by Kacey Ezell
They came to the bottom of the valley. Inigo held up his hand for silence and pointed west, downriver. Light gleamed against the sky, and Evelyn understood he was indicating they weren’t far from a border checkpoint. She nodded her understanding and put her fingers over her lips as her men did the same. Inigo gave an answering nod and began removing his trousers. Deedee, too, stripped down and knotted her trousers around her neck, and though Evelyn could feel her cheeks heating up, she followed suit.
Gesturing to all of them to remain silent, Inigo stepped first into the torrent of water. Evelyn could see him reaching out, testing the depth and strength of the current. Evelyn saw him sink to his waist and then come back up to the bank. He held out his hand peremptorily, and Abram took it.
Evelyn felt the numbing shock of cold through the net as the water touched Abram’s skin. He gasped silently, then gritted his teeth and followed Inigo farther into the water. They were about halfway across when Deedee reached out and took Evelyn’s hand and pulled her gently to the edge of the water. Evelyn took a deep breath and followed the Belgian woman. The river bottom was even more treacherous than the mountain path had been, and Evelyn had a hard time keeping her footing. If not for Deedee’s steady strength, she wasn’t sure she would have managed to keep moving against the icy pain of the water. Numbness assaulted her feet and legs, reaching up to her waist as the water rushed against her, trying to push her westward, toward the lights and the danger of the border checkpoint.
Just when Evelyn didn’t think she could resist the current’s force, the bottom started to slope upward again, and the water level slid down her skin. The numbness, however, stayed as the cold wind whipped against her wet, chilled legs.
“Rest here,” Deedee whispered in her ear as they exited the water into a grassy meadow. “Get dressed while we get the others.”
Evelyn nodded, her teeth chattering too hard to speak. She limped over to where Abram lay already in the grass, his face pale and cold in the night. Without a word she sat down next to him and began pulling her trousers back on. They didn’t go on easily, but she felt less like she was being flayed alive by ice knives afterward. Then she lay down next to the navigator. He put his arms around her and gave her a wan smile.
Seems like we’ve been here before, he said.
Only this time I’m not feverish.
True, thank goodness. Though a fever would probably feel pretty good right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been that cold in my life. Ever.
Are you warming up? she asked.
Little by little. The feeling’s coming back into my feet now. I wish it wouldn’t. It feels like a thousand pins.
Here, let me help.
She sat back up and began chaffing his feet while tucking her own underneath herself to help them to warm faster. When Inigo and Deedee delivered Paul and Sean to the meadow, she did the same for them. As always, touch made the strength of their bond stronger, and that strength flowed through and bolstered her.
They rested long enough for everyone to get dry and warm. Inigo pulled some thin wool blankets from his ruck, and they used these to towel off and wrap around themselves as they regained their strength, for their ordeal was far from over. The hardest, most dangerous part lay directly ahead.
Inigo passed around his bottle of cognac and then got to his feet. This was, apparently, the signal to move on. They re-packed the blankets, replaced their Espadrilles, and crossed the meadow toward their next obstacle: the border road into Spain.
On the other side of the meadow, a rocky embankment led up to the railroad tracks. Though not as sheer as the cliffs above Bonaparte Beach, Evelyn quailed at the thought of climbing it, especially as tired as she felt after the river. At least the cold had kept her bad ankle from swelling up, for while it twinged at her in warning every once in a while, it was mostly not a problem.
Once again, Inigo showed them how to go. The embankment consisted of several large, piled boulders, and the Basque guide scrambled up over these with seemingly little effort. Once at the top, he reached down and helped the others to do the same. Only Deedee had the quiet strength to do it by herself.
I wonder how many times she’s done this, Evelyn thought, not really expecting an answer, but needing to think about something other than her fear they’d be caught here at the end, so close to their goal. It has to have been several. She’s so calm and collected.
