Angels Don't Die (Madeleine Toche Series Book 2) (6 page)

BOOK: Angels Don't Die (Madeleine Toche Series Book 2)
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John smiled to himself as he stepped into the bar room, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior.  It smelled of stale beer and unwashed bodies. He was glad that he couldn’t see the filth on the floor that crunched under his feet.  He spotted the man he was looking for seated on a stool talking to a disheveled hard bitten blond woman, who looked like she came to the bar a few nights ago and never left.

             
“Pilots always know the best places,” John said in a loud voice.
             

             
“Colonel John Trunce.  What did I do now? “Captain Vincent Richards said, throwing his old commander a salute as John walked over and shook his hand. “Jimmy, get this old warhorse a whiskey, and while you’re at it, I’ll have one too,” Richards said motioning to the bartender.

             
“It’s good to see you Vinnie,” John said, as the bartender produced two chipped glasses and poured out two healthy shots of liquor.  “I’ve got a favor to ask, but it’s kind of personal.  Do you think we could grab a table for a minute?”

“Darling, here’s some money for the juke box,” Richards said turning his head towards the blond.  “Would you give us a minute?” Richards said handing her a handful of quarters off of the bar.

“What I need is a drink,” the blond answered crushing out her cigarette.

“Juke box first, drink later, after I get a few minutes with my friend,” Richards said gently steering the woman in the direction of the juke box.

“You’re the boss,” the blond answered getting shakily to her feet.

After Richards’ acquaintance made it across the room, John said, “Vinnie, you still know how to pick ‘em.”

“She’s not that bad, as long as you don’t look at her in direct sunlight.  But I’m sure you didn’t come to this place to discuss my lo
ve life.  What can I do for you
Colonel?”

“I need a ride to Israel for me and a couple of friends,” John answered.

“What do you want to go there for?  There’s nothing there but sand and veiled women.”

“I've got one more job that I need some help with,” John said.

             
“Airborne work, Colonel?  I'm short time myself flying supplies into Israel.  But I’m sure you already checked on that.  It’s mostly office equipment and things like that.  At least that's what the boxes say.  I’m just about as far from the war as possible.  And to be honest, that suits me just fine.”

             
“I need to hitch a ride on one of your regular runs over to Jerusalem.”

             
“Is this off the record, Colonel?”

             
“It has to be, at least for now.”

             
“So I won't be including Colonel John Trunce on my passenger list,” Vinnie said with a grin.

             
“It’ll just be me, a couple of crates, and three others.”

             
“I’d be happy to. Besides who's going to know?  We flew all kinds of stuff in and out of Korea and Vietnam that weren't on any lists.”

             
“I'll sign orders that will absolve you of any responsibility,” John said.

             
“Colonel, I owe you so many favors, I don't give two damns about orders.  I'm going anyway.  I could use the company.”

             
“What about your navigator and co-pilot?”

             
“Wear your uniform.  There's enough brass on that damn thing to scare the hell out of just about anybody.”

             
“It's one way, Vinnie.  We'll be leaving by other means.”

             
“When do we go?”

             
“When’s your next run?”

             
“Five in the a.m., Tuesday.  Three days from now.”

             
“Flying out of Hunter?”  John said referring to the army airfield near Savannah, Georgia.

             
“We'll be there.”

             
“I'll already be loaded and ready to go.”

             
“Thanks, Vinnie,” John said.

             
“Is this your last time in the field, Colonel?”

             
“I hope so, Vinnie.  I hope so.”

             

 

 

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

 

             
Sam Trunce lay on the rag rug next to the heating vent in the upstairs hallway of the old farmhouse. He was blond and brown from the sun, and his fingernails always had some dirt from the woods under them. This summer, he and his friends had hunted the woods, practiced their tracking skills, and although he was only ten, he had learned the art of remaining motionless.

             
He didn’t like spying on his parents, but he could tell that something was wrong; something involving his brother Tracy, and his parents were trying to hide it from him.  Tracy hadn’t called in two weeks, and with every passing day the frown lines in his parent’s faces had deepened.

             
When his
Tante
Madeleine and Jack had arrived, Sam knew that the adults were going to do something to find Tracy, and he had no intention of being left out.  He pressed his ear firmly to the vent so that he could hear what was being said at the kitchen table.

             
“We leave in the morning,” John said.  “We'll have to truck the supplies; no way I could finagle those things onto a commercial flight.”

             
“No, I suppose not, John,” Madeleine added.

             
“Everything about this mission is highly illegal, by the way,” John said.

             
“Just get me on the ground, John.  These animals think they know about terror?  This will not turn out well for them,” Madeleine said.

             
Sam's eyes widened and goosebumps crawled up his arms.  He knew a little about Madeleine in World War Two, but they just seemed like stories.  One thing he knew was that he wasn't going to be left behind.  Tracy was his brother and needed his help.  He was going.

             
“Then we're going to do this,” Karen said.  “I don't have any experience in anything like this.  You'll have to help me, tell me what to do.”

