The Iron Shadow

by Stefano Siggia

  Melbourne took the last sip of his beer from his tall glass and listened to the silence that surrounded him. The place vaguely reminded him of Le Lion D’or at that very moment. He remembered staying until closing time, usually offering the last drink to a girl he had met that night, trying to make her laugh one more time hoping it would lead to something more. A flash of the last time he stayed until closing time with Douglas raced through his mind. The smile on his face slowly began to fade away.

  He wondered what Le Lion D’or looked like that night, what had befallen to his friends and comrades from the Squadron. What the hell he was doing there. Was he ever going to accomplish anything?

  A hand lightly touched his shoulder and he turned around to see Danielle, her stage clothes and jewellery gone, substituted with a brown coat and her blonde hair hidden underneath a black fur hat. “Contemplating my awful performance tonight?” she asked.

  “No, not all. And that wasn’t an awful performance, what are you saying?”

  She sighed. “It certainly could have been better.”

  “You were great, trust me.” He turned back to look at the empty tables. If it wasn’t for the pungent smell of beer and alcohol it could almost look like a decent place. “This place reminds of me another club, Le Lion D’or in… Geneva. I used to go to it fairly often. Buy a drink, tell a story, dance with a pretty girl.”

  Danielle smiled absentmindedly. “Well, that place sounds a lot more civilised than this one. And dancing. My, I haven’t gone dancing since the war began.”

  Melbourne got off his stool, not without his muscles protesting, but he paid them no attention. He took Danielle’s hands and placed himself in dancing position.

  Danielle laughed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Let’s dance. Just a round or two.”

  “Right, and we are going to dance to silence?”

  Melbourne thought for a few seconds. “There was this song that often played on the gramophone at Le Lion D’or. It went something like this.”

  He began whistling a little tune, slowly moving Danielle to its rhythm. She laughed but it worked. They were dancing. It was a bit of an awkward dance. Melbourne felt stiff as ever but he and Danielle rocked back and forth to his out of tune song. She smiled, her blue eyes locked onto his as she let him guide her on the slippery floor near the bar. He wanted to wonder what she was thinking, what those sad eyes were feeling. Joy? For the first time in a long time? But all he could think was don’t step on her feet.

  Moving away from her, Melbourne slowly spun her around with one hand.

  Danielle laughed once more. “You are either very drunk or just very bizarre.”

  With a light shove, he pushed her towards him and locked and arm around her waist, rocking her back and forth once more. “Both,” he said.

  He could smell her perfume once more, that sweet fragrance of flowers he could never name. She hadn’t worn it earlier when they talked during her break. He stared at her lips as she said, “those words you wanted to tell me earlier. What were they?”

  Melbourne turned his head to eye the barman. The gruffy man had his back turned towards them and was placing new bottles of alcoholic drinks on the table behind the bar. He turned back to face Danielle, her inquisitive eyes staring straight into his. He drew closer to her ear.

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  She nodded.

  “You must promise not to ever repeat the next two words I’m about to tell you. Promise?”

  She nodded once more. “Promise,” she whispered.

  “Tell me if they make any sense to you. Iron… Shad — ”

  A loud clap, hand smacking against hand, suddenly broke the silence around them. Melbourne and Danielle turned towards what they thought were empty tables. And if fact they were – except for one. Sitting on one of the wooden tables not too far from them was one of the German soldiers from the fight of the other night. He kept clapping, slowly. The smacking sound reverberated throughout the entire establishment.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, stopping the noise. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you at all. By all means, keep going.”

  “What do you want?” Danielle asked.

  “You two look like a great couple.”

  “I said what do you want?”

  The soldier got up from the table and began walking towards them. “I just wanted to drop by and say hello to my friend here. The one that humiliated me and my friends in front of Imperial officers.”

  “You humiliated yourself. I didn’t do a thing to help in that,” Melbourne said.

  The soldier had walked up to Melbourne. “How about humiliating you a little now? You low-life piece of scum trash.”

  Danielle gripped Melbourne’s arm. “Let’s go, let’s just leave, please.” Her voice quivered slightly.

  “Just leave us alone. The damage is done,” Melbourne said. He somehow knew this was going to happen someday.

  “Is it?” the soldier asked. “I want to see that. I want to see what damage has been done. Or more properly, what damage will be done. Let’s step outside, shall we?”

  “I’m stepping outside to leave this place and you behind. Farewell,” Melbourne said.

  He heard a loud click coming from his below his belt. Looking down, he saw a gun pointed straight at him. Danielle gasped.

  “No, we’re stepping outside to leave this place together.”

  He motioned them to move with his gun and Melbourne and Danielle obliged. They crossed the club and stepped outside into the chilly air. All that Melbourne could think about was Danielle’s safety. She gripped his arm tightly, shaking just a little, either from the cold or from the fear. He didn’t need this right now, he thought. He felt the muzzle press against his back and he began walking. They were in the darkness of the colonnades when the soldier told them to stop.

  “You, move down there,” he told Melbourne. “And you, stay to the side against the column and don’t you dare to move.”

