Lovers in Enemy Territory

by Rebecca Winters

  She watched him purse his lips. He put down his cigar. "How would you know this?"

  "Because she hadn't been out of his sight, day or night. She's lived under the same roof with him, having breakfast, lunch and dinner. One evening, two weeks ago he'd been in meetings with Lord Harley and Lord Wyngate, and then was with her for days after.

  “I know this latest mission is a very important one. The signs have been building for weeks. He's had important calls. It’s something big."

  "Ja, so how do you think this Sister knows so much?"

  "I'm coming to that. After she went back to the convent, he moved back into London with the boy. Philip is there now living with them, and recently he took the boy out to the convent to visit the Sister. I was at the house when they returned and I found something.

  “Commander Norwood had written her a letter which Philip was to deliver. In it he said, "The things we talked about on the day of the picnic have come to pass. This new assignment may take months instead of days to accomplish. This will be my last chance to communicate with you."

  "So?" He shrugged his shoulders. Elinore was exasperated.

  "It means that he revealed to her the facts about this new mission. I'd stake my life on it. You can't tell me he hasn't confided in her. He trusts her, Dirk. When Michael was in the hospital, Commander Norwood barely put in an appearance at the house. He would have had to conduct business from the hospital. She would have been in on it. I know for a certainty that there isn't anything he wouldn't discuss or talk about with her."

  "What makes you think he'd tell her anything top secret when you haven't been able to discover one leak in all these years? I thought he trusted you completely."

  "He does trust me, but he loves her, and he was desperate not to lose her. I think he told her things to win her sympathy. You know, a little lever. . . . He wants her to leave the convent so he can marry her."

  Dirk was pensive. "Is she a postulant?"

  "No. She’s taken her vows and is professed."

  "And the love affair has gone that far?" he asked in surprise.

  "Far enough that she is being sent to another convent. My guess is that she’s being punished for breaking her vows and is on the verge of leaving the sisterhood. There's no question that she's in love with him. In his letter he said he intended to make her his wife. He's a very persuasive man. She won't be able to resist him."

  "So the Commander is as relentless in matters of love as war, eh?" he chuckled. Elinore paled. "Does that distress you? I see that it does." He cleared his throat. "All right. Suppose your theory is correct. Suppose she knows details which could be useful to headquarters. I must have proof. Did you bring the letter with you?"

  "No, it's in Philip's possession and we’re separated. I'm no longer welcome in his house."

  "I know nothing of this," he raised his eyebrows.

  "It was in my last report. You probably haven't had time to look at it. The only reason I married Philip in the first place was for security. I arrived in London with nothing. There’s no love lost between us. Dirk. If I were to try to get that letter, he'd suspect something.

  “As it was, he caught me reading it. I told him I thought it was a legal paper, and he bought it, I think. He was upset, but not for the reasons you're thinking. I'm positive he's in love with her too, and has become very protective of her as well as his brother."

  Dirk began walking about the room. "Then all I have is your intuition to go on."

  "Yes, but I've never bothered you before. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

  "All right, tell me more about this nun."

  "She's twenty-six, beautiful, loyal to England, talented, devoted to his son."

  Dirk laughed. "She sounds too good to be true!"

  "Jeffrey Norwood thinks so,” she said bitterly.

  "It couldn't be you have a personal vendetta against the nun, eh? All right, Elinore. You say she's back at the convent?"

  "I'm not sure now. She was leaving for the other one soon."

  "I don't know how we could get to her.” The wheels were beginning to turn inside Dirk's head and Elinore relaxed. He’d started to take her seriously.

  "That part is easy, Dirk. The S.S. should have no trouble."

  He blinked. "Go on."

  "She's leaving to fulfill this penance in the Spanish Pyrenees. She'll be there for some time according to Philip. We have German intelligence agents in Barcelona and Madrid. It shouldn't be too difficult to seek her out for interrogation once she’s away from England, from protection, if you follow me. She must be there by now. It's been two weeks since I read the letter."

