Cold Lonely Courage (Madeleine toche Series Book 2) (5 page)

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CHAPTER
TWELVE

Madeleine stood in the middle of a crowd waiting on the dock next to the
Valencia.
The ship was medium sized for a passenger boat, the wear from years at sea showed on her hull, but the decks and railings glistened with new paint. The seasoned crew moved efficiently from one task to another as they readied to cast off. She’d chosen the modest Spanish passenger boat because the scheduled departure allowed her enough time to thank her Basque friends and to buy some desperately needed items in town.

Madeleine put down her new suitcase and looked around her. The jostling crowd rang with the shouts of “Bon Voyage!” and farewells from the departing and their well-wishers. The passengers were laden with bags and warm coats for the voyage.

It had been difficult to leave Alize and the Basques for the next stage of her journey. Most of the passengers seemed to be traveling with loved ones or friends.

Waiting to board, Madeleine watched the crowd and tried to guess why they were traveling; perhaps the portly man with the untrimmed moustache and soup-stained tie was returning to his wife who would cluck at the state of his clothes. The gray headed fellow looking in his paper case might be an importer of tea, worried about the effect of the war on his business. Madeleine listened to the chorus of languages that rose on the gentle breeze blowing off the water, hinting of the summer to come.

She noticed a tall man. His looks and clothing suggested that he was French. His suit hung carelessly on his slender frame. He leaned against a railing, watching the crowd. Madeleine saw that he had no companions and wasn’t speaking with any of the other people nearby. He noticed her looking at him and she glanced away. He smiled politely and lit a cigarette, casually tossing his spent match onto the dock. Madeleine noticed that she wasn’t the only person interested in him. Two young men, standing at opposite ends of the crowd were also watching him, but were making an effort not to seem so. One man leaned against a ticket booth, his hat tilted forward on his head as he read a newspaper. The other chatted with a young couple next to him, diverting his attention to the tall Frenchman with his eyes every few minutes. Neither man looked at Madeleine, clearly intent on the Frenchman. There was something military about the set of their shoulders that the stained jacket and trim tweed suit could not conceal. Caps pulled over their heads could not hide military haircuts. I wonder who they are? Madeleine thought. And I wonder who he is? The three of them certainly aren’t friends. The Frenchman doesn’t seem to notice that they’re watching. She tried not to stare, but kept an eye on the little drama.

All at once, the stewards removed the chain blocking the gangway to the boat and the crowd surged forward. Stewards moved the passengers along efficiently as people began to board. Madeleine held out her ticket to a brusque young man, who punched it and gestured for her to step up onto the gangway and to enter the boat. With a last glance around, Madeleine made her way to the ship. Once on board, she found a sign indicating that the second class cabins were on the deck below her. Finding the stairwell, she went down.

Robert DuPont watched as the pretty girl moved ahead of him in the line waiting to board the
Valencia.
Behind him he felt the eyes of the two thugs who had appeared shortly after he bought his ticket a few hours earlier. He had hoped that the two of them were there to make sure he left, but clearly they had other ideas in mind as they took their places in line behind him. DuPont was surprised to see that the young women had noticed the Germans watching him. The way her sharp eyes examined his watchers had not escaped him, and that intrigued his interest in her. He decided to contrive a way to meet her.

Madeleine stepped into the salon located on the top deck towards the bow of the
Valencia.
The windows were open, allowing the breeze off the sea to blow through. On the deck, tables and chairs were placed to allow the passengers to relax. The deck was crowded inside and out, with people celebrating the start of their journey in the afternoon sunshine. Madeleine walked around the busy tables and found a seat at a counter that ran the length of the salon on the port side and looked directly over the railing out to sea. She positioned herself so that she could both watch the people inside and also allow her to direct her attention away from the other passengers. As she glanced around the room, she saw the tall Frenchman she’d seen smoking on the dock. The two others, who had been watching him, were gone. Maybe they were satisfied that he’s on board and can’t get off, she thought.

