Cold Lonely Courage (Madeleine toche Series Book 2) (7 page)

“Bombs fall on children every day. If I have to bomb, I will, but I’d rather kill my targets directly,” Madeleine said. “And I’m not anyone’s judge, certainly not yours.”

Hartmann nodded. “We’ll sleep outside again tonight. The group of recruits upstairs will be trying to find us.”

“What do we do if they succeed?” Madeleine said.

“Do what you did the time you couldn’t shake the tail in London: fight them off,” Hartmann said.

“I didn’t make any friends that day,” Madeleine smiled.

“They underestimated you. Besides, if a recruit can’t take a hit, they’ll be useless in unarmed combat.”

“How long will my training continue?”

“You’ll know when you’re ready, not me,” Hartmann said.

“How will I know?”

“Figure it out. Now, concentrate on the guns. I’m going for coffee.”

Throughout the winter, Hartmann drove Madeleine relentlessly. Much of it was repetition and they began to act as one. Madeleine sparred with the men who were training the other recruits in unarmed combat, until they began to refuse, lacking Madeleine’s speed and unpredictability.

With spring, Madeleine and Hartmann returned to London. They began a game of cat and mouse. Each day, she was given a head start and Hartmann followed her, hoping that she’d eventually lose him.

A few weeks later, Madeleine was walking through Trafalgar Square with the usual instruction to identify and drop Hartmann’s tail. As Madeleine turned a corner, she spotted him. I see you, she thought as she picked up her pace, looking around for a way off of the street, excited that he’d made a mistake. She ducked into a women’s clothing shop, moving towards the back where the toilets were located. She locked herself in a stall and pulled a wig and heavy glasses out of her coat pocket, putting them on. She moved back out, tucked into a group of shoppers leaving the store. She saw Hartmann across the street, watching the front. She used the other women as a blind, moving further away, keeping him in sight. Hartmann’s attention was distracted as he crossed the street, dodging traffic. He lost me, she thought, dropping out of the group down an alley. A man carrying a bucket of kitchen scraps stepped out of a door, heading over to a dust bin to dump it. Madeleine stepped into the restaurant through the open door, making her way to the front. She sat down at a table so that she could see the street. Hartmann walked past the window without looking in. Madeleine waited several seconds and then walked to the front door. Stepping out, she saw Hartmann’s back half a block in front of her. She moved onto the sidewalk and followed him to a small block of flats some distance from the SOE Baker Street offices. Dusk was falling and Madeleine saw a light go on in a small second floor window just before the blackout curtains were closed. Here’s my chance, she thought as she waited in an alley.

The sun went down and the shadows of late afternoon became the darkness of night. Madeleine pulled off her street clothes, revealing dark trousers and a black knit top. She pulled her hair back, tying it so as not to obstruct her vision. She waited until the street was completely dark and she was sure Hartmann was in for the night. She checked the road and crossed over. Not pausing when she was in open view, Madeleine made her way around the side of the house and stopped near a black iron pipe dropping down from the roof. She grabbed it and in a matter of seconds reached the top and carefully lowered her body onto the tile. Her heart was pounding, not from the exertion of the climb but from adrenaline. Relax, she told herself. She breathed slowly and evenly until she felt her limbs lose their rigidity, and calmness seeped out from her core. She inched her way over the tile roof, moving silently with acrobatic grace. She kept her weight evenly distributed and tested each pressure point. She made no sound and moved towards the front window. She carefully lowered herself over the edge, finding a foothold on the window ledge as she focused her hearing into the room, ignoring any collateral noise. Eventually, she heard it: the even breathing of sleep. Little by little, she folded herself into the room and moved silently towards the bed. Madeleine took notice of Hartmann’s body position and approached from his blind side, pulling a straight razor from a pocket sewn into the side of her jersey. She opened it and placed it against his neck.

“Bonjour, mon ami
,” Madeleine said in conversational tone.

“I am glad you’re my friend, Madeleine,” he answered after a brief pause. He had been asleep and unaware of her entrance. “I have so few.”

Madeleine pulled the razor away and returned it to her pocket as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“I was wondering when you’d get around to losing me,” he said as he turned on a small lamp.

“To be honest, it was my first opportunity to ditch you. This was the first time I recognized your disguise.”

“What was my mistake?” he said.

“You were the dustman from the first day.”

“My God, how stupid of me,” he said, shaking his head, an honest smile crossing his features. “Well, Madeleine, that was your last test. Are you ready to go to work?”

“Do you think I’m ready?”

“You’ve been ready since the day I met you. You remember, I told you the difference between acting without hesitation and using skills. We’ve been working on skills. You’ve shown many times your inherent ability to act. You’re ready.”

“Will my instructions come from you?”

