Jubilee- Spies and Raiders

by Conor Bender

  “Oh my God. That’s horrible.” Talia shuddered at the thought of Mr. Veil being brought to his knees while his children cried in terror. The image evoked the memory of her uncle’s own death and she let out a silent sob. “How did this world turn so ugly?”

  Cutter hesitated, the thought of Victor’s corpse flashing through his mind. “I don’t think it changed, I think it just bubbled to the surface. It’s always been there. War brings out the worst in people.” He parked the car in front of the house and helped Talia to the door. Still visibly shaken from the executions, her footing was wobbly and the color had drained from her face. He helped her upstairs to her bedroom. It was a small room, and the bed took up most of the space. Talia sat down on the bed and rubbed her eyes. They were red and puffy from the tears. Olivier went back downstairs and brought her a cup of tea.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Olivier looked around the room for a moment but quickly turned to head back downstairs.

  “Stop, where are you going?”

  Olivier turned around and smiled comfortingly. “I have to see Claude, and you look like you could use something to eat.”

  Seeing the Veil family and the priest killed had been an all-too-fresh reminder of her own loss. The memory of her parents, brother, and uncle burned through her head on a never-ending loop. A feeling of isolation started to creep into her thoughts and a panic at being alone seized Talia. She grabbed Olivier’s hand and held on for dear life, as though if he were to leave he would never return. “Please, don’t go.”

  Olivier squeezed her hand and instinctively kissed her on her head. “I’ll be back soon.”

  His hand slipped out of hers and without another word she was alone.

  Talia finished the tea and lay back in the bed. She felt numb. She had witnessed cold-blooded murder, and aside from the loneliness she was feeling there was another emotion, relief. Relief that she was still alive. The feeling sickened her but she couldn’t help it. She had once told Francois that she was willing to die for the Resistance, but after today she wasn’t so sure. She had no desire to end up like the Veils, that priest, or even Francois. Francois had died for something but the Veils hadn’t. They were just a casualty of the Nazis, but that didn’t matter. They were all still dead, no matter the reason, and she was alive. Fresh tears started to well up and Talia struggled to blink them away. Everyone from her childhood was dead, and part of her was just happy she wasn’t among them. She sobbed softly and wrapped her arms around her knees, desperately wanting Olivier to return to the house.

  ***

  Cutter walked back downstairs and out the front door toward the bakery. What the hell did I just do? He didn’t even think when he bent down and kissed Talia on the head, but now a shudder of panic crept through him. He knew better than to let his guard down in such a way.

  “Pull yourself together, man,” Cutter whispered. He checked his watch as he walked. It was seven o’clock; the sun would be going down soon, and he didn’t want to be caught out after dark. The last thing he needed was to be spotted by Amsel during dusk. He had a feeling Amsel would see it as an opportunity to get rid of him.

  Was he playing the role of a rival lover or was it something real? The image of Talia struggling to keep her dress from billowing up past her knees on the cliff by the church lingered fresh in his mind, but was slowly replaced by thoughts of the priest and Jewish family. Cutter shuddered at the thought and banished Talia’s image from his mind as he arrived at the bakery. Claude spotted him as he was locking up and gave him a confused look. “Olivier, is everything alright?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Claude frowned but beckoned him inside.

  “Can I have a baguette?”

  Claude walked behind the counter and grabbed a loaf of bread and gave it to him. “What is it?”

  “We just returned from the church. Oberleutnant Amsel just executed the priest and a family of Jews.”

  “What?” The look of surprise on Claude’s face was genuine, but Cutter doubted this was the first he had heard of such a thing happening.

  “How long has that been happening?”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  Cutter shot him a skeptical look, his frosty gray eyes digging for the truth behind Claude’s soft brown ones.

  Claude averted his gaze and shrugged in surrender. “This is the first I’ve heard of it happening here.”

  “Where else?”

  “Dieppe, Le Havre, Cherbourg. Rumors are circulating among the senior Resistance commanders that camps are being set up to do similar things.”

