Cold Lonely Courage (Madeleine toche Series Book 2) (14 page)

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CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR

“All of the flat cars?” General Lammerding screamed into the phone. “Fix them immediately. We’ve been ordered to the front and we have 300 tanks to move!” As Lammerding listened his face turned from a look of rage to one of utter disbelief.

“General, the flat cars have been disabled. Some kind of paste was put into the axles and the oil has been removed. It solidified into some unknown kind of cement. They will have to be replaced. It is beyond my control.” Colonel Victor Rashmeir calmly spoke into the phone. He was Gestapo and had been sent to investigate the incident along with countless others taking place throughout the region and all over France.

“How am I to get to the front?” Lammerding said, remembering that it was never prudent to scream at a highly ranked Gestapo officer repeatedly.

“You have tanks and trucks, drive them north.”

Lammerding was shaking his head, “That will take days, and we’ll be exposed to the
Maquis
groups all along the way. My troops will be harassed from the moment we set out.”

“Perhaps increased security might have been prudent,
Herr
General,” Rashmeier said evenly, with just a hint of contempt. He knew he had Lammerding. He’d had enough yelling from the General for one day.

“Fine. The terrorists will pay; I’ll tell you that, Colonel.”

“Yes, I believe those are your standing orders, General, and I am told that to date you haven’t hesitated to carry them out,” Rashmeire added.

Lammerding hung up the phone without further comment. “Damn it!” He thought. I need to move a division of men, armor and equipment to Normandy by road. He yelled for his aide.

“Klein, get Major Kampfe on the phone,” Lammerding bellowed. “And I want all of my officers here within the hour. I don’t care where they are or what they’re doing; we’re moving by 1200 hours!”

I hate to split up my troops and equipment, but it makes the most sense to get the convoy moving, Lammerding thought. He would now have to move the tanks by road and that means using up precious fuel. Armor needed petrol. It wasn’t bazookas or bombs that hamstrung him, it was the vast amount of petrol those tanks drank up when you moved them anywhere. He shook his head. The Allies have chosen the most heavily fortified place to invade. He had spent time in Normandy, familiarizing himself with the fortifications and terrain. Why throw yourselves up against that? Bordeaux is much less heavily defended. Just like we drove around the Maginot line facing Germany in Northeastern France, the Allies could have skirted the huge guns and fortified positions in the north and split the country in two, fanning out in all directions, cutting off huge sections of German troops from supplies and reinforcements. It was a time-tested strategy. He scoffed; it seemed more of a Russian move just to throw oneself at the enemy relentlessly to see if he would break. It doesn’t matter now, he thought. Normandy it was. He was ordered to proceed to Caen, stop the advance and launch a counterattack.

Major Kampfe watched as several small but heavy boxes were loaded onto the back of a transport truck. The boxes were marked “records” and should have been much lighter, but none of the men said anything about it. Standing next to Kampfe was a lieutenant just recently minted out of the Hitler youth and rabid to please the dashing Kampfe whose reputation preceded him.

“Lieutenant, these records must not fall into enemy hands, not at all costs. They are vital secrets to the war effort and will be instrumental in our eventual defeat of the enemy. Take them immediately to the railhead here at Limoges where you’ll meet our agent. This information is for your ears only. This convoy is to appear routine. Understood?”

“Jawohl,
Major!” The eager officer said as he leapt into the passenger seat of the staff car leading the procession.

A couple of guards accompanied the convoy, but that was it. Best to hide in plain sight, Kampfe mused as they pulled out of the compound. Nothing was certain, he reminded himself. Surviving to spend the gold will be something of a miracle. At least it gave him added incentive not to be stupid at this stage of the game.

Kampfe watched as the small convoy turned onto the main road and out of sight. I hope it will be able to slip by unnoticed, he thought. At least it’s headed away from the fighting. The Lieutenant had been given a letter signed by General Lammerding directing that all assistance be afforded the convoy. The signature of an SS General should get the convoy through and the gold on a train bound for Zurich without any complications. He would have accompanied it but knew that a ranking officer wouldn’t have been sent on a routine errand. That was exactly what he wanted the convoy to appear to be: routine.