  Danielle obliged as Melbourne walked towards the edge where the Gallerie de la Reine began. He lifted his arms and turned towards the man. “A gun versus fists? That’s not considered fair where I come from.”

  “And where is that?”

  “Switzerland.”

  “Hand me your documents.”

  Melbourne placed a hand in the pocket of his pants and extracted the false, pink identity card. He tossed it to the soldier who caught it with his free hand. The man began studying the document.

  “Listen, let her go. She has nothing to do — ”

  “Just shut up,” the soldier said. “Lausanne? Lovely city. In which street do you live?”

  “Avenue de la Couronne,” Melbourne answered.

  “And where is that?”

  Melbourne swallowed hard. He was playing the odds now, and he needed an answer that was most probable. “Close to downtown.”

  “Ah, close to downtown. Near the train station, am I right?”

  Melbourne could smell the man’s breath from that distance. Beer. But his slight grin said he was testing Melbourne. Time to risk everything on a single throw. “No, of course not. It’s closer to the cathedral.”

  “The cathedral? Remind me, what’s the cathedral’s name?”

  He realised he was starting to sweat, despite the cold.

  “The Holy — ”

  Melbourne darted out a hand, grabbed the gun with both hands, and managed to move it away from him. But the soldier did know what he was doing. He brought the gun around and slammed it into Melbourne’s face.

  Melbourne let go of the weapon for a second, and the man sidestepped him and slammed the butt of the gun against his back. A surge of pain brought Melbourne to his knees.

  He looked up at the muzzle pointed straight between his eyes.

  The soldier was almost trembling in anger. “Who were you trying to trick, you little bastard? These documents are counterfeit, you goddamned little spy!”

  He threw Melbourne’s
documents straight at his face. Melbourne felt a twang of pain as they slapped against his cheek. The same one that had been bruised. It was over. He was certain he wouldn’t get out of this.

  The soldier motioned with his pistol. “Get up. Slowly.”

  Melbourne raised his arms in the air and rose to his feet.

  “Slowly I said! One false move, and I won’t be shooting to wound. Now turn around.”

  Melbourne did.

  “I’m bringing you to our nearest station. But not before I have some fun messing up your face a little more. A bruise for a bruise, you goddamn spy.”

  Melbourne shut his eyes, ready for whatever pain was coming. But he wasn’t hit.

  Instead, there was a gunshot.

  It echoed terribly throughout the silence, making the glass plates tremble on the ceiling, moving slowly down the gallery until it disappeared at the end. Melbourne waited for the pain to start, or his consciousness to fade.

  He heard a body drop. It wasn’t his. He opened his eyes as the last remnants of the echo faded and heard a gurgling sound coming from behind him. He slowly turned around and saw the soldier staring at him, wide eyed. There was surprise and anguish in his expression. He opened his mouth to utter something when a small stream of blood began flowing out of it. He could barely speak a word as only guttural sounds emitted from his throat. His knees gave way and he fell forward, onto Melbourne, who caught his dead weight. Melbourne struggled to keep the man in his arms until he saw the patch of blood on his back. He dropped him to the ground as the soldier twitched a few times.

  The soldier lay on the ground, looking straight ahead of him, his eyes full of surprise. “Why… the hell… did you…” One last twitch, and he lay still, his eyes staring into nothing.

  Melbourne looked up and saw Danielle standing a few paces behind. The gun in her hand was still smoking. She stood perfectly still, eyes of steel still locked on the dead man. She slowly lowered it, her hands shaking.

  “What… have you done?” Melbourne asked.

  She began trembling all over, her eyes fixed on the dead body.

  Melbourne got to his feet and approached her slowly. The terrible thunder of the shot still rang in his ears. He held his hand out and carefully touched her gun. It was hot. Her blue eyes looked up at him and he slowly removed the gun from her hands.

  “Hold me Remy, hold me close,” she said.

  He hugged her tightly. She sobbed lightly, and the trembling slowly subsided. He turned his head to look at the dead man. He lay in a surreal state of complete stillness as a puddle of thick, red blood formed around his body.

  “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Fast.”

  She pressed her face against his shoulder. “Who are you, Remy?”

  Melbourne couldn’t find the words in that moment.

  She raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes had turned into steel once again.

  “Who are you?”

  Melbourne looked up at a nearby window and saw the light of a flickering candle, where there hadn’t been one before. The curtains began to move. “I’ll tell you everything, but we need to get out of here quick before they see us. Get us to your apartment.”

  She grabbed his hand and the two ran off into the night.

  XXI

  Danielle lived in a small, dank room in the basement of a three-story building just a few blocks away from where they had left the body. Pale light from a gas lamp shone through a small window near the ceiling, outlining the room’s contents. It was large enough for a bed, a cupboard, and a desk. A basin sat on one corner of the room with a tiny mirror hanging above it. It vaguely reminded Melbourne of his brother’s room – same lonely feel, sad and empty.

  Danielle walked over to the desk and turned on a small lamp. “Don’t mind the mess,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

  On the desk and on her bed were scattered an assortment of dresses, hats, jewellery, and stage clothes. She walked over to the bed, grabbed the clothes in one armful, and threw them onto the desk on the opposite side of the room.