  "Ja." He sounded far away. "What's the name of the convent?"

  "Saint Teresa's. I presume it's in an isolated mountain region. She loves him, Dirk. If you were to apply the right kind of pressure, she'd talk. She's faithful to her principles. If any of her vows were put in jeopardy, she'd tell all rather than face God's punishment. I don't need to paint a picture, do I?"

  "No. You make me think women can be more ruthless than men when it comes right down to it." Elinore stiffened. "I hope you're right about this, Elinore."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Berlin frowns on mistakes and the Fascists are not on the best terms with the Vatican. We'll have to handle this very carefully. There must be no embarrassment for us."

  "I'm not wrong, Dirk. And when you have the information, you can thank me by sending me back to South Africa. I have friends there and I want to leave England."

  "Why? There are many other spots in London where I could use someone like you."

  "No. My marriage to Philip is finished. I've done what I can. I have no desire to stay here any longer. Now is a good time to go."

  "Tell me something, Elinore. Why did you come to London at all?"

  "I had a chance for a position with a secretarial agency. After Father died, I had no reason to stay on in Cape Town. It was his idea to leave Germany in the first place, not mine, but once we left, I had to do something with my life."

  "What about going back to Germany?"

  "Not interested. I've grown accustomed to a few comforts, Dirk. Father was not looked upon with favor. I don't relish the thought of having to prove my loyalty in my own country. No. Cape Town suits me fine."

  "All right. If your lead is fruitful, I'll help you get back there. If not, I can do nothing. You’ll have to accept the consequences."

  "I understand."

  "Now give me a complete description. I want to know everything there is to know about this Sister, any weaknesses, family background, education. I want to hear it all. Then I'll send it on to Berlin. It’s going to take several weeks just to do the ground work.”

  *****

  Southampton was a dingy port town bustling with soldiers, ships and lorries. Catherine felt she’d stepped into the heart of the war. Castle Combe was light years away. She stepped off the train to be greeted by the smiling face of the Mother General, an Italian woman of tiny proportions. She had an olive complexion and black eyes, small as raisins. There were five nuns beneath the parapet with her.

  "Sister?” The Mother General waved her hand. "I’m so happy to meet you. God bless you for coming to the aid of your sisters in Spain. Sister Catherine, meet Sister Margareta from Edinburgh, Sister Luke from Leicester, Sister Maria from Wales, Sister Luisa from Shannon, and Sister Angelina from London."

  Each inclined her head in greeting. Sister Angelina was no older than Catherine. Catherine bowed to each of them.

  "We’re going to sail to Lisbon by aircraft carrier. The captain has given us a room which is normally occupied by one of his officers. It will be our sanctuary for the next few days. I hope you won't suffer from the mal de mer. I have only experienced it once. Even during the war, it is the only discomfort I have had. I trust our Heavenly Father to guide us safely to our destination."

  "Yes, Mother.”

  Catherine had had no appetite since she’d spoken to Jeffrey. At the
Mother General's words, she felt seasick already. They drove to the dock in an old car. There were hundreds of men in uniform and everyone was busy.

  There were lorries with supplies, jeeps, tanks, ammunition in great piles ready to load. Catherine cringed at the sight of the instruments of war. The carrier was enormous. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. The smell of the sea and dead fish wafted past her nostrils. She knew she was going to be sick.

  "This way, Sisters.” The Mother General hustled them into a crudely constructed building at the entrance gate. There were signs indicating only authorized personnel were able to pass beyond this point. They went inside the building and waited while the little woman produced many papers and documents. After some time they were cleared to board.

  "Sisters?" an officer opened the door. "We'll take you alongside in the jeep.” They followed him out. Catherine climbed into the back and sat on the edge, wedged between two sisters. The jeep took off and wound around the docks till it stopped in front of one of the gangplanks of the great carrier.

  There was no canopy for the gang plank, and just the idea of having to traverse it put fear into each Sister. However, the men with duffle bags seemed to manage it with ease.

