Ludwig was wrong.
They were not going to break me.
Not today. Not ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ravensbrück was a women’s concentration camp about an hour outside of Berlin. Female prisoners came from all over occupied Europe and were forced into hard labor while enduring grotesquely inhumane living conditions. Thousands had already died there as a result of starvation, disease, and execution.
Upon Ludwig’s orders, this was where I—his former love and the mother of his child—was to be sent. Within an hour, I was taken outside in handcuffs and shoved into the back of a prison truck with six other women. Like me, they were bruised and beaten. They sat in silence, meekly, on wooden benches on either side of the vehicle, watching me with vacant eyes.
A feeling of hopelessness flooded through me. I felt nothing but despair. All I wanted to do was lie down and die. If it weren’t for Edward waiting for me back home in England, I might have been content to give up in the back of that truck, rather than continue this fight and face a future full of more physical and mental abuse. But I had done my job. I had not revealed any secrets to the enemy. I could be proud of that, at least. Now, my fate would lie in God’s hands. I prayed he would be merciful.
Shortly before we departed, the rear door of the truck opened, and another woman was pushed inside with the rest of us. She landed forcibly on her hands and knees on the metal floor. As soon as I saw her, I had to fight to keep from crying out in release.
I waited for the door to swing shut, then I dropped to my knees beside her. “Deidre. It’s me, Simone. I’m so happy to see you.”
She lifted her head. One of her eyes was swollen shut. The tips of her fingers on both hands were bloody and bruised because her fingernails had been torn out. God only knew what else they had done to her, but when she heard my voice, she smiled up at me.
Rising to her knees, she embraced me by looping her handcuffed wrists over the top of my head. We cried together, softly with relief. Then the engine started, and we lurched forward.
“I had no idea what happened to you after Fay-aux-Loges,” Deidre said as we crawled to the bench to sit together. “They took me away and wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“They wouldn’t tell me anything about you either.” I examined her black eye, touched it gently with the pad of my thumb, and shook my head. “Monsters.”
“You don’t look so well yourself,” she replied, putting on a brave face. “At least we’re alive. I didn’t talk. Did you?”
“No. Not even when they came at me with a hot poker. I just hope we were the only ones who were caught. I hope the others are safe.”
The truck rumbled noisily through the busy streets of Paris. It was a bumpy ride in the sweltering heat inside the armored vehicle.
“I wonder where they’re taking us,” Deidre said.
“To Ravensbrück, I think.”
“Ravensbrück? God help us. Are you sure?”
“I think so. A Wehrmacht officer suggested it during my interrogation, and here we are.”
Deidre regarded me intently for a long, uneasy moment. “Did you know him, Simone?”
Feeling suddenly exposed—not just as a spy, but as April, a woman who had stolen her sister’s identity and had been living a lie since the London Blitz—I met Deidre’s gaze with a frown of apprehension. “Why do you ask me that? Did he say something?”
“Yes, he said he knew you before the war. That you were lovers in Berlin.”
I had become such a master at never blowing my cover, not even at Grantchester Hall in England, but suddenly I stumbled. I couldn’t form a response.
“He told me that you answered his questions,” Deidre continued, “and that he arranged for your release, and that you were safe in a hotel in Paris. He said that you begged him to help me, too, because we were friends, and that if I talked, he would send me to join you, and we’d be free to go.”
I reached for her hand. “You didn’t believe him, I hope.”
“Of course not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. But I knew you wouldn’t talk. But even if I didn’t know that for sure, I never would have given them what they wanted.”
I tipped my head back. “I’m glad. As you can see, I’m not in a Paris hotel. I wish I was, though.”
She continued to watch me, warily. “Did you really love him, Simone? Once?”
A single traitorous tear spilled from my eye, but I fiercely wiped it away. “Yes. But that was before the war. He was a good man back then. I swear it. At least, I thought he was. But maybe I was wrong about that.”
Deidre swayed on the seat as we turned a corner. “Maybe you weren’t. War changes people.”
I thought of something he’d once said to me, before we parted in Paris. All this is going to weigh heavily on my conscience.
Perhaps, in the end, he had to turn off that part of himself that suffered when he was forced to do terrible things. Perhaps he’d buried it forever.
Deidre continued to watch me. I wondered if she sensed the truth—that I was devastated at the loss of him.
“What a failure I am as a spy,” I finally said.
“No. You didn’t talk. That’s all that matters.”
Over the next hour, we shared the horrors of our interrogations. Other women seated across from us shared what they had been through as well.
Eventually, Deidre closed her eyes and rested her head on my shoulder. She spoke quietly, to me alone. “I’m glad to be out of there, but it’s not over. You know what they do to SOE agents in prison camps, don’t you? I’ve heard stories.”
I swallowed hard. “I’ve heard stories too. But we shouldn’t think about that. We’re alive right now, and that’s a blessing. And the Allies are here. That’s something to be hopeful for, isn’t it?”
We drove all afternoon and evening until it was dark and quiet in the French countryside. There were no more honking horns or sirens blaring, just the endless moan of the engine. By my estimates, we were somewhere close to the Belgian border.