“No, only from the SOE. They’ll go over that with you. I’m sure I’ll be able to keep track of your progress. Like all people who do this work, you’ll have a signature. At first only I’ll know it. But in time, others will as well. I trained you, so it makes sense that I’ll recognize it first. Besides, I have work to do back in Germany, fighting the Nazis at home.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Don’t trust anyone. Governments like assassins until they don’t need them anymore. Then they send someone, usually a person you trust, to eliminate what they think might be a security risk. I warned them not to come after either of us. I’m your insurance policy. I told them that if you survive the war and they excise you out of some sense of necessity, I’ll kill everyone I know to be associated with this project.”

“Have you made that commitment for others in the past?” Madeleine asked, surprised.

“There aren’t any others.”

“Then why do it for me?”

“You were recruited because you’ve already killed. I don’t have anyone. My family is dead. I have no friends. The Jews I fought with in the Great War spilled their blood as willingly as the next man. They’re gone now, who knows where. My wife and daughters disappeared when I was away. When they needed me most, I was gone. We should have left Germany a long time ago, but my stupid pride cost them their lives. I don’t know where they’ve been taken, and it’s my fault.”

As he spoke, a flood of pain filled his eyes. Madeleine reached out and embraced him. She felt his veneer of hate and death slide away for the briefest of moments.

“I’ll kill as many as I can,” Madeleine said.

Hartmann smiled and shook his head, coming back from the private hell he held in his heart.

“Then we’re done. Be careful. Don’t trust any intelligence reports. Do your own surveillance before you do anything else.”

“You know, I don’t even know what you did before the war,” Madeleine said.

“I was an attorney in Wiesbaden, but my practice is on hold right now,” he said with a faint grin.

“Of course,” Madeleine replied.

Madeleine got up. “I’d better leave. Thank you for everything you’ve done,” Madeleine said, walking to the stairs, wondering if she would ever see him again.

“Goodbye, Madeleine. We’ll meet again.”

As she reached the street, she thought that Hartmann’s final words were both a comfort and a sentence. He gave her hope that she would be successful and help to defeat the enemy. But he told her she would be completely alone, facing the terrors that would always be there until her job was done or she was killed. Remembering her faith, she resolved not to be alone as she stepped into the shadows and towards the war.

.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

The night air was alive around her as Madeleine placed a powerful explosive charge under a railroad track, pushing rocks and debris around it. It was primed and hidden, one of two that when detonated would derail the train headed in her direction. A silenced pistol lay near her hand, an extension of her consciousness.

She looked down the track, seeing Teach working silently, placing another bomb. Their target was a munitions train, coming directly from the factory. Teach looked up and flashed her a quick thumbs up of encouragement. I wonder how many times he’s done this, she thought, excited but nervous on her first assignment. She rechecked the bomb’s wiring to make sure it would trigger with a slight delay once the train traveled over it.

Only two days had gone by since her last meeting with Hartmann. Madeleine was put into action immediately. Hours before she and Teach were flown to a nearby pasture, landing in a light plane. A low altitude parachute drop was too risky. The tiny Lysander airplane could fly under the coastal radar and take off and land over short distances.

Madeleine stood, aware of everything around her. The night had its own pulse and being. She smelled the dampness from the light rain that had fallen earlier, leaving a mist through which there was only a hint of a town in the distance. The train would pick up speed here and most of it would be over the blast zone when it arrived. At least I’m back in France, she thought, happy to see the familiar road signs marking the meandering roads. She was not in her native Provence, but she was home.

“Charges set and timed?” Teach whispered, motioning her into the shadows along the side of the track. His face was close to hers and she felt his alert ease and confidence.

“Charges are set, Captain. Everything is on schedule,” Madeleine whispered, glancing at the luminous dial of her watch. Just as she did so the darkness was split as a match was struck, a short distance down the rail bed. A German sentry extended the match as a second leaned in to light his cigarette.

“Danke,”
the soldier said quietly as he moved away from the match.

The two soldiers separated and began walking towards Madeleine, Teach, and the explosives. They seemed to be paying particular attention to the ground in front of them, glancing around repeatedly as they moved forward. They aren’t green recruits, Madeleine thought. These men had walked point in combat, probably many times. They’ll find the explosives.

Teach made eye contact with Madeleine, pointed to himself and the guard on the far side of the track. Madeleine then touched herself and pointed to the other. Teach nodded firmly and slid farther back into the shadows. Madeleine moved back and to her right, slowly raising her pistol, training it on her soldier. She saw the other sentry in her mind but everything else went away as she concentrated. As the solider passed, she silently stood, taking measured steps towards the track and fired into the middle of his back. Two more steps and she fired a second round into his brain. She heard the almost simultaneous double spit of Teach’s gun and the clatter of the sentry’s gun as he fell. She walked up and grabbed her soldier by the feet and dragged him off the gravel into the darkness. Teach did the same. They both returned to the track and scanned it for debris. Together they pulled the soldiers farther back into the woods, covering them with a pile of leaves before moving silently off into the dark. The entire operation had taken a few long minutes.