  “Where? In France?”

  Claude’s arms flapped helplessly at his sides as he shrugged. “I don’t know. You asked me to search for Nazis, not Jews.”

  Cutter rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration and shot Claude a withering look. “Do you have any word on the enemy situation?”

  “I’ll have it for you tomorrow.”

  Cutter snorted and shook his head in disgust and impatience. “Christ, Claude, the way you sandbag me one would think you were helping the Germans.”

  “Go to hell, Olivier.” Claude shoved two baguettes into Cutter’s arms and motioned him toward the door. “If you don’t like the aid I’m giving, go somewhere else. It’s not easy getting troop counts, especially when the Gestapo is looking for us. Anyone who even looks at a military convoy the wrong way gets detained.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Claude was doing the best with what he had. Cutter realized he was being unreasonable. “What you and your men are doing is incredibly dangerous, and they’re doing a good job. Please accept my apology.”

  The sincerity in Cutter’s voice caught Claude off guard, but had the desired effect. Claude scowled suspiciously at him but nodded his head. “C’est bon.”

  A faint smirk tugged at the corners of Cutter’s mouth. “Thank you. Also, I’d really appreciate it if you could get me in contact with SOE.”

  “What for?”

  “I figured it’s about time we started to coordinate a few supply drops.”

  A thin smile spread across Claude’s face and he pumped his arms in jubilation. “About time. Be here tomorrow morning and we’ll take care of it.”

  Cutter nodded, and without another word departed the bakery and walked back to Talia’s house and opened the door. The sun had set while he was at the bakery, leaving the house pitch black.

  An eerie quiet filled the home, putting Cutter on edge. He looked around and strained his ears, the frantic heartbeat pounding in his chest the only sound he could hear. He reached for the F-S knife and started up the stairs.

  “Talia?” He walked upstairs and found her curled up on the bed. She had changed into a nightgown and had fallen asleep on top of the sheets. He sheathed the knife and started to back away quietly.

  “Wait. Please don’t go.”

  Cutter stopped moving but didn’t say anything. He could see the curves of her body underneath the thin gown as she sat upright. The fabric strained against her breasts and a lock her auburn hair obscured one of her pleading eyes making her request all the more enticing.

  Cutter’s breath caught in his chest and he felt a rush of blood burn his cheeks. His throat felt dry and he didn’t trust his voice to speak.

  “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  Cutter’s primal urges bucked against his logic. His mind screamed for him to walk away but his body refused to budge. He looked at her for a long moment, unsure what to do. “Okay,” he said finally. While she slid under the sheets, he changed out of his clothes and joined her. His movements were wooden and uncertain. Talia wordlessly watched him and didn’t remark on his insecurity. Gone was the prickly exterior, Cutter had dealt with the past few days. It had been stripped away.

  Talia slowly moved closer to him, the scent of honeysuckle and lavender filling his nostrils. Her fingertips traced across Cutter’s chest as she wrapped an arm around him and pulled her b
ody close to his. Cutter hesitated but gently put his arms around her and held her tight. She trembled in his arms and nestled her head underneath his chin. Her body heat radiated through him, making him cognizant of his own excitement of being this close to her. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest and felt excitement fill his body.

  In the back of Cutter’s head a voice was screaming at him, but he didn’t care.

  CHAPTER 6

  STRANDED

  The next morning Cutter woke before Talia. They had made love during the night, and Cutter spent the next ten minutes after waking up cursing himself silently for his lack of control. He argued with himself that he had done it to comfort Talia and continue to develop her as an asset, but that was a lie. That was what the spy in him said. He had wanted to sleep with her. Before last night he had been a virgin, a boy. Over the last two years he had done all that was expected of a man. He had killed, drunk to friends’ deaths, and served his country; but he had never slept with a woman. Part of him was excited about the connection he had formed with Talia, but it was slowly overpowered by the resumption of his duties and reminder that there was a war on. He crept out of the bed silently and padded across the room to where he had left his clothes. As he put his pants on, Talia stirred and looked over at him.

