Nausea swept over Emily. No training in the world prepared her for the horrific realities of a violent death. She pressed a hand to her mouth. She could not be sick. Not now. Not here.
Krause’s face darkened, and he swung the gun toward Gerard again. He pulled the trigger.
Click.
The pistol didn’t fire.
He tossed it away and grabbed Gerard around the throat.
Emily sprang into action. She had to save Gerard. She was an agent, not a sniveling female. Her gaze ricocheted around the room before coming to rest on the rolling pin. She rushed to the table and picked up her weapon.
Racing to the men, she swung at Krause striking the back of his skull. Stunned, his grip on Gerard loosened, and he slumped over.
Was he dead? Emily’s stomach roiled.
Gerard flung off the limp German and stood. “Well done. We must tie him up and get out of here before he comes to.”
Emily nodded. The man lived. She pulled open a kitchen drawer and retrieved a stack of old dish towels. With the paring knife, she tore them into strips as she went back to the living room, avoiding a glance at the body of the dead Frenchman.
Gerard had already wrestled the soldier into one of the kitchen chairs. The man’s head lolled to one side, his face ashen. Pulling Krause’s arms behind the chair, Gerard tied his wrists together then restrained the man’s upper arms and ankles. “That should hold him for a while.”
“You didn’t kill him.”
“No. And we may regret that decision, but my conscience will not let me shoot the man in cold blood. It would be murder.”
She gaped at him, her heart full at his mercy toward the enemy soldier. “You know he would kill you if the situation were reversed.”
“I’ve no doubt you’re right, and I may not be on speaking terms with God at the moment, but I’m not interested in breaking His sixth commandment.” He jerked his head toward the bedroom. “Go pack our things, and I’ll retrieve the radio. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
“That is correct.”
Emily’s head whipped toward the German whose eyes were now open, his expression haughty.
“Flee now, but you won’t get far. You will be found, and when that happens, you will die.”
Chapter Eleven
Emily’s thighs burned as she pedaled the rickety bicycle up and down the hills of the French countryside. Behind her, Gerard’s breathing was labored. He hadn’t complained, but his head had to be throbbing after the blow from the German. Hours had passed since they fled the small house with their few belongings and the radio.
Shadows lengthened in the setting sun. Darkness would soon cover them.
Perspiration sealed her blouse to her skin, yet the breeze chilled her, and she shivered. How could she be cold and overheated at the same time? Her slick palms sought purchase on the handlebars as she ascended another incline. If she wasn’t running for her life, she might actually enjoy the pristine views of vineyards and villas.
The pedals lost traction, and she looked down. The chain had slipped off the cog. She heaved a sigh then steered her bike to the side of the road. Dragging her right foot, she slowed the vehicle then jumped off the seat and stopped.
Gerard pulled up beside her. “Is everything all right?”
“The chain may be broken.”
“Let’s take a look.” He laid his bike on the ground then grabbed hers and turned it upside down. He examined the crank arm and ran his finger along the chain. Brow furrowed, he tugged on the metal links. Several grunts later, he looked up with a smile. “All fixed. Who knows the last time these poor bikes were greased. We’re lucky they’ve carried us this far.” He flipped the bike upright, and she took it from him.
Emily glanced down the road. “How much farther should we ride before holing up for the night?”
He dug into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew the handkerchief-sized silk map. He held it toward the dimming sun then poked at the thick, twisted line that ran through the center of the material. “I suggest we put in at least another fifty miles. I’d like us to make it as far as Provins. There’s a small Resistance cell that operates out of that village.”
“Fifty miles.” Emily’s shoulders sagged. Did she have the stamina for the distance? She had to. Once the German soldier was discovered, his troops would pursue them using gasoline-powered vehicles that ate up miles like starving locusts.
“You can do it. I know you’re exhausted, but we’ll take breaks.”
“I’ll pray for strength. Our lives depend on it.” She ran her hand through her hair. “We need to consider new disguises, don’t we? You’ve removed the eyepatch, and a limp isn’t obvious unless you’re walking, but anyone who sees us will wonder why a strapping man such as yourself isn’t in uniform.”
He puffed out his chest and grinned. “Strapping, am I?”
She giggled. “Thanks for lightening the mood. Even with all the lectures and book reading, I wasn’t prepared for the emotional and physical reactions to the fear of being caught. My brain is racing, and my adrenaline must be off the charts. Every nerve in my body seems to be standing on edge.”
With a sober smile, he nodded. “All normal reflexes. You can’t really know what it’s like until you’ve experienced the terror. But you’re doing great. I’m proud to be your partner.”
Her face warmed. For a man not prone to handing out compliments, he sure knew how to give one. She held up a lock of hair. “I should cut then dye my hair. Blonde, I think. Hopefully, we can get our hands on some peroxide.”
“A blonde, huh? That will be interesting to see. Perhaps, the Resistance has a supply. They must have to constantly change their appearances. And maybe I’ll lighten my hair as well.”
“It might be better to find something to turn it gray.” She tilted her head. “And you should grow a beard or mustache. They won’t be looking for that, will they?”
“Good idea.” He rotated his neck and rubbed his forehead before stuffing the map into its hidden pocket. “Let’s ride for another thirty minutes. Think you can do that?”
“Yes, but you have a headache, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “That German packed a good wallop. I’ve got a goose egg on the side of my head. Will probably bruise if it hasn’t already.”
“You should see a doctor.”
“Not a chance. I’ll be fine. We can’t risk seeing too many people, especially those in positions of authority. Who knows how many physicians are on the Nazi payroll?”
“Understood.” She squeezed his forearm. “Thanks for what you did in the cottage. You saved us.”
“It was them or us, wasn’t it?” Gerard frowned. “We may regret not killing the French gestapo agent. They’re a ruthless bunch, without mercy. They’ll see my actions as weak.”
“Then they will have underestimated you. The world doesn’t understand mercy and grace. Whether you believe it or not, you acted with the Holy Spirit’s leading. I agree with you that killing that man outright would have been murder. You subdued him, and we were able to get away. It takes a big man to make that sort of decision.” She pressed her lips together. “Besides, it’s my fault we were compromised. I did know the Frenchman. He was right. We were in college together.”