Her rigid posture borne of worry aggravated the ache in both her tailbone and head. The knife cut on her finger throbbed. From time to time she shot a furtive glance to Agnès in unspoken commiseration. The nursemaid smiled back bravely, nervously smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her skirt. Erika found the gesture increasingly annoying.
Behind them sat the young brothers, now officially deserters. From time to time Erika noted their hushed conversation in Czech. Occasionally they laughed or sent cigarette smoke wafting forward to aggravate her headache. The men wore expensive civilian clothing taken from the closet of the late Monsieur de Brassis—tan trousers, open collars with loose neckties, well-cut tweed jackets. Their forged papers passed inspection at the Bayonne checkpoint so would likely present no difficulties at the Demarcation Line. If those damned inspectors ever finish with that damned express!
On their way at last! Erika watched the inspectors descend to the rail bed, glance over at her track, then move forward between the trains. Two men in their mid-twenties, clipboards in hand, pistols holstered, exhaustion written across dour faces. The taller man signaled the engineer of the express with a dismissive wave of the hand and the locomotive responded with a screech of the whistle before chuffing forward to enter Vichy France. The customs shack awaited just meters ahead. The Germans hesitated below her window, stealing a quick puff or two before flicking away the still-burning butts and approaching the forward carriage of her train. At the step they brushed their caps free of cinders and climbed aboard. The inspection ritual began again from the top.
The headache and heat had gotten the best of her, robbing her of focus on the task at hand. An eternity passed before the inspectors reached her carriage. The men moved with painful slowness from bench to bench, one to either side of the aisle. Occasionally they traded comments, exchanged documents for second opinions, or laughed at some inside joke. She tensed each time an inspector compared a traveler’s identity card to the list on the clipboard. Only then did she nearly forget the pounding between her ears.
Now they came to Agnès. The nursemaid smoothed out her skirt, stood in deference to their authority and dutifully offered her papers to the taller officer. The man took in Erika and grinned in obvious appreciation, then returned to vetting the nursemaid’s identity.
Agnès put confidence in her voice. “I believe you’ll find everything in order, sir.”
“Last time I looked, that was still my decision to make, madame.” His French carried a Bavarian accent. His cool blue eyes sought out Erika’s and she realized he’d meant to be humorous and was anticipating her acknowledgement of his wit. The officer briefly scanned Agnès’ letter from the clinic, compared it to entries in the nurse’s identity booklet, and returned the papers. “Your final destination is Toulouse?”
“Yes, sir. These two,” her hands on the shoulders of Robert and Jacqueline, “head to an orphanage. Then it’s back to Bayonne for me.” He nodded dismissively.
Turning, he focused on Erika, his smile returned and she could read his thoughts. It was an attitude she knew all too well. Blood rushed to her cheeks, now from both anger and nerves rather than the debilitating heat. “And just whom do we have here, madame?” He ignored the two children at her side.
She fished about in her handbag. “Ma carte d’identité, monsieur.”
“You are very far from home, madame.” He whistled for the attention of his colleague and displayed her with a sweep of his hand like a prize filly at a horse auction. “Reason for crossing the border?”
“The children haven’t seen their grandparents in a good long while and now they both are ailing.”
The man hesitated, one finger at the dueling scar on his cheek, the others at his chin. She thought of Horst. “Do I detect a hint of German in your French, madame?”
Erika silently cursed the liability of her native tongue. “I lived in Hesse as a child, monsieur, and was bilingual by the time my French parents returned to Gascony.”
“I’m sure the fatherland is poorer for your absence, mein Schatz. But as for me, I am all the richer in making your acquaintance.” The inspectors exchanged sly grins. “So where is the father of these handsome children?” The officer’s eyes ran the length of her body. “And what man allows such a desirable wife to travel unattended? Just imagine the possible consequences!”
Erika kept her anger in check as she sought a way out. “My husband has yet to return from the war, so a woman has to make do, wouldn’t you agree?” A despicable little game now, and with children at my feet, yet!
