Thank you all for your patience and thanks for reading and reviewing. As always, I really appreciate it.

Chapter Eight

Emile lay on his stomach in a ditch partially obscured by undergrowth and slightly below the level of the road. He raised his head just a fraction high enough for his eyes to be able to scan into the distance and hearing the faint rumble of an engine tightened his grip on his rifle and tried to slow his breathing, reminding himself to stay calm and focused. Alongside him he sensed that Alain and Hubert, both primed and ready for action, were also engaged in a struggle to control their nerves. They were all well aware that they would have only one chance of success and no one felt it more keenly than Emile.

This plan had been formed in haste and Emile didn't like it but there was no other option. When Pierre Dubois, in great haste, had contacted Emile the evening before to tell him that a movement order for Louise Aubert had been sent by the Abwehr and instructions forwarded to the garage to add it to the transport list for the following day, Emile's first response was to ask if Pierre could do anything to prevent or delay the transport. The shock of realising that the Abwehr were now on to George changed everything. He knew that above all else they needed to buy time to put a plan together. It was with no small measure of gratitude that he learned how Pierre, at considerable risk to himself, had already taken steps to ensure that the prison van was disabled and out of action. All this he had learned an hour or so later after rushing out to meet him at a café near the prison. Pierre informed him that he had reported to the Transport Manager that the prison van would require replacement parts and it would take several days to fix. This was certainly true as Pierre had removed and disposed of the engine parts he claimed were defective. At the time the Transport Manager had looked far from pleased. He didn't like having to deal with the Germans but he had telephoned through to Abwehr headquarters to advise the requesting officer, a Lieutenant Baumann, that they could not transfer the Aubert prisoner for a few days. Pierre had hung around outside the office, ostensibly cleaning some tools at the end of the day but listening in to check that the order was going to be delayed. To his complete dismay, however, he heard the Transport Manager say, "Very well. As you wish," followed by a pause and then, "At what time?" Pierre had risked a glance through the glass window into the office and seen the Manager nod before replacing the receiver. There was a short pause while he wrote something onto a clipboard and then he picked up the receiver again and Pierre gathered that he was speaking to the custody officer as he informed him, "We've got some problems with the van here and there's been a change of plan. The Germans will be sending a car to collect the Aubert prisoner tomorrow morning at nine o'clock." This was not the outcome Pierre had been hoping for but there was nothing else he could do but complete his remaining tasks of the day as quickly as possible and head to a local café he often used to put a call through to Emile. It was clear from the pause before Emile replied that the news had come as a very unwelcome shock. His voice on the line was quiet, "You're sure about that?"

Pierre nodded. "There's no doubt."

For the second time in as many days Emile had been forced to convene a hasty meeting of his leaders and he confronted them immediately with the problem in hand.

"There's no choice now. Madeleine knows the details of the operation and tomorrow she'll be in the hands of the Germans. If we don't rescue her somehow there's a risk she'll tell them everything."

He hated sounding disloyal and wanted to say that in reality he knew that George would rather die than betray any of them but he couldn't make that assertion before them without them questioning him about his relationship with her and having them possibly doubt his ability to make an objective decision. What was more, knowing George, he feared that his words might be prophetic. She would give her life before she betrayed any of them or him but he wasn't prepared to let her make that sacrifice.

"We need a plan and we have no time for a dry run. It has to work first time." Emile looked around the room. Without exception everyone looked serious. They all knew that the long-planned operation was in jeopardy if they didn't manage to rescue Madeleine.

"There's only one route the car is likely to take from Varennes to Courcelles," Jacques began. "We'd need to know for certain what time the car leaves the prison and that Madeleine has definitely been moved." He turned to look at Pierre. "Can you do that?"

"It shouldn't be before nine," Pierre asserted, "But it could be any time after that. I may be able to call but I can't guarantee it. It will depend on whether the Transport Manager leaves his office."

Emile nodded. "Try to call if you can but if not we need a back-up. Any suggestions?"

"We could try Michel," Bernard suggested. "We've used him before and he won't be working."

"He's only sixteen," Emile observed, wary of involving someone so young. "And…." he paused wondering how to say that there were other reasons that he wasn't sure he could trust a tearaway who had a history of getting into trouble with the local police.

"He's old enough," Bernard said emphatically, "and in any case, he has other skills we can use." Emile decided to let the matter rest and trust his leader's faith in Michel. There simply wasn't time to have too many scruples.

"Very well. Then we need to find the right place."

