by Anne Barwell
As Reiniger neared the commander’s office, the door opened. Liang ducked into a side room and pressed himself against the wall. There were a few empty rooms in this tunnel, several of which had been converted into storerooms. Liang saw a pile of torches in a nearby box, grabbed one, and shoved it in his pocket. At least now if he had to hide in another darkened room he’d be able to see.
He heard familiar voices from the corridor outside his hiding place—Reiniger and Holm. Liang couldn’t quite make out their conversation as both men spoke quietly, but he caught the words “Lehrer” and “matter of time.” Neither boded well.
Damn it. He needed to get closer. Liang peered through the crack between the hinges of the open door, hoping for some visual clues.
Sébastien walked past, only pausing to salute both men. They returned the salute and continued with their conversation. Whatever information Arlette had given them, she hadn’t betrayed Sébastien, as neither man had seen him as any more than the soldier he pretended to be.
After what seemed forever, Reiniger saluted and continued on his way. Holm watched him, a minute smile on his face, and then walked in the opposite direction, turning left at the end of the corridor.
Damn it. Matt, get out of there.
The last thing this rescue needed was for Holm and Matt to come face-to-face. Unless Matt got the upper hand and killed the bastard. Liang wouldn’t have an issue with that in the slightest.
Not after everything Holm had done.
The corridor empty once more, Liang slipped out of the room and hurried to catch up with Reiniger. Hopefully by the time he found Michel, Sébastien would be finished in the radio room and they could all leave together. They still had plenty of time between the end of this shift and the beginning of the next.
Reiniger turned right, toward another section of the bunker. This corridor led to the water storage tank. Given his route, it looked as though he was checking supplies, although Liang thought Reiniger would have delegated tasks like that. Maybe he’d decided to stretch his legs after hours of doing God knew what—not something Liang wanted to dwell on.
Finally Reiniger began to retrace his footsteps but, instead of leading Liang somewhere useful, he entered the personnel building, supposedly heading for his quarters. He’d told Beutel to meet him where Michel was being held. Why the hell wasn’t he heading there now? He’d given Margarete plenty of time to work her so-called charm on the prisoner. Not that that would do her much good. Michel was too smart to fall for any of her tricks. At least Liang hoped he was. Men didn’t always think clearly when tortured. Hell, Liang still couldn’t remember what he’d told Holm that day over three months ago. Truth be told, he didn’t want to remember.
Bloody hell. Liang had had enough of this. He’d already wasted too much time. Michel and Ken had rescued him from a cell he’d thought he’d never get out of alive. It was time to return the favor. If Reiniger wouldn’t tell him where Michel was, at least Liang could put an end to this nightmare.
Reiniger had left the door to his quarters unlocked. Liang drew his gun and slipped inside, then closed the door quietly behind him. Reiniger had taken off his holster and placed the weapon on a side table.
“I left orders that I wasn’t to be disturbed.” Reiniger sat at a desk with his back to the door. His eye patch lay on a pile of papers. Reiniger sounded annoyed, and his shoulders slumped as if he was tired.
Liang moved silently, waiting until he was between Reiniger and his weapon before speaking. “I’ve never been good at obeying orders.”
“Verdammt.” Reiniger turned and reached for his gun in one motion.
Liang shook his head. “I have the power this time, Herr Reiniger, not you.”
Reiniger glared at Liang through one eye. A jagged scar ran from his forehead through his closed eyelid to his cheek. Ragged skin that had been stitched closed was all that was left of his right eye.
“I hope that eye still gives you trouble,” Liang said. “It’s the least you deserve for everything you’ve done.”
“At least I’m still alive,” Reiniger sneered, “which is more than I can say for your pilot friend. He died begging for his life, showing himself to be the coward he was.”
Liang snorted. “You tell yourself that. We both know that wasn’t the case.” Leo Dawson had sacrificed himself to save the rest of their team. It would have taken one hell of a lot of courage to light that dynamite, knowing he was sentencing himself to death as well.
