In Line of Fire (Secret Soldiers of World War 1 Book 2)

by David Hough

  “Really?” The old lady turned her head away and sniffed, a slight feminine gesture but effective for all that. “I find that rather strange. Why did they not send one of their dignitaries to speak to me?”

  “Too dangerous, ma’am.” He gestured to a window. “Don’t you hear them guns out there? Much easier for a neutral American to get through to you. I have papers that will see us safely through the lines. All of us. You and your two grandchildren. The government are most insistent that you come away with me.”

  “Insistent? You came here to insist? What a thoroughly disagreeable young man you are. This conversation is ended.” She turned her attention back to her breakfast, as if the matter was ended.

  “Whether you find me disagreeable or not, we must leave here soon, ma’am. Very soon.” He dispensed with any further formality. He was responsible for getting the woman and her grandchildren away from the front line and if that meant taking a forthright manner, so be it. Frustration and lack of time gave him the right, he told himself.

  The old lady slowly returned her attention to him, her eyes now taking long seconds to focus. “Young man, I am the Gräfin von Birkensaft. Did no one teach you how to address me properly?”

  “They tell me that in England, you would be addressed as Countess,” Wendel countered, rapidly understanding why other people had made no headway with the old lady. “But we Americans are still a bit uneasy with formal titles.”

  “If we were in England, you would address me as My Lady.” She used the word ‘England’ as if it were a form of abuse. “Obviously you are a particularly ill-informed American. You do not even understand the English courtesies, let alone our German forms of address.”

  “We are not in England… My Lady.” Wendel gritted out the last two words. He refrained from telling her that he also had German ancestry and understood her argument perfectly well. But he was determined not to be cowed by her. “We may soon be under direct attack. I figure the Belgian government are right. I must advise you to get away from here as quickly as possible. We’re already cutting things very fine.”

  “You will insist on nothing of the sort,” she interrupted him. “I decide whether I leave or not.”

  Sophia von Birkensaft stepped up beside him and touched his arm. She grated at him in a low voice. “You have said enough, Mr Cassidy, and you are upsetting Grandmama. Please come away now.”

  “I ain’t making much headway here, am I?”

  “None at all. Please come away now.” She pulled at his arm and he reluctantly allowed her to drag him from the room.

  “That was a big mistake, Mr Cassidy.” Sophia continued to pull at his arm as she drew him back towards the front of the house. You should have told me about the Belgian government’s part in this visit. I felt so foolish not knowing.”

  He stopped near the front entrance and turned to face her. “Guess it was a bit remiss of me, ma’am. I apologise.”

  “It was a gross intrusion.”

  “We Americans…”

  “Liar! You’re neither American, nor a journalist!”

  Wendel swung round. A shockwave ran through him. The front doorway framed the bulky figure of Doktor Johann Schatzenberger.

  Lübendorf stood behind him, now wearing full Feldwebel uniform. A Soldat of the 54th Reserve Corps stood alongside Lübendorf. Both soldiers carried Gewehr Commission rifles with bayonets attached.

  “You are no more an American than I am, Captain von Wendel.” A beaming smile took over the Doktor’s face. “And you have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to meet you again.”

  A second shiver ran through Wendel’s frame. He recalled how he had suffered at the Doktor’s hands in the Château-Sur-Le-Massevigne, while on a mission to kill General von Hahndorf.

  He glanced aside at the girl. Her face had turned pale, her eyes displayed alarm. But she said nothing.

  He turned back to face the burly intruder. “You again, Schatzenberger. I should have killed you the last time we met.”

  “But you didn’t, did you? That was undoubtedly your big mistake. However, fate is being good to me now, von Wendel.” Schatzenberger waddled into the hallway, the two soldiers following him. “You did enormous harm to us when you killed General von Hahndorf, and I shall enjoy doing considerable harm to you as a consequence.” He laughed. “Enormous harm.”

  “Who is this man?”

