by Anne Barwell
He offered up a silent prayer for whoever had been caught, together with the plea that it didn’t make the guards on duty look farther afield.
After what seemed forever, Frej signaled it was safe for them to retake their seats.
“Was that a planned distraction?” Liang asked as they approached the opposite shoreline. With their river crossing almost over, it was finally safe to talk.
“No,” Frej replied grimly. “That was most likely someone who should know better than to try to illegally cross the border using the bridge at Seltz. I hope they have not put our operation at risk.”
“Do you need help to hide your boat?” Matt asked. “Perhaps a longer stay in Beinheim wouldn’t be a bad idea? Make the return journey in a couple of days.”
“I have friends in the Alsace farther up the river,” Frej said. “I will take the boat up there and return home another way. If I am gone too long, I may be missed and questions will be asked.”
Although they’d only met Frej and Sigi, it was doubtful they were the only members of the Resistance in the area. One person compromised could lead to many others losing their lives. “We appreciate the risks you have taken for us,” Kristopher said.
“Not all Germans agree with what Herr Hitler and his Nazis are doing,” Frej said, “but many do not act because they are scared of the repercussions for their families.”
“It is easier to risk yourself than those you care about.” Kristopher turned his attention back to the river, but Michel guessed from the way he sat, shoulders slumped, that his thoughts were with his family and everything he’d left behind.
“Hopefully a day will come soon when sacrifices will no longer need to be made,” Michel said, “although I suspect that time is still a long way off.”
“Is that the shore up ahead?” Liang asked. He sounded better than before, although his voice lacked its usual timbre.
“Yes,” Frej confirmed. “I’ll change places with Matthäus and bring her closer.” Ken got up to move, but Frej shook his head. “I’ll guide you. No need to rock the boat any more than we have to, especially with your friend’s weak stomach.”
“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Liang muttered. He moved over so Matt could sit next to him. “How are you faring?”
“There is more light than I expected,” Matt said, “but I’ll be happier once we are on land again.”
“I’ll be happy if I never set foot in a boat again,” Liang said. He groaned. “Part of me is looking forward to finally going home; the other part knows I’ll have to cross a large body of water to do it. Tell me why I volunteered for this mission again?”
“You didn’t volunteer,” Ken reminded him. “You were conscripted.”
“Oh yes. That’s right.” Liang made a rude noise and muttered something under his breath. “Very thoughtful of them to pick me. Oh wait. They didn’t have much of a choice, did they?”
Frej seemed amused by the conversation. “Right here, then a few more strokes in this direction.” Ken followed his instruction quickly, and Frej nodded his approval. “You are a natural,” he told Ken.
“We visited family once who lived close to a river,” Ken said. “I spent most of that summer on it. I guess I remember more of it than I thought, as it was a long time ago.” He passed his oar over to Frej, stood, and stretched the upper part of his body. “I don’t remember aching quite this much, though.”
“You’re out of practice, and age catches up with all of us,” Frej said, “although I wish you and your companions many years ahead of you.”
“And you,” Matt said. “Thank you again. Gabriel, lead the way.” He nodded toward Michel. “Oskar and I will bring up the rear.”
This would be the last time Matt referred to them by their German identities. As soon as they were safely in France, they’d bury those identity papers and use the French ones the Resistance had provided for them. Michel had discarded his original papers when he’d joined the Resistance, as he could not take the chance they might connect him with his family. On this side of the border, he’d still use Gabriel as his codename, but his last name had changed yet again.
“That water’s still cold,” Liang complained as he waded to shore. “I never thought I’d say this, but I prefer being wet to the other option.”
“Being dry?” Kristopher asked.
“Remind me to be sympathetic if you’re ever seasick.” Liang stood on the rocky beach and looked around. “The ground isn’t moving, is it?”
“No, it’s not moving. You’ll be fine in a few moments.” Michel waited until Ken and Matt joined them. “Bienvenue en France,” he said.
They were still far from safe, but Michel was finally home.
KARL HOLM looked up in annoyance at the knock on his office door. “Enter,” he said.
“Good evening, Standartenführer.” Obersturmführer Reiniger clicked his heels together, saluted, and stood to attention. He was a tall slim man with light blond hair. Despite having lost weight since his unfortunate accident, the cold gaze from his remaining blue eye still commanded authority, and unsettled those who served under him.
“What is it, Obersturmführer? I sincerely hope you’re here to tell me that you finally have the fugitives in custody.”
Reiniger hesitated before replying. Never a good sign. “Unfortunately not, sir.” The skin around his eye patch twitched. “The informant was mistaken. They were not at Wintersdorf. Although we did arrest someone else crossing the border illegally at the bridge at Seltz.”
Holm sighed. “I’m sure the Feldgendarmerie can manage to do their job without your help. I had rather hoped you were managing to do yours a little better than you have been.”
Since the incident in Freiburg, the fugitives had vanished. Apart from a couple of sightings—supposed sightings—any attempts to find Lowe and his team had been… disappointing. Holm was fully aware his orders were to find Doktor Kristopher Lehrer and that the fate of the men who helped him escape and evade capture was not important.
