Ashes Of America

by Fergus McNeill

  ‘Well now,’ he replied, adopting an exaggerated drawl, ‘that’s mighty nice of you to make allowances for me.’

  ‘No, really. I know there can be a bit of – what’s the damned word? – friction, between the old nations, but you…’ He trailed off and shook his head. ‘You’re a bloody good sort.’

  Solemnly, he raised his glass then drained it.

  Frank inclined his head slightly.

  ‘You really think there’s friction?’ he asked, lifting his own glass and gently swirling the last of his beer around. ‘Sure it isn’t just chain-of-command crap? Little guys trying to make themselves feel important?’

  ‘Swift’s not a little guy,’ Rafe replied quickly. ‘And Dulles certainly isn’t!’

  Frank considered this for a moment, then shrugged.

  ‘Everyone seems to get along,’ he said.

  Rafe shook his head unhappily.

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ he muttered. ‘You’re the right nationality; you’re a Yank.’

  Frank sat up, curious now.

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  Rafe scowled at him.

  ‘It means some of us have to listen very hard if we want to know what’s going on, while others...’ He looked pointedly at his friend. ‘...are simply told.’

  ‘What?’ Frank stared at him. None of this was making any sense.

  ‘Oh, come on. You and Jean know what’s going on at the moment. But was I told about it? Was Molly?’ His voice was becoming shrill, but he broke off suddenly, looking away. ‘Wrong bloody flag, apparently.’

  Leaning forward, Frank whispered, ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  Rafe gave him a withering glance, then frowned.

  ‘You know who Dulles is talking to, what he’s talking about.’

  ‘Nope.’ Frank shook his head.

  Rafe stared at him with an expression of near-disbelief, before glancing around furtively to make sure nobody was listening.

  ‘A German coup d'état!’ he hissed. ‘Why d’you think everybody’s been so damned itchy, so impatient?’

  Frank sat back, stunned. A German coup? But the army was still loyal to Hitler, wasn't it?

  Rafe watched him carefully, then shook his head in wonder.

  ‘Crikey! You really didn’t know, did you?’

  Disturbed from his thoughts, Frank blinked at him.

  ‘No. I just...’ He trailed off, then whispered, ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘Of course I’m bloody sure!’ Rafe snapped. He pulled his bench towards the table and leaned in close. ‘You remember when Dulles had those late-night meetings at Herrengasse?’

  A movement caught Frank’s eye. Over in the far corner of the cellar, a young couple had got to their feet and started towards them. Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed Rafe’s wrist and began speaking over him in a loud voice.

  ‘And that’s why I won’t drink schnapps any more. I don’t think I ever felt quite so sick.’

  ‘Eh?’ Rafe blinked in confusion.

  Frank shot him a warning look, then inclined his head towards the approaching couple. Rafe glanced up, then immediately fell silent as they squeezed past. The young man had his hand pressed firmly on the woman’s behind and she was laughing at something. Frank watched them as they made their way over to the stairs. Probably just an ordinary couple.

  When he turned back, Rafe was staring down at the table.

  ‘Hey, sorry to interrupt,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d seen them so I figured–’

  ‘No, no. You’re quite right.’ Rafe looked up at Frank, a sheepish expression on his face. ‘Thanks.’

  They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. At the other end of the room, a group of men burst into raucous laughter at something.

  Frank turned to his friend.

  ‘You want one for the road?’ he asked.

  Rafe appeared to think about it for a moment, then shook his head.

  ‘I think maybe I should call it a night,’ he said.

  Frank helped him up the stairs, and the two men emerged to find the city in darkness. The street seemed deathly quiet after the noise of the cellar, and there was a chill in the air.

  Rafe stood for a moment, head tilted back, swaying as he gazed up at the stars.

  Shivering, Frank buttoned up his jacket.

  ‘Come on.’ He yawned. ‘It’s a long walk back.’

  Rafe turned and placed a hand on his shoulder. Staring deep into his eyes, he murmured, ‘You really are a thoroughly decent chap.’

