Nightshade

by M. L. Huie

  “We’ll keep trying to get her back, of course. See if they would accept someone else, but the Reds were clear with their demand. About who they want, that is. It’s about Kostin, you see. They mean to make an example to us. Of us. Show we can’t go around killing their people.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “Dammit Livy, you know the bloody answer. Nightshade won’t last much longer over there if we don’t move on this.”

  Livy nodded and slumped back into the loveseat. Fleming put his arm around her shoulders, but she didn’t respond. Dunbar had used Margot’s code name this time. He was already distancing himself from her inevitable fate.

  Livy felt just so tired. Washington, Kostin, the “dacha,” Nadia, her frantic escape, and then the FBI. She’d come so far, and what did she have to show for it? Margot still a prisoner? How could Livy possibly go forward? She tried to imagine a life beyond this day. For her. For Margot’s fiancé. How could she leave this job—of all of them—unfinished? She wiped her eyes. Her hand came away moist. By God, she’d not cry now. She had one more question.

  “What will they do to me then?”

  Fleming jolted up. “Olivia, you can’t possibly consider this!”

  “Please tell me, Colonel. Be honest.”

  Dunbar’s focus changed. His eyes locked with hers. His voice was clear and calm. The man seemed prepared for this moment. “More than likely, they’ll put you on trial for murder. They’ll make it look legitimate and fair, of course, but make no mistake, it would be a show trial at best.”

  Livy tried to imagine what lay ahead, but it was pointless. What mattered was now. Finish the job. That’s what she did. It’s what made her who she was. And she realized there was only one thing she truly wanted in the world right now.

  “Would I be able to see Margot first?”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  One week later

  British Zone, Occupied Germany

  Livy Nash sat in the back seat of a black Vauxhall saloon, staring out the window at the German countryside. This was her first time in the country. She’d only gotten as far as the mountains of Southwest France during the war. It was almost midnight, so she couldn’t see distances, but it appeared that here there were fewer reminders of the great Allied bombing that had rained down. Berlin would be devastated. She wondered if they would take her there.

  “You can still call this off, Olivia.” Fleming sat beside her, smoking. The back of the car filled with the musky scent of his cigarettes. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Livy nodded. She’d barely moved since the car had picked them up at the nearby RAF base. She held her hands in her lap. Her eyes still focused on the passing landscape. She’d spent the night before reading her copy of Hamlet, and found comfort in how the prince faced his inevitable fate.

  “There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow … the readiness is all.”

  Not that she was ready to die. Far from it. She saw this as the only possible way to finish her job. Livy wanted to see Margot—if only for a moment—and know that her friend’s long ordeal was finally over. She’d spent the flight to Germany thinking through it all. Preparing herself. Livy’d been in an enemy prison before. Her training had taught her how to stay alive in such circumstances. Her experience in a Nazi cell had nearly killed her, but now she thought back on it as a reminder of her own resilience. Even now, as the car cruised toward its destination, her mind felt calm and her heart settled. Like Hamlet, Livy knew she had to make this right. The readiness—for whatever lay ahead—was all.

  Henry Dunbar turned around in the front passenger seat. A fair-haired Royal Army sergeant drove the car.

  “Just about two miles now,” Dunbar said. “We wait for them to make the first move, then we’ll exit the car. Once we have a visual on Nightshade, I’ll give you the signal to go. Are we clear?”

  Livy nodded. Only a few minutes now. She turned to Fleming and placed a hand on his navy jacket. His blue eyes met hers.

  “Is it true what they said about you during the war, sir? All those creative schemes you came up with?

  Fleming’s brow furrowed. “I think you know I’m still bound by—”

  “Of course,” she said. “But the stories I heard—they give a girl hope.” Livy gave him a brief smile. Fleming started to speak, then stopped himself. He took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaled the smoke, and his wide mouth curled into a grin Livy had seen many times before.

  The Vauxhall slowed. “We’re here,” Dunbar announced. Livy looked out the front window. They’d come to the edge of a forest. Beyond, tall trees lined either side of the road. Dunbar had told them earlier the exchange would take place at the point where the British and Soviet sectors met. The car stopped. The driver turned the headlamps off but left the engine idling. No one spoke. Everyone focused ahead on the road, except for Livy, who turned away and closed her eyes. She put one hand on her stomach and felt her breath. She counted each rise and fall, trying to block out the fear that invaded her mind.

  Dunbar’s voice broke the silence. “Look sharp everyone.”

  Livy turned to the front. Headlamps cut through the darkness ahead and approached through the shadows of the forest. Livy shielded her eyes as the lights came closer. Suddenly they dimmed. She blinked and could make out the shape of another car that had stopped about fifty feet away, turned at an angle to the Vauxhall.

  For what seemed like minutes, nothing happened. No one spoke. The two cars sat as if each was waiting for the other to make the first move.

  The passenger side door of the car ahead opened. Then both back doors. Three figures stepped out into the night. Livy strained to make out their features, but they were only silhouettes. Still, one shorter, smaller figure stood out. Livy sat up and tried to get a better look.