  Wendel turned his head to see Pierre von Birkensaft descend the stairs with a light step. There could be no doubt who the young man was. Like his sister, he had a slender build, a narrow face and a heart-shaped mouth. His eyes were alert, but his skin was almost effeminate in its smoothness.

  Schatzenberger snorted loudly. “This man is an English spy. His name is Captain Victor von Wendel.”

  “And how do you know this, Herr Doktor?”

  “Because he and I have met before. This is the man who killed General von Hahndorf.”

  “Really?” The young man paused at the foot of the stairs. “And I suppose you intend to kill him in retribution, Herr Doktor.”

  “Eventually, Pierre. Eventually.”

  Chapter Twenty

  For a while, Ypres had come under direct fire. German artillery shells had landed on buildings in the outskirts. Several houses had been destroyed, a few civilians had been killed. The attack on the town was short-lived, but tension was still growing by the hour.

  By mid-afternoon, the square was busy with long lines of troops preparing to move out. Kitbags had been packed, rifles had been cleaned, and the men were formed into ranks in preparation for being marched away. NCOs shouted, bullied and organised. Officers watched and waited.

  DeBoise scratched at an earlobe as he looked around. Something puzzled him. The regiments forming up were all English. There was no sign of the King’s Own Highland Dragoons.

  He turned at the sound of boots on the cobbles beside him

  “Looks like there’s gonna be another fight soon, Lieutenant.” Donohoe sounded excited. “What d’ye think is gonna happen?”

  “A fight, like you said, Billy.” DeBoise wasn’t so eager and he let it show. “Probably a very bloody battle. Earlier this afternoon, I met a group of officers in a coffee shop. They told me General Rawlinson has been ordered to advance along the Menin Road. The Huns won’t give way without some serious fighting.”

  “What does that mean for us, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m not sure. Captain Wendel told me to make my move towards Gheluvelt when IV Corps was ordered forward. That was to be his fall-back plan, but he hasn’t yet had time enough to complete his own plan.”

  Donohoe kept his gaze focussed on the massing army in the town square. “If that was what he told you to do, I suppose you have to go along with it.”

  DeBoise flexed his fingers while his mind worked on the problem. “Maybe. Maybe not. Neither of us expected IV Corps to be sent forward so soon. I think we must give the Captain more time before we try to get to Gheluvelt.”

  “We, Lieutenant?”

  “Once again, you’re going into action with me, Billy.” DeBoise suppressed a sudden grin, remembering their attempt to get to General von Hahndorf. “But I won’t see you wearing a girl’s clothes this time.”

  “Thank God for that, sir.”

  “Best you keep out of sight in the meantime. I don’t want any of those NCOs mistaking you for one of their regiment.” His attention was suddenly drawn to where a loose group of soldiers were harassing a local girl. She seemed fearful and unable to get away from them until a sergeant approached. He threw his weight into the fray and ordered the men aside.

  DeBoise turned back to Donohoe. “Where’s Marie?” he asked.

  “Upstairs, last time I saw her.” The boy gestured back to their billet.

  “Go and tell her to stay out of sight as well. Too many hardened fighting men are filling the square.”

  While Donohoe hurried away into the billet, DeBoise remained outside, watching IV Corp as it continued to assemble. He was
still pondering over the absence of the KOHD when he spotted a smartly-dressed officer walking towards him, a Major General wearing gleaming cavalry boots and red staff-tabs on his collar.

  “Lieutenant DeBoise?” He saluted smartly.

  “Yes, sir.” DeBoise returned the salute.

  “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Major General Reynolds.” He glanced around as if checking no one could overhear them. “I’ve just come from General Rawlinson’s office. You know that Captain Wendel met with him?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “After the meeting, the General had me chase up the whereabouts of Commander Cumming. Not easy. We didn’t know where they’d taken him after he was sent home, but I had a bit of luck. Managed to track him down to London. Charing Cross Hospital, to be exact.”

  “You’ve been in touch with him, sir?”