I hope enough to get us through it safely, Paul said. They had crossed the railroad tracks one by one and taken shelter under the bushes that lined the Spanish highway. Inigo waited for a long moment, listening, and then darted out from undercover and crossed the road before diving back into the brush on the other side. They waited, hardly daring to breathe, until his face appeared again near the ground. He held up one finger and then made a beckoning gesture.
Here I go, Abram sent, and did his best to copy Inigo’s movements. He wasn’t as quick, or as oddly graceful as the Basque, but he made it before the sweeping headlights of a car sent them all face down, pressing noses into the dirt and hoping no one in the car saw them. Evelyn heard the whooshing sound of the tires on the pavement, and the change in pitch as the vehicle passed them without slowing. The night grew silent again before any of them lifted their heads.
Inigo says come now, Abram sent. Paul.
The bombardier got to his feet and crept across the road. He wasn’t as fast as Inigo had been, but he was silent, and he moved so smoothly Evelyn could barely see him. She felt him though, through the net as he slid to his belly under a thorn bush on the far side.
I’m good, he sent.
Good. Evie, Abram said. Quickly.
Her turn. She pushed up on her hands and knees and carefully brought her feet underneath herself. One of her rope-soled shoes scuffed in the dirt, and she bit her lip in frustration. She rose to a crouch and glanced left and right along the road, just to be sure. It remained empty, so she took a deep breath and scurried across. Once her feet touched dirt on the far side, she dropped to her knees and began crawling forward, feeling the scratchy boughs of the scrub catch at her hat, her hair, her clothing.
Good job, Evie, Abram sent. Sean, you’re next, then Deedee.
The two of them made it across without incident as well, and Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. There was still danger, and they still had a long way to go...but they were out of France and into Spain. And that, as Abram would say, was not nothing.
Beyond the road, they had yet another slope to climb, and this one was complicated. Once they got about ten feet above the road, they could see the frontier outpost that had been lighting up the sky. More importantly, if someone in the outpost were looking, there was a chance they could see them.
They crawled up the slope on their bellies, moving slowly, trying to use the brush and vegetation for what concealment it could offer. At one point, Evelyn looked over and saw a sentry patrolling a mere one hundred meters away, but with his back to them, looking down the road. She stiffened and put her face down and froze, not even daring to breathe for a ten count. Every instinct in her screamed at her to reach out and try to discern if the man had seen her...but if she did that, he would know she’d been there, and all would be for naught. So she let her breath out slowly, kept her head down in the mountain dirt, and continued her slow climb.
They topped the summit of that slope and went down over the back side. Once they were out of sight of the outpost, they were again able to stand up and go more quickly. No resting now, not so close to such a dangerous place. Though her legs and her back and her...well...everything, really, ached, Evelyn pushed herself forward, reminding herself she had promised she would keep up.
You can do it, Evie. You’re doing great, Sean said now and again. Abram and Paul, too, encouraged her. Just as she encouraged them, bolstered their strength as they started to stumble on overtired, chilled, and sodden feet and legs.
They were back to climbing, heading up toward the triple-peaked landmark of the Trois Couronnes. At on
e point, Abram fell, dragged down by the internal weight of his heavy, tired legs. Evelyn felt the frustration they were all feeling surge through the net from him on a wave of pain from where he’d hit the ground.
Are you all right, sir? Evelyn asked.
Sir, Evie? Really? After all this? he shot back, his tone sharp as he used his walking stick to try and struggle back up to his feet. Pain twinged through his right knee and into her consciousness.
You’re still an officer, and our senior ranking, she said, more to distract him from the knee than for any other reason. I was trained to be professional under any circumstances.
That got a pulse of humor from Paul and a following one from Sean. Abram got up and waved a hand at Deedee, who had stopped next to him to help.
“I’m all right,” he told the Belgian woman in an undertone.
“Good,” she said. “Keep going.”
“How far? Until we rest?”
“Dos cien metros,” Inigo said, from up ahead. Two hundred meters.