  "Come along, Sisters." The Mother General started up the long wooden ramp which rose almost another story into the hold of the ship. Catherine placed her feet carefully and held on to the thin rope which served as a handrail. If she looked down, she felt dizzy. The water was a long way below. She kept her eyes straight ahead and managed to walk up and into the heart of the ship.

  Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought she would faint, but soon it was over and they were shown to their quarters which were already hot and cramped. To think humans had to put up with such conditions for months on end! She felt increased compassion for all fighting men, whoever they were.

  When Catherine's father died, she and her mother had crossed the Channel to England on a ferry. It took the whole night, but then they could eat a meal and sit on deck chairs, and the crossing was gentle. The circumstances now were anything but pleasant or reassuring.

  They were confined to their room for the remainder of the afternoon, and after several hours, they felt the movement of the ship as it began to inch its way out into the channel. The huge engines vibrated and the smell of disinfectant continued to nauseate Catherine.

  There was no port hole, only a small pipe which conducted air. Catherine felt claustrophobic and wished she could leave the room. They would all sleep in here together. There were six bunks and a cot. The bathroom facilities were in the adjoining room. The Holy Mother suggested a period of meditation, after which she would tell them more about this new and challenging assignment.

  Catherine closed her eyes as she sat on the bunk. Several hours passed and her stomach churned more the farther out into the ocean they went. Finally, she could sit still no longer and ran into the bathroom, shutting the door. After retching, she emerged and two more sisters dashed inside.

  The movement was unpredictable. Just when she thought the ship should go up, it would swing sideways and her insides would lurch all over again. She hung on to the bunk with her hands and prayed that she would survive the next two days.

  There was a galley for the officers, but none of the sisters was up to eating that first dinner. Catherine lay down on her bunk and continued to feel ill and queazy for the next twelve hours.

  The next day she wasn't feeling much better, but there was nothing left in her stomach to lose. The Mother General, chipper as ever, began to tell them about conditions at Saint Theresa's and what they would be expected to do there. Catherine sat up and tried to pay attention. Besides refugees, Spanish Republicans were also being sheltered, and dysentery was a major problem. There was little milk and food was scarce. They would have to be frugal with money used to purchase supplies. All in all, the outlook was bleak. But Rome would be sending help in six to eight weeks.

  Catherine caught bits and pieces of the explanations, but she was too sick to concentrate. Poor Sister Angelina hadn't moved her head from the pillow yet. Her face was absolutely green.

  After a day and a half out at sea, the ocean began to grow calm. The swells were less mountainous and Catherine began to feel better. The Mother General suggested they take a walk on deck and take the air, but only Catherine and two others, were up to it.

  They walked down a narrow corridor on unsteady legs, hugging the walls, and climbed the stairs to the next deck. When Catherine felt fresh air coming through the door which led to the flight deck, she drank it in and filled her lungs with the life-giving breeze.

  The sea was dark green, almost black, and clouds hovered close to the water. It was impossible to distinguish the horizon. One officer, short and blond, was on hand to greet them and show them about. There were many men doing their chores and the sight of the nuns on board caused quite a stir for there were furtive glances from all the crew as the sisters moved about.

  "I'm Officer Reginald, Sisters. The captain has asked me to be your guide for the journey." The young man seemed to enjoy the added duty. It probably helped to take his mind off the danger lurking beneath the waters or behind the clouds. The sisters bowed to him.

  "What would you like to see? The planes, perhaps? We're delivering some to the Mediterranean." Catherine's face brightened. She turned to the sisters, but the other two did not feel up to it and declined the invitation. They went back to the room in a hurry, but Catherine couldn't resist this opportunity to get closer to Jeffrey. Being here brought him back to her.

  "I'd be very obliged if you would show me about," she replied to the officer.

  “It would be a pleasure, Sister. Follow me."

  They walked to one end of the carrier. As they passed various crewmen, smiles appeared spontaneously on the men's faces. Catherine flushed from all the attention. The officer turned to her.

