Comes a Horseman

by Anne Barwell

“Do Michel and Ken have this information?” Sébastien asked.

  “No, but—” Kristopher knew what Holm would propose if he did have Michel.

  Matt put a warning hand on Kristopher’s shoulder. “We need to find them. That is not open for negotiation. If they’re in custody, I’m not leaving them there for any longer than I have to.”

  “I can’t risk my team, especially this close to an Allied invasion,” Sébastien said. “If your men do not have the information, they are not essential to your mission, oui? I’m sorry, and I’m not happy about leaving Arlette to the mercy of those pigs either. However, she would not want us to jeopardize our operation to rescue her, and I’m sure your men wouldn’t either. We need to collect what we can from here and find somewhere safer. If the Germans do not know where we are now, it is only a matter of time before they do.”

  “To hell with whether they’re essential or not.” Kristopher felt himself grow cold. If he gave himself up, it wouldn’t stop Reiniger from torturing Michel, just because he could. He couldn’t let the plans fall into the hands of the Nazis, but he wasn’t prepared to lose Michel either. “I’m not leaving—”

  “Paul,” Matt said. “You are not going after them. We’ll find a way. I’m not leaving any of them. I know what Holm and Reiniger are capable of. I….” His voice shook. “We’ll find a way, whatever it takes. I promise.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting I go after them.” Kristopher didn’t bother to hide his anger. “I know the importance of this mission as much as you do. Perhaps more so. But that doesn’t mean—”

  He froze midsentence when he heard a knock on the door.

  Matt already had his gun in hand. So did Sébastien.

  “Grab what you can,” Matt whispered urgently, “and get out through the trapdoor. We’ll be right behind you.”

  Another series of knocks sounded. This time it was a familiar rhythm—the code they’d used on their first visit to the church.

  Matt frowned, and then hope danced in his eyes. “They’re here at last.”

  “We don’t know that,” Sébastien pointed out. “Cover me.” He ran up the stairs and rapped a response. It wasn’t one Kristopher had heard before. A couple of long moments later, someone responded. “Who’s there?” Sébastien hissed.

  “Arlette. You have to let me in. Please.” Arlette sobbed the words.

  When Sébastien opened the door, she half fell into his arms. He held her, stroking her head. “Je t’ai, ma chérie. Tu es securité maintenant.”

  Matt ran past them and peered outside. “Where’s Ken? Where are Ken and Michel,” he asked urgently. “Where the hell are they?”

  Arlette looked up at him with tear-soaked cheeks. “It was awful. We were caught by the Germans and delivered to a SS officer. I managed to escape. They didn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “YOU’VE LED me on quite the chase, Herr Lowe.” Holm stood so close Ken could feel the heat of his captor’s breath on his cheek. “You have also lost me two prisoners. I cannot allow that to go unpunished. After all, my superiors grow impatient for results.”

  Holm was mistaken if he thought his threat would get a reaction. Ken stood staring straight ahead and didn’t reply. It hadn’t been a question, and he wasn’t foolish enough to think Holm would be satisfied with any answer he was given.

  He had to stay calm and not give Holm anything he wanted.

  Matt was still free. He needed to stay that way. Holm hadn’t mentioned any other prisoners, so Ken could let himself think Matt was safe. Right?

  Don’t try to rescue me. Don’t try to rescue…. Don’t try—

  Ken gasped and tasted blood. He tried to wipe the side of his mouth, but remembered too late that his hands were cuffed behind him.

  Holm smiled. “So you are still with us? That’s good to know. I don’t like it when people are distracted. It’s so rude. I’m sure your father didn’t raise you to disregard your manners.” Holm walked around Ken and yanked at his restraints, the rough motion sending a wave of pain through his arms. “We know where your priest is hiding.” Holm hissed in Ken’s ear, then let the linking chain of his handcuffs drop again.

  Ken took a sharp intake of breath, berating himself as soon as he’d done so.

  “Hmm,” Holm said. “As much as I regret it, it appears that dear Fräulein Huber might have a point. Friendship is a weakness. Those we trust are often the very people who betray us, don’t you think?”

