by Anne Barwell
This couldn’t be Kristopher. Michel felt a sudden rush of panic. It had to be a trick.
But what if it wasn’t? He couldn’t let Kristopher shoot him and kill the slim hope they could still have a future together.
Michel got to his feet slowly, not quite hiding the gasp of pain when he moved, and forced himself to take a step back. “Put the gun down.”
Please let it be him. Let this be real.
“Michel. Scheisse. What have they done to you?” Kristopher ran to Michel and pulled him into a rough embrace. “I thought… I couldn’t let her shoot you.” He sounded horrified.
“Kit.” Michel kissed Kristopher’s face. “It’s you. It’s you. What are you doing here? I thought… I thought you were safe.”
“Neither of us is safe now.” Kristopher brushed one finger over Michel’s face, his expression growing angry when Michel flinched. “Come on. I’m getting you out of here. Can you walk?”
Michel nodded. “I think so.” He had to at least try.
“There’s a dead soldier outside. Arlette must have killed him. We’ll borrow his jacket. I’ll take you out of here at gunpoint.”
“Kit—” Michel started to protest, but Kristopher put one finger over Michel’s lips.
“The Allies have begun their attack. The men out there will be more worried about that than something they expect to see. I know a way out, but we need to hurry. The bunker wasn’t seriously damaged this time, but I’m not sure what will happen if it’s hit again.”
KEN GRITTED his teeth. Any sudden movement hurt, but he didn’t have time to give in to that now. He’d shoved Holm’s gun into the waistband of his pants at his back and draped his shirt over it. As Matt still wore his German uniform, he’d given Ken his jacket. They’d already passed a few injured men, so no one questioned another.
The lighting might have been repaired, but it was dimmer than usual. If this was an Allied attack, it was only a matter of time before they targeted the battery again.
“We need to find Michel,” Ken said.
“I’m getting you out first, and then I’ll go back for him.” Matt didn’t sound happy.
“It might be too late then.” Ken paused to catch his breath. “At least let’s check any rooms we pass in case he’s there.”
“Depending on how long it takes us to get out of here, it will be too late. Do you have any idea where they were keeping Michel?”
Ken shook his head. “They kept us separate.” He started to walk again. Matt slipped an arm around Ken’s waist when he swayed on his feet. “I don’t know what state he’s in, or if he’s still alive.”
“I’ll do what I can for him,” Matt said, “but I can’t help both of you at once, and I’m not risking you for him when he might already be dead.”
“You’re not just concerned the Allies are going for round two, are you?” Ken asked. A horrible thought struck him. “Is Arlette still working with you? You can’t trust her. She’s—”
“She’s dead—executed as a traitor.” Matt said the words without any inflection. They’d talk about it later. “And yes, it’s not just that.”
“Better to get out of here, then.” Ken guessed what Matt wasn’t saying. They’d have hardly gone to the trouble of getting into the bunker without causing some damage on their way out. If the Allies didn’t get them, whatever explosives Matt’s team had set would finish the job.
Matt hesitated when they reached the end of the corridor. “Stay here.” He ducked around the corner.
The ground lurched. Ken grabbed at the wall. The siren began to wail again.
A loud crack was followed by shouting and coughing. Ken peered into the corridor on his right. Dust filled the air. He coughed. Oh God. Matt had just gone that way. Ken took a step forward and reached for his weapon as a dust-covered figure ran toward him.
“Change of plan,” Matt said. “We’re getting out the way we came in. A section of the ceiling has caved in. It’s passable but most of the men are heading for the personnel shelter. They know this bunker is done for. It’s a narrower tunnel out this way, so only the men working close by will try to use it.”
“You hope, and they’re more done for than they realize,” Ken muttered. That hadn’t been an explosion from inside the bunker. The Allies had dropped another bomb.
“Straight ahead to the end of this corridor, through one room, and up the steps. Think you can manage?”
Ken nodded grimly. “I’ll be right behind you.” I hope.
“Together, or not at all.” Matt wrapped his arm around Ken again and half helped, half dragged him through the corridor.
The office at the end was empty. Ken hoped like hell Michel had managed to get out. They couldn’t do anything for him now.
Matt let go of Ken when they reached the steps leading to the surface. “Only room for one,” he said, shoving Ken in front of him.
He only got a glimpse of the night air before Matt tackled him, slamming them both to the ground as the underground bunker exploded behind them.
Ken coughed, trying to catch his breath. Luckily most of the explosion had been trapped inside. The ground shook a couple of times and then was still. The siren stopped abruptly as though its throat had been cut.
He sat up, shivering. “Matt? Matt!”
“I’m here,” Matt said hoarsely. He gave Ken a brief hug, breaking it quickly when they heard someone approaching.
“You made it.” Sébastien seemed pleased to see them. Ken looked past him and froze.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Ken ground out. He and Matt both drew their guns and pointed them at Esser.
“He’s one of the good guys, believe it or not.” Liang pushed past Sébastien and strode over to what was left of the steps. “I left Reiniger in there. He’s…. I didn’t leave him to die.”