“Indeed, madame.” He ran his fingers through his straw blonde hair and replaced his cap. “A tiring journey for the three of you, given this unseasonal heat. Have you considered a relaxing evening here at the border?”
She lifted Sophie to her hip and placed her hand on Leo’s shoulder. “It’s unlikely we’d find anything suitable nearby, and their grandparents await our arrival in Pau.” She hoped the obvious presence of children might cool his ardor.
Leo intervened. “Maman, it’s—”
“Hush, darling, let Maman talk to this considerate German officer.” She held out her hand for her papers. “As I was saying, we can rest when we reach our destination.”
Had she not been so fatigued, had her head not throbbed incessantly, Erika might have realized she’d entered a trap. Now she heard the door slam shut. With a chuckle the officer turned to his companion. “Stefan, this adorable creature is clearly weary and needs a break. Do you suppose we might find her lodging nearby?” The tip of his tongue followed the line of his thin mustache, as if savoring some fine liqueur on his upper lip. “Think you can handle the rest of this one by yourself while I do my chivalrous duty and find her a suitable bed?”
His partner fixed his gaze on Erika’s body. “Make the Führer proud, comrade!” He gave a quick Hitler salute and snapped his heels together. “Émile up the street will have a room available, and his old lady will mind the brats while you help this one to ‘relax.’ ”
Erika stepped back abruptly, realizing she’d lost control of the situation. This man had full authority to force her off the train and he was giving no time to object. “Please come with me, mein Schatz.” He took her elbow, his forearm pressing into her breast. “How very lonely having a husband away for so long. A nice bath, a pleasant drink or two and a little spoiling will make a new woman of you.” He raised his voice for his partner’s sake. “Though I doubt there’s much I’ll wish to change once I’ve had a closer look.”
She went numb as the man guided her toward the carriage door at the rear. Leo hurried to catch up. The small blackjack in her bra would be useless until she found herself alone with this man. Agnès watched them exit while the two older children tugged at her sleeves, demanding an explanation. Erika shot a look at the brothers as she passed by. Their eyes met hers but remained unreadable.
Other nearby passengers stared down at the floor, desperate to remain uninvolved, private lives and personal secrets likely hanging in the balance. No one wished to fall under the crosshairs of the remaining officer, who leered appreciatively at Erika’s ass with an envious smirk on his face.
With no warning, Heinrich lunged past the children and brought the first officer to the floor. They fell in a tangle of luggage and baskets as passengers jumped aside to avoid the struggle. The officer fought for his pistol but Heinrich wrapped the man in a body hold, one forearm over the officer’s throat in an unrelenting chokehold. The moment Heinrich left the bench, Herbert dropped the man’s partner with a powerful right to the jaw, then bent over and pounded him viciously until he lay still. The brothers shouted to each other in German, confirming both officers were down for the count.
Horrified mothers pulled children close and passengers close to the brawl pressed to the windows. Erika held Sophie tight and dove with Leo to the back wall of the carriage. The child bawled loudly in protest and other small children joined in, and the disturbed rooster flapped his wings rapidly and crowed repeat
edly, finding new excitement in all the activity. Most travelers remained silent, leaving this internal Boche problem to the feuding Germans.
Even with both inspectors unconscious, only a few dared to make whispered comments. Erika retrieved her identity papers and quickly rejoined the children, huddling down beside Agnès.
Heinrich and Herbert ordered the aisle cleared and no one protested. The brothers dragged the inspectors into the narrow passage alongside the WC and set to work removing the uniforms, leaving the inspectors in nothing but their underwear. They rolled their civilian garb into parcels cinched tight with belts for ease of carrying , then stuffed their cash and jewels into every available pocket. A stooped grand-mère hobbled back to offer them a spool of knitting yarn for trussing up the downed men. Once that was done and Herbert had returned the skein, the grandmother went back to her knitting.