  “Sort of. Sent a message telling him Captain Wendel was making his way to Gheluvelt and you were waiting here in Ypres. Thought he might have further orders for you.”

  DeBoise felt a surge of hope. If he could contact Cumming, he might get a better idea of what to do next. “That’s a great help, sir. Will I be able to get messages back to him?”

  “It won’t be easy, but you can probably get a single message through to him once a day. One of his agents is running Cumming’s London office in his absence, and he’s taking important papers to Cumming at the hospital each morning.” Reynolds laughed. “Seems that Commander Cumming is anxious to get back to work. Urging the doctors to discharge him.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me, sir.”

  Reynolds handed over a small buff envelope. “My message got to him yesterday and he sent back a reply this morning. It’s coded. I assume you can decode it yourself.”

  DeBoise took the envelope and studied it. “How do I send my reply?”

  “We have a communication Centre in the Hôtel de Ville. You can send your reply to Cumming’s Autumn London address from there. I’ll make sure the telegraph people know to expect you. Your message will be taken into the hospital tomorrow morning and you should get a reply by tomorrow evening. Or maybe the following morning.”

  “I’m very grateful to you, sir. Please pass on my thanks to General Rawlinson.” He glanced around the square. “You’ll be moving the troops out soon?”

  He nodded. “Towards Menin. We’ve been ordered to take the town.”

  “I don’t see the KOHD here. Are they not moving out?”

  “They were on the move before dawn this morning. They’ll be amongst the first to tangle with the Germans.” The Major General grinned. “Wouldn’t like to be a Hun soldier when the KOHD appear on the horizon. They scare the hell out of me.”

  Me too, DeBoise thought as he saluted and turned away.

  He hurried up to his bedroom. Marie was laying on the bed, reading a novel. She put aside the book and sat up.

  “You look pleased about something, Charles.”

  He waved the envelope at her. “Message from C. At last, we’re getting somewhere.”

  “How...?”

  “I’ll tell you in a moment.” He sat beside her and pulled out his code book from his kitbag. It took him five minutes to decode the message.

  From Cumming

  To DeBoise

  Vital you contact me. New development. Wendel walking into danger because of German agent called Wood Wine.

  DeBoise clicked his tongue. There was nothing ‘new’ about Wood Wine. Captain Wendel was already aware of the spy’s existence. What did the message signify?

  “What do you make of this?” He passed the paper to Marie.

  She read it slowly and then snorted. “New development? Well, it’s obvious. It means C has only just learned about Wood Wine.”

  “Which means?”

  “It means Wood Wine is a relatively new menace. Remember how Madame Beaumier said her contacts had picked up the name only in the previous few days? If C knew nothing about Wood Wine until now, even he won’t have the full picture. Oh, dear. This gives me a nasty feeling, Charles. I don’t know why, but it does.”

  “Me too. I must find out more from C,” DeBoise decided. “And quickly.”

  *

  There was a thunderstorm that night. Darkness fell early, drawn in by heavy cloud, but the sky was soon lit by brilliant flashes of lightning. DeBoise stood at the bedroom window and watched the display. It wasn’t just the lightning, he soon realised. The horizon was lit also by enemy artillery fire. He had heard of outlying villages being decimated by German guns and he wondered how soon those same guns would be directed onto the centre of Ypres. Not long, he decided.

  Below him, the town square was empty, finally denuded of British troops. God help them all. They were marching towards the source of all that gunfire.

  DeBoise returned to his bed and ran a hand down Marie’s skin as he snuggled beneath the sheets beside her. She purred lightly in response.

  “Is Billy Donohoe again having his wicked way with the maid?” he asked.

  “Probably.” She giggled. “Have you spoken to him about it?”

  He shook his head and then realised the girl was unable to see him. “No. I thought it would be hypocritical of me, in the light of what we’re doing.”

  “Officers are supposed to lead by example, you mean?”

  He laughed. “Exactly.”