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CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE

Madeleine made her way north, traveling mostly by train when she could without attracting attention. She knew this region well. It was where her cousin lived and where she’d spent many August months in an attempt to escape the heat of the south and the blasting Mediterranean sun. She longed to stop and enjoy a little normalcy with her cousin Gabrielle. She had not written these long months, which had now turned to years. That would have been impossible, and would have put Gabrielle and her small family at risk. Madeleine did not resent the fact that Gabrielle and her small town had all but avoided the hardships of war. In fact, she drew solace from the fact that there were places throughout the country that had escaped notice. It was near these areas of inactivity that she routinely hid.

On the few occasions that she stopped in a shop or to quietly listen at a café for news, she did so under the pretense of traveling. Her “work” had taken her all over France and her familiarity with the local towns, their industries and the customs of their inhabitants all lent to her skill at avoiding notice. Bulky drab clothing and a set of ugly glasses helped as well. She usually traveled as a student studying to be a teacher. Her mother taught at a local teacher training college. Madeleine was grateful for the fact that she taught languages. She had passed on a knack for picking them up to both of her children. Madeleine had always liked English. It was difficult to learn but her mother taught her religiously from her infancy. Crib languages were what she came to understand the term was. The accent was something else. Her English was heavy with the raw accent of Provence. She knew it was one of the reasons the SOE accepted her.

As Madeleine expected, her invasion mission was exceedingly dangerous. She was ordered to travel to the Limoges region and target a general commanding an entire SS Division. General Lammerding was her target. Although in past wars high-ranking officers had been exempt from assassination, the atmosphere of this war trumped playing by the rules. Hitler had directed more than one assassination attempt on Winston Churchill and other leaders with no success. Some of Hitler’s own generals had made more than one attempt on his life.

Political assassination was quite different from Madeleine’s mission, which was purely military. Lammerding commanded a vital reinforcement division. Anything that could be done to harass, delay, or disrupt reserves and keep them out of the fight for as long as possible saved countless lives. Madeleine’s information was that the invasion had been anything but easy. The casualty rate on both sides was huge and the terrain an advantage to the defending army. Each piece of land was taken at great cost.

Sitting in the sun outside of a café in the town of Auibazac, just north of Limoges, Madeleine sat smoking, drinking a glass of wine. The target was nearby, but getting to the general would be very difficult. I’ll have to be invisible to get near him, she thought. Her usual method was to take out her targets when they were at their most vulnerable. That meant when they least suspected attack. It was something altogether different to go into the lion’s den and pull out one of his teeth while he was wide-awake and hungry. A division of the most ruthless and experienced soldiers in the German army was guarding Lammerding. If I’m caught there wouldn’t be a trip to Berlin for interrogation. They’ll rape me, until there’s nothing left, and then hang me for public display. No, they’ll have to kill me. When they try, many Germans will die with me.

I have two choices, she thought. Kill the general when he is exposed outdoors or near a window or entryway. For that I need a sniper rifle with a decent scope and lots of luck. The other way is to sneak into his headquarters, wait for an opportunity and kill him quietly. The first method will cause much more commotion if the division was underway. I’m good with a rifle, but hitting a moving target at a distance and getting a kill shot is meant for an exceptional marksman. If I miss, I won’t get another chance. There is not information on when or how the division will move. The scenario has too many variables. Lammerding might travel by train or in an armored vehicle. Once he was in the combat zone, I’d stand out like a sore thumb trying to move through enemy lines. Under those conditions he will be heavily guarded. I’ll stick to what I do best: get in, lay in wait, and strike. It will happen at his headquarters. They won’t notice me if I go in as a cleaner or a cook or some other domestic servant. I need to control the situation as much as possible to ensure success. I can’t chase the man all over France and hope for an opportunity to present itself.

