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Scent? I couldn’t smell anything.
Minutes passed. The man slid into Connor’s car. As he opened the door, I caught a glimpse of Connor’s face. My stockings were soaked through as the wind picked up speed once again, and shivers rushed up my legs.
The gunshot covered the howl of the wind. I jolted as Roy stepped in front of me. Another shot rang out, coming from the car, but it was hard to say if Connor or Murphy had shot, or if it’d been the German. I barely had the time to open my mouth before Roy shoved me towards the town.
“Go to the car,” he ordered. “Run. Don’t stop.”
I didn’t argue as more gunshots ricocheted behind me. The Dutch police were swarming from the checkpoint, guns at hand. I paused at an intersection and glanced over my shoulder. Roy was nowhere to be seen, swallowed by the rain.
My heart told me to stay, but part of my role was to provide the backup car we’d take to flee the town in case they were forced to leave the other car behind. And I had to follow my orders, or Roy would never let me work with him again. So I resumed running through the rain.
Following the escape route, I rushed along the pavement, my dress getting damp and heavy. As I entered the town centre, Venlo’s narrow alleyways offered shelter from the constant battering of the wind that howled its anger from above the houses. I slowed my pace to a fast walk, so as not to attract attention, although the gale had discouraged the people of Venlo from wandering around. Only a few brave souls hurried along the slippery pavements. My boots splattered dirty water everywhere as I stepped into the puddles.
I turned right, then left, cutting through another alleyway, then straight on along Leutherweg. The wind slapped my face with icy rain, blinding me for a moment when I walked along the wide road. Rain drenched my hair and coat, sending cold shudders up my back. Sirens pealed in the distance, coming from the border. Damn.
I stopped at the intersection with Margaret Straat and searched around in case someone was following me. Like Roy had told me, a black Ford car was parked at the kerb in front of me. I checked that the ignition key was still in my pocket. Panting, I retreated to a corner and waited for Roy. The plan was that I should wait for him for half an hour only, then leave without him, heading to the road for Amsterdam. I would wait longer than that. Leaving him behind wasn’t an option.
The wind swept the empty street. Chewing my bottom lip, I waited, the key cold in my pocket. It was torture to not know what was happening to Roy and to not hear anything aside from the darn rain and wind. Only the police’s cars and other wagons rushed past. No one was around. Except for a familiar lonely figure wrapped in a dark coat.
I sagged in relief when Roy strode along the pavement, seemingly oblivious to the unforgiving wind battering him. With his long strides, he headed towards the alleyway where I was hiding. His raven hair flapped over his cheeks, and the coat billowed behind him.
His footsteps hit the pavement with a wet smack when he hurried past me without sparing a glance at the alleyway. Had he forgotten in which alleyway we should meet? Ha! I was ready to tease him for that after he’d insisted that I memorised every nook of Venlo. I stepped out of my hiding place and ran towards him.
“Roy,” I shouted against the wind. “Roy, I’m here.”
He ignored me.
“Roy,” I yelled louder, tailing him.
He skidded to an abrupt halt, but didn’t turn towards me. Shoulders hunched against the wind, he remained frozen a few feet from me.
“Roy,” I said again, walking towards his still figure. “You passed the rendezvous point.” I touched his arm. He jolted. “Roy, what’s wrong? Are you injured?”
Inch by inch, he spun towards me, his golden eyes wide with shock and another emotion I couldn’t place. There was something odd about him. The coat wasn’t the one he’d donned that morning, but one of a finer quality, thick and sleek, with large black lapels. Underneath it, I caught a glimpse of a black uniform and silver buttons. What the heck?
“Where did you find these clothes? Why are you wearing them?” I searched his face. Tension rode his hard features. “Roy, what the hell is going on?”
Rain sluiced down his chin as he raked a slow glance over me, as if he were seeing me for the first time. As if he had no idea who I was.
And then it dawned on me.
The usual, familiar flutter that came every time I was close to Roy wasn’t there. The spark of vitality between us was missing. My beast wasn’t stirring, called out by Roy’s panther.
It couldn’t be.
The man took a step closer, hounding me with his sheer size.
“You aren’t Roy,” I said, stepping back. The wind blew from behind me, plastering my coat and skirt to my legs.
Lips pressed in a white slash, he shook his head. Another step closer. The wind flapped his coat open, revealing the uniform of an SS officer underneath, the swastika flashing red in the dull grey day. My mouth grew dry.
There was only one person who could be that similar to Roy.
“You’re Lukas,” I whispered, but somehow, he must have heard me because he nodded in the same sharp manner Roy would. Had I thought Roy’s gaze was cold? It was warm and sweet compared to the icy glint in Lukas’s eyes.
A shock of dread washed over me. The fact that my wet clothes were wrapped around my legs didn’t help. “It’s not possible. Lukas is dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He moved closer. Even his voice was like Roy’s. Twins through and through.