As she looked at him, he turned his head and stared straight at her. Madeleine took a book out of her pocket and tried to concentrate on it. He stood and made his way over to the bar and shouldered his way in to order a drink.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle
,” the tall man said, suddenly next to the table. Before she could answer, he sat down, setting a bottle of wine and two glasses in front of her. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I noticed you on the pier, and I’ve missed talking with a fellow countryman.”

“You’re too kind,
Monsieur,
but certainly there are others here that would be better company than me,” Madeleine said, gesturing around the salon.

“This is French wine and I’d rather drink it with a fellow Frenchman,” DuPont said, smiling. Before Madeleine could think of anything to deter him, DuPont had filled both glasses and set the bottle back into its ice bucket. “What should we drink to?” he said, raising his glass and giving Madeleine a smile.

“Charming Frenchmen,” Madeleine said with a hint of sarcasm.

“What a wonderful compliment,” DuPont said without hesitation. “But you must know I have only the best of intentions.”

“All men do,” Madeleine said, shaking her head and closing her book with a smile.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where are you heading to in England?” he said, taking a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket.

“You tell me first,” Madeleine said, taking a sip of her wine. “These days it’s best to keep personal matters private.”

“Yes, that’s true, but everyone leaving the continent is heading somewhere. I, for example, am headed for London.”

“What’s in London?” Madeleine asked.

“It’s what’s not in London,” DuPont said, lighting a cigarette and offering one to her.

“And that is…”

“Germans.”

“Far too many of them in France,” Madeleine said.

“So true. Now your turn. Where are you headed?” DuPont said. “And are you running away or towards something?”

“That’s a personal question,
Monsieur…”

“Oh forgive me, DuPont, Richard DuPont.”

“I am Madeleine Behern,” Madeleine said, giving the new name on her expertly forged passport. “And who says I’m running at all? Besides, do you think you’ll be seeing your two friends from the dock in London? You know, those two men who were watching you? Maybe you’re the one running.”

“So, you noticed that,” DuPont said, laughing. “Maybe I am running. But I assure you, the only thing I did they could possibly object to was to get out of France.”

“Yes of course, and it’s none of my business, but they didn’t seem too friendly,” Madeleine said.

“They’re probably German agents. Their government doesn’t like Frenchmen running around free. They’d prefer that we all stayed in France under their control,” DuPont said dryly.

“I see,” she said, looking directly at DuPont, not satisfied with his answer

“Well, I have a few things to attend to in my cabin,” he said, draining his glass. “Please enjoy the rest of the wine. I hope that we can chat again before too long. These boats can be so boring after a while.”

“Thank you,” Madeleine said as DuPont got up to leave. “Perhaps we can continue our discussion.” DuPont smiled and walked out onto the deck. As she watched him leave, she was sure there was more to his story than he was telling. You mind your own business, she told herself. You have enough of your own trouble without involving yourself with a man being tracked by those Germans.

DuPont walked back down the corridor towards his first class cabin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the Germans enter the salon. The man didn’t seem to be looking for him. Whatever they were going to do, it would happen before they got to England, he thought. One way or another, they plan to put me over the side.

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CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

The calm waters of the Mediterranean turned into the rough waters of the North Atlantic. The fine mist threatened to turn into rain, and the rolling motion of the ship kept the passengers inside. Madeleine walked along the second class deck, holding onto the handrail, watching the waves rise and fall under a gray sky. The fresh air and the movement of the sea helped her to focus on what lay ahead for her and less on what she’d left behind. The deck was slippery as she moved forward. Madeleine hadn’t seen DuPont since the day before and only for a brief moment in the cafeteria. He said hello, but seemed preoccupied and hurriedly left when the Germans walked into the room.