  Ken gritted his teeth. He’d never forget finding Matt in that cell after Holm had finished with him. Matt had been so raw and vulnerable. His physical scars had faded, but his emotional ones probably never would. He’d cried out in his sleep for weeks afterward until he finally felt safe in Ken’s arms to let himself relax enough to sleep properly.

  “Bastard,” Ken muttered.

  “As I said,” Holm said, a slow smile turning up the edges of his thin mouth, “friends have a tendency to betray us.”

  “If you’re trying to get me to betray mine, you’re wasting your time.” Continuing to stay silent wouldn’t help him now. Ken had heard that Holm refused to stop an interrogation until he’d gotten the results he wanted.

  This was going to take a while. Ken knew he could be stubborn—Matt had told him that often enough—but Holm also had plenty of practice on his side.

  Holm pulled up a chair and pushed Ken into it. He then returned to his own chair so the desk was between them and glanced up at the guard. “Leave us, and make sure we are not disturbed.”

  “Yes, Standartenführer.” The soldier saluted and then left the room.

  Ken figured he knew what Holm would bring up next so decided he’d save him the trouble. “I’m sorry your father died in the last war. So did mine. People kill each other during a war. Neither of us knows exactly what happened, so I don’t see the point in discussing it further.”

  “An interesting theory.” Holm seemed to consider it for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve always believed people should be made to pay for their crimes. And you’re wrong. There were witnesses. My father surrendered to yours in good faith, and then your father shot him.”

  “Shit.” Ken closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to argue that his father wouldn’t have done such a thing, but he couldn’t. He’d never met Patrick Lowe. All he knew about him came from the stories his mother told him. She’d wanted him to be proud of who he was, but how well had she really known the man who had fathered her child? Patrick hadn’t married her, although he’d promised he would when he returned from the war. Men promised a lot of things before they went to war. She’d named him on Ken’s birth certificate, but no one from Patrick’s family had ever come forward to make contact. Either he’d never mentioned them, or they’d turned their backs on Cho Tsukino and her son.

  “Either you didn’t know, or you’re like your father and have a gift for deception.” Holm sounded thoughtful. “Never mind, it really doesn’t matter.”

  “I never met my father,” Ken said, wondering why he was wasting his time defending his reaction.

  “A pity. There is a strong resemblance between the two of you. I thought you were your father the first time I saw you. Foolish really, considering he is dead.” Holm opened a folder and shoved a photograph across the desk.

  Ken leaned forward so he could see it. His mother only had one photograph, which was faded and crinkled with age. This was much clearer, and for the first time, he could see the resemblance. Patrick’s hair seemed much lighter in color than Ken’s, although it was difficult to tell from the sepia photograph. If Ken squinted and looked at it from an angle, he supposed he and his father could be mistaken for each other, but he suspected Holm had seen what he wanted to.

  Several emotions chased each other—curiosity, sadness, and regret. Although he’d taken his father’s name when he’d joined up, and to avoid the internment camps, Ken had always thought of himself as Tsukino. His father was a story, a name on a birth certificate, a man whom only his mother
talked about. When Ken asked his maternal grandparents about his father, they told him the past was where it needed to be and he should focus on his future.

  “I’m surprised your Chinese friend is still working with you.” Holm retrieved the photograph and placed it carefully in his folder, which he closed again. “He was most surprised to hear that you were half Japanese, as was I.”

  “I’m not,” Ken said. “My mother is half Japanese.” He frowned. If Liang had known, he hadn’t mentioned it. Surprising, considering how often he spoke of his own family and what had happened to them at Nanking. Liang tended to confront the truth head-on and didn’t waste time sugarcoating anything.

  A memory rushed to the surface. When Ken and Michel had rescued Liang in Stuttgart, Liang had hugged him—an uncharacteristic response both men had vowed never to speak of again. He’d also said he hadn’t believed what Holm had told him, but refused to say what that conversation had been about.

  “Oh.” Ken said the word before he realized he’d done so.