However, Holm was not about to let a serendipitous discovery go wasted. He wanted to speak with Lowe further, and Lowe’s team was working with Lehrer. Find one man, and the other would be close by. If not, Holm would persuade whomever he caught to divulge the location of the other.
“The initial information given to us by one of their own should have been correct, sir.” Reiniger placed his hands behind his back but did not relax his stance.
“At ease, Reiniger,” Holm said. Watching Reiniger stand at attention did nothing to increase his confidence in the man. Nevertheless, he had a point. “Perhaps Herr Doktor Zhou was not trusted by his team as much as he thought he was.” Holm considered the idea as he voiced it. Considering the presence of both Zhou and Lowe on the same team, that was more than likely. After all, Zhou had seemed shocked by the revelation that Lowe was part Japanese. If Lowe did not trust his colleague enough to share that information, what else had he kept hidden?
“Or they realized they had been compromised and changed their plans… sir.”
“That is possible.” Holm clasped his hands and tapped his forefingers together. “So… if they are not in Switzerland, what is the other logical place they’d head for?”
Reiniger took a few minutes to work out that the question hadn’t been rhetorical. “They’d head for the Channel, sir.”
“Exactly.” Holm glanced at the papers he’d been reading. “New orders have come through this morning. I am needed in France.”
The statement wasn’t a lie, but Holm was not about to expand on the content of the letter he’d received. Headquarters was not impressed by his lack of results. As he’d been unable to track down the elusive Dr. Lehrer, he was being reassigned. However, if his assumption was correct, and Lowe and his team—along with Lehrer—had foolishly decided to attempt a Channel crossing, perhaps all was not entirely lost.
“We will miss you here in Germany, Standartenführer.”
Holm met Reiniger’s gaze and
smiled. “I have been told to pick my staff, Obersturmführer, and I can think of no better man as my second-in-command. Although you have failed me in your attempts to locate the traitor, Lehrer, and his associates, I am certain you will do better in tracking down and eliminating Resistance cells in the Caen area.”
Reiniger was a good soldier, one who enjoyed certain aspects of his work a little too much at times. But that could be used. After all, if Lowe was in France, he’d need help, and enlisting the cooperation of the local Maquis would be a good place to start.
“Yes, sir. I am honored by your faith in me.” Reiniger seemed pleased by Holm’s comment. Reiniger’s need to track down this team was personal, and he particularly held a grudge against Lehrer and the man who had called himself Schmitz while he had infiltrated the institute. They had not only undermined his authority, but worked with the Allied pilot who had caused the loss of his eye.
“Do not let me down, Reiniger.”
“I won’t, sir. You can count on me.” Reiniger saluted and left the room. Normally Holm would have reprimanded Reiniger for the minute smirk, but in this instance, he thought it suited his purpose better not to.
Let Reiniger think his posting was an honor if it gave him further motivation to get the job done. Reiniger had already proven he would do what it took to get results. Given the delicacy of the situation, he was exactly who Holm needed, and he could be depended upon to pass whatever information he discovered on to Holm, without it going any further.
After all, Holm’s superiors were only interested in apprehending Lehrer. They had made it clear that the survival of those with him was not important. Holm had smiled when he’d read those orders. Surely it meant that as long as Lehrer was delivered in a fit enough state to pass on the formulae he carried, Holm could decide the fate of Lehrer’s colleagues. Only Lowe interested him. The last time they’d spoken, the American still clung to the foolish notion that his father was innocent, that he hadn’t murdered Heinz Holm—Holm’s father—in cold blood. Still, it did not matter what Patrick Lowe’s son thought. He would suffer for what his father had done.
Another knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. This time, however, his visitor did not wait to be told to enter.
Margarete Huber settled herself into one of the chairs in front of Holm’s desk, acting as though it was her office rather than his. “Good morning, Standartenführer Holm,” she said politely.
“What can I do for you today, Fräulein?” Holm knew she was there because she wanted something, so he got straight to the point.
“I thought it was about time I asked you about your progress concerning our mutual acquaintance Herr Doktor Lehrer.” Margarete smiled, but her eyes were cold. Their dark blue color had often reminded him of an icy lake hiding its true nature beneath the surface.
“I’m surprised you aren’t aware of that already,” Holm said. “Or have your contacts disappointed you? That surprises me.”
Margarete laughed and tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. “It is so much easier working with someone with whom one shares an understanding, don’t you think?”
“We are not working together, Fräulein.” Holm knew he was wasting his time reminding her of something he considered a fact, but perhaps she could be useful.
“I’m wounded.” Margarete looked more thoughtful than hurt. “I do have some contacts in France, Herr Holm. I have waited a long time for you to honor my request, so I’ve decided to offer my services.”
“I have not forgotten your request.” Her repeated reminder of it grated on him. Frankly he did not care whether she was present or not when Kristopher Lehrer was interrogated as long as she did not interfere. She had known Lehrer for quite some time, and their families had moved in the same social circles. The information she’d given them about Lehrer’s musical background had already proved useful, although he’d still slipped through their fingers.
