Comes a Horseman

by Anne Barwell

  That he could believe.

  Now wasn’t the time to argue with her if he wanted her continued cooperation. Margarete Huber was not a woman he wanted to make an enemy of, and Holm wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d come out of any war with her unscathed.

  “My apologies, Fräulein,” he said hurriedly and handed her the note. “While I am unsure as to whether this information will lead us to Lehrer, it would still be unwise to ignore it.”

  Margarete read the note and then looked up at him. “The author of this note speaks of a Resistance cell working out of the village of Cyrville-sur-Mer. Isn’t that close to an area where the Resistance has been quite active of late? I remember hearing something about disruptions to travel west of Bayeux very recently.”

  “A station along the Mantes-la-Jolie to Cherbourg railway line was targeted several nights ago,” Holm confirmed. He had reprimanded the officer in charge for his negligence. The man had been told that portion of the railway line was a potential target. He had shirked his duty and would not do so again. It had not been that difficult to figure out where the Resistance might strike next and increase security in those locations. Nevertheless, his men still managed to let their enemies escape.

  Margarete read a part of the note aloud. “One of the men claims to be German yet speaks English with an impeccable British accent. He is referred to as ‘Kit’ by others in the group when they think they are alone…” She grew silent as she finished reading the note, then handed it to Holm. “How interesting. An English spy pretending to be German, and working with the French Resistance. Why, it sounds like fiction.” She looked thoughtful. “Hmm… although. There’s something familiar about the code name he’s using. I’m certain I’ve heard it before.”

  Holm glanced at the note again. “I’m not aware of any English spy who uses the name Kit.” Perhaps this was yet another false tip? He’d had a few, but none of them had led to the men he sought. Although he’d made several arrests, these Frenchmen and women were annoyingly stubborn when it came to persuading them to share information.

  “Oh!” Margarete exclaimed. “That’s it. Of course.”

  “Of course?” Holm asked. Did she expect him to drag every bit of information from her?

  Margarete looked smug, as though now she’d only just worked out whatever it was. “Kit,” she said, “is an English nickname for Kristopher.”

  “Kristopher Lehrer?” Holm knew Lehrer spoke English, but to be mistaken for an Englishman? It was ridiculous. His mother had been English but died before Lehrer was born. The man had been raised a German and had never set foot outside the country until now. “It could be a coincidence.”

  “Perhaps, but I think not. I’ve heard Clara Lehrer call her brother by that name, although not often. You know how it is… one forgets oneself at family gatherings.” Margarete smiled. “Of course it’s been several years since our families met socially, which is why I didn’t remember it immediately.”

  “It would make sense that Bryant’s team would make contact with a local Resistance cell, and lies work better if there is some truth to them. Not Bayeux, then, but still in that area.” Holm felt a familiar hope build inside him. “I’ll send someone to investigate immediately.” The village wasn’t very big, so it didn’t have many places to hide.

  “I’d suggest waiting a day or so,” Margarete said. “If we move too quickly, they may scatter again and we’ll lose them. Whoever wrote this note can probably be persuaded to share more information. I think he or she is very focused on whoever ‘Kit’ is. The other new additions to their cell are only mentioned in passing, as though they are unimportant.” She paused as though reconsidering what she’d just said. “Or maybe they are important to him or her, and this Englishman is perceived as a threat, and we are a means to an end. It’s interesting what motivates someone to betray those they work with, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Holm hadn’t missed the way she’d said “we” rather than “you.”

  “It will be more efficient if we have a precise location so they are not given the opportunity to run like last time,” Margarete continued. “Think of how good it would be to catch not only Lehrer, but the members of the cell who have been causing so much disruption in the area.”

  “Cast the net wider and catch more fish,” Holm said slowly. The idea had merit, although he would discreetly keep a closer eye on Cyrville-sur-Mer. No point in being greedy and losing everything because of it. Sometimes, in order to win, sacrifices had to be made, and pawns were often not the important piece they thought themselves to be. Whoever had written the note was foolish to think Holm would simply allow them to deliver his prey and walk away.