  “And Captain Wendel? Will you tell him when you next see him?”

  “No. What would be the point? I think we should keep him in the dark for the time being.”

  “For longer than that, Charles.” Marie went silent for a full minute before she spoke again. “I never made love with him, you know.”

  “I know. You told me that once before. I’m glad I don’t have to fight him over you.”

  “What are you going to do in the light of C’s message? Go after the Captain?”

  “No. I need more information, especially the information C intended to pass on to Captain Wendel before that motor accident. If only we knew more about Wood Wine. I’ve sent a message back to C and I hope to God he tells me more as soon as possible.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The door was ajar. It was the first thing Wendel noticed when he woke up.

  He had been lying on a bare mattress atop a narrow bed, his face turned towards the door. As his eyes opened, a light in the corridor made him blink. A flickering candle burned in an iron wall sconce in the windowless corridor beyond the bedroom door. He lay still for a full minute, expecting someone to walk into the room. Schatzenberger, maybe. Or one of the von Birkensaft twins.

  But no one came near him. The only sound was the noise of German guns, and they were much too close for comfort.

  He sat up slowly. His ribs ached from the beatings he had taken over the previous two days. His face felt stiff and painful when he moved his jaw, but Schatzenberger had not broken him, not mentally. Wendel had admitted to nothing, revealed nothing, but he had suffered physically. It was much as he had experienced in the Château-Sur-Le-Massevigne back in August. Just as then, an early success had never been on the Doktor’s agenda. The first few beatings were only part of a warming-up exercise, probably intended to give Schatzenberger some degree of pleasure. The real beatings would come later, Wendel was well aware of that. He knew what to expect in the hours and days ahead.

  But why was his prison door open?

  It was a top floor bedroom, never designed to incarcerate anyone, but Wendel had been locked inside it after each beating. He assumed he would be returned here after the next torture session. He knew for certain that the day would come when he would not return to the bedroom...

  He eased himself off the mattress and gasped in pain as his feet touched the cold floor. The agony ran up through his calf muscles and thighs, pounding into his torso. Best to pause a moment, he decided, long enough to let the torment begin to subside.

  He still wore civilian clothes but his jacket was gone, as was the American hat, and the other garments were heavily blood-
stained. After a few minutes, he put his feet firmly to the ground again. The pain was as bad as ever and it increased as he hobbled to the door and peered out. The corridor was empty. The only sounds that came to him were battle sounds from beyond the Château, the irregular tattoo of heavy guns. Nothing inside the building seemed to be moving.

  He gritted his teeth as he descended the stairs, each downward step sending a sharp jolt through him. Still, no one came forward to stop him. He paused by a window and surveyed the Château grounds. Could he escape? More importantly, should he try to escape when he still had a mission here? He stumbled on, unclear in his mind.

  He found Sophia von Birkensaft in the library. She sat alone by a glowing fire embroidering a sampler. She looked up as he entered the room.

  “Captain Wendel? You look dreadful.” She made no effort to get up, but she put down her embroidery and studied him with an anxious expression.

  “Schatzenberger?” he mumbled. His lips tingled as the word passed between them. “Where is he?”

  “I have not seen him since breakfast.” She looked away and he doubted that she spoke the truth. Lying did not appear to come easy to her. Why? Was she Wood Wine? Or was her brother the enemy he should fear?

  He staggered across the room and slumped down in a seat opposite her. “You know what he’s been doing to me?” He made no effort to put on an American accent. There was no point now.

  “I can see what he has done to you, Captain Wendel. He said you were an enemy spy and he intended to find out the names of other enemy spies.” As before her words came out precisely spoken but with that thick, unaccountable accent.

  “He didn’t ask me nicely.”

  “He would not do that. He said spies had no right to civilised treatment.”

  “Herr Doktor Schatzenberger doesn’t deal in civilised behaviour, whoever he gets in his clutches. You know his background?”

  “Should I?” She wrapped her fingers together and clasped them in front of her chest.