The Sisters of St. Croix (47 page)

“Adèle!” cried Marie. “What’s happened? Where are you going?”

Adelaide quickly told the couple what she had seen that morning. “We are all in danger now,” she said. “The Auclons must have talked, so it’s almost certain Hoch knows about me. So, it’ll be better for you if I’m not here. You can say that I got the sack from the convent this morning, so I’ve gone to Paris to look for work.”

“But where will you go?” asked Marie.

Adelaide smiled at her. “To Paris, to look for work. That’s all you need to know. What’s more important for you is to know nothing about the Auclons. Hoch will know I was involved, but you must plead ignorance. You had no idea what I was doing. Innocence and ignorance. Just stick to the fact that I came to help you out on the farm and earned some extra money working up at the convent. You had no idea that I was involved with anything else.”

“You think that Hoch is going to buy that?” asked Gerard scornfully.

Adelaide shrugged. “I don’t know. It depends what the Auclons were made to tell him. But you’ll just have to stick to that and hope he does. We must warn the Charbonniers, too. He’ll know about them as well.”

“If he knows all this, why isn’t he here already?” wondered Marie. “Why hasn’t he arrested us yet?”

“I don’t know,” conceded Adelaide. “Let’s just be grateful he hasn’t, and take advantage of the time he has given us. One of you should go over to the Charbonniers and warn them. In the meantime, I’ll leave. If a man called Marcel comes, tell him I will be at the fallback rendezvous tomorrow.”

The sound of a vehicle coming along the track made all three of them spin round, and for a moment Adelaide thought it was a German staff car edging into the yard. It had, indeed, the familiar long bonnet and inverted chevrons of a Citroën similar to the one that Hoch had requisitioned, but instead of a German at the wheel, Adelaide saw, with an explosion of relief, that it was being driven by Marcel. On the windscreen was a large sign saying “Doctor”. Leaving the engine running, he jumped from the car, slamming the door behind him.

“I got your message,” he said. “Time to go.”

Adelaide looked across at the Launays who stood staring at Marcel. “What about them?” she asked. “They’re in as much danger as I am.”

“Nothing we can do for them,” Marcel snapped. “They can’t leave their home. They’ll have to brazen it out. The only thing they know about is you… right?”

“Yes, and the Auclons.”

“Hoch already knows about the Auclons. They can tell him nothing more.”

“He may think they know more,” cried Adelaide.

“Adèle, there’s no way we can protect them if he takes it into his head to arrest them. But it will be far worse if you are taken too… for everyone. Now get in the car!”

“He’s right, Adèle,” Marie said. “We’ll be safer when you’ve gone. The only other thing we know is about Étienne and Albertine, and if Hoch knows about us, he’ll know about them as well. It’s a risk we all took, but please, go now before things get worse. Don’t worry, we’ll warn them too.”

Adelaide looked at her for a moment. As always it was Marie who was the stronger of the two Launays, Marie who had defiantly fought death for her man and nursed him back to health, Marie who had faced Fernand’s knife and given nothing away. Adelaide hugged her tightly, loving her for her courage.

“Hurry,” Gerard urged, taking her case off the bike. “There’s no time to lose.”

Adelaide broke away and climbed into the car. “Thank you both,” she said, “and good luck.”

Marcel turned the car in the yard and then drove slowly back along the track.

“Message from London,” he told her. “They want you home again. There’s a plane bringing someone in tomorrow night. It’ll pick you up.”

He was driving up the track as he spoke, but before Adelaide could answer a man in workman’s overalls stepped into the road, barring his way, and flagging him down.

“What the…? Christ!” exploded Marcel as he saw two others in German uniform step out behind the first, training machine-guns on the car. “Hold tight,” he rasped. “Get down when I say.”

He continued towards the three men, slowing down and raising an acknowledging hand, as if complying with their signals, but as he reached the end of the track he bellowed “Down!” and slamming his foot on the accelerator the car leapt forward and he drove straight at them. As the three Germans dived clear, Marcel wrenched the wheel and took the corner onto the towpath at full speed. Adelaide ducked below the dashboard clinging to the seat, as she was nearly thrown across the car into Marcel’s lap. A machine-gun rattled behind them, the bullets thudding into the ground around them as they sped away. The back window shattered showering them with glass, and Adelaide wrapped her arms round her head and face in a belated effort to shield herself from the flying shards. Even as she did so the windscreen disintegrated. Marcel grabbed a pistol from between the seats, and using the butt as a hammer smashed away the remains of the glass. They careered along the path and out into the lane, and there were several thuds and bangs as more bullets pounded into the body of the car. At one moment the car slewed drastically to one side, as a tyre burst, but Marcel, wrestling with the steering wheel, managed to keep them moving, the car slumping heavily on the flattened rim.