             
“You already have the most important thing in your favor, Karen,” Madeline continued.

             
“What's that?”

             
“Hate,” Madeleine said in a voice that came from deep inside her.  It was flat and emotionless, a simple statement of fact.  Both John and Jack looked at her.  They'd both seen it before.  She seemed to harden before their eyes.  Her eyes darkened and she seemed to close in on herself.  Without a word, both Jack and John knew whose operation this would be. 
L'ange de la mort
had arrived.

 

 

             
The next morning John and the rest of the crew were loading up a cargo van rented in town from a trusted source.  The battered white van had been chosen to blend in with the thousands of others that filled city streets every day. A car pulled up and two men got out.

             
“Howdy, Johnny,” John's uncle Gus said, greeting everyone with a big hug, Madeleine and Jack included.  They were all old friends. 

             
The second man said quietly, “Greetings Colonel.”  He was Tom Barnes and an old comrade of John's.  For two wars he'd been in John's command.  He retired and sat out Vietnam.  These were the two men who would keep an eye on Sam.  Once the mission started overseas, John wanted two of the best men he knew taking care of anything that might come Sam's way.  They would be dealing with terrorists, both unpredictable and deadly.

             
Only Madeleine heard the third man walk up, she had moved quietly into position behind him before he emerged from the trees.

             
“Joseph, good of you to come,” John said.

             
Madeleine relaxed and said, “Hello old friend.”  He swung his head around in surprise, having missed her movements.

             
“Madeleine, you're like a ghost,” Joseph said.

             
“I’m getting back into practice,” Madeleine said.

             
“Colonel, I'd like to come on this mission,” Joseph said.

             
“Joseph, I’d like it if you stayed here.  Your being here is like me being here,” John said placing a hand on Joseph’s shoulder.  “If anyone is keeping tabs on my movements, having you gone at the same time is going to arouse suspicion.  As much as I’d like to have you come, I have to keep as low a profile on this as possible.  There's no way they don't know Tracy is a hostage.  We're staying off the phones and watching our backs.  If there aren't eyes on us yet, there will be,” John said.

             
Madeleine turned her head and saw Sam walk across the porch carrying a small backpack and an old single shot .410 shotgun.  He walked purposefully towards the van.

             
“Sam, what are you doing?” Karen asked before any of the soldiers could speak.

             
“I'm going with you to get Tracy,” Sam said as if there'd be no question.

             
Both John and Karen moved towards Sam.  “Sam, we explained this to you last night, where we're going is no place for a child,” John said.

             
“I can shoot, I'm not afraid,” Sam said holding his ground.

             
John moved to take the shotgun and backpack from Sam.

             
“John, a moment if I might,” Madeleine said.

             
Madeleine was just about the only person in the world John would defer to unconditionally.  He nodded and Madeleine gestured to Sam to follow her around the side of the house towards an old barn and mound of dirt Sam and his friends used for target practice plinking away with their old .22 rifles.

             
“Do you have ammunition for that shotgun?” Madeleine said.

             
“Yes,” Sam said pulling three shells from his pocket.

             
“You know I was in the War, World War Two, right Sam?” 

             
“Yes,
Tante
Madeleine,” Sam said.

             
“You and I are family. And we are also comrades in arms now,” Madeleine said. “Do you know what that means?”

             
“Yes, we fight for each other,” Sam said.

             
“Then you must help me.  There’s a dangerous thing I must do.  I have to go and get Tracy.  Everyone else has a job to do to help me, but mine is a one person job. I need to know that there are people like you and Joseph at home to protect the people we love and our homes.  Will you make the sacrifice and stay here?”

             
“But why you, Madeleine?  I know you were in the war, but did you fight?”

             
“Someday I’ll tell you the whole story, I promise.  It's best to say I was a spy, like my husband Jack.  But I fought and killed the enemy.  Many times young men, no older than you, helped me in my work.  Young French men and women, boys and girls really, who did their duty to their families and countries, just like you must do now.  I have dangerous work to do, and I will be able to do that work better knowing that you are guarding the house.  I won’t have to worry.”

             
“I'll stay here and guard the house and the town,” Sam said without hesitation.

             
“Innocent people must always be protected from bad ones.  The world is full of people who want to hurt others.  Knowing that it is more important to be more concerned about others than yourself is the most important lesson we learn in life and in church.  But I think you know that already.  One of the best men I know was a German soldier, who saved my life.  He was an enemy soldier but a champion of innocents.  I hope you get a chance to meet him some day.  We have to go, but before we do, I want to see you shoot that shotgun,” Madeleine said.

             
John and Karen stood several feet behind Madeleine listening as she spoke, grateful that their last words to Sam could be out of love and not anger.  Neither knew what lay in store or if they would come back.

             
Sam carefully cracked open the breech and placed a shell into the chamber.  He raised the gun to his shoulder and shot at a tin can buried in the mud of the berm they'd constructed as a back stop.

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