Madeleine and Teach began a loping trot away from the blast zone. They moved as one, two parts of a dangerous animal seeking the safety of its lair after a kill.

As they ran, Madeleine thought about what they had done. She’d killed a soldier in combat. It was different than killing the SS officer or the Gestapo agents on the
Valencia.
She was taking revenge then. Now, it was offensive and not defensive in nature and she liked it this way. Her father’s words came to her as she ran. Soldiers die. After enough killing of their own, they come to expect it. He knew what he was talking about. She had seen the memories of Verdun in his eyes when he told her about the place where the innocence of his youth had died in mud and horror.

As they entered a clearing, Teach pointed towards a coupe. It was parked to the side of a cart path under the branches of a hedge, hidden in gloom. Teach got behind the wheel and Madeleine slid into the passenger seat. The car looked old to her, but when Teach hit the starter it immediately roared to life. The engine was well maintained. Madeleine and Teach relaxed as the car pulled forward and moved them away from immediate danger.

“A job well done,” Teach said as he shifted gears. “We’ll stick to this old pasture road. The trees will help to muffle the noise of the engine.”

“I thought those Germans were going to see us,” Madeleine said, resting her head on the back of her seat.

“From what I saw you could have taken them yourself,” Teach said, playfully slapping her knee in camaraderie. She caught his hand and squeezed it in return, holding onto it. He glanced at her, expecting her to release his hand quickly. When she didn’t, he relaxed and held her hand firmly, wondering if her gesture was anything other than a response to their close call.

“Just let me hold your hand a bit longer,” Madeleine said, “This is still all new to me. It’ll take me a while to get used to it.”

“You don’t show it,” Teach said. “I’ve never been in the field with someone more confident than you are.”

“Thanks,” Madeleine said, slowly releasing his hand.

Teach and Madeleine drove through the night, keeping to secondary roads, some not much more than a trail through meadows and farm fields.

Teach looked over at Madeleine curled into a ball sound asleep in the passenger seat. His feelings towards her continued to grow, but he cautioned himself to forget them. We’ve crossed some boundary, he thought. Maybe I’m imagining it. But it doesn’t matter. Personal attachments are dangerous. As he drove he caught himself looking at her often. So much had been communicated in that simplest of gestures, two people holding hands against the dark.

The first sunlight glowed in the east as Teach pulled up to a dilapidated barn, almost completely obscured by a tangle of trees and shrubbery shielding it from a nearby country lane.

“We’ve gone around two hundred kilometers west during the night. We’re close to Spain and my way out of the country this time,” Teach said, as Madeleine opened her eyes. “We’ll be here for the night and then you’re on your own,” he said, stepping out of the car. Madeleine said nothing and nodded as he spoke, her expression clouded and set. Her brow was furrowed as she avoided making eye contact.

They walked to the barn and swung the door open. Teach went back to the car and pushed it inside as Madeleine closed the door. She looked around the interior of the barn. Dust and straw littered the floor, but it was clean. It’s been out of use for a long time, she thought. She stepped into a small room off to the side, separated from the barn by a door. “This must have been the living area for the farmhands during the harvest,” she said.

“It’s not much to look at,” Teach said. “But it’ll keep out the wind and rain. I’ll see if I can get a fire going. We’re far enough out; a small one won’t attract any attention.”

“If there’s food, I could make us something to eat,” Madeleine offered.

“There’d better be. There were strict instructions to the local
Maquis
group to provision this location.”

“Have the
Maquis
here seen much action?” Madeleine asked, referring to the French guerilla fighters.

“I really can’t say. The groups operate independently. But they’ll have to work together when the invasion comes, so that they can hit the Germans from everywhere at once.”

“When the invasion comes. That seems so far away,” Madeleine said quietly.

“It can’t be helped. It will probably be a long time. I wish it could be different, but your job will be extremely important,” Teach said gently as he put his hand on her shoulder.

“At least I’ll be doing something,” Madeleine said as she moved in closer to him and leaned against his tall, spare frame. Her hands at her side, she leaned her head against his chest. Teach put his arms around her and held her quietly. It didn’t seem like a time for words and he was afraid the embrace would end if he spoke.

“I admire you, Madeleine. I’m not sure that I could do what’s being asked of you. Your courage is so strong. You could have sat out the war in England but you chose to sacrifice yourself and fight.”

“I had no choice. Hartmann picked me. If I had refused, somebody else would have to go in my place.”