  He had no time for traitors.

  MATT GLANCED at his watch. Two more minutes and Michel’s team would be ready with their diversion. So far, so good.

  “Sébastien’s keeping watch.” Ken crouched down beside Matt. “There are a couple of guards on duty and two more inside having supper. If Arlette’s information is correct, this will be all over by the time the shift change happens.”

  “I would have expected more men posted here.” Matt knew he shouldn’t question their good luck, but he didn’t like it. He mentally crossed his fingers and hoped they weren’t going to be caught by twice the number of soldiers they expected.

  “It’s not the only place in the area where this kind of sabotage would be effective.” Ken looked up at the telegraph pole a few feet away and swallowed. “As soon as we get the signal, I’ll head for the pole.”

  “That’s what we agreed, yes,” Matt said. “Or rather what you insisted on.”

  “You don’t agree?” Ken had that edge to his voice that usually came before an argument. He wasn’t a man who raised his voice, but Matt hated it when he sounded very calm and matter-of-fact about something that was anything but.

  “That pole is very high. You’re going to have people shooting at you. It makes more sense for me to do it.” Matt didn’t want to pull rank, but he would if Ken refused to back down. He held out his hand, and Ken handed over the wire cutters.

  “Thank you, but we’ll talk about this later,” he said.

  Light lit the sky in the distance and then again about a mile west of the first explosion.

  Men’s voices raised as the soldiers on duty tried to figure out what was going on. Matt heard running as the guards inside joined in. Better to have all four men in view, rather than be surprised by one being where he wasn’t expected.

  Nicolas had set timers on several explosives. There should be one more, and then it would be time for Matt’s team to move.

  Right on schedule, the third explosive blew. They’d decided to hit more than one target that night rather than use the explosions as just a distraction. The Germans would presume one act of sabotage was a distraction for the other, yet both would achieve as much damage. Cutting overhead wires cost the enemy precious time without communication so they didn’t find out about Allied bombing raids until it was too late.

  “Cover me,” Matt hissed. He ran for the pole and began to climb quickly. It wouldn’t take long before the soldiers realized the real target.

  Crap, how high was this thing? Matt gritted his teeth and continued to climb.

  He heard gunshots below him, an exchange of fire between his team and the soldiers.

  One foot missed a foothold. A bullet whizzed past, and he bent his body out, then in again, barely avoiding it. He looked up. Only a few more feet and he’d be there.

  Ken and Sébastien could hold their own down there. Four men against two, but they’d fought against worse odds.

  The gentle breeze increased in force the higher he climbed. His imagination and fear gave it more power as it buffeted against him and tugged at his hair.

  One foot, then the other secure, Matt balanced carefully and pulled out his cutters. He used one gloved hand to hold on to one of the climbing brackets and cut the wires quickly.

  Someone yelled out in German below. Shots r
ang out again.

  “Damn it,” he muttered as another bullet came way too close. He ducked, then scrabbled to find a hold as he felt himself fall. He grabbed one of the metal brackets with both hands, hung there for a moment until he felt something solid under one foot, then the other.

  Someone screamed in pain. He peered beneath him, and edged down as far as he dared. Too high and he wouldn’t survive the fall. Another couple of feet. Almost there. He tensed and leaped, then hit the ground with a dull thump.

  “Down,” Sébastien yelled.

  Matt dived just as a shot went over his head from behind him. Fuck. Were the soldiers behind him? The longer he stayed here, the more of a target he was.

  Shots hailed around him as soon as he started running. Some from behind, others from the side. Someone—either Ken or Sébastien—covered him as he sprinted across the road to the nearby fence, vaulted over it, and hit the dirt on the other side.