  “It’s time,” Dunbar said. As if on cue, he and the driver opened their doors. Fleming nodded at Livy as if to say, “Let’s go.” His normally bright eyes were hooded and narrow. Livy opened her door and stepped into the night. A breeze made the air bite, but she felt nothing. Her eyes were glued to the car ahead and the small figure beside it. Someone from the rear of the other car turned and took the smaller person by the arm, bringing her—it was a woman; Livy could see that now—to the front.

  Dunbar turned to Livy. Fleming came around to her side of the car and took her hand in his. Together, they walked to the front of the Vauxhall. Livy’s eyes straight ahead.

  Dunbar asked them to stop once they’d reached the spray of the car’s headlamps. “Just her now,” he said.

  Livy turned to Fleming, her hand still tight in his. His sad eyes looked beyond her as he spoke.

  “I should never have sent you, Olivia. It was selfish and wrong …”

  “Sir, please,” she said, her voice a whisper. Livy took a breath. “Now, go and impress me. I’ll be waiting.”

  Fleming glanced down at her. He nodded. “My dear, I’ll think of nothing else. Night and day.”

  Livy almost smiled. She turned away from him and looked straight ahead. The woman at the front of the other car began to walk toward them. Slowly, Livy took her first steps away from the Vauxhall, away from her life, away from England, and headed into the unknown.

  Her gaze fixed on the woman walking toward her. The lights of the car lit her from the back, so shadows masked her features. But Livy recognized the gait. The quick steps. Always in a hurry because she was late. The gap between them closed. Now twenty feet. Livy could make out her hair now, which was a bit longer. Just fifteen feet to go. She saw recognition flash across her eyes—across Margot’s eyes. It was her.

  “Livy?” The slight Lyon accent tinged with surprise.

  Now so close. Livy held out her hands and Margot took them. The two women held each other for a moment. Tears pooled in Margot’s eyes.

  “I don’t understand. What are you …?” Livy stopped the question with a long hug. She held her friend tighter than she’d even expected. Marg
ot sobbed, her body convulsing against Livy’s chest; then she pulled back.

  “You all right then, luv?” Livy asked.

  “Yes … I am, but what are you doing here? I don’t understand.”

  Livy held Margot so close. She felt her friend’s breath as Margot’s tears dripped onto the back of her hands.

  “You’re almost home. Those men’ll take good care of you.”

  “Livy, tell me what’s going on.”

  “I have to go now.”

  And she could see the thought flash across Margot’s features. In an instant she understood, and her grip on Livy’s hands tightened.

  “Don’t, luv,” Livy said. “You have a lovely fella waiting for you back in England. And a life. You let me go now, and don’t say another word.”

  “Livy, what are you doing?”

  “I’ve got to go. And so do you.” Livy pushed Margot’s hands away and started to turn. Her friend grabbed her coat and held it. Livy smiled at her and put one hand on Margot’s cheek.

  “À bientôt,” Livy said and removed Margot’s hand from her coat gently. “See you home soon.”

  With that she turned her back on her friend and took the first steps toward the waiting car. Margot was alive and going home. A great tempest rose deep inside Livy. She wanted to wail into the night, but the luxury of time was not hers.

  She could now make out the faces of the people who waited for her. A tall soldier in a Red Army uniform stood at the driver’s side. Another man in a dark suit waited at the passenger door. A young woman in a military uniform stepped out from the other side of the car. They watched her without expression.

  Livy took a deep breath and began to walk. She had about thirty feet to go. She felt her knees buckle. She pushed forward, each step an effort. She tried to focus on her breath, but it came in rapid bursts. Still, she kept the emotion in check. Twenty feet now. She wanted to turn and see Margot one more time. But she dare not. One look and she wouldn’t be able to take these last few steps, and by God she’d not be a coward. Not now.

  The young woman on the other side came forward in a hurry. She hooked her arm under Livy’s armpit and took her the last few feet. Then, she turned Livy around, facing the Vauxhall. She could see Dunbar close to Margot, speaking quickly to her. Then, they all turned and looked across the road at Livy.

  Tears ran down her cheeks. She had to let that much out. The road had been so long, but she’d finished the job. Margot was safe and would soon be back in England. Livy then felt hands gripping her arms and the steel of handcuffs, clapped tight around both wrists. She looked straight ahead, taking in every moment. Dunbar led Margot to the back seat. She stopped at the door and glanced at Livy one final time before disappearing inside. Fleming took his place beside her as Dunbar hurried around to the passenger side.

  The Russian woman put a hand on Livy’s elbow. “We have to go now,” she said, her accent and voice soft.

  Livy didn’t respond, staring straight ahead. She watched as the big Vauxhall made a U-turn and drove away, back into the British sector. She heard the engine’s roar as it gained speed, and kept her eyes on the rear lights as they grew smaller and smaller down the dark quiet road.

  Also available by M. L. Huie

  Spitfire

  Author Biography

  M. L. Huie is a writer, teacher and actor. In addition to working ten years as a features journalist he has written several plays that have been performed throughout the US and in the UK. Like Livy Nash he loves the northwest of England and has a Yank’s appreciation for a good Lancashire Hot Pot.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Michael Huie

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

  Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

  Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.

  ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-456-4

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-64385-457-1

  Cover design by Nicole Lecht

  Printed in the United States.

  www.crookedlanebooks.com

  Crooked Lane Books

  34 West 27th St., 10th Floor

  New York, NY 10001

  First Edition: September 2020

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1