Comes a Horseman

by Anne Barwell

  Chapter Six

  ALTHOUGH MICHEL had spent a good amount of his train journey looking out the window, he found it difficult to focus on the scenery. He felt relieved to be finally back on French soil. However, he could have done without the complication of seeing Arlette again, and the risk of her discovering his true feelings for Kristopher. He turned to scan the interior of the train before returning his attention to the view outside, or at least pretending to. It was better he didn’t draw attention to himself. Although his false identity papers should be enough to satisfy a routine check, their pursuers had his description and had most likely circulated it. Michel was more than aware that if their identities were questioned, they would be trapped. Even if they managed to escape the carriage, there was nowhere to go, and the train was moving too fast to attempt to jump from it.

  On the other side of the carriage, Kristopher also seemed to be watching the scenery, although the slight hunching of his shoulders gave away how tense he was. It wouldn’t be obvious to someone who didn’t know him, but Michel immediately recognized it. Kristopher gripped his cane with one hand, the front of his beret barely covering his face, or his blond hair.

  Arlette sat next to Kristopher, reading. Occasionally she’d turn to him and make conversation about something inane like the weather or how their parents would be so pleased to see him home again after his accident. He nodded in the right places but didn’t reply, except for something whispered at one point, too low to be overheard.

  They were both playing their parts well.

  Liang had sought out Arlette the night before, on the pretext of wanting advice, to give Kristopher the opportunity to speak with Michel alone. Kristopher had told Michel what Liang said, his voice shaking as both of them realized how lucky they were Liang was the one to notice and not someone else. Although Liang had made the comment he’d suspected they were more than friends because of his feelings for Juliane, Michel wasn’t so sure it was the only reason. Liang was right. They needed to be more careful. The longer he and Kristopher were together, the more difficult it became for Michel to hide how he truly felt about him. Being undercover and taking on a false identity before they’d met had been much easier.

  How could he have mistaken Arlette’s attention toward him for mere friendship? Michel remembered a conversation several years ago, something else he’d dismissed and shouldn’t have. A birthday celebration that now seemed a lifetime ago. François had jokingly told Michel he was a lucky man—having not one, but two people falling for him.

  “Arlette thinks the two of you should settle down. She’s told me you’d make a good husband and father to her children.”

  “Arlette?” Michel frowned. “We’re friends, nothing more.” He’d never done anything to encourage her. His mind backtracked to François’s earlier comment. “Two people? You’re mistaken about Arlette, mon ami, but who could possibly be the other?”

  François smiled shyly and placed one finger against Michel’s lips. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, mon ami. If I’m not mistaken, I think you are the same as me.”

  “What?” Michel protested at first, then found himself kissing François’s finger. One thing led to another and….

  He still remembered the expression on François’s face when, months later, Michel had told him that he didn’t love him. Or rather that he wasn’t in love with him. Michel loved François, but as a friend. Being with François felt good, and he enjoyed the time they spent together, yet Michel had never felt more than friendship for him.

  François had been in love with him, and Michel had vowed he’d never sleep with someone he didn’t love again. The hurt he’d caused François was something he would always regret and feel guilty about.

  Since Michel had found love with Kristopher, he knew without a doubt what he’d felt for François hadn’t been that. He would give up his life to save Kristopher’s, if he had to. He hated seeing Kristopher upset, and he still had nightmares about when Kristopher was shot.

  Was that really how Arlette felt about him? Or were her feelings for him simply an infatuation? He couldn’t tell Arlette the truth. He would be risking not only his own life but Kristopher’s. François had noticed Arlette’s feelings for Michel. What if she’d seen him and François together and figured out the true nature of their friendship? Michel had told Kristopher he trusted Arlette, but if she already knew his secret, would she continue to keep it if she perceived Kristopher to be the threat François hadn’t been? It wouldn’t be just the reaction of a jealous woman, but her fear of what might happen if the men who hunted them discovered his and Kristopher’s relationship. Michel pulled his train ticket from his pocket and read the destination again. He’d had no idea what Arlette had planned until she’d given it to him. It made more sense for their team to disembark at Gare de Melun rather than at Gare du Nord. Paris was swarming with German soldiers, and it was safer to avoid the city center and keep to the farmland around its outskirts.

