Clash by Night (35 page)

“Disappointed?” she said in mock concern, batting her eyelashes at him.

He chuckled. “Best Christmas I ever had. Enjoyed an interesting buggy ride, am awaiting a sumptuous meal...” he indicated the table before him, “and got laid.” He winked. “Twice.”

Laura laughed, flushing. “You’re disgusting.”

“Ah, I’ll bet you say that to all the guys,” he replied, popping the last bit of carrot into his mouth and standing up. “Well, I hate to say this, but I think it may be time for a bath,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“You can heat the water in the fireplace,” Laura said.

“Nah, take too long,” he said, going to the sink. “If there was one thing I got used to in the camp it was washing in cold water. When I could wash at all.”

He proceeded to dunk his head and torso, scrubbing them with the bar soap, rinsing under the pump and drying on the towel Laura handed him.

“Okay if I shave later?” he asked her, rubbing his ears.

“Dan, I don’t care,” she said.

He shrugged a little sheepishly. “I haven’t been fit company for a lady in so long that I’m sort of out of touch with civilized behavior.” He sighed. “As you may have guessed from my performance this morning.”

“Will you stop talking about that?” Laura said. “It was glorious.”

“Was it?” he said, grabbing her. “Want it to be glorious again?”

She danced away from him. “Down, soldier,” she said, laughing. “You’re supposed to be recuperating from a serious illness.”

“I’m recuperated,” he replied, examining the damp bandages on his hands. “In fact, I think these are going to come off right now.” He peeled away the gauze and studied his fingers. “Looks okay. Some discoloration, like the doctor said, but everything works all right.”

“You got frostbite from exposure?” Laura asked.

He nodded. “The guy with me was just a skinny kid. He had it much worse. I tried to keep him going but I couldn’t.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Dan,” Laura said gently.

“It’s never my fault,” he said flatly. “But people keep dying all around me just the same.”

“Tell me about the missions you went on after you left me in London,” Laura said, to change the subject. “I got a few letters from your sister before Pearl Harbor, but they were vague.”
 

“To get past the censors.”

“Yes.

“Well, I was up to the same type of thing I did here,” he answered. “Before the U.S. got into the war I spent quite a bit of time in occupied countries, helping out the rebels. I was in Poland and the Netherlands, Norway, lots of places. Met some great people.”

“Anybody like me?” Laura couldn’t help asking.

He looked at her, his blue eyes incandescent. “Nobody like you,” he replied. “Ever.”

Laura knew she would have to be satisfied with that. “And after Pearl Harbor?” she said.

“I volunteered for the Leathernecks, flying missions out of England,” he replied.

“Until you were shot down.”

“Yeah.”

“You were in the camp six months?”

“Just about. I spent most of my time planning to escape.”

“And you did.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”
 

“The day I left I was on a labor detail, repairing the roof of the prisoner’s quarters. I’d bribed a guard to let me switch positions to be closer to the gate.”

“Bribed him with what?”

“My watch. I had it in my shoe when they picked me up and they didn’t find it.”

“So what happened?”
 

“At the last minute they changed guards. I don’t know whether the guy chickened out or what, but there I was with my great escape all planned, at the opposite end of the compound from where I had to be to get out. ”

“What did you do?”

“I fell off the roof.”

“What!”

“I pretended to faint, weakness or whatever, and took a dive. The old parachute roll came in mighty handy.”

“Why?” she asked, intrigued. She was always amazed at how he could turn almost any situation to his advantage.

“I figured they’d bring me to the doctor and they did. They always wanted to keep their slaves in working order. The doctor’s hut was right next to the gate.”

“How did you get away from the doctor?”

“I knocked him out with a medical dictionary.”

Laura started to laugh. She couldn’t believe it.
 

“It’s the truth,” he said seriously. “I sat there while he was examining me, looking around his office for the biggest thing to hit him with, and there it was. The thing must have weighed ten pounds. I waited until he turned away and then slammed him in the back of the neck with it as hard as I could. He went down like a curtain.”

Laura continued laughing helplessly.

“It wasn’t funny at the time, take my word for it. I was shaking so hard I could hardly walk, much less run. And the garbage they’d been feeding us didn’t exactly make for super energy, although the guys on the work details ate better than the rest.”

“And your bombardier?” Laura asked gently, sobering.

“He was waiting for me in the kitchen.” He paused. “I shouldn’t have taken him with me. I could see he was too weak. But he wanted so much to go.”

“Better for him to die standing up than to live on his knees,” Laura said.

Harris nodded. “I don’t think he would have lasted much longer in the camp anyway. He chose to go out the way he did rather than to die there.”

 
Laura put down her knife and went to relight the candles on the tree, glancing at her watch.

“Expecting someone?” Harris asked.

“Brigitte will be here soon,” Laura replied.

“That’s all right, isn’t it? She’s part of the plan,” Harris said.

“Yes, it’s just that she didn’t know we were going to be working today, getting anyone out. And she certainly didn’t know it was going to be you.”
 

“Did you tell her about me?” Harris asked quietly.

“Of course. She was the one who urged me to meet you in London.”

“I must remember to thank her,” he said softly.

“She works with Vipère now. She’s very useful.”

“Oh?”

“She has...contacts,” Laura said, and let it go at that.

“Can I help you with anything?” Harris asked, peering over her shoulder as she set out the plates.