  “It’s not much, I know,” she said. Then she sank to the bed and slowly began sobbing. Her hands covered her face as she wept.

  Melbourne sat next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I couldn’t help it, Remy,” she said between sobs. “I just couldn’t! He… he was going to arrest you and send you off to a firing squad. You know that, right? You know that.”

  Melbourne didn’t know what to say.

  “I didn’t want…” She removed her hands from her face. Her mascara created two long, dark streaks down both cheeks. “I didn’t want that to happen, you know? I can’t bear the thought of someone else dying.”

  “I know. You saved my life. And I thank you for it.”

  But there was a body. And not just any body. A dead German soldier.

  She turned on him. “Who the hell are you? You’re not Swiss, and I bet you’re not even a journalist. Is it true what he said?”

  Melbourne got up and moved over to the desk. It was such a mess with all those clothes, necklaces, and earrings. He picked up a faux gold earring and studied it for a few seconds, then placed it back in the mayhem. As he put it back down, he noticed something thin and pointed coming out from under a hat. It was long and metallic.

  A hand suddenly came down on the hat making the needle disappear. He looked up to see Danielle’s face staring at him, red and puffy.

  “Remy, I need to know. Who are you?”

  “I don’t think you would like the truth.”

  “Goddamit, Remy! I just — ” She lowered her voice. “I just goddamn killed someone for you.”

  “Was that the first time?”

  “Of course! Remy, I have had enough lies in my life already. And I like you. I really do.”

  Melbourne sat on the bed. He sighed.

  “You want the truth? Brace yourself.” He hesitated. But he’d already decided to tell her. He needed allies, and she had been involved in some way with his brother. He got up and moved towards her. “Iron Shadow. Do those two words mean anything to you?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Never heard of them. Why should I know? What is this about?”

  “Because you are part of the puzzle, Danielle. I just don’t know where you fit exactly.”

  “Remy, what are you — ”

  “My name is Melbourne and I’m an English spy,” he said, taking the plunge. “My brother was sent over to Brussels to investigate something called the Iron Shadow. Nobody knows what it is. He was killed here, and on him they found this.” He removed the box of matches with the name and symbol of Le Rossignol Chantant. “I was told he had something to do with a nightingale. That’s what led me to you.”

  Danielle placed her hands on her temples and sat back down on her bed. “This is too much for me.”

  “You told me that I was the only recent foreigner you had seen in the club,” Melbourne said. “But did you see anyone else, or talk to anyone, who perhaps just appeared for only a brief moment?”

  She said nothing.

  “You see, I think you are part of this puzzle whether you realise it or not. I think you know someone who might know something.”

  Danielle looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Oh God, please.” She lay down on the bed, tears beginning to build up again.

  Melbourne removed his brother’s coded message from his pocket and showed it to her. “Does this make any sense?”

  She looked over the poem, then shook her head.

  “Were you asked to send an envelope by mail?”

  She shook her head once more. Good, he knew she wasn’t the brown-haired girl. But bad at the same time. What was it she knew? Had he just revealed his secrets for nothing?

  She took the coded poem in her hand and studied it. The tip of her index finger slowly moved around the burned circles and X’s. “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.�
��

  She passed the poem back to Melbourne. “I’m scared now.” She sat back up. “This all makes no sense. What I did tonight, what you are looking for, what you think I am…” She pressed her face against Melbourne’s shoulder.

  He hugged her tight. “It will be all right,” he said, though he was by no means sure that was true. The spy and the murderer.

  She looked up at him, her face just a few centimetres away from his. “What are we going to do, Melbourne? About the man I just killed?”

  “Someone must have heard the shot, and they’ll find the body eventually. But they won’t know who did it. No one saw us… at least I hope not. And we still have the weapon with us.” He placed his hand on his coat’s pocket where he had slipped the gun in. “Listen, something will work out. Something always does.” He caressed her face. That lovely face that should never cry. “I can get you out of here.”

  She slowly smiled.

  “I’m am due to leave in a few days,” he said. “And I can get you out of this damn country. You can go back to France and forget being La Baronne.”

  “Can you really do that?”

  He was already working out the details. “Yes, I can.”

  “Then I will help you.”

  She smiled and their lips met. A long, slow kiss.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Can you keep me company tonight?”

  His lips locked onto hers once more. The thought of the dead body came back to his mind and he tried to brush it away. They fell back on the bed, embracing each other. He removed her jacket and her long, white gloves, and caressed her bare arms. He ran his hands up and down them until he reached a small bump on her left arm. Looking down, he saw a small, purple spot.

  She took his face in her hands and moved his gaze towards her. “You’re a good man. I haven’t met one of those since Gaston.”

  He smiled at her. “You’ll be safe tonight.”

  The murderer and the spy.

  Then they kissed once more.

  XXII

  - 4 days

  Melbourne awoke the next morning to bright sunlight shining through the small window, the rusted metallic grate casting an ornate shadow on the bed. He stretched and moved his arm next to him, hoping to find her. But the bed was empty.