AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Our relationship amounts to being polite and friendly, yet still guarded. His grief at losing his friend, someone who was a brother to him, remains.
Johann hasn’t had any more dinner guests, which is both a relief and frustrating. If things don’t change soon, if I don’t find myself privy to information Baker Street could benefit from, the SOE will need to reassign me to a new role in the war.
I pedal around the curve in the road that passes Jacques’s vineyard. The sun is low in the horizon, peering above the tops of the grapevines, warning me it’s almost curfew. Johann told me this morning he would be coming home late and not to worry about making supper for him.
Pierre comes into view on his bicycle. Once we’re next to each other, the canopy of an oak tree above our heads, we stop and dismount.
“Bonjour, Angelique.” His flushed face breaks into a welcoming smile.
“Salut, Pierre. What are you doing out here?” I wasn’t expecting to see him today.
“I’ve been sent to tell you”—the volume of his voice drops, almost scraping the cracked road—“the new pianist can’t keep his wireless at the safe house. The Nazis have become more vigilant in these parts. My contact thought maybe he could store it in Monsieur Gauthier’s barn.”
I manage to keep my surprise at his comment from my face. “Are they forgetting about the Wehrmacht captain billeted there?” Is his contact fucking barmy?
“That’s why they thought the barn would be the perfect hiding spot. No one will suspect a wireless set is being hidden where a Nazi is staying.”
“He’s not a Nazi.” The whispered words pour out harsh and waspish. The intensity of them shocks even me.
“Sure he is. He’s one ofthem.” Pierre’s tone is equally harsh and biting, and the flush of his skin darkens.
“He’s a Wehrmacht Army officer, but I get the impression he doesn’t support Hitler. But it doesn’t matter if he supports the monster or not; it’s not a smart idea to hide the set in Jacques’s barn. If the Germans find it, he and I will be executed. Or we’ll be imprisoned and tortured.”
“Then make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“And where exactly will the operator be sending messages from? Or is your contact expecting him to also do that under Captain Schmidt’s nose?”
Pierre lifts his shoulders in what is not a reassuring shrug.
“Tell your contact they need to come up with another plan. If Captain Schmidt weren’t living in the farmhouse, it might be possible, but not under these conditions.”
The rumble of an engine is our first warning of approaching danger. We scan the area for a place to hide. The Nazis don’t like people gathering in private groups. In their opinion, even a group of two is one person too many.
And two people meeting like this, on a road where Gestapo or SS or Wehrmacht cannot spy on us, is bound to raise suspicion.
“I don’t suppose if we kiss, they will ignore us?” Fear splinters Pierre’s voice, a contrast to the near calm of his expression. It’s a reflection to how I feel and how I’m trying to appear to the Germans who are about to stumble across us.
A military Jeep comes around the bend. My palms grow clammy against the bicycle handlebars. I tighten my grip. The Jeep has plenty of room to pass us. If it hits us, it’s not due to lack of space.
The Jeep doesn’t slow, but it does pass us without swerving even a fraction of an inch towards us.Thank God for that.I relax my grip on my bike. Johann is sitting behind the wheel. He doesn’t acknowledge me. He usually greets me with a nod and a smile, but only when we are alone.
I watch the Jeep until it is out of view. It never slowed. If anything, it sped up once it drove past Pierre and me. If Johann has an issue with Pierre and I meeting away from the watchful eyes of the Nazis, he does not plan to address it here, in the open.
“Wasn’t that the Nazi who’s living with you?” Pierre asks, his tone suggesting he already knows the answer.
I turn back to Pierre. “Tell your contact they need to keep looking for a place to store the wireless set. If the operator stores it in Jacques’s barn, there’s no guarantee he can keep to his assigned communication schedule. He won’t always have access to it.”
I don’t wait for a response. I climb on my bike and pedal to the farmhouse.
The military Jeep is parked in the driveway with no sign of Johann. I lean my bike on the barn wall and go into the farmhouse.
Jacques isn’t downstairs. He would have retreated to his room as soon as he heard the Jeep. Johann is also not down here. I listen for the creaking of floorboards in his room, but silence is all I hear. He must be at the pond. He still goes there whenever he can. I have followed him a few times, but with Dieter gone, there’s nothing for me to learn. Johann is always alone, and it’s not as if he talks German strategy out loud to himself.
I enter the kitchen and stare at the barn through the window. The location ticks off several of the SOE’s requirements for hiding a wireless transmission set. The only issue is accessibility. The operator needs to have a genuine reason to constantly be at the house.
A worker at the vineyard? The perfect cover if not for the problem that Jacques cannot afford to hire anyone. It would look suspicious if he suddenly had the money to do that—even though he wasn’t actually paying the man.
The front door clicks open. Theclunk-clunk-clunkof heavy boots walks past the kitchen and heads upstairs.