  He heard the sound of boots against gravel and a couple more shots. Then suddenly nothing, sounds he expected swallowed up by silence. Matt kept his head down, not daring to look up to check whether it was clear. Give it a few more seconds. Then he’d take the chance. The soldiers could be biding their time and waiting for him to make a mistake. The fence wasn’t very high, and if they opened fire, it wouldn’t give him much protection.

  Matt raised his head, just a fraction, but he couldn’t see anything. The front of his shirt felt wet, and something stank. He stifled a cough, his stomach heaving in protest at the horrible smell.

  Oh great. He’d dived into a cowpat.

  Ken slid in next to him, lying flat in the dirt. “Keep down,” he hissed. He raised his gun and shot at someone over the fence.

  Matt heard another exchange of bullets from the other side of the fence, then silence. He counted to twenty, sat up, and looked over in the direction Ken had fired. A German soldier lay still, facedown on the side of the road.

  “It won’t be long before this area is swarming with soldiers.” Ken stood and pulled Matt to his feet. “It’s not just the gunfire, but their telephone lines have gone dead. They’ll send someone to investigate when the men on duty don’t report in, and I doubt they’ll wait until the shift change to do it.”

  Sébastien poked his head over the fence. “I’ve secured the other guards. Two are wounded, but they’ll recover. The other is unconscious. I didn’t check his injuries. Come, we need to leave.” As Matt and Ken walked over, Sébastien screwed up his nose. “I’m driving. You can both ride in the back. Try and stay downwind until we get back, oui? That smell is disgusting.”

  KEN HANDED Matt the soap. “That’s twice in one night,” he said. “I swear, at this rate, I’ll be gray before my time.”

  “Twice what?” Matt rubbed the soap over the wet cloth he was using to clean himself, shivering when the cold water splattered across his skin. He’d already washed his hair, glad he’d trimmed it back to a short military style before they’d left Haguenau, although it still felt damp after he’d dried it.

  Sébastien had left them outside by the back door to clean up. They’d moved to this safe house after the mission at the train station. Despite Kristopher’s theory that Holm might have used logic to figure out their target, they’d decided to move to a disused workers’ cottage on a farm on the outskirts of the village.

  Matt had only seen the farmer a couple of times when he’d brought them supplies. The old Frenchman usually only spoke with either Arlette or Sébastien, although he’d had one conversation with Michel about his crops and the work they’d offered to help with. Sébastien was careful to continue to drag his left leg whenever he ventured out, just enough so no one would question that his injury prevented him from being conscripted. Arlette played her role as his wife well, and if Matt hadn’t known, he would have sworn she was what she pretended to be. He suspected the farmer was a part of the Resistance, but the less either of them knew about the other, the safer it was for everyone.

  For the most part, their team kept to the farm, only venturing out for missions and to meet with the Resistance cell based at the church, usually at night.

  The village had been well chosen as a safe place to hide, and they were careful to choose targets that would not lead back to them. Théo had picked up a few transmissions that confirmed the Germans knew there was an active Resistance cell in the area, but they hadn’t figured out their location yet.

  “No sign of Sébastien with our clean clothes.” Ken took the cloth from Matt and soaked it in the pail of water. “He’s either debriefing the others, or he’s waiting until it’s safe to come near us again.”

  “Who knew he had such a sensitive nose?” Matt would have laughed at Sébastien’s response but didn’t know him well enough to know how he would react.

  “Turn around,” Ken said. “I’ll wash your back, and then you can wash mine.” They’d taken off their shirts in order to wash once Sébastien had left, but Matt had kept watch on the door and his back to the fence. “Don’t worry, no one can see. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Thanks.” Matt closed his eyes, his breath hissing as Ken gently ran the cloth over the scars on his back. They no longer hurt, but he still tended to flinch whenever someone touched them, even Ken. He preferred that no one saw them, as he didn’t want to answer the questions that would follow. While their team knew what had happened to him, Arlette and her cell didn’t, and he wanted it to stay that way. “You didn’t answer my question. Twice what?”