Stenger and Willi drove at a leisurely pace in their
Kuebelwagen,
the German version of the American jeep. The top was down and there were no windows. The sun was shining and the day was pleasant. Like its American counterpart, the
Kuebelwagen
could go anywhere, just not too quickly. Given their meandering pace and frequent stops to eat and refresh themselves with a beer or two, they were in no great hurry as they slowly passed through the countryside.

“Horst, the invasion is on. Why are we still headed towards Limoges? The Division will undoubtedly be deployed to the front. Nobody is going to care about missing gold anymore,” Willi said.

“We have a new investigation, it seems. Some plucky Resistance group up there switched the oil out of Lammerding’s flat cars and replaced it with paste,” Stenger said smiling.

“Now that is gutsy. I like it. Anyone killed in the process?”

“No violence, no deaths.”

“That is something. It’s beautiful and creative. It’ll be interesting to look into.”

“Even if we catch someone, I guarantee I’m not turning them over to the SS or Gestapo. This investigation should see us through to the end, Willi.”

“Now I’m happy. I wasn’t looking forward to asking any
Das Reich
lunatics about missing gold. Everyone knows they were plundering the countryside. Funny how no gold ever seemed to make its way to Berlin. I suppose sending a couple of old cops was supposed to scare them into compliance.”

“Some bureaucrat’s notion of a good idea,” Stenger yawned.

“Yeah, and as usual, someone hundreds of miles away tucked into a safe comfy bunker with a one-way ticket to Zurich in his pocket,” Willi answered. “So, where do we start the investigation?”

“At the top: with General Lammerding.”

“He’ll be fun. I bet he’s a regular kitten, Horsty.” Both men laughed at the absurd comment.

“Wear your earplugs, Willi. I guarantee he’s going to be a screamer.”

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CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX

Madeleine waited in a basement utility closet while the General’s headquarters bustled overhead. At home with the dust and the spiders, she thought. She had come in hours ago under cover of darkness and managed to slip in through a tiny basement window. Living on the run kept you thin. It had been a tight squeeze but it gave her the added satisfaction of knowing that the Germans would not consider the narrow slit of a window a means of entry. Her plan was simple. Wait and listen, and then act. She had been able to determine which office was the General’s by listening to the traffic and conversation overhead. It was on the first floor and near the back of the building. She would wait until the General was alone, then make her way upstairs carrying a bucket like a domestic servant. She would then slip inside his door under the guise of cleaning the attached bathroom and shoot him, escaping through the back door and into the maze of streets. It was what she knew best: get in and get out. She was worried that she might run out of time and the General would be on his way. She had discovered that the division trains had been disabled and that travel would be by road. 300 tanks and thousands of men will take a long time to get to Normandy on narrow congested roads, she thought. They’ll be full of soldiers and supplies sprinting for the front. The ensuing bottlenecks will slow every unit down, not just
Das Reich.
The General Staff must just be wild over it, she thought, smilng, picturing the chaos in her mind. I hope the General won’t leave the
chateau
and join his troops in the field, until after they’re in position.

“Likes his mansions doesn’t he, Horsty?” Willi said, looking up at the imposing
chateau
while the two stood at the entryway to Lammerding’s command center.

“Might as well be comfortable after months at the Russian front,” Stenger commented.

The two men walked up the stairs and towards a young officer manning the phones in the spacious foyer.

“Major Stenger to see General Lammerding,” Stenger said, showing his credentials.

“Oh yes, Major. The terrorist investigation. The General’s been expecting you. I’ll take you to him.”

As predicted, the general was a sight to behold. His face was florid and looked like it would burst under his tirade. Stenger and Willi watched as he pounded his fist on the giant oak desk commandeered from the rightful inhabitants of the
chateau.
Stenger knew without asking that this blowhard was a lunatic. His connections had gotten him his command. He was one of Hitler’s favorites and that meant the chances were that he was unstable at best. Stenger thought how different this man was from his friend, Field Marshal Rommel. No telling what Erwin was up to. They certainly didn’t move in the same circles. All Stenger knew was that first and foremost, Rommel was a fighter. He didn’t think there would be any easy surrender for him. Stenger lamented the fact that Germany wasn’t led by a man like Rommel. Had that been the case from the beginning of the war things would be quite different now. Hitler fancied himself a master tactician, but he was not; Rommel was.