  It hadn’t escaped him that the station she’d suggested wasn’t far from his parents’ farm. Michel had been tempted to go see them one last time, in case it was truly adieu. He’d hated lying to his parents and giving his mother a noncommittal shrug each time she asked when he was going to settle down with a nice girl. Michel knew his mother would love grandchildren. He also knew they would never have them. His brother, Corin, was dead, and even if Michel survived this war, he….

  Mon Dieu. He still dreamed of a future with Kristopher, of the chance to live their lives side by side even if they could never be married or live openly as a couple.

  “You should go see your parents.” Kristopher’s agreement with Arlette had taken Michel by surprise. “I never got the chance to say good-bye to my father, so there will always be unfinished business between us. Arlette has promised us it is safe, and it will not put them in danger.”

  Michel glanced over at Kristopher and Arlette again. Although Kristopher had not spoken, Michel could still hear his words from that morning repeating in his mind. He’d told both Kristopher and Arlette he’d think about it.

  The door between their carriage and the adjoining one opened. Two armed German soldiers walked through.

  “Please produce your identity and travel papers for examination.” The soldier was at least a couple of years younger than Michel, and he smiled at the child who snuggled farther into her mother’s embrace as he walked past.

  The older soldier with him didn’t waste time trying to put the passengers at ease. He scanned the carriage, and his expression hardened. While the younger soldier might be fooled, this man would notice anything wrong immediately.

  Michel retrieved his documents from his coat pocket and waited his turn. So far nothing seemed to be amiss. He glanced at one end of the carriage, then the other, not surprised to see a soldier standing at each exit. Until something happened to confirm otherwise, he would act as though this was a routine check.

  “I hope you don’t have too long a wait in Melun,” the younger soldier said to Michel conversationally.

  “Hopefully not,” Michel said, keeping his tone noncommittal. According to his papers, he was meeting with two men from his unit there, and they would travel together the rest of the way to Gare d’Ėvreux-Normandie.

  “They’re having trouble with the Resistance in Ėvreux,” the soldier continued.

  “So I’ve heard.” Michel wished the man would get on with the task at hand. The longer this conversation continued, the more chance he might be recognized.

  “Gefreiter, is there a problem with his papers?” The older soldier glanced in his companion’s direction. He frowned. “Do I need to check them myself?”

  Michel tensed but said nothing. Better to let the Gefreiter get into trouble than for Michel to draw even more attention to himself.

  “No, sir. Everything is fine.” The Gefreiter gave Michel a nod and returned his papers. “Sorry to trouble you, Obergefreiter,” he said.

  “Heil Hitler,” Michel said. �
��Keep up the good work.”

  “Heil Hitler!” To his relief the Gefreiter turned away. “Papers please, Madame,” he said to the woman in the next seat.

  “What brings you and your sister to Melun?” The Oberleutnant had worked his way a good distance down the other side of the carriage, and up to now hadn’t bothered to make conversation. He peered at Kristopher’s papers and glanced at him again, but didn’t return them.

  “My brother’s throat was damaged by a serious illness years ago, so he finds it painful to speak.” Arlette answered the question in German. She sighed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Nevertheless, he presented himself for national service and worked for the Germans, as my husband still does.” She glanced down at the wedding band she wore, and her voice steadied. “We are on our way home to our family, who live in Melun.”

  Although many single women had hurriedly found husbands to avoid the Service du Travail Obligatoire that had been passed in February the year before, Arlette hadn’t. However, she always wore a ring when she was undercover and had made up an elaborate story of a husband who had done his duty, instead of avoiding the STO like Michel and many of his friends who were now part of France’s Resistance—the Maquis.