  Frank managed an awkward grin.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ He chuckled.

  ‘Well, I would,’ Rafe insisted, then paused. A frown crept over his face. ‘And that’s what makes this all so damned irregular.’

  ‘What’s so irregular?’

  Rafe stared at him, then shook his head.

  ‘Why haven’t they told you?’

  20

  Rafe looked rough when he arrived at the office. His blonde hair was sticking up untidily and there were several red nicks where he’d cut himself shaving. Limping across to his desk, he sat down heavily, then grimaced and closed his eyes.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Frank asked him.

  ‘I’ve been better,’ Rafe said. He managed a wry smile, then added, ‘Thanks for getting me home last night.’

  ‘No problem.’ Frank grinned, stifling a yawn. It had been an effort to get up this morning, but the coffee was starting to kick in now. And he’d certainly come through the evening in better shape than his friend.

  A few minutes later, he heard the door behind him open. Molly and Jean emerged from Swift’s room and walked down the corridor into the main office. ‘Oh dear!’ Molly feigned dismay as she caught sight of Rafe. ‘Look what the cat’s dragged in.’

  Rafe glanced up at her with a wretched expression, then hung his head.

  ‘The comforting voice of the harridan,’ he muttered.

  Molly patted him on the shoulder and smiled brightly.

  ‘Feeling good, are we?’

  Rafe groaned.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so hard on him,’ Jean said, walking round to her desk and sitting down. ‘I had such a lovely time last night. It was perfect.’

  Molly laughed, then turned to Frank.

  ‘How about you?’ she asked. ‘Sore head this morning?’

  Frank covered his mouth, yawning again.

  ‘I feel okay,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It was cold walking home last night, though.’

  Rafe lifted his head slightly.

  ‘Well, that just proves you didn’t drink as much as me. I barely felt a thing.’

  Molly made her way around to her desk.

  ‘I’m surprised you even remember.’

  Rafe wagged a finger at her.

  ‘I remember everything, thank you.’ Turning to Jean, he muttered, ‘It’s terribly unfair, allowing her to badger me like this. I’m really not at my best just now.’

  Jean glanced over and gave him a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Well, grab yourself some coffee, mister,’ she said, taking a firm tone. ‘Swift says that Dulles is coming by this morning. Apparently he wants to talk to us all.’

  Dulles breezed into the office on the stroke of ten, accompanied by Groth. Pausing to remove his hat and coat, he immediately made his way over to Jean.

  ‘Happy birthday for yesterday, Miss Ellesworth,’ he said, reaching into his pocket. ‘I’m sorry to have missed it.’

  He drew out a long, thin box wrapped in colored paper, placed it on her desk, then flashed her a quick smile.

  ‘Oh, Mr Dulles.’ Clearly surprised, Jean took the box and cradled it in her hands. ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘That’s quite all right,’ Dulles replied pleasantly. ‘Tell me, is Mr Swift in his room?’

  ‘He is.’ Jean looked up from the box. ‘Should I go and tell him you’re here?’

  ‘No need.’ Dulles gestured for her to keep he
r seat. ‘Herr Groth and I just wanted to consult with him on a matter, then perhaps we can gather the troops out here for a discussion?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jean said, nodding.

  ‘Capital!’ Dulles inclined his head to her, then turned to Groth. ‘Let’s go.’

  Sitting at his desk, Frank watched them walk down the corridor. Dulles knocked once on Swift’s door, then immediately opened it and went inside. Groth followed him in, pulling the door closed behind them.

  ‘Oh my!’ Jean gasped. ‘Look!’

  Frank turned to see her staring down at the open box. Inside, resting on a red velvet insert, was an elegant silver pen. Smiling proudly, she held it out for the others to see.

  ‘That’s a beauty,’ Rafe whistled.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ Molly agreed. But her eyes were on the door of Swift’s room.

