of the way and picked up his coffee cup. "They'll go to ground for a while, then hook up with a new cell. Augie knows what he's doing."
"Does he? Seems to me he's the one who screwed up this whole caper."
"No, Augie's a good man. War is messy, the wires got crossed somewhere. I'll let the brass sort that out."
"Meanwhile she's riskin' her life trippin' over those crossed wires."
Garrison sighed and took a swallow of his coffee. His hair and clothes were still wet, too, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He leaned over the steaming coffee, as if trying to absorb its energy. "I could tell you she'll be alright. But we both know that would be a lie."
Chief leaned back against the bulkhead again, suddenly feeling the strength drain from his muscles like someone had pulled a plug. He wrapped his hands around his hot cup, holding it until the heat burned his fingers. "It don't matter. She made her choice. Like we all did."