“Stay down!” he yelled as Adelaide shifted in the seat beside him. The machine-guns continued to blaze behind them but the turn in the road hid them from view, and for the moment they were safe. They reached the main road and Marcel swung the car towards Albert.

“You all right?” he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

“Yes.” Adelaide’s voice was shaky. “Yes, I think so.” She sat up cautiously. “Ouch! There’s broken glass everywhere and it’s vicious!” Blood seeped from cuts to her face, hands and arms, but otherwise she was uninjured. She looked across at Marcel. Blood was streaming down his face and neck, but he continued to grip the steering wheel, keeping the damaged car limping along the road.

“Marcel, you’re bleeding,” she cried. “Are you hit?”

“Only glass, I think,” replied Marcel through teeth clenched in pain. “They’ll be after us, Adèle, we must dump the car. It’s had it!”

“They haven’t got a car,” Adelaide said, “or a motorbike. If they had, they’d be here by now. Keep going until we find somewhere better to ditch the car.”

Even as she spoke, Marcel slumped down across the wheel, his foot slipped off the accelerator and the car shuddered to a halt.

“Marcel!”

Marcel groaned, and shifted in his seat. “My shoulder!”

“Quick, swap places. I’ll drive!” Adelaide leapt out of the car and rushed to the other side. “Come on, Marcel!” She opened the driver’s door and hauled him out. His jacket was soaked and sticky with blood and Adelaide realised it was not just from the gashes on his face and neck. He must have been hit in the shoulder.

“Come on, Marcel,” Adelaide urged. “Get in the back!” She managed to heave him into the back seat, slamming the door shut to hold him inside. A glance behind her showed her no Germans in hot pursuit, but it also showed her a thick slick of oil on the road; the car had definitely been hit.

With a curse she clambered into the driver’s seat and tried to start the engine again. It coughed and died, refusing to catch.

“Come on! Come on, damn you!”

Her mind raced. They had to find some sort of cover. If the car would go no further they would have to go on foot, and, with Marcel in the state he was, that truly would be a lost cause. Capture would be inevitable. Adelaide gave one last despairing pull on the self-starter, and miracle of miracles, the engine spluttered into life. Carefully she eased the clutch and the accelerator and the Citroën began to edge forward, its blown tyre thumping and bumping on the road. They moved slowly, but at least they were moving.

We shan’t be able to go far like this, she thought, and they’ll be right behind us. She glanced into the back of the car. Marcel was slumped as she had left him on the back seat.

“Marcel! Are you awake? Can you hear me? Marcel! Marcel!”

The only reply from behind her was a grunt and the sound of rasping breath.

As the car limped forward, Adelaide considered their options, and there appeared to be none. She pressed hard on the accelerator, and despite the shredded tyre the car picked up some speed.

“Come on! Come on!” she muttered, willing the car forward, but as they rounded a bend in the road, a second tyre blew and the car slewed sideways. Adelaide wrestled with the steering wheel, but the car did not respond and they cannoned into a tree at the side of the road with a resounding bang, and the engine died.

“Christ!” Adelaide was flung forward, hammering her ribs against the steering wheel, leaving her winded. For a moment she sat still, fighting the stabbing pain in her chest, trying to regain her breath. An ominous ticking came from the engine and there was a strong smell of petrol. Adelaide heaved herself out of the car, and jerking the back door open she struggled to pull Marcel clear. He tumbled out onto the road, and she saw that his shoulder was bleeding steadily now. This was no wound caused by flying glass, and Adelaide knew that it was bad. He was dazed but he was conscious as she reached under his arms to drag him away from the car. He was heavy, a deadweight, and she struggled to move him.

