9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

  Peter’s senses had fully returned to him and visions of the night before filled his mind. They had in fact waved off dinner and had gone directly to their room, and right into bed. Spending two weeks apart on the boat from New York had been taxing on his manhood. The previous three years of sexual dry spell were nothing compared to being away from Julie on the boat. The moment they entered the room, their clothes had flown off, and passion had taken over.

  He smiled and began to stroke her hair.

  “That feels good,” Julie admitted as she caressed Peter’s chest.

  Peter kissed the top of Julie’s head and pulled her tight against himself, feeling her warm skin against his. She leaned her head back and accepted another kiss from him, this time on her open and waiting mouth. Their hunger for breakfast was overtaken by their hunger for each other. Food could wait.

  CHAPTER 2

  Peter dug through his suitcase, looking for the journal he’d bought in New York. It was the quintessential impulse purchase, but with so much going on with the mission, he’d felt he needed to record some of his thoughts along the way. It had been years since he’d kept a journal regularly—from when Minnie was still alive, when he’d had aspirations of being a writer. Those hopes and dreams had vanished along with his wife. Peter hoped to renew his passion for writing, as he was certainly creating an entire new life for himself and his family by accomplishing this mission.

  Finally, at the bottom of the suitcase, Peter’s hand grasped the leather-bound ledger tucked underneath too many pairs of itchy wool pants. He pulled it out and tossed his clothing back in, orderly enough to get the suitcase to close once again. As he sat at the side table to write, the door leading to the hallway opened. Peter looked up to see Julie step in, her eyes immediately focusing on the open journal.

  “No, sir. No time for that this morning. If you hadn’t wanted seconds of last night’s indulgence this morning,” Julie said playfully, “you’d be fine. But seeing as it’s nearly eleven in the morning, I think we should check the train schedule and get a bite to eat.”

  Peter sighed as his shoulders slumped against the chair. “But, Mom. Just a little?” He winked at her as she stowed her toiletries in her suitcase before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

  He leaned into her kiss, wondering if they had time for a third round.

  “Maybe, if you’re good, you can write once we get on the train.”

  As he listened to her plea, he could feel his stomach rumble and realized that nourishment was a priority.

  “Okay, but only if you promise,” Peter said before closing the journal and sliding it in the front pocket of his suitcase.

  They stepped out of their hotel and began walking in the direction of the train station. They had passed it on the way to the hotel the night before, just a few blocks away. As they walked, Julie slid her hand into Peter’s, weaving her fingers with his. He smiled and gently squeezed her hand.

  Peter had been to France once before while traveling abroad for a semester in college. His academic trip had been through northern France, so he was delighted to be in such a historic town as Sete. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought they were in Venice because of the canals snaking throughout the small town.

  Despite the country being at war, Peter was happy to see so many locals out, milling about. There was a level of military presence, but it wasn’t at all overpowering. Unless you were looking for them specifically, the Vichy Army were barely in sight.

  Just as those thoughts crossed Peter’s mind, a military convoy turned up the street that he and Julie were walking on, forcing them to step back onto the sidewalk. There were six troop-hauling vehicles and two jeeps in the caravan, and as nearly all the pedestrians stopped to stare as they drove by, none of the soldiers paid them any attention.

  Peter glanced back to Julie. Her concern was clear on her face.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just a routine sweep of the town to show solidarity to the villagers,” Peter said, trying to convince himself at the same time.

  Julie nodded but said nothing.

  They continued along the cobblestone street, and all the while, the reality of the situation began to sink in. They were in the middle of a war. A war in which 60 million people would die before it was over. Peter recalled those statistics from one of the many briefings the general had given during their limited training. What was most startling about that statistic was that nearly 40 million of those deaths were civilians. Folks just like him and Julie. They could certainly end up being a statistic if they weren’t careful.

  Peter pushed those thoughts aside as they walked by one of a half dozen restaurants or cafés he’d noticed since leaving the hotel.

  “How about this place for lunch?”

  Julie didn’t respond right away, and Peter assumed she was having similar thoughts.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. This’ll be fine,” she replied. “Let’s check out the train situation first. If we can catch an early departure, we might even make it to Oradour-sur-Glane before nightfall.”

  “You do realize that we’re in 1942, right?” Peter questioned sarcastically. “It’s most likely going to be a two-day trip.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I meant. Nightfall tomorrow,” Julie replied with a wink. “I only wish Applegate’s historical data included this leg of travel. I know we’re a few weeks away from intercepting that memo, but I want to get there sooner rather than later.”

  “Having an off-chance meeting with a distant member of your family has nothing to do with that either, am I correct?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Julie pouted. “I know the risks, because Applegate incessantly reminded me about them before we left. I promise to be a good girl.”

  They stepped back across the street as the train station came into view. As they approached, they could see a passenger train stretching out from behind the station.

  “Before we head back to the hotel, I’d like to pick up a newspaper as well,” Peter said as they moved past a soldier walking away from the station.

  “What do you need a paper for?”

  “Nothing important. I’d like to make note of a few things from this time in my journal, is all.”

