Cold Lonely Courage (Madeleine toche Series Book 2) (10 page)

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CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Günter Von Schmelling stood in front of a full-length mirror, admiring his finely tailored suit. The hours he spent in the saddle kept him lean, along with the exercises he performed regularly. He was from a wealthy old German family and had enjoyed privilege his entire life.

“I wonder what Father would think of me now?” He muttered towards the mirror, absently ignoring the tailor who stood demurely behind him, awaiting instructions.

“What do you think,
Monsieur
Leblanc?” Schmelling said.

“You look splendid, Major. The
demoiselles
will be duly impressed.”

“Yes, you have outdone yourself, Leblanc. I need two more uniforms and two casual jackets. I’ll pay in advance for the material from Paris.”

“Yes, Major.”

“You’re a good Frenchman, Leblanc. Too bad all your countrymen can’t accept defeat as easily, especially the terrorists in the Resistance.”

“Thank you, Major,” Leblanc said. He had been a merchant for a long time and the customer was always right. He would make all the tailored uniforms this SS clown wanted. He secretly hoped Von Schmelling would be buried in one of them.

“I am off then, Leblanc. I’ll be back in two weeks for a fitting. Put it in your calendar.”

“Just as you wish, Major.”

Von Schmelling turned smartly on his heel and was followed out of the building by his two SS guards. He jumped into an open officer’s car and signaled the driver to proceed. The driver careened out into traffic, heedless of the pedestrians scurrying to get out of his way.

Horst and Willi sat unobtrusively in a small café across the street, having followed Von Schmelling.

“How much for one of those suits, do you think, Horsty?”

“Too little. Having to touch Von Schmelling, much less fit him for a suit, would be nasty indeed.”

“Think he’ll be back?”

“Well, let’s go find out.”

They left coins for their coffee. The French struggled under the yoke of the invader, required to foot the cost of maintaining the German army. The financial burden, coupled with the deportation of millions of French men and women to work in German factories was crippling, and another reason that the ranks of the Resistance grew daily.

Stenger walked into the tailor shop. Willi was at his side, giving Leblanc his old soldier’s thousand yard stare.

“How can I help you, gentlemen?” Leblanc asked, tentatively.

“We’re from the investigation unit of the army police force.”

“Not Gestapo?” Leblanc said, clearly relieved.

“No, my friend. We’re working men like you, following up a lead on a routine black market matter.”

“I don’t do business with those people. My customers order their material through me from Paris and other regional suppliers. I keep very little stock on hand.”

“Then you will have receipts for those purchases.”

“Yes of course, officer. They’re in the back. You’re welcome to see them. I have nothing to hide.”

“I’m sure you don’t. But I have to check,” Stenger said, sounding officious. “Captain, watch the front of the store so that we may review the records without interruption.” While Stenger addressed Willi, he glanced meaningfully at the scheduling calendar on the counter next to him. He put his hand lightly on Leblanc and steered him towards the back.

Willi looked up the date Von Schmelling was scheduled to return.

Stenger looked through the receipts that Leblanc had carefully catalogued pausing here and there for effect.

“I compliment you on your thoroughness, sir. Everything is in order.”

Leblanc was visibly relieved. He followed Stenger back towards the front of the shop.

“Captain, shall we leave?”

“Yes, sir,” Willi said, nodding his head slightly.

“Thank you,
monsieur.
We’ll let you get back to work. I have to say, your suits are beautiful,” Stenger said, motioning to the mannequins arranged in the store window.

“Thank you, Major,” Leblanc said, beaming.

“Perhaps I’ll visit you from Germany when the war is over and have one made.”

“I hope that will be soon, sir.”

“As do I, my friend,” Stenger said as he and Willi turned and walked through the shop door.

Once outside Stenger and Willi walked back over to the café for an early lunch.

“Did you get it, Willi?”

“Two weeks on the dot, Horsty. Now how do we get that information to our friend the Angel of Death? Such a lovely name. Do you think Von Schmelling will like her?”

“Von Schmelling ought to be able to take care of his jackbooted self. But we’ll be there to arrest her if she takes the bait.”

“It doesn’t sound like you really believe that.”

“We know she’s killed more than two hundred, Willi. I think she’s responsible for twice that. No doubt she’s tough, but Von Schmelling might get lucky and capture her. Naturally, he’ll want to torture her, but she’ll kill herself if faced with that. She won’t surrender. We have to take her by surprise.”

“You admire her, Horst.” Willi had dropped the informal address he usually directed towards Stenger. His statement wasn’t a reproach or a question. He didn’t even seem to expect a response; he was simply voicing an important fact regarding the operation they were undertaking.