Now fully outfitted as German officers with holstered pistols and uniform caps, the grinning brothers saluted the children. Heinrich then addressed the passengers: “Mesdames, messieurs, our apologies for the disruption, bon voyage, and we’ll be on our way.” They stepped over the bodies and dropped the bundles, then swung down to join them.
Heinrich gave a lazy wave to the locomotive engineer up front. The train whistled sharply and rolled forward. The guards in the shack didn’t look up as the local rattled past. In the brief moment when the carriages hid them from view, they grabbed their bundled clothing and loped across the rail bed, disappearing from sight in the dense foliage of the ravine.
Like a Victrola suddenly turned to full volume, the crowd broke loose in conversation and animated gesture, strangers questioning strangers about everything just witnessed. Erika turned to Agnès: “But why’d they step in? They could’ve let that idiot take me and been safely into the Free Zone!”
“To help you and the kids, of course,” she patted Erika’s hand in reassurance, “but also for a more selfish reason. The control in Bayonne never spotted a mistake in their papers, but we knew this border could give them serious trouble. You see, the counterfeiter must not have cared much for Boches, or he was an idiot. He listed both their birth years as 1941. They are indeed young, but that’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
Erika collapsed onto the bench and pulled the children to her side. “So what will they do now?”
“Find a border guide once they’ve ditched the uniforms, I suppose. I’ve heard passeurs make a good living around here. At least the boys now have money and pistols.” The train was already squealing to a stop on Vichy soil. Agnès encouraged everyone to find seats. “After an inspection like that, French customs should be a snap.”
Erika looked back at the unconscious officers. “Should we just let the Douane find them lying there?”
“Let’s give our boys a solid head start before we tell the customs officials about how those nasty young men attacked the Boches without provocation.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pau to Morlanne, Vichy France
31 August – 1 September 1941
The oppressive heat was long gone by the time they finally detrained. Erika insisted on trying to reach the doctor again, but still no one picked up. One more worry to add to the mix. Agnès arranged for all to spend the night with her niece, who graciously made do with an apartment full of tired children and exhausted adults. In the morning, a clearly refreshed Agnès led Erika, Sophie and Leo to the bus terminal and saw them off with best wishes for a safe journey.
The decrepit regional bus constantly backfired as it left town and headed north on the country road. As with all public transport, the passenger compartment was filled to overflowing. Erika held Sophie on her lap. Leo hadn’t been able to contain his excitement all morning, telling Sophie repeatedly about each of his animal friends on the farm. Despite many scheduled and one unscheduled stop—the haggard driver fiddling with the carburetor, his head buried beneath the hood—the ramshackle bus ultimately deposited them in front of the mairie in Morlanne.
Erika led the children into city hall. Regretting the lack of a public phone, the clerk took pity and agreed to call for the local taxi. Within minutes a derelict Citroën sat waiting at the curb. The young driver with a missing left arm ran around to stow their suitcase in the trunk. “And where are we off to, madame?” he asked.
His cheerful demeanor was contagious. Erika was curious to see how he managed steering while manually shifting gears. She instructed him to follow the provincial route heading northwest. “Perhaps you’re familiar with the LeBlanc farm?” Erika pictured the helpful neighbor who had recently handled burial arrangements for Jeanne.
“Yes, madame, Monsieur LeBlanc is very well known around here.”
“Well, his place adjoins ours, so as we get closer, I can give you specifics?”
“Of course, madame. And what brings you to Gascony?” He bent to brace his shoulder against the steering wheel with every change of gears. “You speak fine French, madame, but I catch the trace of an accent.” His brow furrowed. “German?”
“Raised in Germany.” Erika hesitated. “My mother-in-law recently passed and we’re here to stay at her cousin’s farm. The children and I will tend to the place while we wait for my husband.”
“My deepest condolences on your loss, madame.”
“Thank you.”
The man’s eyes returned to the road. “Your husband…he is also a Boche… Allemand?”
“Alsatian.”