That’s not far, Sean sent. You can do this, sir.
I know I can. We all can, Abram replied.
Paul said nothing, and Evelyn just sent a pulse of the confidence she felt in their leader down the lines of the net. She might have doubted her own strength, but she’d never doubt Abram’s.
They didn’t stop in two hundred meters, however. Nor after that. Inigo just kept walking forward and up with that steady, ground-eating pace. Evelyn began to struggle, and her ankle sent flashes of warning pain up her leg with every step. Abram asked Inigo one more time about taking a rest and received the same reply: dos cien metros. It was always dos cien metros, all the way to the top of the mountain.
Finally, with the dawn sky pinkening to the east, they lay down and caught their breath. Inigo handed his leather bottle of cognac around again and passed out some smoked fish and cheese he’d carried in his pack. Evelyn ate all she was given and licked her fingers free of the crumbs. When the cognac got to her, she took a tiny sip, savoring the burn of the liquor as it warmed her from within.
It wasn’t much, but it refreshed them a little. Enough that they got back to their feet and followed Inigo back on the trail. They started back down, roughly following the outline of a road, but staying far enough off it they could fade into the surrounding woods and brush if necessary. At least, that was the theory. Despite their rest at the summit of the Trois Couronnes, Evelyn quickly felt as if her limbs were made of lead. Her steps dragged in the dirt, and she began to feel as if she existed only in a haze of fatigue and pain.
When the sun finally slipped over the horizon, the first rays of dawn found them hiking down a long slope into a meadow filled with wildflowers and waist-high grass. On the far side of the meadow, Evelyn could just make out the gray roof of a rambling house. They approached with great caution, keeping an eye out for police or other unfriendly beings. But no one was there, save the dark-eyed woman who opened the door with a grave smile.
“Welcome,” she said in Spanish-accented French. “You have made it to Spain.”
* * *
The woman’s name was Estefania Irriarte. Like Neria Zubizarretta across the border, she welcomed the fugitives into her large, warm farmhouse and fed them bowls of steaming hot stew and milk. Evelyn was so tired she thought she might drop where she stood, but her stomach growled at the enticing scents of Estefania’s kitchen so she forced herself to stay awake long enough to eat. She was halfway through her second bowl of stew when she noticed that, while Inigo sat beside them at the long trestle table, Deedee was nowhere to be found.
“She has gone to get a car,” Senora Irriarte said when Abram asked her Evie’s silent question. “You should sleep now, if you can.”
“What happens now?” Abram asked, undeterred.
“You rest,” Senora Irriarte said, with a smile that made her dark-eyed beauty shine. “And Deedee gets the car. She will be back tonight. Do not worry, my friends. You are nearly safe. But sleep. You must be exhausted after your journey.”
Evelyn, at least, was. So for what felt like the thousandth time, she curled up in a bed that didn’t belong to her and found her rest in the home of a stranger. She didn’t even recall falling asleep and so was startled when Deedee called her name. She sat bolt upright in the bed, her head pounding.
“Oh! I am sorry to have startled you, my friend,” the Belgian woman said with a soft smile. “I know you must be very tired, but you must wake up. It is time to go.”
“More hiking?” Evelyn groaned. Deedee gave a little laugh.
“No,” she said. “I have a car this time.”
Only then did Evelyn remember the conversation at the trestle table in Senora Irriarte’s kitchen. This, then, was whatever was to happen next.
She got to her feet and used the ancient-looking washstand to clean her hands and face as best she could. Her clothes were muddy and torn in places, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. She re-braided her hair and handed the woolen cap back to Deedee. The other woman looked at her in confusion.
“For the next group you save,” Evelyn said softly, and Deedee smiled as understanding dawned. She took the cap with a nod and tucked it into her knapsack. Evelyn took a moment to pull the blankets straight on her borrowed bed and then the two of them walked down the long hallway back to Senora Irriarte’s kitchen. The men arrived from their own bedroom a moment later. Deedee gave their hostess a hug and ushered the rest of them out to the car.