  When they walked into the station, they found it busier than either of them had anticipated. The line to the ticket counter was nearly twenty people deep. The line to reach the platform was almost twice as long.

  “Well, then. I think we’re close to boarding time. Any chance we’ll make the train today?” Julie asked.

  “I suppose we should first find out if this train is even heading in our direction before we start to rush.”

  “Agreed. I’ll go wait in line if you want to go get your newspaper,” Julie suggested, pointing to a small newsstand across the station lobby.

  “Great thinking, Jules. I’ll join you shortly,” Peter said, then turned away.

  “And, Peter,” Julie called after him. “Don’t forget we’re in France. Be sure to use you French speaking voice.” She winked at him. He smiled before heading through the crowded terminal.

  Julie looked around and found the shortest of the ticketing lines and began to make her way through the crowd herself.

  “Excusez-moi,” she said in French as she stepped around an elderly couple. She repeated the apology several times as she made her way toward the line. As she bobbed and weaved through the crowd, she wondered why so many people were boarding the trains.

  As she neared the line, she found a number of gentlemen with their backs toward her, blocking her way. “Excusez-moi. Puis-je obtenir par?” Julie asked.

  A man in a suit turned and said, “Why, certainly you can get by,” in perfect English.

  Julie froze in alarm. How was it that this man had known she’d understand English? Perhaps he’d overheard her and Peter talking before they split up.

  “Excusez-moi?”

  “It’s quite all right, Ms. Frey. I’m sure there’ll be plenty o
f time to catch tomorrow’s train,” replied the stranger.

  “I’m sorry, do you know me?”

  “In a roundabout way. My name is Asher Mandrake.”

  Feeling the blood drain from her face, Julie went numb at hearing the name.

  “I see by your reaction that Peter has told you about me. Have no fear, Ms. Frey. I mean you no harm.”

  “But how did you …”

  “It’s easy. Peter told me everything.”

  “I doubt that. I think … you guessed and got lucky.” Julie paused a moment to consider another option. “Or you had us followed.”

  Mandrake smiled. “How I arrived at your destination is irrelevant. I am here merely to ensure that you two had a safe trip.”

  “You traveled halfway around the world to see that we arrived safely? Somehow, I once again doubt that.”

  “Your skepticism is certainly understandable, but it is unwarranted,” Mandrake said.

  Peter stepped up to the newsstand and perused the various editions of newspapers offered for sale. La Depeche, Paris-soir, Le Martin, as well as Stars and Stripes were all present. All emblazoned with news of the war. He certainly hadn’t traveled through time and halfway around the world to find a newspaper written in English, so he picked up a copy of Paris-soir and handed the clerk a coin from his pocket. The two nodded at a completed transaction, and Peter retreated without having to say a single word in French.

  He looked across the terminal and saw Julie sitting on a bench, staring into the ether. He wondered how she could have made it through that enormous line so quickly. Suddenly, a man walked though his gaze, and for the briefest of moments, Peter could have sworn it was Squirrel. He quickly shifted his gaze toward the man, but he was gone. Anxiety began to creep into the back of mind, but he quickly dismissed the notion completely. The odds of Squirrel, or Muscle for that matter, being in France were slim.

  He maneuvered his way toward Julie, being polite as possible along the way. As he stepped around the last of the crowd separating him from Julie, he noticed that the look on her face was now laced with fear.

  “It’s okay, Jules. We can catch the next train out tomorrow,” Peter said.

  “I. Um …” Julie stammered, still looking straight ahead.

  “Julie? What’s wrong?” Peter asked, but got no response. He lowered himself onto the bench next to her before following her gaze. Sitting across the aisle from Julie was the cause for her alarm.

  “Good morning, Peter,” Mandrake said before standing up. “Or should I say bonjour?”

  Peter bolted upright. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, Peter, you really left me no choice. I thought we had a deal, and the next thing I hear is that you two have skipped town.”

  “Our train schedule moved up. Out of our control. Sorry about that,” Peter replied, less than sympathetic.

  “Does Ms. Frey here know about our deal, Peter?” Mandrake asked.

  Peter looked at Julie momentarily before returning his glare to Mandrake. “Yes. I told her everything … after our conversation.”

  “Good. Then she’s aware that you two might be stuck here in 1942 unless you can come out of this country victorious.”

  Peter stepped forward, narrowing the gap between himself and Mandrake. “Do you think it’s wise to speak so openly about this?”

  Mandrake glanced around the crowded terminal. “No, I suppose you’re right. Perhaps we should take the conversation someplace a little more private. I know just the place.”

  CHAPTER 3

  At a sidewalk café near the train station, Peter and Julie sat rigid across from a relaxed Mandrake.

  “So, tell me, Ms. Frey,” Mandrake began. “Have you been to France before?”

  Julie glanced at Peter before responding. He nodded his head, agreeing that it was all right to share a bit of their past. “Yes. I have. A number of times.”

  Mandrake nodded as the waiter left a loaf of bread and a dish of oil-covered olives before retreating. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Mandrake continued. “And how does it compare across the span of time between your visits?”

  Julie shrugged, not entirely in the mood for small talk. “As different as one might expect.”