“He told me he’d never seen anyone as hard as you. We have great confidence in you.”

Madeleine looked up searching his eyes. “Is there nothing else? I don’t want you to remember me as a cold killer. We’ve worked together a long time. I have other feelings for you, Jack.”

“I’d hoped you say that,” he said, “They teach us to be distant and ruthless, I just can’t be that way with you,” Jack said, a pained look on his face.

“I never thought I’d say that to you, Jack. I was so afraid of your answer. But you’re leaving and who knows if we’ll ever see each other again.”

“We will,” Jack said.

Madeleine broke their embrace and walked over to a small stove. “We’ll get a fire going in here and find something to eat,” she said.

Madeleine looked into the small room off to the side, cluttered with tack for the animals that had once sheltered in the barn. She found a weathered, gray wooden crate that looked promising. She pried back one of the panels and saw several jars inside and pulled them out.

“We’re in luck,” Madeleine said. “Someone left us some food. There are peaches, vegetables and stew.” She pried the top off of one jar and smelled it. “It’s lamb,” she said with delight.

“How do you know?” Teach said casually as he inspected the stove and pushed some tinder into the firebox from a pile left at the side of the stove. He struck a match, tossing it into the tinder. The dry wood caught immediately. When she didn’t answer he glanced at her, smiling when he saw her expression. She was looking at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“What did I say?” Teach laughed, grinning helplessly.

“You should know better than to question the French about food. We invented cuisine, and never a Toche. We’re great cooks, and that’s something in a nation where everyone knows food,” Madeleine said, enjoying the moment, looking at him.

This time he didn’t look away. His eyes burned into hers. He couldn’t be more beautiful, she thought as she moved next to him. She brushed past him, setting the jars on the counter. He made no move to get out of her way, her face flushing as she touched him. Now or never, she thought, her hands shaking. She turned and burst upon him like a wave, pulling his face down to hers. His kiss was hard, as they threw themselves together, their hands desperately clutching at each other. Madeleine pushed the table out of the way as they collapsed to the floor.

There were no sweet kisses or tender caresses as their pent up lust crashed together and raged. Their clothes were torn as they struggled, becoming one, their breath ragged and snatched between their gasps and moans. They gave in to each other completely. For a moment nothing else existed. Their fears and the hopelessness of the world vanished.

It was a long time before Teach stood and helped Madeleine from the floor. He moved towards the stove and started to open the jars of food. She came up next to him and took them from his hands and walked him over to the table and sat him down in a chair.

“Let me,” Madeleine said, wanting to do this simple thing for him.

Jack was quiet, watching Madeleine as she stirred the fire. She glanced at him and smiled, emptying the jar into a saucepan.

“It’ll take a while. The fire burned down while we were on the floor,” she said, chuckling.

“Then come sit with me,” Jack said, reaching out with an open hand.

Madeleine pulled a chair next to Jack’s at the table. “I’m not sorry that happened,” she said, taking his hand.

“I’m so happy that it did,” Jack said, squeezing her hand as he leaned in closer.

“At least we won’t have to wonder what happens next,” Madeleine said.

“You go on a mission and I go home for a while,” Jack said. “Then, who knows where they’ll send us.”

“Have you ever been to Provence?” Madeleine asked.

“No, but I’ve heard it’s wonderful.”

“When this is all over, I want to show you the sea. You could come to our restaurant and I’ll cook for you.”

“I can’t wait,” Jack said.

“I’ll check the stew,” Madeleine said as she stood up. “We must have some cigarettes in that kit bag. Could you dig one out?”

“Right away,” Jack said, pulling a dark canvas bag closer, rummaging through it. He brought out a small envelope and the cigarettes. “Here are your orders. They’re encrypted. I have no idea what they say.”

Madeleine took the envelope from him and slipped it into her pocket. She turned to the stove and spooned some stew into bowls she found on a shelf. She placed them on the table and sat down.

“I know you’re curious but you should wait until I’m gone to read them,” Jack said, spooning some stew into his mouth.

“They made that clear. Only I’m supposed to know,” Madeleine said.

“It’s better I don’t. I’d just worry and want to help, but I have my own orders,” Teach said.

“I’m sure I’ll worry enough for the both of us,” Madeleine answered.

Why does morning always seem to come so quickly? Madeleine thought as she poured coffee to go with their canned peaches and leftover stew. Sitting next to each other at the table, neither of them said much but touched constantly. Finally Jack looked at his watch.

“I have to leave, Madeleine. I have to meet my contact. The rendezvous point is on the other side of the border.”

“Funny how you have to escape from fascists through another fascist country,” Madeleine said.

“We have friends in Spain. Some are fighting in the Resistance groups here. They’ve been at war a long time and hate the Germans for helping Franco during the civil war.”