Some of us managed to sleep by lying down on the floor of the truck, but I couldn’t stop reliving what had occurred back in Paris, when I had finally been reunited with Ludwig. I was still in shock over it, and with every moment that passed, I dove deeper and deeper into a terrible pit of anguish. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt, for I’d never known such betrayal, nor had I seen it coming. Not from Ludwig. Perhaps that was the worst part of all. He must have known what the interrogators had already done to me, but he was unaffected. He’d learned I was a British agent, and that was more important to him than the love we once shared or the fact that I had borne him a son.
How could he not care?
As we drove on, the broken pieces of my heart still wanted to believe that it might have been an act—that he simply couldn’t reveal that he cared for me, not in front of Klein—but I couldn’t allow myself to entertain such hopes. I had seen the emptiness in his eyes, heard the callousness in his voice. Then he left me to try and trick Deidre into giving up the Gray Ghost.
Over and over, I told myself that the Ludwig I once knew was gone. That man was dead, and my love for him must be purged from my heart.
That fire must finally be extinguished.
I jolted awake at the sound of machine guns being fired, followed by a sudden jerking swerve that hurled all of us against the side wall of the prison truck. I knocked heads with a woman from Poland who couldn’t speak English, and the pain reverberated inside my skull like the vibrations on a dinner gong. The rubber tires screeched on the pavement, and the vehicle weaved into a long sideways skid. Another woman fell on top of me, and everyone was screaming and crying, except for me. I had no more tears.
The truck drew to a halt, and I heard men shouting in French, followed by a few gunshots.
Though I was shaken from the accident, I sat up quickly and checked myself for further injuries, outside of those I had sustained in the interrogation rooms at Avenue F
och. All six of the other women got up as well. No one was crying or moaning any longer. We all seemed quite alert and ready for anything.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and there stood Armand. He was gripping his Sten gun, his eyes wild as he scanned our faces. Spotting Deidre, who was sitting on her backside on the floor, he held his hand out to her. “Come quickly. You too, Simone.”
I didn’t hesitate. I put one foot in front of the other and leaped out of the truck. A Frenchman in a black beret came around from the front of the vehicle with a ring of keys that jangled as he unlocked our handcuffs.
“Are you both all right?” Armand asked. “Jesus, what did they do to you? Never mind. We have to get out of here.” He turned to speak to the other women who were clambering out of the truck behind us. “This man will free you, then you are on your own. The next town is two miles due south, but you might want to keep to the forest.”
“Merci, monsieur!” one of them said, holding out her cuffed hands to the Frenchman.
“Follow me,” Armand said in a low voice, leading Deidre and me down the road in an easy jog until the glare of approaching headlights appeared from around the bend.
We all stopped. My blood lit with adrenaline. My first instinct was to dash into the woods, and I started to make a run for it, but Armand grabbed hold of my arm.
A large black Mercedes pulled to a halt in front of us. A German officer got out. The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and I grabbed for Armand’s gun. He snatched it back just as I fired into the sky.
“It’s Hans!” he shouted at me.
My knees nearly gave out, and I ran forward, straight into Hans’s arms. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was you.”
“It’s this stinking uniform,” Hans said. “I can’t wait to get it off me. Now get in the car. Let’s go. Hurry up. That’s it.”
Armand, Deidre, and I scrambled into the back seat. Hans got into the driver’s seat, shifted into reverse, and sped backward about two hundred feet. Then he swung the vehicle around and turned into a farmer’s field.
“Where are we going?” I asked, sitting forward.
“We arranged a pickup for you,” Hans replied as he shut off the headlights and drove by the light of the moon.
Armand laid a hand on Deidre’s knee. “You’ll be back in London in time for breakfast.”
“Thank God.” Then she frowned. “But what about you? You’re coming with us, aren’t you?”
“No, the pickup is just for the two of you. I’ve got a few things to take care of here.”
Deidre knew better than to argue. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, while I sat back, overcome with relief that we had been delivered from whatever fate awaited us at Ravensbrück. Soon, I would be back on British soil, and I would see Edward again. There would be no more hot pokers on my back, or beatings, or relentless questions about the Gray Ghost. Ludwig would become a thing of the past. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was just to be alive.
Turning in the seat, I glanced back at the road, praying that the SS weren’t on our tail, but for the moment, it was quiet.
Thank God, I whispered to myself and leaned forward to squeeze Hans’s shoulder. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror and gave me a nod. I knew he understood. The look in his eyes told me that he understood everything.
An emergency pickup by a Lysander aircraft was an extremely dangerous operation. It wasn’t the same as dropping supplies from a heavy Hudson or Whitley. The Lysander was a small, light aircraft with a skeleton crew—a pilot and dispatcher. No gunners. The pilot might carry a pistol, but that was all. It was also much slower than a bomber, therefore much more vulnerable in the sky.
Hans drove the stolen Mercedes to the top of a grassy hill, where four French Resistance fighters were waiting for us with flashing bicycle lamps to signal the location for the landing ground. We all got out of the car. As I looked up at the stars, I realized my head was bleeding. I wiped at my temple, then crouched down to wipe my bloody hand on the cool grass.