  “Morning.”

  Talia smiled and sat up, the sheets falling to her waist. “Good morning.”

  Cutter checked his watch. “We have a meeting with Claude at nine.”

  Talia frowned, her eyes narrowing.

  “Come on, we’re in a rush.” Cutter put his shirt on and did his best to avoid making eye contact with her. Talia glared at him and covered herself. “Give me some privacy.”

  Cutter wordlessly walked out of the room and went downstairs.

  Talia quickly shut the door behind him and put on a pair of black trousers. She didn’t like the brusque manner Olivier had used. The tender compassion he had shown in the night had evaporated. It was like he had turned into another person. She put on a white blouse and buttoned it. In a moment of vulnerability she had let Olivier in, and he had taken full advantage of it. For the smallest of moments, Talia had thought that their faux relationship could have been real. You silly girl, she chastised herself. Olivier was here for one reason, and as soon as his mission was done he would pack up and leave. She checked her appearance in the mirror. A pig, like any other man, Talia thought in disgust. She refused to wallow long on the matter, but wouldn’t give Olivier the opportunity to get close again. Without another thought she opened the door and went downstairs. She found Olivier in the kitchen and shot him a dark look. “Let’s go,” she ordered, and walked to the door, not waiting for him. They got into the car and drove over to the bakery, where Claude was waiting for them.

  The baker took one look at them and chuckled to himself. Between Talia’s unkempt auburn hair, which she struggled to hide underneath a scarf, and the love bite that cheekily poked above Olivier’s collar, he didn’t need to be a detective to figure out what had happened in the night. He walked over to the car and handed them a picnic basket and leaned through the open passenger window. “If anyone asks, you’re going for a picnic. We’ll meet at the windmill in an hour.”

  “Where is that?”

  “I know where it is,” Talia interrupted, casting a stony look at Olivier.

  Claude eyed Talia and wondered what Olivier had done to trigger such a cold front, but thought better of asking. “I’ll see you there.” He nodded to the pair of them and walked back into the bakery.

  Cutter and Talia drove through the French countryside further inland. Cutter drove in silence unsure of what to say, or how to explain his feelings. In an attempt to correct and return their relationship to something resembling professional, Cutter had overcorrected. He knew his treatment of Talia that morning had been cold and selfish, but he had no idea how he should have behaved or how to fix it now. For Talia’s part, she seemed disinterested in anything Cutter would say and kept her eyes transfixed on the rolling scenery as it sped by. She gave a few curt directions when necessary, and after thirty minutes they arrived at the derelict windmill. A maze of hedgerows and ruins ran along the road leading them up to the mill. Less than a half mile away a large intersection split off into four different directions and then split off again a few miles further down the road. It was an ideal location to transmit because of its elevation and multiple escape routes.

  They parked a hundred yards from the windmill under an oak tree, the tree’s shade making it difficult to spot the car from a distance. They got out of the car and walked over to the mill. Moss climbed the sides and the tower and the sails had long ago crumbled away, Cutter suspected as the result of a storm. They spotted Durand sitting on a large piece of debris in front of the mill, tinkering with the radio. A lookout sat at the highest point of what was left of the mill, a rifle in his lap and a pair of binoculars clamped to his eyes as he scanned the roads and fields for any signs of trouble.

  “Bonjour, Durand.”

  “Bonjour, Olivier.” Durand nodded to him coolly, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he played with the radio. “We should be online soon.”

  “Okay.”

  Cutter looked around and spotted Claude walking toward him, a piece of paper in his hand. “Here’s the list of the enemy situations in all nearby coastal cities.”

  “There isn’t much here,” Cutter replied.

  Claude opened his hands in apology. “Like I said, our resources are limited.”

  Cutter grumbled and quickly memorized what was on the paper. There wasn’t much to memorize and after a few seconds he was confident he could recite it by heart. He balled up the paper, pulled out his lighter, and touched the flame to it.