  “Why are you not working for the Fatherland now?” The Oberleutnant asked Kristopher the question, although Arlette had answered for him. “According to your papers you are thirty years old, still far too young to be excused.”

  Kristopher spoke in little more than a hoarse whisper and pointed to the cane he held. Michel couldn’t make out the words, and they were followed by a coughing fit.

  The Oberleutnant frowned. “Stand up,” he said. “I’ve seen your sort. It’s an offense to fake an injury to avoid doing your duty.”

  Arlette stood instead. “This is outrageous,” she exclaimed. “My poor brother was injured during an explosion and was lucky he didn’t lose his leg altogether. He will never walk properly again. How dare you question our loyalty to the Third Reich? We have done our part to ensure Germany wins this war, and this is how you say thank you?”

  The Oberleutnant raised an eyebrow. Despite her anger, it would take more than mere words to convince him that she spoke the truth.

  Kristopher started to stand, his grip tightening on his cane. He let out a convincing gasp of pain and grabbed Arlette’s arm with his free hand. “Désolé. Ma jambe—” He spoke the words Michel had taught him, coughed again, and then sounded as though he was struggling to clear his throat.

  “My apologies, Mademoiselle,” the Oberleutnant said. He handed Kristopher back his papers. “Monsieur.”

  “Merci.” Kristopher sat down again. “Heil Hitler,” he murmured.

  “Heil Hitler,” the Oberleutnant said. He turned his back on them and continued his way down the carriage, checking everyone’s papers.

  As soon as the soldiers left the carriage, Michel risked a glance in Kristopher’s direction. The woman in the seat directly behind Arlette got out of her seat and moved toward an empty one farther forward in the carriage. As she passed Arlette, she spat at her and muttered, “Traître!”

  “DO YOU want me to take a turn at driving?” Ken poked his head through the square gap between the back of the truck and the cabin.

  “Maybe in about another twenty minutes,” Matt replied. Once they’d reached Woippy, he and Ken had switched positions, but Matt had been driving for nearly two hours, so it was time to change again. “I’ll keep driving until we get to Bétheny, and then you can take over.”

  Ken nodded. “If you need to stretch before that, let me know and we can swap earlier.”

  So far their journey had been without incident, and Ken had to admit he’d enjoyed the drive from Haguenau. The scenery was beautiful, and he’d felt as though they were miles from anywhere, which made sense considering they were deliberately staying clear of the bigger towns so they had less chance of being pulled over and asked for their papers.

  They’d decided to split the driving between them, given they’d be traveling most of the day. Sébastien had shown them places on the map where they wouldn’t be noticed and could stretch their legs. Unfortunately, in order for their cover to look realistic, Sébastien and Liang were handcuffed. Matt had considered having the handcuffs on hand just in case, but if they were suddenly stopped and their important prisoners were discovered in the back of the truck unrestrained and with only one guard, it would look suspicious.

  Liang leaned against the canvas side of the truck, his eyes closed, but Ken doubted he was asleep. He’d muttered a few rude comments when they’d hit a rough patch of road but hadn’t complained or said much since they’d left Haguenau.

  Sébastien too, had dozed on and off, but he was wide-awake now and watching Ken. “I’m trying to figure out what your story is,” he said.

  “Story?” Ken asked. Unfortunately Sébastien didn’t speak English, and Ken found he was struggling to understand some of his companion’s German. While Sébastien spoke the language well enough, his accent wasn’t what Ken was used to, so he’d had to ask him to repeat some of what he’d said.

  “You’re definitely not German or French, and neither is Julien.” Sébastien frowned, as though considering his next words. “I heard you speak English last night. American, if I’m not mistaken?”

  “I didn’t think you spoke English,” Ken said.