Bernard produced a map of the area and they spread it out on the table and poured over the details looking for somewhere suitable. Eventually, they determined on the right spot and then formulated the plan, going over the details and everyone's roles multiple times until they were sure.

As they prepared to leave Emile took one last look at the small group. He hoped he was doing the right thing not just for the sake of his circuit and himself but also for George. They had only one shot at getting this right and the whole plan had to come together. He addressed them all, "Thank you for this. I won't forget it and neither will London." He reached out to shake each of them by the hand as they left but Jacques held onto his hand for a few seconds and looked him in the eye. "We're not doing this for London. We're doing it for Madeleine. She's one of us."

Emile was almost overcome with gratitude. It was a simple statement of solidarity and Jacques had no idea just how much it meant to him.

Now lying in the ditch hearing the sound of the car draw nearer and then catching the first sight of it in the distance, Emile pulled his scarf up over his face and, wishing he had been more devout in the past, offered up a silent prayer that everything would go according to plan.

X-X-X-X

George focused on the road ahead and tried to concentrate on keeping her breathing slow and steady whilst fighting the feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach. The rocking motion of the car combined with the strong smell of petrol and leather would have been enough by itself to make her feel queasy but the identity of her travelling companions and the sinking realisation of the hopeless situation she now faced had exacerbated her symptoms and she felt as if she might throw up at any moment. Just for a brief few seconds the thought of messing up the uniforms of one or both of the men who sat either side of her, wedging her into the centre of the back seat, almost made her laugh out loud but it was nothing more than an anxious hysterical diversion from the main thought that dominated her mind; Weber might see and recognise her and if he did the game would be up.

There had been no hint that anything was going to happen that morning until the prison officer had unlocked the cell and ordered her outside into the corridor. It wasn't food or exercise time and wondering if she was to be taken to court or questioned again she had turned to him and asked, "Where am I going?" The Prison Officer, an impatient, sallow-faced young man with a poor excuse for a pencil moustache hovering on his top lip, had told her roughly to be quiet and, grabbing her by the elbow, had manoeuvred her through the hallways and corridors of the prison and then outside into the exercise yard. The fresh air after the cloying stench inside the building was welcome and she had gazed up into the sky, seen it was an overcast day and surprisingly cold for summer and felt strangely chilled.

When they had crossed the yard and headed through a door that she knew from other prisoners led to the garage, she had begun to suspect that she was being transported somewhere. Emerging into the garage she was shocked that instead of being told to get into the prison van she was confronted by the sight of a German staff car and two uniformed officers clearly waiting to take custody of her and she realised that her life was about to get a whole lot tougher.

Apart from the prison officer confirming her identity to the German officers very little was said and George had no desire to speak. She was still trying to take in the implications of the situation. She was grabbed by the arm and pulled over towards the car before being forced to sit between the two officers. In little more than a minute they had left the prison behind and were speeding through the town and heading west. Glancing at the lapel badge of the driver in front George realised with a start that he was a member of the Abwehr and, if it was possible at this moment, she felt her heart sinking even lower. She didn't dare to ask either of the men next to her where they were going but as they left Varennes behind she watched the direction in which they travelled and, now knowing the area much better from her courier activities and seeing the road signs, she concluded that they must be heading towards Abwehr headquarters in Courcelles.

It was the worst possible scenario and George's fears grew with each kilometre they covered. She had come to the Germans' attention and that could only mean that they suspected her of involvement in the resistance. There was every chance that when they arrived in Courcelles Weber would see her. She felt sure he would remember her from the train and then her chances of being able to maintain her innocence would be very slim indeed. The only possibility that flitted through her hasty, jumbled thoughts was to adopt the story that Emile and Jacques had suggested and try to pretend that she had been too embarrassed to turn Weber's dinner offer down. Perhaps she could pretend her family were very strict and religious and affect an air of innocence about such matters. She had been reticent on the train, Weber was sure to remember that. She could appear embarrassed and apologise for the white lie she had told. Above all she knew that she needed to keep talking and try to sound helpful and contrite. She doubted that Weber would believe her but the longer she could delay or divert the interrogation the better chance it would give everyone else in the circuit to get away. They would be sure to have found out where she was by now and eventually hear that the Germans had taken her into custody. She had to buy everyone as much time as possible. She also had to prevent Weber finding out that she was an SOE agent. Once he discovered that she knew he wouldn't just ask her about resistance members in this area. He would ask her many more detailed questions. She tried not to think beyond the idea of just questioning but she was well aware that her interrogators would resort to whatever means necessary to obtain the information they wanted and it was all the more reason in her mind to keep talking.