  Mandrake nodded again before focusing on Peter. “And you, Peter? Have you been to the region before?”

  “How about we cut the crap, Asher? What is it you really want here?”

  “As I told Ms. Frey a few minutes ago, I just flew in to check on the two of you, seeing as we didn’t have a chance to talk further before you left.”

  “And as I already stated, our departure was out of our control,” Peter lied. “We had no time to ask for your permission and all. You know how it goes.”

  “There’s no reason to be sarcastic, Peter. I’m just concerned that our agreement might be in jeopardy. We reach an agreement one day, and you flee the city the next. What am I to think?”

  Peter remained silent.

  “I’ll tell you. I think you two have much bigger plans than the historical research line you gave me in my office.” Mandrake paused long enough to sip from his glass of water. “I agree, Peter. We should cut the crap. Just tell me what you two have planned, or …”

  “Or what? Or you’ll sic one of your cronies on us? Pull our fingernails out until we talk? Is that it?”

  Mandrake winced at the image Peter had painted with his words. “No, Peter. Our society is non-violent. I am, however, prepared to take you two back to the US if you don’t cooperate.”

  Peter smiled. “Feeble words, Asher. I know you want this war over sooner rather than later, and if there is the slimmest of chances that Julie and I can make that happen … Well, I know you’ll leave us to our business.”

  Mandrake studied Peter for a long moment before replying. “You’re right, Peter. I won’t take you two captive, and I won’t interfere with whatever your plan is. Just know this—I will be watching you. I’ll know what you’re doing every step of the way. If whatever it is that you two are up to seems the least bit disingenuous to our country and the success of the war, believe you me, I will not hesitate to put a halt to your escapades by whatever means I deem necessary.” Mandrake leaned forward, his eyes drilling a hole in the back of Peter’s head. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Peter held Mandrake’s steely gaze a moment longer before looking down at the plate of food at the center of the table. He picked up his fork, stabbed an olive. He held the fork inches from his mouth, and just before he took the bite, he replied, “Yeah, we hear you. Crystal clear.” Peter then shoved the salty fruit into his mouth before dropping the fork onto his plate.

  As Peter chewed, Mandrake released his tense stare and leaned back into his chair.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, Julie and I would like to be alone for the rest of our meal,” Peter said, motioning for Mandrake to leave.

  Mandrake stared at Peter with a bemused look. He then folded his napkin into quarters before placing it on the table in front of him. He stood, but before he walked away he spoke once more.

  “Just remember, Peter. My reach extends far and wide. One slip-up, and I can snatch the both of you back faster than a snap of my fingers,” Mandrake said as he demonstrated the action with his hand. When neither Peter or Julie responded, Mandrake walked away down the sidewalk.

  Peter watched him until he was completely out of sight. Moments later, he could see Squirrel and Muscle trotting to catch up.

  “Okay, I get your point with that guy,” Julie said. “What a piece of work.”

  Peter turned to face Julie. “How did he find us? I’ve said nothing about where we were going.”

  “I haven’t said a word either.”

  “Not even to Gerty? You two certainly spent a lot of time together. Maybe you let it slip.”

  “No, Peter. I haven’t said anything. Why is it that you don’t trust her?”

  Peter shrugged. “Lately, I’m not sure who I can trust.”

  “You tru
st me, right? When I tell you she’s fine, you’d better believe it,” Julie snapped, her voice louder than either of them expected.

  Peter placed his hand on Julie’s. “I trust you, Jules. It’s just the others that I’m not sure about.”

  Julie didn’t reply. She slipped an olive into her mouth and chewed slowly.

  “New plan. I think we should get something to eat. I mean a full meal here. Then we should split up and find another means of transportation.”

  “But the train will take us into Oradour-sur-Glane in a day or two.”

  “Yeah, and Mandrake will certainly have someone on that train with us. We need to get out of his grasp … again. It’s just you and me from this point forward. I think we need to deviate a little from our plan. If we drive straight to Oradour-sur-Glane, we might not be able to complete our mission without Mandrake interfering.”

  Julie nodded. “What do you suggest?”

  “I think we need to zigzag our way to Oradour-sur-Glane. If that means it’ll take us a few days longer to reach the town, then so be it. We’ve got time to burn before the memo is set to go out, anyway. Let’s take advantage of it.”

  “We could still do that on the train,” Julie pointed out.

  “Yes, but that would still allow whoever it is that Mandrake has following us to keep tabs on our every move. No, I think we need a car.”

  “And how do you expect to get a car in 1942 France?”

  Peter smiled at Julie. He tossed another olive into his mouth and said, “We’ll steal one if necessary. What are they going to do? Arrest us? They’ll be more concerned with the war than dealing with a stolen car.”

  Julie shook her head. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”

  CHAPTER 4

  Journal entry #12, September 24, 1942

  Julie and I finally reached Sete after a far too long boat ride across the Atlantic. If the ocean liner had been cruising around in my own time, the trip would have most certainly been much more relaxing. But because the world is at war, everyone was on edge. Even though we’ve landed in an unoccupied seaport in France, the country is still heavily occupied by the Nazis.