“Oh good.” Margarete tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail against the armrest of her chair. “I will make enquiries. It will be lovely to get out of Germany for a while. It’s been so long since I’ve done any traveling, and I hear France is quite beautiful this time of year.”
Holm gave her a terse nod. With anyone else, it would have been enough to dismiss them, but Margarete only followed social cues when it suited her to do so. The thought had crossed his mind that her grandfather, Herr Bauer, found her useful in passing along information he was not privy to, which was why he had placed her at the institute in the first place. However, Holm had never found any proof. Nevertheless, he kept his suspicions in mind when he spoke to her, taking care in what he said. After all, it would not pay to make an enemy of a powerful man with both scientific and monetary ties to the project he had originally been assigned to.
Holm’s inability to apprehend an escaped scientist threatened to blot his otherwise perfect service record. He knew Lehrer better than anyone else who might be assigned the task of finding him, and he’d also made the acquaintance of the men traveling with him. The specifics of his assignment might have changed, but his priorities had not.
“Hopefully neither of us will have to wait much longer before this matter is resolved.” Holm had hoped his new post in France meant he would no longer have to deal with Margarete, but apparently that would not be the case.
Margarete smiled. “My thought exactly. I’m sure you and Herr Lowe still have much to discuss, and I am eager to renew my acquaintance with Kristopher Lehrer. The project has really not been the same without him.”
“I’m sure it hasn’t, Fräulein,” Holm said. “I look forward to your contribution in ensuring that we will soon be welcoming him back to the fold.”
“So do I,” she replied.
Chapter Five
“CAN WE stop a moment?” Liang asked. “I have something in my boot.” He leaned against the nearest tree and began unlacing one boot.
“We’re at the meeting place,” Michel said, “so we can all stop.” He glanced at his watch. “Our contact should be here soon. We’ve made good time, and we’re early.”
They’d walked most of the morning, except for a couple of stops to rest. With all the exercise of the past few months, Kristopher felt fitter than he had for many years. He followed Liang’s lead and leaned against a nearby tree while he sipped water from his canteen. Luckily the weather had looked upon them favorably, and the threatened rain had stayed away. It was still chilly, but he hadn’t noticed it thanks to the combination of a warm jacket and the decent walking pace.
“There are better ways to see France,” Michel said quietly. “Perhaps next time we can see Haguenau properly, instead of keeping to its outskirts and hiding in the forest north of the town.”
Kristopher looked up in surprise. He hadn’t seen Michel walk over to stand next to him. “One day we’ll be able to stop long enough to enjoy our surroundings.” He kept his voice low but couldn’t resist glancing at their companions to make sure they were distracted enough to lessen the risk of being overheard. “I’ve read about some of Haguenau’s historic buildings—I’d love to see some of them one day.”
His father had promised Kristopher and Clara several holidays, but none of them had ever eventuated. Once Kristopher had reached the age of ten, he’d realized his father’s words were empty promises, but that hadn’t stopped him from reading about the destinations he’d once thought they might visit.
By his late teens, he’d already begun to put aside his foolish childhood hopes and focus on the path he wanted to take in life. Fleeing through Germany, and now France, had reminded him of his youth and the reading he’d done about those places. He hadn’t thought about it in years.
Liang had relaced his boot and was now sitting and sipping from his canteen. Matt and Ken moved to the perimeter of the thicket of trees and were also talking in low voices. Matt waved one hand to get a point across, but Ken shook his head.
Michel smiled. “You’re still as optimistic as ever.”
> “Not really,” Kristopher admitted, “but if we don’t cling to some kind of hope for the future, we’ve already lost this fight, haven’t we?”
“I don’t intend to lose this fight,” Michel said grimly, “but in saying that, I am far too aware that it might still happen.”
Although he’d emphasized the word this, Kristopher felt sure Michel wasn’t referring to the war. He was scared of losing what they had, of them losing each other. Kristopher tried not to dwell on it, but his voiced optimism didn’t reflect his inner fear.
He reached for Michel’s cheek, to caress it, to offer comfort, but realized what he was doing in time and withdrew his hand quickly. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“So am I,” Michel said. “Don’t lose your optimism, Kit. I need you to keep it alive for both of us.”
“There’s someone coming,” Ken said urgently. He and Matt drew their weapons.
“I don’t know how meeting in the middle of a forest is going to work,” Liang said. “One tree looks much like another.”
“We’re not in the middle of it, just on the outskirts,” Michel said, “and they will have a compass as we do.” He stepped in front of Kristopher, his gun already in his hand.
“I hope these are your friends,” Kristopher said. If not, they’d have to scatter and go deeper into the forest.
“So do I.” Michel whistled the first few bars of a folk song he’d taught Kristopher while they’d been hiding at St. Gertrud’s.
After a moment’s silence, Kristopher heard the answering phrase—the final few bars of the song. A woman stepped into the clearing. She was about Michel’s age and had striking blue eyes. Wisps of brunette hair had come free from her headscarf, just enough to frame her face. When she saw Michel, her face lit up with an enormous smile and she lowered her weapon, tucked it into the waistband of her skirt, and ran over to them.