  It was almost lunchtime when Dulles finally emerged from his conference. Groth came stalking along the corridor behind him, but Swift remained in his office. Slowing as he drew level with Frank’s desk, Dulles cleared his throat and glanced around the room.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, pacing slowly over to stand by one of the filing cabinets. ‘But if I might have your attention for just a few minutes?’

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up. Dulles rested an elbow on top of the cabinet, then took a moment to hold each of them in his piercing gaze.

  ‘Tonight is a most important night,’ he began. ‘A rendezvous has been arranged to receive an unprecedented delivery of information that may, God willing, significantly hasten the end of the war.’ He paused to let this sink in, taking out his pipe and tapping it thoughtfully in his palm. Groth walked slowly over to stand beside him.

  ‘Now, I imagine that some of you may already be speculating about the exact nature of this information,’ Dulles continued. ‘Suffice to say, I consider it too sensitive to trust to the more usual channels of communication and, consequently, I and countless others are placing our trust in you.’

  He looked round at the assembled faces again, as though challenging them to prove themselves, then nodded.

  ‘Good! Now, this will be Herr Groth’s operation, so I’ll give way to him and let him apprise you of the details.’

  Groth took a step forward, his face unreadable.

  ‘Mr Cavanagh, Miss Pearson, and Mr Rye.’ He glanced briefly at each of them. ‘You will meet me at the bottom of Aargauerstalden at eight o’clock this evening.’

  Jean raised her hand, a frown on her face.

  ‘Am I not going?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ Groth told her. He turned back to the others. ‘The rendezvous with our contact will be outside the city, so you will dress warmly. We may be out in the open for some time.’

  ‘Can you tell us where we’re going?’ Rafe said.

  ‘No. The man we are meeting will have travelled a great distance and taken many risks. It is vital that we do nothing to compromise him. That’s all you need to know for now.’

  Rafe sat back in his chair and glanced over at Frank with a shrug.

  Dulles carefully lit his pipe and puffed on it for a moment, before looking up at them once more.

  ‘I just want to impress upon you all the tremendous courage and commitment shown by our friends across the border. By their actions they place their lives in the gravest danger, for a cause they truly believe in.’ He shook his head, his expression serious. ‘We must show that same courage and commitment, and we must not let them down.’

  Returning from his hurried lunch, Frank climbed the stairs to the office, absently munching on a piece of smoked sausage. As he opened the door and stepped inside, Jean looked up from her desk.

  ‘He wants you,’ she said, glancing along the corridor.

  ‘What about Dulles and Groth?’ Frank asked.

  ‘They went back to Herrengasse. At least, I assume that’s where they were going. Everyone seems so jittery at the moment, and nobody wants to tell anyone what they’re doing.’

  She spoke lightly, but Frank caught the troubled look that flickered across her face. Left out of the operation… no reason given.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Nobody wants to tell me what they’re doing either, so I’d say you’re in fine company.’

  Jean gave him a sidelong glance, then lowered her eyes and smiled.

  ‘You’re a smart man, Frank Rye,’ she said. ‘But you really don’t need to tell me what I want to hear.’

  Damn! He flashed her an awkward grin, wishing he'd been more subtle. She nodded towards the corridor.

  ‘Go on, he’s waiting for you.’

  Frank leaned his head around the door.

  ‘Jean said you wanted to see me?’

  Sitting at his desk, Swift glanced up from a handful of papers, then beckoned him forward. Frank stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him.

  ‘So...’ Swift's expression became serious. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘Is everyone all set for tonight?’

  ‘I believe so, yes.’

  ‘And you understand the importance of the operation?’

  ‘In a general sense, yes,’ Frank replied.

  Swift studied him for a moment, then leaned down and carefully unlocked one of his desk drawers.

  ‘I need you to keep your eyes open tonight,’ he said, watching Frank intently as he slid the drawer open. ‘Remember, it’s not the Swiss police we’re worrying about this time.’

  ‘I understand that.’