“Catch them, Stenger. I’ll hang them from every lamppost in town. We’ll teach the scum to target
Das Reich.
We’ll leave them to rot as a warning,” Lammerding said; spit flying from his mouth as he bellowed, leaning over the desk.

“Of course, general,” Stenger said making a mental note never to turn a suspect over to a ranting lunatic like Lammerding.

“We’ll start at the crime scene and move out from there. Someone must have seen something,” Stenger promised.

“Then get to it, soldier! I want blood.”

Stenger and Willi threw the General a military salute as they walked quickly from the room closing the door behind them.

Both men made eye contact as they paused briefly outside of the door to the General’s office. Stenger rolled his eyes as Willi turned to whisper a comment into his ear. As he turned, Willi caught sight of a young woman carrying a bucket towards the back of the building. Her back was turned and she moved steadily away, neither fast nor slow. Willi moved towards the woman, his comment dying on his lips. Stenger put his hand to his pistol as Willi exploded down the hall. Everything seemed to slow down as the woman spun around and reached into the bucket she was carrying. A wave of recognition hit Stenger. The Angel of Death! The General was her target. Killing him would hamper a counterattack.

Stenger was about to yell when he saw Willi grab the woman’s gun hand before she could get it out of the bucket. Willi’s other hand snapped a quick jab into her chin. Willi was a light heavy weight; she went down like a limp noodle.

“Horst,” Willi said looking up. There was a pleading look on his face. He was frozen with indecision. Stenger holstered his pistol and scooped Madeleine up in his arms, taking charge.

“Willi, I’m going out the back door. Go get the car and meet me around back,” Stenger commanded.

Stenger moved decisively and carried Madeleine out the back door of the
chateau
into a small, unused courtyard. The main drive circled around and there was additional parking for deliveries and guests behind the building. Thankfully there was no one in the immediate area.

Stenger glanced around nervously, searching his mind for a logical excuse that would explain why he was holding a young woman in his arms behind the bustling division headquarters. Before he could conjure one up, Willi pulled up in the
Kuebelwagen.
He jumped out and opened the back door, closing it behind Stenger as he piled into the back seat with Madeleine. Stenger sat close, holding her upright by placing her head on his shoulder. Willi slid into the driver’s seat and immediately drove away from the building in the direction they had come and away from the town center. Madeleine’s breathing was even and regular. Stenger searched her as he would any other suspect. He found a second weapon strapped to the inside of her thigh, along with two flexible blades. His fingers felt the hem of her garments and he found several capsules. Two were smaller than the rest and were marked with an L. He knew they were lethal cyanide tablets. Once bitten through death arrived in less than 15 seconds. Stenger shook his head as he flung them out the window. He took the handcuffs he’d carried in civilian life and placed them securely on her wrists and behind her back. Willi glanced over the front seat. He nodded in confirmation.

“That’s her, Horst. Can our luck be any worse? We’ve captured the most dangerous Resistance fighter in all of Europe and we can’t get rid of her.”

“You read my mind, Willi. I’m not going to turn her over to that jowly bastard Lammerding. I’ll never sleep again. She’s an enemy of the Nazis. She’s not my enemy.”

“We can’t turn her loose,” Willi said.

“No you’re right. Her days of Nazi hunting are over.”

“She hurt, Horsty? I just popped her a little,” Willi said glancing nervously over his shoulder.

“She’ll be fine, except I’m sure she’ll be madder than hell when she wakes up.”

“Where to?”

“Check the map. Pick me a small town with a police station. We’re commandeering it until we can figure out what to do next.”