Matt put one arm briefly over Liang’s shoulder. “He deserved everything he got.” He turned to Sébastien and Esser. “We didn’t find Michel. You managed to get him out, right?” He paled. “You did find him?”
“I’m sorry,” Sébastien said. “We found Liang just before the second siren sounded, and we got out together through the personnel shelter. It was too dangerous to stay any longer.”
“Oh hell.” Matt closed his eyes. Ken wished he could take him into his arms and hold him.
Damn this all to hell.
Liang started to head down the steps.
Matt caught his arm. “You can’t go down there. There’s nothing left. I’m sorry.”
Liang struggled against Matt’s grip, but Matt held him tightly. “Kristopher’s still in there. Sébastien saw him. He was going to find Michel.”
“He was supposed to stay at the church. He was supposed to be…. All this and for….” Matt let go of Liang’s arm. His shoulders slumped.
“We’ve all lost good people today.” Sébastien sighed. “I’m going to go find the rest of my cell, if there is anyone left alive. The invasion is only just beginning, and this fight is far from over.”
Esser gave Matt a nod. “I need to surrender myself to you, as the senior Allied officer here.”
“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Matt told Esser. “Go help Sébastien. You can surrender once we make contact with the Allied troops.” The Allies would have dropped troops by parachute behind enemy lines to help with the sabotage ahead of the invasion—the Germans wouldn’t give up France that easily. “Be careful. This night is going to be a long one.”
Sébastien gave Matt a salute. “It’s been an honor working with you. All of you.” He indicated the bunker. “Perhaps they have survived. If they got out beforehand or got to the shelter….”
“I doubt it,” Matt said. “Merci. Adieu, mon ami.”
“Adieu.” Sébastien gave each of them one last nod, and then he and Esser walked away.
KRISTOPHER STEPPED out of his hiding place as soon as Sébastien and Esser were gone. He’d hated letting his friends think he and Michel were dead, but he didn’t have a ch
oice.
Liang looked up, disbelief quickly giving way to a mix of relief and anger. “You’re alive!” He rushed over to them, studying both of them in turn, the anger in his expression growing as he looked closely at Michel. “I thought…. Don’t scare me like that again.” He turned to Matt. “Holm is finally gone?”
“Holm is dead,” Matt said evenly.
Michel squeezed Kristopher’s hand. Now they were out of the bunker, he’d stopped hiding his tiredness. He winced when Kristopher touched him, yet leaned in close to him as though he didn’t want to let go. Kristopher had told him that Matt knew about their relationship. This would be the last time either of them would be able to be so open with anyone else, and it seemed right that their last time as a team would be without secrets.
They were safe here for the few minutes they needed to finish the mission they’d started all those months ago.
Anyone with any sense would be either trying to flee the bunker from the other exits or staying well away. With the Allied invasion force on their way, there were two options—escape or surrender.
“We barely got out in time,” Kristopher said. The second siren had howled as they’d reached the personnel shelter. By the time they’d made their escape through one of the exits, men were already heading into the shelter from the other side. Kristopher had slammed the door shut behind them, and they’d run, not stopping or looking back until they knew they were clear.
“I’ll tell London you were in there when it was destroyed,” Matt said. “Do you still have Benoit’s identity papers?”
Kristopher handed them over. Finding a body to claim as his wouldn’t be a problem. Not everyone would have made it to the shelter in time.
“I don’t have mine,” Michel said.
“Not a problem.” Matt shrugged. “I never knew your real name, and although I didn’t find you, I have no idea where you are.”
“If you’re going, you need to do it now before you’re seen by anyone else.” Ken held out his hand. “Keep your heads down and survive this damned war.”
Michel shook Ken’s hand. “It’s been an honor working with you,” he said. “All of you. Thank you.”
“Our so-called simple mission turned into anything but, didn’t it?” Matt gave Michel a loose hug when it was his turn to shake hands.
“I always thought you were overly optimistic,” Liang said, “and now I know you better, I’m convinced of it.” He shook Michel’s hand, then gave Kristopher a hug. “I’m expecting a card after the war. Don’t disappoint me,” he whispered.
“I won’t.” Kristopher exchanged a hug with Matt. “One year after the war. Talk to Liang,” he whispered. “Au revoir, my friends. Stay safe, and thank you.”
He turned away, blinking back tears. Although they’d arranged to meet, he knew he’d never see them again. It was safer that way. If someone had told him before all this had started that he’d be standing outside a bunker in Normandy saying good-bye to a British man and two Americans, he would have never believed it. They’d all been thrown together, and grown into not only a team, but a makeshift family.
Michel leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. Kristopher saw Matt put his arm around Ken. Even Liang seemed subdued.
“Thank you,” Michel said softly. He offered his hand to Kristopher. “Come on, mon cher. We need to go.”
“I know,” Kristopher said quietly, slipping his hand into Michel’s. He’d hold on to it for as long as he could.
Kristopher Lehrer was dead. He wouldn’t use that name again. It was the way it had to be.
He looked back over his shoulder once more, then followed Michel into the new life they would build together.