  “I don’t, but I recognize it, and I know you’re not British. The accent is wrong.” Sébastien gestured toward Liang. “So… my guess is that you’re working for the OSS and trying to get him out of France. He’s obviously well-educated and I suspect has the important information we’re supposed to help you get to the Allies. Benoit admitted he was German, so I figure he’s Jewish and getting out of the country while he can. At least that’s Arlette’s theory, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she changes it later. She said Michel could never turn his back on someone in need.”

  “I thought the less you knew, the better,” Ken said cautiously. He was hardly about to reveal the mission to someone he didn’t know, especially as Sébastien appeared to have no clue that Kristopher—Benoit—was the Nazi’s real target. Or did he? “How much do you know?”

  Sébastien shrugged. “Next to nothing. Just that your unit needs safe passage to Normandy and you’re carrying important information.”

  “That’s all you need to know,” Ken said. As Sébastien was in a talkative mood, it seemed a good time to ask a few questions of his own. “How did you get involved in the Resistance?”

  “I prefer to fight for my country than help their war effort.” He screwed up his face as though he’d tasted something nasty when he said the word their. “Many of us fled to the hills once the Service du Travail Obligatoire came into force. That merdeux Pétain, pretending he’s working for the French people when he has turned against us.”

  Ken wasn’t sure what merdeux meant, but he was certain it wasn’t polite. He nodded his agreement. “We’re all trying to do what we can to end this war,” he said.

  “At least you get to go home when your mission is finished.” Sébastien rolled his shoulders. “I cannot wait for the day they are defeated and we take back France for ourselves. I am tired of all this pretense.”

  “It is wearing, constantly pretending to be what you are not.” Ken knew about that all too well. He hated having to hide not only his feelings for Matt, but his true identity. Some days he doubted he’d ever be able to use the name Tsukino again. Matt seemed to think he would, but Matt tended to have more faith in human nature than Ken did.

  Or at least he had before that asshole Holm had tortured him. Matt’s experiences at the hands of the SS had changed him, not obviously but in subtle ways. Ken wondered if Matt would ever get over his issues with the dark. Matt had hidden his fears well when they’d crossed the Rhine, but Ken knew how much it had cost him. He was more on edge, and his sleep the night before had been plagued with nightmares. Ken had wanted badly to take Matt into his arms and soothe him, b
ut they weren’t alone, so he couldn’t.

  God, he hated this. What kind of a world did they live in where being seen giving comfort to the person he loved was dangerous?

  The same kind of world where people were hunted and thrown into camps simply because of their heritage.

  “There’s a checkpoint up ahead.” Matt turned his head and called out a warning. “Move into position, and be prepared.”

  “I guess that’s the end of our conversation, then,” Sébastien said. “Wake up, Alexandre. We’re about to have company.”

  “Wonderful,” Liang said, “but I wasn’t asleep. Too uncomfortable, and I’m really looking forward to sleeping in a bed tonight.”

  “Your friend has quite the sense of humor,” Sébastien said. He wiped all expression from his face as the truck slowed down.

  “So I’ve been led to believe,” Ken said dryly. He stood by the exit, his weapon drawn, giving the appearance of being ready to shoot his captives if they took the opportunity to make a run for it. In reality, he was getting into a defensive position in case the men who stopped them didn’t believe their cover story.

  “Papers, please,” someone asked Matt in German, “and please exit the vehicle.”

  Ken forced himself to stay where he was. A trickle of moisture ran down the back of his neck. If the soldiers didn’t believe Matt’s story, he was out there on his own, and the rest of them were trapped like rats awaiting capture.

  “Your papers seem to be in order, sir,” the soldier told Matt. “We will need to check the back of your truck before you can continue your journey.”

  “Of course,” Matt said. “Unteroffizier Raske is guarding the prisoners and has their papers as well as his own.”

  “Good idea. After all, they wouldn’t get far without papers even if they did manage to escape.”

  The canvas flap at the back of the truck was pulled back, and Ken blinked against the sudden light. He snapped to attention and saluted the Oberscharführer as the SS officer climbed into the truck, followed closely by Matt.