Madeleine started up the stairs that led to the main deck and was nearing the top of the first flight when she heard hushed voices arguing in German above her on the first class deck. She stopped and listened. She was unable to understand the conversation, but one of the men spoke in an excited and insistent manner. She made out the name DuPont more than once. The conversation ended as Madeleine heard the two men starting down the stairs towards her. She started back up, intentionally making as much noise as possible, hoping that it wouldn’t seem obvious that she had been listening from below. A moment later the two men saw her and she immediately greeted them.

“Bonjour,” she said cheerfully. Both men touched their caps briefly while barely glancing at her. They think I’m just a stupid young French girl, she thought as she reached the top of the stairs. They don’t notice me at all. But DuPont has some trouble coming. I have to say something to him.

Madeleine walked up to the bar and ordered a Pastis. She leaned against the rail and looked around the room hoping to see DuPont. Several other passengers had come to fight their seasickness with a cocktail. Madeleine finished her drink and walked back to her cabin, realizing that she didn’t even know what cabin DuPont was in. As she reached her door a young steward was walking down the hallway. “Excuse me,” Madeleine said stepping close to him. “Perhaps you could help me. Monsieur DuPont was going to meet me for dinner. I’m afraid the sea is a bit much for me at the moment and I don’t think I could eat anything at all.” Madeleine reached out and set her hand on his arm.

The steward smiled bashfully. “It’s a little rough today,” he said trying to be helpful. “A little ginger beer and soda crackers will help. I could send someone over with some.”

“I may want some later. What’s your name? Maybe I could ask for you,” Madeleine said.

“Ask for Pablo. That’s me. Monsieur DuPont is in room A-43. I’m really not supposed to give out room numbers but since you know him I guess it’s okay.”

“Pablo is a nice name,” Madeleine said, giving his arm a little squeeze. “Nice to meet you, Pablo, I’m Madeleine.”

Pablo reddened and looked at his feet. “I’m at your service, Madeleine. Call whenever you need something,” he said moving down the hall.

Madeleine watched as he moved away. She stepped into her cabin and over to the porthole and looked out. Spray from the waves splashed against the glass and she couldn’t look out it long before she felt queasy. She looked at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed. It was five o’clock and dinner wouldn’t be until seven. I’ll wait until at least six, she thought. That way it will look like I’m going over to tell DuPont I’m not well enough to eat. He must have done something the Germans really didn’t like, Madeleine thought. Maybe he’s in the Resistance. Whatever the reason, I have to warm him. Madeleine went over to her suitcase and took out her pistol. She checked the safety and tucked the gun under her pillow for the time being. She swung her legs onto the bed, listening to the tick of the clock and the slow roll of thunder approaching. More rain, she thought as she propped her pillow up against the headboard, picking up the gun again. She pulled a clean cloth out of her suitcase at the end of the bed and started to wipe down the barrel, knowing that she wouldn’t sleep until she spoke to DuPont.

At six Madeleine got up and took a jacket out of her closet. It wasn’t waterproof, but it would also help to hide the pistol she tucked into an inside pocket. Maybe this is foolish, she thought. If DuPont is in some kind of trouble surely he knows it’s coming. Leaving the gun in her pocket, Madeleine made her way into the passageway and walked towards the rear of the ship where she could take another stairwell up to the main deck. DuPont’s cabin was towards the stern at the opposite end from the salon. The thunder was louder once she reached the top of the stairs. She was about to step out onto the main deck and into the passage that led down towards DuPont’s cabin when it occurred to her to exercise a little more caution. I brought the gun, didn’t I, Madeleine thought as she slowed and glanced around the corner in the direction of DuPont’s door. She saw one of the German agents glancing down the hall in the opposite direction. She stepped back, anticipating that he would look in her direction next. She waited a moment and then looked around the corner carefully just as the man turned the door knob and stepped inside. Madeleine reached into her jacket and felt the handle of the pistol. She looked behind her and saw a wastepaper basket with a newspaper sticking out of the top. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought as she pulled the paper out of the basket and folded it in half. She took the pistol and placed it in the crease of the paper and held it in the crook of her left arm, leaving her right hand free. DuPont is in trouble and no one else is here to help, she thought as she walked out into the corridor and made her way towards his door. These men aren’t drunk and there are two of them, she reminded herself as she approached the door. She reached out and carefully placed her hand on the door. If they grab me, I’ll scream. No, I’ll shoot them, she corrected herself, turning the knob with great care to keep it silent. Foolishly, the Germans had left it unlocked. Madeleine glanced in both directions and pushed the door open. DuPont was tied down to a chair in the middle of the room. Both agents had their backs turned to the door and were leaning over him. As the first man turned, she handed him the newspaper with her left hand and fired the gun through it with her right. His body spun back as she turned and shot the second man while he was still reaching into his coat pocket for a weapon. The bullet hit him in the center of his body, knocking him to the floor. Madeleine kicked the door closed behind her, keeping the gun in front of her in case either man was still alive.