The car was winding its way through a small wooded area. It was a quiet road and they had been passed by no other traffic for several kilometres apart from being overtaken a few minutes ago by a uniformed motorcycle dispatch rider. The car was slowing on the approach to a junction ahead. George knew it would turn to the left towards Courcelles but just as they reached the place where the road divided her attention was caught by a black car travelling at speed and approaching from the left. Her impression was that it was travelling much too fast on such a quiet road and would have difficulty taking the bend but with a spray of gravel it suddenly came to a screeching halt directly in front of them. The German driver was forced to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision and they were all thrown violently forward towards the front seats. The driver cursed loudly and instinctively hit the car horn in frustration. Everyone in the back was momentarily shaken and George wondered for a second if she could wriggle free somehow in the confusion but her arms were already being dragged back and held fast and once again she was pinned down in her seat with no prospect of escape.

X-X-X-X

Emile was on tenterhooks as he watched Bernard drive the stolen Renault at speed into the bend of the road at the junction just as the German staff car containing George slowed to turn left towards Courcelles.

Michel had arrived on a motorcycle a few minutes ago dressed as a German military dispatch rider in a stolen uniform. It had proved a useful means of moving around the countryside at great speed without question on a number of occasions and he had past form for taking a motorcycle without permission and haring around on joy rides. He had also stolen and hot-wired more than one car in his time and Bernard had recognised it was a skill they could harness. There was no way that any of them could risk using a car of their own for a job like this. It had taken Michel only a few minutes to find a target and whisk it away. Emile only hoped that the local priest would be forgiving about the loss of his car when he discovered how it had been used.

Michel had ridden out here after receiving a telephone call from Pierre to confirm that George had left the prison in a staff car in the company of two Abwehr officers and a driver. His job had been to wait for the call at a garage owned by a sympathiser which was situated on the main road to Courcelles. They had reasoned that in the event of Pierre being unable to make the call Michel would be certain to see the distinctive car with its recognisable occupants pass by. He had waited there from eight o'clock that morning and when the call came shortly after nine he stayed in hiding watching the road until the car appeared. With so little non-military traffic it wasn't difficult to identify a German staff car with four occupants and one of them definitely a woman. As soon as it had passed by he changed into his stolen uniform and set out in pursuit, intending to pass it and ensure that Emile had advance warning of its imminent arrival. He had seen George sitting in the back of the car through the rear window as he approached it from behind and sped past putting plenty of distance between himself and the vehicle to make sure that he arrived a couple of minutes before them. It had been a relief to Emile to know that they were within touching distance of rescuing George but everything had to come together at the right moment. If they failed to stop the car in time there would be no other chance of reaching George before it was too late and they might add considerably to her problems.

The black Renault screeched to halt causing the German car to brake sharply to avoid a collision. The German driver honked the horn in an angry and impatient manner, expecting the other driver to move on out of his way but Bernard, keeping his head down, pretended to be having trouble and waved an apologetic hand towards the German car. The German driver hesitated for a moment.

Emile, Alan and Hubert broke cover and ran towards the German car, approaching it from the rear with the element of surprise on their side whilst the attention of everyone inside was focused on what was happening in front. Suddenly, the driver, seeing movement in his mirror, seemed to sense that something was wrong and put the car noisily into reverse intending to back away and pull round the Renault but Emile had anticipated this. As the three men rapidly drew nearer he yelled, "Aim for the tyres," and suddenly a volley of shots were directed at the lower half of the car, just as Bernard rolled out of the driver's seat of the Renault and took up position with his rifle resting across the bonnet of the car and aimed squarely at the driver.

The tyres of the staff car were punctured and its movement stalled and floundered but the driver tried to keep going and pull around the Renault. A single shot rang out and the car wavered and then careered off the road, colliding with a tree and grinding to halt. From the corner of his eye Emile saw Bernard stand up and knew he had fired the shot that had hit the driver. However, he also knew that they had to move quickly or the Abwehr officers in the car would come to their senses and return fire and George's life would be in as much danger from a firefight as her arrest. Reaching the car he threw caution to the wind and yanked open the left hand door just as Alain reached the other side and did the same. The Abwehr officers inside looked shaken but otherwise unhurt but George wasn't moving. Emile aimed his rifle at the head of the officer on the left as Alain did the same on the other side. In the front seat Emile could see the driver slumped over the wheel, still breathing but with blood pouring from a wound to his arm. Bernard had also reached them by now and he pulled the driver's door open, searched and then removed a revolver from the barely conscious man, pocketing it for future use before dragging him out and to the side of the road.