“Yes, Willi, I do. She’s not a random member of the Resistance. She’s military and her targets are strategically chosen. The SS and Gestapo are the worst of the criminals we dealt with at home. Many of them were documented psychopaths before the war. You can’t get normal, rational people to do what they’ve done to the people of Europe. Hopefully some of them will be brought to justice after this is over.”

“Are we going to help the enemy round them up after the war, Horst?”

“I will, Willi.”

“Then we will, Horsty.”

Stenger smiled and picked up the menu.

“You still haven’t told me how we’re going to pull this off,” Willi said, signaling to the waiter for another beer.

“We give the information to our friendly local double agent, of course.”

“Pardon my ignorance, but who might that be?”

“A piggy little butcher over in Toulouse. He’s making big money selling meat on the black market and information to anyone who pays. Clever bastard. He hasn’t been discovered yet. He profits by selling secrets to both sides. We discovered what he was doing and used him to feed false intelligence to the British.”

“So what happens to him if the Resistance discovers his treason?”

“He’ll end up in a pork sausage hanging in his window, no doubt,” Stenger said.

Their lunch came and the conversation turned to thoughts of home, people they knew in common, and the cases they had worked together. For a brief moment the war was forgotten and they were just policemen trying to do what was right.

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CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

In the basement of an old factory used to store useless rubbish from a more prosperous time, Madeleine considered the message that she received over the radio. It concerned the details of another hit, an SS Major this time. She sat in a small apartment, hidden behind a wall in the corner of a greasy common room, where employees had stored their belongings for decades when the factory was in service. The building was fire damaged and closed. Nobody ever entered it. If they had, they would have discovered nothing. Madeleine heated up a pot of soup on a small electric burner. There was something about the fact that her handler in London had guaranteed that the target would be located at a specific place and time. That was new. Whether the intelligence was that good or if there was some other reason, she didn’t know, and that bothered her. Countless times she’d received directives that were scanty or downright wrong. The Gestapo in particular wanted to capture her. She treated each of these situations first as a trap and then as an opportunity. This one seemed too good to be true. During her years of operating alone, she had plenty of time for contemplative thought. The old maxims like “if it sounds too good to be true, it is” were sound advice. This one requires extra scrutiny, she thought. I need to see the layout of the killing ground. Until then, it’s a trap and I’ll plan for it.

Madeleine finished her soup and warmed up some hot water for a bath. She was used to bathing in a small metal tub. She didn’t mind it. She remembered how as a child her mother would bathe her brother and her on Sundays in the back yard, soaping them up and rinsing them off with the cold water from a garden hose. Her father would often chase them around the little courtyard spraying them with the icy water as they squealed with delight and pretended to run away, always stopping if he couldn’t keep up on his peg leg. Suddenly, she burst into tears at the intensity of the memory. She saw her brother, her beautiful twin, torn to pieces. She would never forgive or forget. The image blazed in her mind as she held herself against her loneliness.

Slowly her sobbing subsided as she tried to push back the memory of Yves’ death. The best way was to concentrate on a happy memory. She didn’t have to choose: she thought of Jack. She thought of his spirit and the traits of character that she admired in him. As she soaped her body in the warm water she couldn’t help but think of the feel of his strong hands on her and the force of his need. She let herself be pulled into the sensuality of the memory.

Rinsing with cold water, she stepped from the bath, allowing the air in the room to dry her. Summer was here. Late May in the south of France is just a hint of what’s to come. The mighty Mistral wind had subsided and the blaze of summer was just behind it. Madeleine stood, and as the water evaporated off her skin, she felt clean and cool. She forced herself to put on her clothes. At least they were clean and fit reasonably well. Too bad she couldn’t sit around naked and think about her lover a little more.

She laughed at the thought and finally said to the empty room, “You better be ready when I see you again, Jack Teach; the next time will make the first time seem like a tender first kiss.”

Every day she listened for news of the invasion. She sensed that something was changing. The Resistance was mobilizing and was causing problems for the Germans all over the country. I’ll do my part, she thought. But I could just disappear until the end of the war. You know that won’t happen, she told herself. Not when there’s so much more to do.

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CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

Madeleine hid in the attic of the building adjoining the tailor’s shop in Nice. She had been there for almost twelve hours and was sure that she hadn’t been seen. If the operation was a trap, the military police or soldiers would have the perimeter covered and would expect her to enter in a clandestine but conventional manner. They wouldn’t expect her to be inside already, she thought. She had experience far beyond their training. They couldn’t stop her. If everything wasn’t right, she’d back off and come at the target again later. Her caution had served her well many times before.

I spend so much time waiting, Madeleine thought. Maybe eventually, I’ll get to fight out in the open.

She went over her plan of attack in her mind, seeing her path along the parapet between the buildings and then down the stairs into the fitting room. If the tailor’s there, he’ll either run or hide. Either way, he won’t be looking at my face.