“If you’ve come to kill me, get on with it,” Reiniger said. “You’re a scientist, Doktor Zhou, not a soldier. I don’t believe you have the courage to pull that trigger.” He stood. “I’m going to collect my gun, and then I’m going to arrest you. Let’s see how determined you are once you’re in custody. You remember what being in custody was like, don’t you?”
“Sit down!” Liang barked. He’d had enough of this shit. “Where’s Michel?”
Reiniger laughed. “You’ve come to rescue him. Is that it? You repaying the favor you think you owe him? You’re too late. All you’ve done is hand yourself over to Standartenführer Holm.” He took one step toward the side table.
Liang shot him in the leg. Twice.
Reiniger crumbled to the floor and gasped in pain. “You shot me!”
“I’m not the same man I was, Herr Reiniger,” Liang said. “What you did to me changed that.” He shook his head in disgust at the man on the floor at his feet. “If Michel is dead, you’re of no use to me.” He raised his weapon.
Reiniger’s mouth trembled. The bully who had caused others so much pain was now little more than a scared man in fear for his life. “You won’t kill me.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Liang tightened his grip on the gun. His knuckles were white. He’d waited so long to kill the man who had captured him and made his life hell.
This was his chance to finish this, to get revenge. To hear Reiniger beg for mercy.
His hand shook.
Damn it.
Liang wanted to kill him. Why couldn’t he? He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. But this Reiniger wasn’t the man from Liang’s nightmares. If he shot Reiniger now, he’d be no better than his tormenter.
No point in swapping one set of nightmares for another.
“No, I won’t kill you,” Liang said. The bullets had caused little more than a flesh wound, though they would still hurt like hell. Keeping his weapon aimed at Reiniger, Liang looked around for something to restrain him with. “Use your handcuffs on yourself. I know you still have them.”
Reiniger hesitated. Liang aimed his gun at his other leg.
“If you don’t, I’ll shoot you again. Your choice, Obersturmführer. Whatever you decide, you and your precious Standartenführer Holm are finished. You’re not my problem anymore.”
Once Reiniger was restrained, a quick search of his belongings supplied the belt and a couple of ties needed to finish the job. Liang stood back to admire his handiwork.
The ground shook. The lights went out.
Liang heard a thud in front of him. Luckily he’d already had his back against the wall so hadn’t lost his balance. He retrieved the torch he’d found earlier and switched it on. Reiniger lay on his side, still strapped firmly to his chair. Liang couldn’t help but smile grimly when Reiniger glared at him and muttered something through his gag.
“I’m guessing that was a close hit by some of our chaps in the RAF.” He whispered in Reiniger’s ear to ensure Reiniger could still hear him through the howling siren. “It looks as though the Allied invasion has started. With any luck, they’ll be the ones to find you, as your men are going to be busy saving themselves.”
He headed for the door, leaving Reiniger alone in the darkness.
KEEP CALM. Keep calm.
Matt repeated the words silently. His heart pounded, and his skin felt clammy.
Darkness and fire.
A life without Ken.
Ken could already be dead.<
br />
Of those realities, Matt knew which one he preferred. Fuck this. He steeled himself. If Ken was still alive but died because Matt couldn’t fight the fears that had ruled him for far too long, he’d never forgive himself.
He almost jumped when he felt something brush against his leg. Matt tightened his shaking hand on his gun. Another touch. This time stronger, familiar, and from behind him.
Relief flooded Matt, but he couldn’t give in to the emotion now. Ken was alive. Matt felt behind him, ran his fingers across Ken’s hand. Ken caught Matt’s hand and squeezed it before letting go. He shifted, and Matt felt Ken’s back against his own.
He must have dropped to the floor when Holm had fired, and shuffled backward, using the siren to mask the sound of his movements. Ken had always thought quickly under fire. Because he was so unsteady, the floor was the safest place as there was nowhere left to fall. Staying together back to back also meant they knew where they both were.
Where the hell was Holm?