Emile risked a quick glance at George. She was slumped forward and not moving, her hair across her face and he felt fear grab at his heart, fear that she had been hit but he concentrated on dealing with the Abwehr officers.

"Get out, slowly and put your hands up," He stepped away from the car keeping his rifle trained on the first man who staggered out in an ungainly fashion. Hubert stepped forward and relieved the man of his gun. On the other side of the car, the second officer was being dragged out of the car by an impatient Bernard whilst Alain kept him under observation.

"Take them into the woods and tie them up, " Emile instructed. He saw a look in Bernard's eyes that suggested this was not the conclusion he had envisaged and Bernard hissed at him, "Why are you sparing them?"

"Because we don't want any retribution for this," Emile replied under his breath. "The driver looks like he'll live. If we kill them all, innocent people will suffer."

He could tell that Bernard didn't like this but he kept his thoughts to himself and said nothing more then he, Alain and Hubert pushed the two men at the end of a rifle towards the woods and dragged the driver along with them until they were out of sight of the road.

Emile turned rapidly to the car and to his relief he heard a groan from George and saw movement. He leaned inside, calling urgently, "George, are you alright?"

She lifted her head and sat back in the seat, rubbing a red mark above her right eye. She sounded dazed. "Yes, I think so. I just banged my head."

Relief washed over Emile at the fact that she hadn't been hurt during the shooting but there wasn't time to talk, "You've got to get out and we'll move the car, somehow."

He reached in and she grasped his hand. He pulled her out of the car towards him. She felt a little shaky although whether it was from the shock of the ambush or the rush of emotion that her sudden and unexpected rescue had caused she couldn't tell. Emile put his arm around her and helped her move away. They had only taken a few steps when she looked to her left and cried, "Germans! Look out!"

Emile released her and swung around with his rifle pointing down the road in time to see a uniformed motorcycle dispatch rider running up the road towards them. To George's astonishment, however, Emile started to laugh and shocked by his reaction and fearing something was wrong with him, she reached out and tried to wrestle his rifle from him intending to aim and shoot it before the soldier got to them. Emile pulled the rifle back from her, "Stop it George. It's not a German, it's Michel."

George didn't seem convinced but as the soldier got closer she could see that it was in fact just a young lad in an ill-fitting uniform and he was smiling broadly and then she remembered the motorcycle dispatch rider who had overtaken them. Emile had insisted that he stay back out of sight until everything was concluded. Even if the lad was a tearaway he didn't want him implicated in what had happened. However, he had been watching from a distance and realising that the coast was clear had come to help them.

"Just in time, we need to move this car," Emile called to Michel and together with some assistance from an unsteady George, they managed with great difficulty to roll it back away from the road and into the bushes a little further away, pulling some branches down to hide it.

Emile walked back to the road and wiped the sweat from his brow. It had been hard work and taken longer than he had anticipated. He was anxious to get away as quickly as possible but he could now see Bernard, Hubert and Alain returning and knew they would all be on their way in a minute or so. He gazed down at George. She looked pale and tired. The grey prison dress was at odds with her normal appearance and made her look paler still and the mark above her eye was already turning into a purple bruise.

"I'm glad to see you in one piece."

She nodded. "Thanks to you. But you took a big risk."

A smile hovered on his lips and he whispered under his breath just loud enough for her to hear, "I couldn't let them hurt you."

Bernard and the others had reached the road and Emile turned towards them instantly their Circuit Commander again. "You did as I asked, Bernard?" It was a statement of fact rather than a question.

Bernard nodded. "They'll have a headache when they come round but they are definitely alive."

"Good," Emile held the other man's gaze. "Let's go."

It was a squeeze to fit five of them into the black Renault but they only travelled a few kilometres before dropping off Alain and Hubert to make their own way by other means. Michel returned on the motorcycle, his part in the events concluded. Bernard had been right about him and Emile reckoned they could make use of him again. A few kilometres further on Bernard pulled up at a small country church on the outskirts of the village of Beaussart.

"We're getting out here," Emile instructed. "Jacques will be along to collect us soon."

They climbed out of the car whilst Bernard kept the engine running. Emile leaned in through the window, "Thank you for your help, Bernard." Bernard glanced at him but being a man of few words said nothing more and then pulled away heading for the nearest town where he could dump the car before making his way home.

"We'd better keep out of sight." Emile told George, looking hastily around him. Seeing no one he grasped her by the hand and led her into the churchyard.