“My God,” DuPont said looking up at her. “Whoever you really are, Madeleine Behren, you saved my life.”

“I think we both have things to tell each other,” Madeleine said, tucking the pistol back into her coat and reaching behind DuPont’s chair to untie his hands.

DuPont stood, rubbing his hands. “These two turned out to be Gestapo, but how did you know?”

“I didn’t. But I overheard them in the stairwell discussing you in an extremely unfriendly way. I was on my way over to tell you what I’d heard when I saw that one slip into your cabin,” Madeleine said, gesturing to the second man she’d shot.

“And you just thought you’d bring a gun?” DuPont said. “I’m glad you did. Are you an agent or something? I have never seen anything like that before.”

“I doubt that, Monsieur. Those Gestapo agents didn’t tie you to a chair for no reason.”

“I suppose not. And because you’ve saved my life, I’ll tell you what I can. Before I left France, I was being held by the Gestapo at one of their interrogation centers. I was in my cell between discussions and pretended to have a seizure. The guard came in and I hit him with a wooden chair leg, a bit too hard it turned out. Then I took his gun and shot my way out. And here I am.”

“No wonder they like you so much,” Madeleine said.

“That’s not the first time you shot someone, is it?” DuPont said, reaching into the breast pocket of the body nearest him, searching for identification.

“They’re not the first Germans I’ve killed,” Madeleine said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What are we going to do with the bodies?”

“Exactly what they were going to do with me once they had beaten information out of me,” DuPont said. “Throw me overboard.”

“What information?” Madeleine asked.

“Names of Resistance fighters in northern France,”

“So you’re with the Resistance then,” Madeleine said.

“And now, so are you,” DuPont smiled grimly, pulling the closest body into the small bathroom through a door and out of sight.

“Do you think the storm covered the sound of the shots?” Madeleine said.

“Nobody’s breaking the door down,” DuPont answered.

“I guess we got lucky, then,” Madeleine said, grabbing the wrist of the second man and helping DuPont pull him into the bathroom. “When do these two go over the side?”

“Very early in the morning. You keep a look out and I’ll throw them over. The rough seas will cover the splash,” DuPont said.

“What do we do until then?” Madeleine said.

“I have plenty of wine and cigarettes. Now that the danger has passed and we’ve won a small victory, we should celebrate. But first let’s put them into the bathtub and mop up some of this blood.”

“I could use some wine and about a hundred cigarettes,” Madeleine said. “But I want to know more about fighting with the Resistance.”

“I’ll tell you what I know. But I’ll also tell you about an invitation I got to help the British fight the war,” DuPont said.

“What kind of invitation?” Madeleine said, sitting down on a small settee opposite the bed.

“Have you ever heard of the British Special Operations Executive?” DuPont said.

“Never.”

“I was just told about them a few days ago,” DuPont said, pulling up a chair.

“What do they do?” Madeleine asked.

“Kill Germans,” he said, gesturing towards the bathroom, a smile on his face.

“They sound exactly like the people I’m going to England to find,” she said, smiling back at him.