Madeleine watched from a small window high above the street. She couldn’t see any police or soldiers out front. The tailor came and opened his shop and busied himself preparing for the day’s customers. Madeleine could hear the activity next door plainly, and it seemed to be business as usual. Customers came and went and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She never took her eyes off the entrance or the surrounding rooftops. There was no back door to the shop and the necessary deliveries were carried in through the front. She was extremely careful to make sure that the people who entered also left.

The scheduled hour of the SS officer’s appointment came and went. Madeleine was about to consider the mission aborted and leave the building when a large staff car came driving down the center of the street, scattering pedestrians and vehicles alike. A tall, arrogant looking SS Major stepped out of the back as one of his two escorts opened the door for him. The men moved towards the front door and positioned themselves outside. Both carried machine guns and looked like they knew how to use them. Stay outside, Madeleine thought as she watched to ensure there wouldn’t be any other arrivals. She doubted whether there would be any more casual traffic into the store with a giant staff car parked out front flying the Nazi insignia with SS markings. She moved slowly, deliberately affixing a silencer to her pistol. She checked her back up weapons and felt confident to proceed. This time she was dressed in well-worn street clothes with a scarf for her head that would help to hide her features. More than likely all the tailor would remember would be the gun in her hand, she thought. She made one final check of her escape route and the back of the building, and then moved out of the attic and across the parapet.

“I don’t know, Horsty, no nasty killer so far,” Willi said, looking out from the back room where Stenger had glanced at the tailor’s receipts two weeks ago. He leaned against the counter, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, completely at ease even though they were waiting for a notorious assassin. Willi looked like he was casually waiting for drinks to be served.

“With the two goons out front she’d have to have steel nerve to come in that way. But she’s done it before. I guess she just doesn’t come across as a threat,” Stenger said, motioning with two fingers, asking for a cigarette. Willi slid a tin and some rolling papers towards him.

“I’ll check the street for anyone fitting her description,” Willi said.

“What description? A young beautiful girl, never looking quite the same? France is full of beautiful young women. Besides, she’s very good at what she does. She might just materialize out of thin air and shoot the bastard,” Stenger said.

“Clearly, we’re not here to protect Herr Schmelling.”

“We’re policemen, not body guards, Willi. Besides, Major Von Schmelling is an SS superman with two more out front. That’s three supermen verses one little girl. He’s an arrogant ass and would screw up this surveillance if he knew the plan.”

“Still, if she got through and we missed her, somebody will want to know if we told Von Schmelling.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Willi, but if he’s dead, who’s to say we didn’t tell him?”

Willi just chuckled and smiled, clearly in agreement.

“Peek in up there, Willi, but don’t let Von Schmelling see you.”

Willi started up the stairs, trying not to make too much noise.

Von Schmelling admired himself in the full-length mirror as the tailor made some last minute adjustments to his sleeves. The Major was completely engrossed in his image and failed to notice Madeleine enter the room through the door and approach him from his blind side. Leblanc was focused on the items of clothing on a small side table as Madeleine moved boldly up behind both men. She raised the silenced pistol in one fluid motion. At the last second Von Schmelling caught movement out of the corner of his eye, spinning around in disgust, a reproachful retort on his lips. Madeleine paused just long enough for the fear to show in his eyes. He needed to suffer a glimpse into the terror that he so easily inflicted on others. Before he could react, Madeleine fired two bullets directly into his chest and throat. He clutched his throat, blood spurting profusely through his fingers. He flailed around trying to find something to hold himself up. Leblanc moved away from him, unwilling to help him in any way. Madeleine shot Von Schmelling again through his right eye and turned immediately to leave the room. As she did so, Von Schmelling crumpled to the floor, his head striking the floorboards with a solid thud. Leblanc was motionless, his face and eyes hidden by his arms. He didn’t want to see anything, much less the killer turning the gun on him.

As Madeleine approached the doorway she heard faint steps on the stairs. There was no time to cross the landing at the top and get away. Madeleine ducked behind the door and waited for the man to enter the room. She assumed that once he saw Von Schmelling he would run over to the body and then she could slip away. She wanted to avoid a confrontation, knowing that she had made a mistake. Someone had been in the building already, waiting just like she had done next door.

Stenger watched as Willi walked up the stairs until he lost sight of him. It was then that he heard the thud from above. A couple of seconds elapsed before a wave of realization hit him. Someone had hit the floor. He pulled his sidearm and sprang for the stairs.

“Willi! Watch out!”

Willi walked through the door just as Stenger yelled. Madeleine simultaneously stepped out from behind the door and held the silenced gun to Willi’s head, keeping herself behind him.

“Either of you move, this man is dead,” Madeleine said in German.