They settled down behind the wall out of sight of the road. The sun had finally emerged from behind the clouds and it was beginning to warm up after the early chill. Even so, George shivered slightly and Emile noticing it, took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. She was glad of its warmth and the residual warmth of him still contained within its folds.

"Jacques will bring you some new clothes. You can't be seen in that," he gestured to the prison dress.

"No, it's a bit obvious," George agreed with the first hint of a smile, "Not to mention hideous."

Emile grinned. "You'd look better without it."

George caught his eye and could barely suppress the laugh that was trying to escape. It felt so unbelievably good to joke with him again, the way they once had so long ago before all of this. She reached out a hand to touch his face and stroke his cheek. He caught it, held it to his lips and kissed her fingers.

"I was so worried about you, George. After the night of the drop I didn't know what I'd do if…" he couldn't continue.

"I tried not to think about it." She looked into his eyes, "Besides, I knew you'd do something, if you could."

He smiled again. "Am I that predictable?"

"No. I just know that I can trust you."

She kissed him and he wrapped his arms around her grateful and relieved beyond measure that the rescue plan had worked. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he didn't know what he would have done if it had failed. There hadn't been another plan. There was only one chance of success and he'd taken it.

They sat in silence, huddled close together listening only to the sound of the breeze in the trees and the birds in the churchyard. It was only when the sound of a car approaching disturbed the peace that Emile disentangled himself from George and cautiously crept along the wall to the gate to get a view of the road whilst George waited with her heart pounding, fearing that it might be a patrol in search of her even though her commonsense told her that surely enough time couldn't have elapsed for the alarm to be raised yet. She watched Emile anxiously but was relieved a moment later to see him glance back in her direction and give her a thumbs up sign. It was Jacques.

Emile moved back along the wall.

"Come on, Jacques will drive you to the safe house. You'll need to stay in hiding now until we can get you out."

George was struck by his words. "Get me out?"

Emile nodded. "You can't go back to Varennes or your lodgings. It's too risky."

She hadn't thought about it but he was right. Despite the fact that she had been arrested under a false name it was far too much of a risk to return to her old lodgings even under the name of Marie Bouchard. There might be posters in the area or local police on the lookout for her.

"Alright but you can get me new papers, can't you?"

Emile rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from her and George realised he was hiding something.

"What is it? What did you mean just now?"

Emile fiddled with his rifle strap and cleared his throat. "You have to stay at the safe house until you go back."

"To where?"

He looked at her. "To England. Louis will request a pick up as soon as possible. You have to return. You're compromised here."

"I don't want to leave." She stared at him. "I don't want to leave, not with the operation so close."

Emile was shaking his head. He had known this might happen and hoped, in vain, that she would just see sense and go along with his decision. He really didn't want to argue with her about this. Jacques' van was pulling up on the other side of the wall and Emile stood and raised a hand to him. He turned back to George, "Come on. We have to go."

George stood up too but didn't move. "Let me go on the operation, Emile. You need all the help you can get and what difference can it make now? If the Germans are looking for me and I'm caught on the operation, well, at least it will all have been for something. Let me go with you."

He saw the pleading expression in her eyes, heard the emotion in her voice and knew how passionately she meant what she said. There was some sense in her argument. She had been rescued to prevent information about the operation being given up under interrogation. If she lay low until the operation she was right that it could make no difference if she took part but on the other hand he knew how much he loved her and how much he wanted to keep her safe. His heart and his head were in conflict. He took a deep breath.

"Please, not now. Not like this, George."

"Why? You know I can do this. You said as much yourself. Are you trying to protect me?"

He turned back to her. "Yes, but from yourself more than anything." She heard emotion in his voice and the expression on his face left her in no doubt that he loved her and hated the thought of what she was suggesting.

She reached out and caught his hand, not caring if Jacques could see. Her voice was quiet and calm, "I didn't come here to be safe. I came here to do a job. Please, Emile, let me do that job."

He looked into her eyes. This was why he loved her, why he had always loved her from the first moment he had seen her in that dance hall two years ago and this was what he had recognised in her, the thing that marked her out among everyone else.

"Alright. You win. But when it's over you go back to England on the first flight available. Understood?"

She nodded, "You're the boss."

She turned away from him and he watched her walk towards the waiting van. He shook his head whispering under his breath, "If only I thought that was true."

He wished he could have persuaded George to stay away from the operation but in his heart he knew that no matter how much he felt for her he couldn't deny her the right to be the person she was. In spite of himself he smiled. He might as well have saved his breath.