It was a tight fit, but they managed to cram together. Evelyn and Inigo sat up front next to Deedee, who drove the gray sedan down the windy roads and into the town of San Sebastian proper. Evelyn looked around as they passed churches and banks and rows and rows of houses lit by streetlights. Compared to the destruction she’d seen in Brussels and Paris, San Sebastian looked like a peaceful seaside town. Though there were plenty of police, who certainly would have arrested them all if they’d known what they’d spent the previous night doing.
They drove through the downtown and out past the houses on the south side before turning off the main highway and onto a country lane. A few hundred meters up, a burgundy sedan idled by the side of the road, headlights off. Deedee let off the gas and coasted to a stop next to this vehicle, then cut the engine.
“All right,” she said. “This is who I’ve brought you to see.”
The rear door of the burgundy sedan opened, and a tall, thin man wearing a gray suit and looking rather quintessentially British stepped out. Evelyn felt something hard and tight constrict in her chest. She reached down and caught Deedee’s free hand.
“Thank you,” Evelyn whispered. “So very much. For everything.”
Deedee smiled, and for the first time, Evelyn could see that she looked tired indeed.
“You are most welcome,” she said. “Good luck.”
With that, Inigo opened his door and slid out, leaving room for Evelyn to exit. He also opened the rear door, and Sean, Paul, and Abram all stepped out of the car. The man in the gray suit walked up to them and held out his hand.
“Orvin Broxton,” he said. “British Consulate, at your service. If you please, the moment you get in the car is the moment you’re safe. Diplomatic plates, you see. Can’t touch you then.”
Ladies first, Abram said. Go on, Evie.
Evelyn felt her eyes fill with tears as emotion overwhelmed her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It didn’t seem possible.
It’s possible. You did it, Evie-girl, Sean said. You got us safe. Now, let’s get in the car and go home.
Come with me? she whispered through the net.
Always and anywhere, Sean answered.
But let’s start with home, Paul put in, and that did the trick. Between Abram’s encouragement, Sean’s devotion, and Paul’s practicality, her men got her over the last hurdle. Evelyn Adamsen got in the car and started her journey home.
* * *
Lina sat rigidly, encased in ice, though flames licked at the corners of her min
d.
“Well?” Smolenk asked, his supercilious gaze managing to convey both extreme disinterest and extreme impatience. “Did you find what you were looking for in Bayonne?”
“No, sir,” Lina said, her voice clipped and very, very carefully blank. “My full report is on your desk. The abbreviated version is this: the information we received from my interrogation of Doctor van Duren turned out to be correct. His daughter was in Bayonne. We apprehended her along with a co-conspirator by the name of Sylvaine Ballasdens. I have not yet had the opportunity to fully interrogate these women, but it is clear there is more to both of them than was originally thought.” By you, she added silently.
“What do you mean?” he asked. Across the room, Neils sent her a pleading look. Lina ignored it, just as her onetime friend had ignored her pleas for help leaving Brussels in time.
“It appears that Diandra van Duren is, at the very least, an incredibly knowledgeable guide and courier for the fugitive escape network,” Lina said. “When we apprehended her, she had just completed a trip across the Pyrenees with four American fugitives.”
“A woman? Crossing the Pyrenees? Impossible,” Smolenk scoffed. Lina felt the anger building in her mind, felt its flames start licking the underside of her skin.
“Not at all, sir,” she said. “I have touched her mind. I know she has done this. Many times, in fact.”
“I don’t believe it for one second, Fraulein Sucherin. Clearly she is delusional, and you have picked up on the fact she believes she has done this miraculous feat. If, in fact, you ‘pick up’ anything at all. You say the girl is involved in the escape network? Fine, I believe that, based on her father’s position. But a courier? Across the mountains? Impossible.”