Epilogue
KRISTOPHER DREW his bow over the strings of his violin, his fingers swaying back and forth in a gentle vibrato. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the melody of the Brahms Lullaby. Over the violin, the counterpoint played by the flute added to the richness of the music, both instruments complementing each other yet coming together in unison for the final note.
Instead of lowering his instrument immediately, Kristopher stood for a few moments, lost in memories of not only the music, but the man sharing the duet with him.
“I never tire of playing music with you.” Michel smiled. He put his flute on the table, then carefully returned it to its case.
“That was beautiful,” Kristopher said. “You promised me a duet not long after we met, but you’ve given me so much more.”
“More than one duet, and many more to come, I hope.” Michel took Kristopher’s violin and set it down. He then pulled him close and kissed him gently on the lips. “I still remember that first time we played together. We were both very out of practice.”
Kristopher chuckled. “I’m sure your cousin wondered if she’d done the right thing in giving me her violin.”
“Even out of practice, you were still a better player than she ever was, and she knew it.” Michel rested their foreheads together. “There were too many moments when I thought we’d never reach this point in our lives.”
“Too many close calls, mein Schatz.” Kristopher wrapped his arms around Michel’s waist. “I worried every time you went on a mission, but I knew you had to do what you could to help finish the war.”
After leaving Cyrville-sur-Mer, they’d spent most of the following year moving around France, helping the Resistance when they could, yet not staying too long in one place. Neither could, in good conscience, find somewhere to hide and sit out the rest of the war. They’d been careful, though. Kristopher had done his bit behind the scenes, never placing himself in a position where he could be compromised or caught, while Michel took a more active role.
Finally, after France had been liberated in May, they’d come home to Melun. Michel’s parents had welcomed Kristopher into their family, introducing him as Kit, a distant cousin from Switzerland. Although he spoke French fluently now, the story covered his German accent, which he would never completely lose. He’d settled into life as a farmer, the hard work bringing him a sense of peace he’d never thought he would have.
One day Michel would inherit the farm from his father, but in the meantime, Jérôme Faber had told them to make one of the smaller worker’s cottages their own. It gave them some privacy and a safe place to be open with each other about their relationship. Michel had told his family of Arlette’s death, of how she’d died trying to save him. People knew she’d been sweet on him, so they presumed that in his grief he’d decided to remain a bachelor. It made sense for the distant cousins—and close friends—to share the cottage especially as Kristopher—Kit—had lost his family during the war and had nowhere else to go.
“We both did what we could,” Michel said softly. He always knew when Kristopher was thinking of the friends they’d made, and lost. “We all did.”
ALTHOUGH IT was a year after the war had finished, being back in France still brought back memories Matt preferred to forget. He’d been surprised to get the letter from Liang—they hadn’t been in contact since the news that the bombs had been dropped on Japan and the war was well and truly over.
Not that the letter had said much. Nevertheless, Matt and Ken had decided to keep the appointment with Liang, so here they were, sitting in Le Café Magalie, off Avenue des Champs-Élysées. The owner of the café—a middle-aged Frenchman who introduced himself as Brice—had directed them to a group of tables near a large window looking out onto the street.
The café’s decor was simple yet welcoming. Round wooden tables were placed at intervals around the room, covered with pale yellow tablecloths, and each decorated with a vase with a single flower. The walls were a paler shade—a few brushstrokes suggesting the illusion of sheaves of wheat rather than confirming it. A radio provided background music, its volume carefully chosen not to intrude on conversation.
Their tables had been booked, Brice had told them with a smile, and it was his mission to ensure their visit to Le Café Magalie would be a very pleasan
t one. Matt had thought it an odd turn of phrase and attempted to continue the conversation in French in case it was a translation problem. However, Brice had chuckled and suggested they speak English if that was more comfortable. His English was very good—he’d had a good teacher—although his German still was not.
“Quit being so nervous,” Ken said. “They’ll be here. We were early.”
“Sorry. I keep having to remind myself the war is over.” Matt knew he was being foolish. He was fine—more or less—at home in Pennsylvania—but this was different. He’d spent so many months thinking of it as enemy territory.
The other patrons had given them a few looks when they’d first spoken, no doubt noticing their American accents, then returned to their own meals and conversation.
“I know,” Ken said softly. “Me too. Although it’s been a year since the war ended, coming back to France makes it feel like yesterday. Part of me wants to find a quiet table in the corner and stay out of sight.” He smiled at Matt. “Any regrets? About being here, I mean. Not the rest of it.”
“Not about here, too many about the rest of it, but none about what we have now.” Matt brushed his hand against Ken’s, careful not to linger long enough that it would be noticed. He loved the life they’d made together, although to everyone else, they were war buddies who shared an apartment over the automobile repair shop Matt owned. Ken had found his niche building and repairing radios and had set up a business nearby. He also helped Matt out in the shop on occasion—Ken had always been interested in how things worked.
“You’re easier to live with than I thought you’d be.” Ken grinned. He was far more relaxed than he used to be, although his sense of humor hadn’t improved any.
“Thanks. So are you.” Matt glanced over at the door again. Where the hell had Liang gotten to? He’d said he’d be at Le Café Magalie by noon. It was almost one.
Brice placed two cups of coffee on the table.