  ‘Good.’ Swift reached into the drawer and took out a small cardboard box. It rattled slightly as he placed it in front of him. Printed across the top were the words .45 Caliber ~ 50 Cartridges. Next, he withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle, something heavy that made a solid sound as he set it down. Wordlessly, he slid both across the desk.

  Frank stared at them, then looked at Swift.

  ‘Uh… thank you, sir.’ He reached for the ammunition first, then hesitated. ‘Do you need me to sign for this?’

  Swift pushed his desk drawer shut and turned the key in the lock.

  ‘Sign for what?’ he asked.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, until Frank nodded and picked up the bundle. It was a .45 automatic, dark-sheened metal with a brown wood grip. Slipping it free of the cloth, he inspected it briefly, made sure the safety was on, then slipped it into his jacket pocket.

  Swift watched him, then picked up his papers again.

  ‘That’ll be all,’ he said softly.

  21

  Frank stared out of the window as the car rattled along at speed. They’d been driving less than an hour, but he’d given up asking questions about the operation; Groth’s oppressive silence only made the journey seem longer. Sitting beside him in the back, Rafe was yawning. Molly was riding up front with Groth, staring out at the road ahead.

  The sleepy little villages that they passed through became smaller, and less frequent, and then the last of them was left behind them as night drew in around them. No more people, no more cars, just the weak illumination of the headlights and the dim glow of the sky on the mountains towering above them. They were climbing now, away from the rolling countryside and up into the steep hills. Peering through the windshield, Frank glimpsed an intricately-painted sign in the glare of the lights, but it was gone too quickly for him to read. Groth slowed a little, dropping a gear and turning off onto a dirt road, narrow and dark, with tall trees on either side.

  It was pitch black here, with just a narrow wedge of night sky above and the twin beams searching out the way before them. The road continued to climb for a while, then leveled off abruptly as it opened out into a broad clearing ringed with pine forest. There were several buildings, set back among the trees, but they were all in darkness, angular silhouettes in the gloom. Groth swung the wheel left then right, turning around and slowing, so they stopped with the car facing back the way they’d come. A heavy silence fell as he killed the engine.

  Twisting round to peer out
of the rear window, Frank could just make out the steeply pitched roof of a large wooden structure, three stories tall, with shuttered windows.

  ‘What is this place?’ he asked.

  Groth turned and looked at him.

  ‘It’s a ski-lodge, but they close it up in the summer months. Usually there would be a… hausmeister?’

  ‘Caretaker,’ Frank said.

  ‘Ja, caretaker, but with the war on…’ Groth shrugged, then reached for his door handle.

  ‘Are we meeting him inside?’ Molly asked, looking at the lodge.

  ‘No. There’s a path that leads up to a cabin beyond the first tree line. He’s coming from the north so he’ll meet us there.’ Groth paused, squinting down at his watch. ‘We should be going now.’

  He opened the door. Frank and the others followed his cue and got out of the car. The night air was cold but fresh, and rich with the scent of the surrounding pine trees. There were two smaller buildings, set on either side of the main lodge: one low and long, the other squat and box-like. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Frank began to make out the curve of a huge spoked wheel protruding from the roof of the squat building, and the faint lines of cables disappearing up into the shadows of the mountain skyline.

  Standing beside him, Molly was checking her gun. There was a sharp metallic snap as she pulled the slide back, eerily loud against the stillness of the clearing. Groth, who had been staring up at the lodge, turned to Frank.

  ‘You and Mr Cavanagh will wait here. See that nobody comes up behind us, and make sure we still have a way out when we’re done. If we’re not back in one hour, you take the car and you drive to Herrengasse. Speak to Mr Dulles face-to face; no phone calls, understand?’ His tone didn’t invite any questions.

  ‘Got it.’ Frank nodded.

  Rafe was glancing around at the dark woods.

  ‘Do you need a torch or anything?’ he asked.

  ‘Only to make a signal,’ Groth replied. ‘Otherwise, it’s better not to show everyone where you are.’ He turned to Molly. ‘Ready?’

  Molly slipped her gun inside her coat pocket and lifted her chin.