  Holm smiled. “I wouldn’t count on a rescue attempt by Dr. Zhou. You’ve been keeping secrets. I do hope he hasn’t told your friend the priest. Oh yes, Matt. That’s his name, isn’t it? I have information he’s in the area. It won’t be long before he’s caught. His reaction will be most interesting, won’t it?”

  “He already knows.” Ken wasn’t about to let Holm bring Matt into this argument. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me. It’s only a matter of time before you’re finished, Herr Holm.”

  “That’s an interesting idea.” Holm chuckled. “Do you really think an Allied invasion is close at hand?” He seemed amused by Ken’s shocked expression. “Come now, of course we’re aware of the broadcast. How foolish, thinking your leaders would broadcast their invasion plans over the BBC? The very idea is ridiculous. No, I think it’s safe to assume rescue will not be coming anytime soon.” Holm wiped the smile from his face. “We’ve had enough of niceties. You have the opportunity to confirm the information I possess, and I advise you to cooperate. After all, we already have one hostage. We do not need two.”

  “I will not tell you what you want to know.” Ken kept his voice even. The hardness in Holm’s eyes made him shiver.

  Holm picked up his telephone receiver. “Send in Leutnant Beutel. I have a task for him.” He replaced the receiver in its cradle and studied it for a moment before addressing Ken once more. “You are surplus to requirements, Herr Lowe, but I am not an unreasonable man. I am giving you a chance to cooperate. Whether you do or not is your decision. However, I, unlike your father, am a man of my word. I will at least give you the chance to live once you’ve surrendered. I want you to tell me the truth. Do you understand the choice I’ve given you?”

  Yes, he understood. Ken didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t give anyone else up to this asshole. Holm had done enough to Matt already. This wasn’t about getting information or finding Kristopher. Holm had Arlette for that.

  This was about revenge.

  “Herr Lowe?” Holm prompted.

  Ken nodded. His mouth felt dry. He didn’t dare answer aloud. He wasn’t sure he could. Holm had no reason to keep him alive. He already had Michel. He didn’t need Matt. Kristopher was his target.

  Or at least he was supposed to be.

  I’m sorry, Matt. Stay safe. Survive this war. Live your life.

  Please.

  “Ah, Beutel.” Holm nodded when the Leutnant entered.

  Shit. He was the German who had attempted to rape Jacques’s daughter in Pont-Audemer.

  Ken swallowed. He bit his lip.

  Don’t react. Keep Matt safe.

  He bit his lip again, hard. Blood dribbled down his chin.

  Don’t react. Focus on the pain.

  Don’t react.

  “This man has the audacity to continue to lie to me about something I already know to be true,” Holm continued. “Do what you need to ensure his cooperation.”

  “Whatever I need?” Beutel looked at Holm in surprise.

  “Yes, Leutnant, whatever you need. That is an order.” Holm returned to studying the files on his desk. “Take him away. I’ll check on your progress later. Oh, and Beutel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He’s a friend of the man who posed as a German officer in Pont-Audemer. I’m certain I don’t need to remind you what that incident cost you, do I?”

  Beutel smiled. “No, sir. You do not.”

  “WHERE ARE they?” Matt asked Arlette. He’d given her some time to compose herself, but couldn’t wait any longer. Holm only needed one hostage and wanted revenge for his father’s death. Ken was running out of time…. Once Holm had finished doing God knew what to him….

  Matt shivered. An image came into his mind of Holm using that whip on Ken, of bare skin splitting open, blood dripping, and…. Ken wouldn’t scream. He’d retreat into himself and say nothing. He’d never beg for Holm to stop. He’d….

  “Where the hell are they?” Matt asked Arlette again. “We need to find them before it’s too late. I don’t have time for this. He…. Please, Arlette.”

  Sébastien sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Despite Arlette’s constant flirting with Michel, Sébastien was clearly sweet on her. She leaned into him as though seeking comfort, although she kept glancing toward Kristopher and away again.

  Surely she didn’t know who he was and his importance to their mission?

  “She’s been through a lot,” Sébastien said. “I’m sure she’ll tell us what she can when she can.”