If Holm had any sense, he’d stay still and not reveal his whereabouts. No point trying to hit a target in the dark. They’d have to keep quiet and wait for the lights to come back on. Why couldn’t he see the fire? Damn it. Where was the door?
Outside the room, men shouted. Matt heard the noise of a fire extinguisher being used. Ken must have heard it too—he rested his hand on Matt’s thigh briefly.
The siren stopped wailing. The fire must be out, but for how long?
If this had been an air raid, the bombers would be aiming for the battery artillery. If they hadn’t gotten it the first time, they’d try again.
Matt tried to get his bearings, but it was hopeless. Even if he managed to find the door, he’d need to get past Holm.
The asshole was probably biding his time and waiting for Matt to make a mistake. Why put himself in danger and reveal his position when he didn’t need to?
Great. Was this the way his life was going to end? In a standoff with an SS officer?
Matt blinked against the sudden rush of light.
The door slammed shut.
Behind him, Ken turned and pushed Matt down in one action. Something whizzed through the air past Matt’s head.
He looked up. A pile of boxes balanced precariously above his head, the top one edging over.
Ken dragged Matt back just in time, but Holm dived out of the way, too late, and his leg was trapped under several boxes. He let out a noise that was part anger, part pain. His gun fell from his hand to the floor just out of reach. He tried to crawl toward it but couldn’t pull himself free.
Matt grabbed the gun. He slid it across the floor behind him, toward Ken.
“You haven’t won, Priest,” Holm said. “Neither of you will get out of this bunker alive.”
“Neither will you.” Matt leveled the gun at him. “I told you what I’d do if you hurt Ken. I always keep my promises.”
“You’re finished,” Holm spat. “We’ll win this war. Kill me, and someone will take my place.” He looked past Matt toward Ken. “At least I’ll die with honor. You, like your father, take the coward’s way out. You’re not the one pulling the trigger. You’re getting your deviant lover to do it for you.”
“There is nothing honorable in anything you’ve done.” Matt met Holm’s gaze. There was no sign of the gentleman Holm had once pretended to be. “The Allies are invading. Germany will fall. I promise you that.”
“I am not my father,” Ken said quietly. “I’m not killing you because I promised your sister I wouldn’t. Matt made another promise. I’m not going to stop him.”
“My sister?” Holm’s defiant expression shattered. “But she’s—”
Matt didn’t wait for the rest. “Good-bye, Herr Holm. I hope you rot in hell.” He pulled the trigger.
Holm slumped forward and lay still.
Matt lowered his gun and walked over to Ken. “Lean on me,” he said. “We’re getting out of here together.” He helped Ken from the room, only pausing to shut the door. Neither of them looked back.
Chapter Nineteen
MICHEL CLOSED his eyes. Everything hurt.
He didn’t want to die.
He bit his lip. He wouldn’t show weakness, wouldn’t be tempted to betray the person he loved. He managed a laugh, but it came out like a hoarse, twisted pretense of sound. Margarete had presumed her gloating would break him. Instead it gave Michel the hope he thought he’d abandoned hours ago.
Had it only been hours? He’d lost track of time. Margarete had left when the lights died. He wasn’t sure how long ago that had been either.
Kristopher hadn’t given in to Holm’s demands. He was still free.
Mon cher. I’m so sorry.
Michel had hoped Kristopher would never have to make the decision to sacrifice one life to save however many this bomb would take.
It was selfish, but in a way, Michel was relieved he hadn’t had to make the choice. He hated that Kristopher had, but Kristopher was strong, much more so than he gave himself credit for. If Michel had seen Kristopher tortured and hurt in the same way he’d been, he would have screamed at Reiniger to stop and given him anything he wanted.
He still had nightmares about when Kristopher had been shot. This would be so much worse.
Michel let his head fall forward. He was tired. He almost wished Margarete would return and finish this. It would be a mercy. Kristopher wasn’t coming. There was no point in keeping him like this.
Merde.
What if Margarete wasn’t coming back? What if she intended to leave him like this?