Hans appeared and knelt beside me. He passed me a handkerchief, which was embroidered with a swastika. “It was in the glove box,” he said apologetically. “At least it’s been laundered.”
I managed a small smile and dabbed at the blood that was matted in my hair. “Thank you for coming to help us. I’ll never forget it.”
“I’m glad you’re all right. And I’m sorry for whatever they did to you.”
We both rose to our feet at the sound of an airplane approaching without lights. It was almost impossible to see because it was camouflaged with gray and green paint. The Lysander touched down and pulled to a halt, but the pilot kept the engine running. The doors flew open, and a dispatcher leaned out and beckoned to us.
After saying a quick goodbye to Hans, I ran with Deidre and Armand toward the plane. I hopped into a passenger seat while Deidre kissed Armand passionately. Then she climbed in next to me. I buckled my safety belt, then noticed Jack Cooper at the controls in the cockpit.
“Jack!” I shouted over the noise of the engine.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Good to see you made it!”
I felt an overwhelming wave of happiness as the door slammed shut and Jack turned the plane around for a fast takeoff. Within seconds we were lifting off the ground and climbing toward the sky.
Turning to look out the window as the plane banked left, I peered down at the field below, hoping to catch a glimpse of Armand, Hans, and the others, but it was dark, and all their lamps had been extinguished. They had already dispersed. Nevertheless, it was a magnificent sight to behold—to see clusters of cottages, church spires, and shadows on the fields, cast by small clouds passing in front of the moon.
Tipping my head back to try to relax during our steep, jerky upward ascent, I clenched my fist at the burning agony on my back, which made me squirm in my seat. But even as painful as it was, it was nothing compared to the horrible future I had just escaped.
I was going home.
I had never felt so grateful to be anywhere in my life.
It was a shame that those moments of extreme gratitude couldn’t have lasted a little longer. We were barely five minutes into our journey when we were caught in the swinging beam of a searchlight, and antiaircraft guns began to fire at us from the ground.
Ack-ack-ack! Ack-ack-ack!
Dozens of bullets punctured the undercarriage and wings, and I bent forward, wondering if the torture would ever end.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Shit!” Jack pulled up, using full throttle to take us higher.
“Jerries are still firing!” the dispatcher shouted as he peered out the window. “Starboard side!”
It was a rough, bumpy climb toward the clouds as we bounced and thrashed around on violent air currents. I stiffened with fright, gripped the seat, and held on fast.
Bang! Thwack!
We pitched to the left, then right.
“Are we going to be okay?” Deidre shouted, but Jack and the dispatcher were too busy to answer.
Suddenly, we were inside a cloud, surrounded by darkness. There were no more bullets, but we were still taking a pounding, as if we were vaulting over giant boulders. When we flew out of it, the turbulence gave way, and the moon lit up the sky again. The stars came into view, and suddenly, everything was peaceful and quiet.
Jack leveled us out.
We all sat in silence, recovering from the terror that had gripped us mere seconds earlier.
When we were certain that we were out of range of the German guns on the ground, Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Everyone okay back there?”
“We’re fine,” I replied. “Thank you.”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he replied. “Let’s hope we don’t bump into the Luftwaffe on the way home.”
“Let’s hope,” Deidre said to me with a dire expression on her face.
Still in pain from the burns on my back, I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat and counted to ten to distract mys
elf.
Eventually, I rested my forehead on the window. My eyelids felt heavy. How long had it been since I’d slept? I couldn’t remember, so I turned to my side to take the pressure off my burns and attempted to drift off. I managed to doze, but there were no dreams. Not this time.
Deidre slapped my arm. “Simone, wake up!”
“What is it?” I came to groggily.
“Something’s wrong.” She pointed at Jack, who was pounding at the control panel with his fist.
“What’s happening?” I asked him, sitting forward.
“We’ve been leaking fuel,” he replied.
I noticed how quiet it was, and I looked out the window at the ground below. We had lost altitude. Had the engine stalled? Yes, it must have, because we were gliding.
“We’re not going to make it back to England tonight,” Jack told us.
“Will we crash?” Deidre asked.
“Not if I can help it.” He was straining to look out each side window.
“It’s all forest down there,” the dispatcher said ominously.
“I see that.”
They were looking for a field to land in, but there were no open spaces. I began to wonder if this was how it would all end—in a spiraling descent to the ground, followed by a fiery crash. At least I was with friends, no longer at the mercy of the Nazis. Better this than a firing squad.
Jack pointed at something. “There.”
Deidre and I craned our necks to see out the front windscreen. A shiny oblong surface appeared in the gloom.
“It’s a lake,” I said.
Jack throttled back and raised the flaps.
The dispatcher turned around. “Can everyone swim?”
Deidre and I both nodded, but I couldn’t imagine what Jack was thinking, to land our little plane on the water. How could we survive that?
Time slowed to a surreal pace as we continued to descend. My heart hammered in my chest. Heaven help us. We were just coasting on the wind . . . down . . . down . . . whispering over the forest. We were so close I feared we might graze the treetops.
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