Willi stopped dead in his tracks.

“Hands up,” she said to Willi as she nudged his head with the silencer. She knew that even if she got the man in front of her, there was no telling how the man on the stairs was armed. Willi looked regular army, not SS or Gestapo. She did not want to kill him unless necessary.

“Don’t shoot him,” Stenger immediately responded in French. “We can work this out. Nobody has to die.”

“No such luck for the SS Major. He had to die,” Madeleine said.

“You know, mademoiselle, I really don’t care about him at all. You’ve done the world a favor.” Stenger’s words sounded tired and hopeless. He really did care for the man on the other end of her gun, she thought.

“Then you’re not SS or Gestapo?” Madeleine asked. Willi snorted spontaneously.

“I’m Horst Stenger. I’m a detective.”

“What next, detective?”

“I don’t suppose you’ll just give up? It would make my life a lot easier.”

“And be turned over to the Gestapo torturers? No. Maybe I’ll shoot him and then you and I can shoot each other.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s my friend, my brother. Just don’t do it. He’s a good man.”

“He’s a German soldier killing my countrymen and occupying France.”

“No, he is not! Stenger said loudly, now angry, He is a detective in the Berlin police force and a hero. He saves lives, he doesn’t take them!”

Madeleine did not waver with indecision. There was something in this man’s voice, and the fact that the man in front of her was calm and unafraid. She needed to get out. She thought of Jack and knew that this situation was pivotal. Die here and never see him again.

“I’m leaving, Officer Stenger. Your friend will kneel on the ground with his hands behind his head. You back down the stairs and around the corner. I see you even out of the corner of my eye and I will put one in his ear.”

“I’ll do what you say.”

“There’s one more condition.”

“What?”

“I want a five minute head start.”

“You’ll get more than that. I’ve got a slight problem. I never told the Colonel up there that we were setting a trap for you. Willi and I are definitely leaving. The SS twins in the front are going to have to deal with this.”

“You wanted me so desperately and now you let me go? Why?”

“You’re not the person I thought you were.”

“Maybe I’m not the person I thought I was either.”

“Willi, get down,” Stenger said.

Willi slowly sank to his knees and Stenger backed out of the stairwell and into the front room. Madeleine moved from behind Willi, with only a quick glance down the stairwell. She was across the parapet and down the stairs through the adjacent building. Two steps from the back door, a storm drain was ajar. A filthy packing crate covered it. She pushed it aside, dropped down and pulled the crate back into position. She turned and disappeared down the tunnel.

“Willi, you okay?” Stenger yelled, coming up the stairs. As he did so he saw Leblanc slumped in a chair, stunned.

“Yes, my brother,” Willi said laughing. “Shit, Horsty that was bad. Seemed like a walk in the park for her.”

“Mr. Leblanc. We weren’t here. It’s integral to the investigation. Besides, if she thinks you’re giving information to the SS, well, I’m sure she’ll pay you a visit.” Stenger said with certainty. The look on Leblanc’s face was enough for Stenger to know he’d never say a word.

Stenger and Willi walked across the stairs and into the adjacent building.

“I’m not so sure. She’s a mystery. She must just go after the real bad guys, not regular grunts like us,” Stenger said.

“Maybe it’s because we’re policemen. She could have an uncle or a family member that has the same damn thankless job we do.”

“It’s not all thankless, Willi. Sometimes when policemen are off duty they can drink beer together,” Stenger said.

“You get to buy the beer, Horsty. I’m going to need several to soothe my frazzled nerves. That was like holding a poisonous snake when you’re too scared to move. She would have shot me without a flicker of remorse.”

“You’re right, Willi. She’s a killer. Some people can just do it. You remember the men from our old unit who were like that.”

“Glad we’re not like that, Horsty. Fighting like a soldier is one thing, but to do what she does, you have to sell your soul to the devil.”

“I’ve read the file. She goes out of her way to not harm others. She doesn’t bomb indiscriminately, although I’m sure that that would be effective. Granted, I’m sure she’s been involved in other matters where regular soldiers have been killed, but it’s war. Every time there’s an Allied bombing raid, civilians die. She seems to have made a conscious choice to avoid that. I don’t think she enjoys killing at all. She sees it as her duty, perhaps to God. If that’s true she’s more formidable than I realized at first. Makes you think, doesn’t it, Willi? How would God punish the wicked? He can go Sodom and Gomorrah on them, or he could send a Golem like the Hebrews believe. Golems can’t be stopped until their purpose is fulfilled.”

“Beer, Horsty. No more lovely, scary bedtime stories for poor Willi.”

“Here we go, Willi,” Stenger said, walking out into the alley behind the tailor’s shop, just as they heard Von Schmelling’s bodyguards yelling at the discovery of the body.