Michel felt a sudden panic. He yanked at his restraints, fire screaming through his arms. He moaned and blinked back tears. He wouldn’t give any of these bastards the satisfaction of thinking they’d broken him.
Je t’aime.
He heard Kristopher’s voice in his mind. He could almost feel Kristopher’s fingers brushing against his face. “Ich liebe dich auch,” he whispered. He just wanted to let go. There was nothing left.
Footsteps. Was Margarete coming back to gloat? Or…?
No.
Kristopher would be far away by now. Safe.
“Michel?”
Michel opened his eyes. When had the lights come back on? He’d given up trying to hear anything outside. Reiniger had made a point of reminding Michel that no one would hear him—or find him. His world had shrunk down to his makeshift cell and everything in it.
He tried to focus on the person standing in front of him. “Arlette?” He must be dreaming. Why dream about her, of all people?
“Yes, it’s me.” Arlette made an apologetic noise. She stretched up and yanked at the chains that held him suspended from the ceiling, his feet not quite touching the floor.
He gasped in pain. “Please….”
“I’ll be quick, I promise. It’s difficult to reach the lock.” Arlette had keys in her hand. She tried one and then another. “Mon Dieu, what have these bastards done to you?”
Finally the chains loosened, and he fell into her arms. She stroked his face and held him. He flinched. Had she…? He’d imagined Kristopher’s touch. Had it been Arlette’s?
She kissed him on the lips, gently brushing her mouth against his.
“I… I’m sorry, Arlette. I don’t love you.” Michel knew it probably wasn’t the wisest move to upset a woman who had obviously risked much to find him, but he’d let this go for far too long.
“I know that. I betrayed you. I know it’s foolish, but I had to steal a kiss, just once.” Arlette helped Michel stand. “We can talk about this later. If you want to.”
“This has nothing to do with that. My heart belongs to another.”
“A good man who loved me gave me a second chance.” Arlette cupped his face in her hands so he had to look into her eyes. The regret and sadness quickly gave way to determination. “I’m passing on that chance to you. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
Someone clapped their hands from the doorway in a slow round of applause. “How touchi
ng,” Margarete Huber said. “Both of you in love with someone who doesn’t return the sentiment, yet here you are together, despite everything you’ve done. It’s poetic in a way. Or should that be pathetic.”
“Let her go,” Michel said. “She’s already been useful to you.”
“Or you’ll what? You’re hardly in a position to make demands.” Margarete gestured toward the doorway. “As I said before, dear Kristopher isn’t coming. It appears he doesn’t love you after all.”
“Go to hell,” Arlette told her.
“This is tiresome.” Margarete aimed her gun at them. “Neither of you are of any more use. The bunker is under attack. There was always the chance Kristopher might be foolish enough to try to rescue you, and I’d be able to finish all of my business here, but it appears he considers his own welfare more important.” She shrugged. “How disappointing, although it does mean you are no longer needed. I do so dislike leaving loose ends.”
So much for her conviction Kristopher wouldn’t come.
“No!” Arlette launched herself at Margarete.
“Tsk tsk.” Margarete neatly sidestepped and fired her gun.
Arlette crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath her.
Michel’s breath hitched. “You bitch!” Despite everything she’d done, Arlette had been a friend once. He dropped to his knees. He felt numb. He knew he should feel something, but there was nothing left.
Margarete leveled her gun at him again. “Give my love to Kristopher when you see him again. I figure if I can’t have him, then he can’t have you. Good-bye, Michel.”
Michel closed his eyes. He would accept this without a fight. He’d had enough of fighting.
I’m sorry, Kit. I love you.
He heard a shot, and a woman’s scream.
Wait. What? He wasn’t dead. How?
Michel opened his eyes. He saw Margarete lying on the ground, a figure standing over her. “Go on,” he said roughly. Whatever sick joke this was, he’d had enough. “Kill me now. Finish it.”
“Michel, it’s me.” Kristopher looked down at him. The gun wavered in his hand. “Don’t you recognize me?”