  “It should have been me up that pole.”

  “You don’t like heights. It made more sense for me to do it.” Matt had known how dangerous it would be, and the chance he’d be shot at while he was up there. “There was enough to think about, along with trying not to fall while getting shot at, without diverting your focus. I know how much it takes to ignore the fact you’re in the middle of somewhere that scares you shitless.”

  “You could have been killed.” Ken stilled the cloth. “I saw you trying to hang on. I thought you were going to fall.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I wanted to run to you, but there was nothing I could have done. For one horrible moment, I thought I’d lost you. I… kept seeing you fall, and then when that soldier was shooting at you when you leaped the fence… I thought I saw you go down.”

  Matt turned so they were facing. Ken’s face was shadowed, fear reflected in his eyes, and his breathing was ragged with emotion. Even now, the memory of what could have happened clearly terrified him. God, Matt hadn’t thought. Ken’s fear, and then thinking Matt was going to fall….

  “I have nightmares about losing you in the dark,” Matt said softly. “You always tell me you’d find me, and I know you’d walk through darkness for me. The same way I climbed that pole today for you.” Not just for Ken, as they’d needed to cut those wires and someone had to do it. Matt would never ask someone to do something he wouldn’t. But of late, that principle he’d always lived by had become complicated. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t venture into the dark…. He couldn’t. One thought of it, and he froze and couldn’t convince himself that he needed to move. He’d only gotten through that tunnel in Freiburg by focusing on Ken’s voice, and even then, he’d come too close to breaking down when they’d reached the end only to find there wasn’t an exit. Losing Ken scared him more than being lost in the dark.

  Thank God it had still been light when he’d climbed the pole. Matt knew he’d never have been able to do it otherwise. They’d debated waiting until dusk, then decided it was too dangerous at night. The area was deserted, apart from the soldiers on guard who would have been alerted to the presence of saboteurs no matter what time it was, and in the daytime, their truck wouldn’t be pulled over because they were breaking curfew.

  “No matter what, I’m not leaving you behind.” Ken calmly dunked the cloth in the water again.

  Matt watched the fragments of mud spread through the bucket. “We’ll get through this together.” He took the cloth from Ken, squeezed it out, t
hen lathered it again. “Your chest is still dirty. You missed a spot.” He worked quickly, rubbing it against Ken’s skin, watching the rivulets of water lazily drip down toward his navel. Matt leaned in, stopping the errant drops with his palm. “I’d go through darkness and fire to save you, Ken Tsukino, the same way I know you’d brave heights to reach me if I needed you.”

  Even as he spoke the words, he shivered. He’d have to find the strength somewhere, but those nights he found himself back in his nightmares, he wasn’t so sure he could, even to save the person he loved.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t—”

  “Let’s not make promises neither one of us is sure we can keep,” Ken said. “The intention is there, that is what matters, right? I know you’d do whatever you could, and that’s enough.” He placed his hand over Matt’s, turning as he did, so their joined hands could not been seen. “Please don’t scare me like that again too soon.”

  “I’ll wait a few days first, hmm?” Matt kept his tone light and could see by the way Ken’s lips curved at the sides that he’d taken it for the joke it was meant to be. Damn it, he wished he could take Ken into his arms and kiss him, that they could hold each other and give in to the illusion that being together was all that mattered in the world.

  But it wasn’t, and they had a mission to complete.

  “Stop thinking,” Ken said softly. “It doesn’t pay to, with everything going on. Not about this or about us. There will be time for that later.”

  “Will there?”

  “I don’t want to think about it until I have to.” Ken spoke the words in a matter-of-fact tone, almost devoid of emotion. He did that when he didn’t want to talk about something, even if it needed to be said.

  “I don’t either.” Usually Matt would have cracked another joke to try to lighten the mood and move the conversation along, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and doubted Ken would appreciate it.