  "Don't mind the men, Sister. They're not used to seeing such a pretty face on board this monster. We have to be content to look at each other most of the time, and the scenery isn't quite up to specifications, if you know what I mean.” He winked.

  She smiled in spite of herself and lowered her head. She liked him and wondered how the men could seem so cheerful beneath the pall of war. Finally they came to the area where the planes were lined up, wing to wing. She recognized them immediately. "These are Hudsons," she exclaimed. Jeffrey's drawings were exactly like them. With a flash of pain, she remembered those wonderful days they spent together with Michael. When he was asleep, she would watch him sketch and they would talk for hours ...

  "You're right, Sister," he replied in astonishment. "How did you know that?"

  "I've seen drawings, Officer Reginald." They proceeded down the row.

  "These aren't as big as the Sunderlands," she murmured. "I remember now."

  “No. These seat a crew of four. The Sunderland--"

  "Seats a crew of seven," she finished for him.

  "Right, Sister," he said, eyeing her almost suspiciously. "I have the feeling you know as much about airplanes as I do."

  "No. I've had an expert explaining various things to me. It fascinates me, that's all." She went over to inspect the low-wing monoplane. " What would be the reason for needing this type of craft as opposed to the Sunderland?"

  "Well the Hudson isn’t as maneuverable in the air as a Sunderland, but it can take an extraordinary amount of punishment from anti-aircraft and enemy fighters. It's a real tough plane. I'd rather be in this if I had a Jerry on my tail."

  Catherine straightened up and her face sobered. She mustn't allow herself to think of Jeffrey out in one of these. She couldn't stand it.

  "If you're ready, we can go out on the flight deck, Sister." She nodded, but he noticed that a shadow had crossed over her lovely face.

  The wind was fierce, whipping Catherine's habit about her as they walked out on to the broad expanse of deck. It exhilarated her. The mighty ocean had a calming effect on her, and slowly the fear began
to leave her. Portugal was closer now. They should be there in the morning.

  She had to admit she was excited to be traveling to another country, to be doing something new. She’d always had an adventuresome spirit when she was young. After knowing Jeffrey, she wanted to see and feel and experience everything. Her nausea was abating and she began to see this mission through new eyes. Time would fly now. It would make their separation easier to bear.

  She was glad the Holy Mother had selected her for this assignment. She was anxious to pitch in and be of some use until she was free to take on her responsibilities as mother and wife to the little boy and man she adored.

  The tour was over and she went below deck, thanking the officer for his kindness. He stared after the beautiful nun and shook his head thinking what an appaling waste.

  Catherine was actually hungry when she sat down to the evening meal. The walk on deck had rejuvenated her appetite as well as her spirit. She retired early and let the ship lull her to sleep with its regular rhythm. Her prayers were long and fervent. First and foremost was the hope that Jeffrey was safe and that Michael was well.

  Morning came and the Mother General was once again giving instructions. "Sisters, we’re outside the port of Lisbon, but we will go in on a tender. Don't be frightened. I've done it dozens of times. It may be a little rocky, but I assure you it’s safe."

  The sisters had learned through sad experience that the Mother General was somewhat inclined to underemphasize discomfort and danger. So far, all of them had experienced difficulties. It was with trepidation they followed her to the hold of the ship.

  A metal door was opened from the top and a bridge suspended from the doorway over the water into a wooden boat which bobbed up and down like a cork. The wind was still strong enough to form whitecaps. When it was Catherine's turn, she gingerly placed a foot on the bridge and held on for dear life. Officer Reginald offered his hand in assistance, but she was thrown forward, out of his grasp, and fell into the tender.

  She laughed softly at her clumsiness, and the ability to laugh at herself brought smiles to the faces of the other sisters as well as the crewmen. It seemed to dispel the tension and fear which always lay beneath the surface. She righted herself, and when everyone was seated, the motor revved up and the tender pulled away from the giant carrier toward the land in the distance. .