“Come on, Marcel,” she snapped. “Help me! We’ve got to get away from here. They’ll be here any minute!” She pulled him to his feet and, as he took some of his own weight, supported him against her as they made their way slowly along the road towards a gate leading into the adjacent field. Pursuit could not be far behind and Adelaide knew that they must, at least, get out of sight. For a moment Marcel rested on the gate, regaining his strength, and then they moved into the field.

“We must find somewhere to hide,” Adelaide said, “while we do something about your shoulder. You’re losing blood.”

“Copse over there,” Marcel rasped, pointing to a stand of trees on the further side of the field.

“Too far. They’ll be here in a minute.”

“Leave me here,” Marcel said. “You could make it on your own.”

“Shut up and let me think,” snapped Adelaide.

Even as she spoke she heard the sound of an approaching car. Too late to do anything but hide and pray. Adelaide looked round and saw the dry ditch that ran along the back of the hedge.

“Into the ditch!” She rolled Marcel into the ditch and giving him the pistol she had brought from the car pushed him down under cover of the overhanging branches.

“Stay here,” she hissed. “I’ll be back.”

The sound of the engine told her it was only one car, not a convoy of troops come searching. Pray God it was only a civilian car and not the Germans at all. She slipped along the field side of the hedge until she was level with the wreck of their car, then she too dropped into the ditch, and watched through the hedge as the approaching car came to a halt.

As the Citroën had disappeared drunkenly round the bend in the lane, Braun bellowed at the other two. “Hold your fire. They’re out of range!” He looked round to discover only Schilde on his feet. Taube lay motionless on the verge where the lurching car had tossed him. Braun checked for a pulse. “Out cold, but alive. Right. I’ll go back to HQ and tell Colonel Hoch what’s happened. You do what you can for Taube, make him as comfortable as you can and I’ll send help.”

Leaving Schilde to attend to his comrade, Braun grabbed his bicycle from inside the barn and set off to the village. He was not looking forward to making his report. He had failed, and Colonel Hoch did not tolerate failure.

“Well?” Hoch growled when the unfortunate Braun came into his office.

“They’ve made a break for it, sir,” Braun said. “Two, in a car. A man and, I think, a woman.”

“What!” the colonel bellowed. “And you let them go? What car? Why didn’t you report to me when the car arrived?”

“We didn’t see it arrive, sir. It must have been at the farm before we set up in the barn.”

“Why the hell didn’t you stop it, as it came out?”

“We did, sir. We flagged it down as it drove up the track. It had ‘Doctor’ displayed on the front windscreen and it was slowing as it reached us. Schilde and Taube had them covered and I stepped forward to speak to the driver.

“What did he look like?” demanded Hoch.

“Difficult to tell, sir. I only saw him briefly. Dark hair. Not an old man, probably somewhere in his thirties.”

“Marcel!” Hoch leapt to his feet. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“We thought he was stopping, sir, then at the last minute he put his foot to the floor and simply drove us down. Taube was knocked unconscious, he’s still out. We opened fired and the car took several hits.”

“But they’ve got away,” growled Hoch.

“I don’t think they’ll get far, sir,” Braun replied. “One of the tyres blew, and the car took a definite hit.”

“Weber!” Hoch’s bellow could be heard all over the building, and the lieutenant appeared at the run.

“Colonel?”

“Get the car!” barked Hoch, and as Weber rushed to fetch the car Hoch turned on Braun with a tirade of invective, damning him for his stupidity, incompetence, cowardice. “You should have stopped the car at any price!” Hoch roared. “Doctor indeed! It was a wanted resistance leader!”

Braun did not remind the colonel that his orders had been to take prisoners, to take them alive. He valued his own skin too much for that. “They drove straight into us, sir. By the time we were on our feet again they were away. But the car was damaged. They won’t get far, sir.”

“And the girl was with him, you say?”

“There was a passenger.”

“Which road did they take?” Hoch interrupted impatiently.

“They headed north-east, sir, towards Albert. You should easily catch up with them; the car sounded in a very bad way. Shall I call for reinforcements, sir?”

Weber and the car appeared on the square, and the colonel strode out to join him. “Twenty men!” he snapped over his shoulder. “Find Major Thielen and send him after me with twenty men, along the Albert road. Warn him I want no more cock-ups. Tell him to bring the dogs. And you,” he added ominously, “I’ll see you when I get back.”