  Matt opened his mouth to remind Sébastien that he’d been prepared to leave her in the hands of the enemy only a short time ago, then decided against it. He needed all the help he could get in order to get Arlette to talk, and focusing Sébastien’s anger at Matt and his team wouldn’t achieve anything.

  “Please, Arlette.” Kristopher looked pale, and his voice shook. “You’ve already told us Holm has them. Surely you must know where you escaped from. You don’t have to come with us. Just give us directions.”

  “You’re not coming with us,” Matt reminded him. He took a step back after the glare Kristopher gave him. “You know why,” he continued softly.

  “I’m not leaving him—them—there. You know as well as I do what Holm and Reiniger are capable of.” Kristopher bit his lip. “Arlette?”

  “I’m more interested in how she managed to escape.” Liang was watching Arlette closely. “Holm is not a fool. Everything he does is calculated. How could she have escaped without help? And if she did, why leave Michel behind?” He glanced at Kristopher before continuing. “I know you have feelings for Michel, Arlette. You wouldn’t have left him. What aren’t you telling us?”

  Sébastien flinched, yet he kept his arm around Arlette. “Maybe she did have help,” he said.

  Usually Matt would have intervened and berated Liang for being so direct, but he was tired of waiting for answers. “So you had help,” he prompted. If someone had helped her, perhaps they could approach him or her, and it would be a way in, a chance to rescue their own.

  Relief chased fear across Arlette’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I had help. A very kind German woman smuggled me out.”

  “What was her name?” Kristopher asked sharply. “What did she look like? How did she get you past the guards?” He took a step toward her. Matt put a warning hand on Kristopher’s shoulder. As much as he wanted to shake the truth from Arlette, it wouldn’t help. They needed to gain her trust, especially after everything she’d claimed she’d gone through.

  Arlette replied just as sharply. “We can’t get in the same way. She won’t—can’t—help.”

  For a moment, Matt could have sworn he saw real fear in her eyes. “Answer the question,” he said. A nasty suspicion formed in his mind. He wondered if Kristopher had come to the same conclusion.

  “I’ve already told you, we’re not risking our cell to rescue your men.” Sébastien squeezed Arlette’s hand. “But yes, I do agree with you. Answer the
question, Arlette. You know as well as I do that having the name of someone whom we might be able to approach would be helpful.”

  “I don’t know where they are being held,” Arlette answered an earlier question instead. “We were taken there in the back of a truck, and I hid in the trunk of a car when I was smuggled out.”

  “Margarete Huber.” Kristopher spoke the name quietly. “She would be the only woman with access to the prisoners. There are only a few people Holm would trust.”

  “I wouldn’t trust that woman with anything,” Liang muttered.

  “Holm doesn’t either,” Kristopher said, “but unfortunately he doesn’t have a choice. Her grandfather has influence and money.”

  “She was very kind,” Arlette said, “and yes, that was her name.” She hesitated before adding, “They’re somewhere by the sea, but that’s all I know. I heard the ocean, and the smell was unmistakable.”

  “That really narrows it down, given how close we are to the coast.” Liang didn’t look impressed. “Do you at least know how long you were traveling for?”

  Arlette shook her head and said nothing.

  None of the information she’d given them was particularly helpful—was that deliberate or because she truly had no clue?

  “How do you know this woman?” Sébastien stood and took a couple of steps toward Kristopher. “You have a lot of information about an officer of the SS too.” He narrowed his eyes. “I get it now. You’re the traitor! It’s because of you this has happened.”

  Kristopher stood his ground. He lowered his gaze, his pallor turning slightly green.

  Matt stepped in before Kristopher said something they’d all regret. In an indirect way, Kristopher was the reason this had happened, but Matt wasn’t about to let him take all that guilt on board. Holm was responsible for this, not Kristopher. “Arguing about all of this isn’t going to save our friends,” Matt said.

  “You might not answer me, but your expression reflects your guilt.” Sébastien glared at Kristopher. “Although I’m tempted to hand you over to the Germans, I won’t. Unlike you, I still have some honor, and I’ll be damned if I let you take that from me.” He spat at Kristopher. “Traître!”