  “Marvelous. Talk about a waste of a week.” Cutter looked over at Talia, instantly regretting his choice of words. For a split second a look of hurt covered her face but was quickly replaced by one of disinterest.

  “How long till we’re online?”

  “Five minutes.”

  Cutter nodded. He looked over at Talia and, making up his mind, walked over to her. “Can we talk?”

  “Now is the worst time.”

  “Maybe, but I’d like to talk about last night.”

  “What does it matter?”

  Cutter paused, unsure how to go forward from here. He reached for her hand. Talia tried to move it out of his reach but he was quicker. “Do you know how many people I’ve seen killed because they became emotionally attached while in the field?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Six. All better spies than me. I need you to understand that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to die.”

  “So was I just a casual roll in the hay for you?”

  Cutter’s face turned crimson. “No, not at all. It was a mistake.”

  Talia’s nostrils flared and her cheeks reddened. “Oh, I was a mistake?”

  “No! That’s not what I’m saying!” Cutter paused, unsure how to answer, something that had become a norm. “I don’t want you to think I don’t like you.” He debated telling her about Victor but decided against it. “I’m just trying to keep us alive.”

  “Well, thank you so much.”

  Cutter opened his mouth but closed it. This wasn’t how he had seen this conversation going. Why couldn’t she see that he was trying to keep her safe? Before he could answer, Durand waved, beckoning for them to come over.

  He handed the mic to Cutter. “We have Tackley Station.”

  Cutter pulled a notepad from his pocket and checked his notes. He slowly gripped the mic and pressed down on the key. “Tackley Station, this is Cartographer, over.”

  After a moment’s pause SOE responded, the woman’s voice from the previous communiqué coming over the radio, “Roger, Cartographer, this is Tackley Station. Send traffic.”

  “Roger. Initial mission incomplete, unable to conduct BOOKER over.” Since the radio wasn’t encrypted, Cutter had to resort to code wo
rds he had stored in the code book. He had dozens of code words for various towns in the area as well as words for various other things such as objectives, personnel, and German equipment and personnel. Booker meant assessment.

  “Roger. Stand by,” Tackley Station replied. There was an additional pause as Hambro and Freddy no doubt deliberated over what to do.

  “Cartographer, be advised you are to swisher billy goat and cobble herring when able.” Cutter matched the code words in his notebook. Hambro wanted him to develop the French Resistance and assess the Germans in the area.

  “Roger, Tackley Station. What about blitz?” he asked, referring to his extraction.

  “At this time that has been put on hold.”

  “Roger, Tackley Station. No further traffic on this end.”

  “Roger, Cartographer. Tackley Station out.” The line went dead. Cutter handed the mic to Durand.

  “Goddammit.”

  “What is it?”

  Cutter grunted and started to walk back to the car. “My orders changed.”

  CHAPTER 7

  REESE FLIGHT

  Faraday, Faust, and Chambers sat in 71 Squadron’s ready room at RAF Martlesham Heath in Suffolk. The ready room sat on the bottom floor of the control tower. It was a stark contrast to past ready rooms; it was dry, warm, and comfortable. Faraday leaned back in the wooden chair and listened as it creaked under his weight.

  Faust cast a sidelong glance at Faraday as the wood groaned. “Not quite as comfortable as the armchairs we had outside the ready room back in Scotland.”

  Chambers shrugged. “At least we’re inside. I hated sitting out on the field in the rain. Bloody awful.”

  The squadron had come a long way since Fenton Hill, Faraday observed. They had been at Martlesham Heath for a month and had conducted seventeen Rodeo and Rhubarb missions since their arrival. The flight tempo was not as crazy as what Faraday had experienced prior to going to RAF Turnhouse. As soon as they had arrived it had been two weeks before Faraday’s flight had gone on a mission. The hours weren’t as hectic as what Faraday was used to, but he wouldn’t call it a relaxed assignment.