“Ah, I see.” He nodded when he caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “Ours is a close-knit community and I believe I know just which farm you seek.” He described it in detail before adding: “Word is the animals went free. It took Monsieur LeBlanc a day to round them up.”
Erika could think of nothing to add. Leo, now dozing beside Sophie, couldn’t offer his perfectly logical explanation. The driver also fell silent but his eyes repeatedly met Erika’s in the mirror.
The old car shifted in fits and starts along the undulating road. Nearing the farmstead, the driver came to a halt a hundred meters short of the gate. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled at the two sleeping children, his sympathy apparent. “Forgive my presumptuousness, madame, but some around here may blame you for attracting unwanted Gestapo interest to our area.” Erika said nothing. “So I wouldn’t expect too warm a welcome hereabouts. If I were you, I’d take those children elsewhere before the secret police show up again.”
“Thank you for your concern, monsieur.” Erika stroked the damp hair from Leo’s forehead and gently nudged Sophie awake. “You may drop us off up ahead and we’ll walk in. But if you wouldn’t mind, please wait up the road just beyond the gate.” She removed several larger franc notes from her handbag and passed them forward. “I’ll make it well worth your while.”
The young driver pocketed the bills and grinned. “Of course, madame. Always glad to be of service.”
The car lurched to a stop and the young driver sprang from the cab, opened Erika’s door and fetched her bag from the trunk. His brow wrinkled. “Do take care, madame.” He sounded sincere. Erika watched for a few moments as the taxi made a U-turn at the next curve in the road and pulled onto the shoulder. He tipped his cap to her.
She hefted Sophie onto her hip. Leo, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, looked around in surprise. “But Maman, we’re here already!” He became exuberant, tugging at his mother’s arm, urging her to hurry before setting off on his own up the hill. “I want to see Musette, I’m sure she’s missed me!”
“Come back here right now, and stay at my side!”
Leo reluctantly retraced his steps. “But Maman, she’ll want to see me again! Cats are like that, you know.”
“All the same, we stay together until we reach the house.”
Leo appeared worried, sensing her mood. “Will there be trouble, Maman? I can help, you know.”
“I don’t think so, Leo. But we have learned to be careful, right?” He nodded, suddenly very serious.
The dirt road curved to
the right. As the farmstead came into sight, all appeared normal. A few cows grazed in the pasture below and a hen in the coop announced the arrival of a new egg. But reaching the picket fence, Erika spotted something amiss. All of Jeanne’s flower plantings and rosebushes formed a wilted mass atop the compost heap. The house itself appeared vacant, but the bench and chairs normally found on the porch were stacked to one side. And most disturbing, the rear bumper of a truck protruded beyond the far side of the house.
Just then the screen door creaked and Monsieur LeBlanc strode out to join them under the midday sun. A scowl creased his face and Erika briefly spotted a shadowy figure lurking inside just beyond the threshold. Someone at the mairie in Morlanne had obviously sent word of their imminent return to the farm.
Erika put on a gracious smile and greeted the neighbor with a handshake. “Monsieur LeBlanc, quite a surprise to find you here. Has there been trouble?”
“We never expected to see the likes of you around here again, madame.”
“No? I believe my husband spoke with you about the interment of his mother. Did he lead you to believe we were abandoning her property?”
The farmer took a moment to light his pipe before choosing his words carefully: “Let me assure you that your mother-in-law received a proper Christian burial. No real ceremony, of course, but your husband said she wouldn’t have chosen that. You may visit her at the cemetery should you wish.”
“We are most grateful for that, sir. But what’s going on here?” She pointed to the devastated flower garden. Leo eyed it nervously, questioning her with his look. He started to walk toward the rabbit pens and Erika called him back.
LeBlanc continued confidently: “Your family left under unusual circumstances. The gendarmes were here along with the Gestapo.” Now Leo glared at the man. “In fact, they have started an inquiry after the suspicious deaths of two older women at this farm.”
“Just what are you implying?”
Fulcrum of Malice Page 14