She looked back at him. “You can sit down and rest. Sister Mary Joel said you were at death’s door two weeks ago.”

“Sister Mary Joel talks too much,” he replied darkly. But he did sit, and Laura noticed that he settled in with a heartfelt sigh that made her regret their recent athletics. But not too much. She felt the utter relaxation, the boneless fluidity of fulfillment spreading through her body, and she couldn’t be truly sorry.

 
A key was inserted into the lock on the back door and Harris leaped to his feet.

Brigitte walked into the room, her hair and coat dusted with snow, and stopped short. All the color drained from her face.

“It’s all right,” Laura said quickly. “He’s an American.”
 

Brigitte’s eyes darted to Laura, alert, puzzled.

Harris got his shirt and slipped into it, buttoning it hurriedly. He moved to stand behind Laura.

“Brigitte,” Laura said, “this is Dan Harris.”

 
Brigitte looked blank for a moment, and then the name registered.

“
Your
Dan Harris?” she said to Laura.

“The very same,” Harris said, and extended his hand. “How do you do?”

Brigitte shook it with remarkable aplomb, recovering nicely. “May I ask what you’re doing here?” she said to him, removing her coat.

“It’s a long story,” he said, looking at Laura.

“I imagine it is. Do you mind if I change before we go into it?” she said, walking across the kitchen. “I want to check on papa too,” she added to Laura. “I’ll be right back.” She opened the hall door quietly and slipped through it, leaving them both to look after her.
 

“Well, she’s not what I expected,” Harris finally said. “You used to talk about her like she was such a kid.”

“She’s not a kid anymore,” Laura replied quietly. “She’s learned how to do what’s necessary. Whatever is necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Harris asked, not liking her tone.

Laura shrugged, shaking her head, and he saw that she wouldn’t reply.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said briskly, ignoring his blue stare.

“And there
is
something you can do for me.”

“Name it.”

“I have to start the stove and what’s left of the coal is down in the cellar in the bin. Would you get it for me?”

“You bet.” He pulled on his shoes.

“It’s right at the foot of the steps, you can’t miss it,” Laura said.

He left, and she heard the sound of his feet on the stairs. Brigitte came in, wearing her green Sunday dress in honor of the occasion, and Laura said to her, “So what do you think of him?”

“He fits your description,” Brigitte said, smiling slyly.

“What was my description?”

“You said he looked like the guy your mother warned you about when you were thirteen.”

“You have quite a memory.”

“Not really,” Brigitte said. “He looks like the guy anybody’s mother would have warned them about, if you know what I mean.”

“No,” Laura said, putting her hands on her hips. “Tell me.”

Brigitte made a dismissive gesture. “The way he wears his clothes is an unspoken invitation.”

“To what?”

“To tear them off,” Brigitte said smugly.
 

Laura burst out laughing. She had long since ceased to be startled at such pronouncements from Brigitte.

“His shirt was half buttoned because I just washed it. He put it on as you were coming through the door,” Laura said tartly.

“And did you take it off?” Brigitte asked, arching her brows. “Or did he?”

Laura sighed.

“I rest my case,” Brigitte said, turning her palms up in finality.

Harris returned with the coal scuttle and glanced from one woman to the other, sensing conspiracy.

“What’s going on, ladies?” he said, handing Laura the coal.

Laura busied herself at the stove and Brigitte said casually, “We were just discussing you.”

Laura shot her a virulent glance.

“What about me?” Harris asked warily.

“That you were our next candidate for the ambulance run into Bern,” Laura said quickly.

Brigitte absorbed this information without expression. “When?” she said.

“As soon as a burn case arrives, I guess” Laura replied. “Curel said he would be in touch.”

“How did you get here?” Brigitte asked Harris, sitting at the table and gesturing for him to join her. He did.

“Escaped from a camp in Germany,” he replied.

“You must be tenacious of life,” she said. “You’d have to be tough to make it this far.”

“And lucky,” Harris said.

“That too. So once you got to France you came looking for Laura?”

“No, I wound up in a convent north of here. All Laura knew was that she was picking up an American pilot. She didn’t know it was me.”

“That must have been a surprise,” Brigitte said softly. “For both of you.”

“A very pleasant one,” Harris said.

Laura sat at the table and Brigitte said grace. They ate the meal in companionable silence, too hungry and too appreciative of the rare largesse to spoil their appreciation of it with conversation.

When they were through all three cleared the table and then Brigitte said, “I’ll go up and take a nap if you don’t mind. I haven’t slept since I got off shift.” She made a chicken sandwich and wrapped it in newspaper to take to her father. In the doorway she paused and said to Laura, “When do you want me to tell Kurt about this?”

“Better wait until we hear from Curel,” Laura said.

Brigitte nodded, waved to Harris, and left.

“Who’s Kurt?” Harris asked suspiciously.

“Her boyfriend. He’s helped us on the previous jobs.” She looked at him. “He’s Becker’s aide,” she said, delivering the
coup de grace
.

Harris stared at her. “A German soldier is going to get me out of here?” he asked incredulously.

 
“That’s right,” Laura answered. “He’ll do anything for Brigitte.”
 

Chapter 11

“Laura, have your lost your mind?” Harris demanded.

“Strange bedfellows,” she said, and put the last plate in the sink.

“How can you be sure you can trust this guy?” Harris asked.