“SS? Why are you not in uniform? We could have shot you in error.” The high-pitched, nasal tones of one of the soldiers sounded derisive. “Where is your identity card?”
“Do not shoot. I’m going to reach into my pocket to retrieve my identification card.”
“Make it snappy.”
Silence then rustling footsteps.
“Everything appears to be in order, sir.” The soldier’s voice held respect and fear. “Be careful out there. We could have shot you on sight.”
“Understood, but I am following orders by traveling undercover. Sometimes one must give his life for der führer, no questions asked.”
“Jawohl, Hauptsturmführer.”
“Carry on, Herren.”
Footfalls faded, and all was quiet. Gerard pulled himself to his knees then climbed to his feet. He peeked over the wall, and the tightness in his chest eased. The soldiers were gone. He motioned to Emily, and she rose, face still ashen.
Gerard pulled her into a quick embrace and kissed her forehead. “We’re safe now, but I have no intention of registering with the Swiss authorities and remaining in one of their internment camps. Let’s find one of the two huts Merkel mentioned and rest for the night, then make our way to Bern where the OSS has an office. We will report in, and with any luck, they’ll send us back to England. I can’t imagine they’ll keep us in Switzerland, but I gave up guessing what the higher-ups will do a long time ago.”
In his arms, her trembling ceased, and she wilted against him. “Rest sounds heavenly. My knowledge of Switzerland is minimal. Is the journey far?”
“Far enough.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her about the additional ninety miles in their future. However, God had provided thus far. Would He have mercy and send a motorized vehicle?
Following the directions Merkel had outlined, they walked deep into the forest. Squirrels flitted overhead, and chipmunks skittered among the bushes. Chirping and birdcalls filled the trees. It seemed as if even the wildlife celebrated the freedom of living in neutral Switzerland rather than under the oppressive occupation in France.
A wooden shack appeared nestled in a small clearing. Gerard held up his hand. “Let me check out the hut.” He pitched his voice low. “It should be empty, but…”
Mute, she nodded and swayed on her feet.
He squeezed her shoulder. “I won’t be long. Grab on to one of the trees for support.”
She sighed and leaned against the wide trunk of an oak.
On the balls of his feet, he crept forward and pressed his ear against the side of the building. Nothing. He walked around the corner and repeated the action. Still no noise from inside. A tiny window was in the middle of the next wall, and he crouched below the glass, ears straining for sound.
Still nothing. He slowly raised himself above the sill and peeked through the grimy panes.
Vacant.
He smiled and hurried to Emily’s location. “We can enter. The wooden chairs and cots might not be too comfortable, but at least we’ll be out of the elements.”
She rubbed her hands together, relief smoothing her features. “Sounds good to me.”
They entered the hut, and Gerard gaped at the provisions. A small basket held canned food, and a larger basket was piled with blankets. He shouldn’t be surprised at the hospitality because of the shack’s use as a way station, but the volume of stores was unexpected.
He bent and rummaged through the metal cans. With a grin, he read one of the labels out loud. “U.S. Army Field Ration, B Unit. Apparently, we’re not the first Americans to frequent this fine establishment.”
Emily gigged and held out her hand. “What delicious cuisine is on the menu?”
“This can holds biscuits, something called confection, sugar, and coffee.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Anything else?”
“Aha.” He held up another can. “Much better. There are some M-units here. We can choose from meat stew with beans, meat stew with vegetables, or meat with vegetable hash.”
“Tough choice. I guess I’ll take the stew with vegetables.”
He nodded and tossed her the container. “Sorry. No spoons.”
“That’s the least of our worries. Don’t you think?”
“Definitely—”
Footsteps sounded outside, and Gerard yanked out his gun. He pushed Emily behind him and pointed the weapon at the door that swung open with a creak.
A slight man with receding hair stood on the threshold. He held up his hands in surrender. “Je m'appelle Fred, and I’m here to take you to my home where my wife will feed you. I will provide clothing, money, and train tickets. No questions asked. If you are in this hut, you are in need of saving.”
Gerard gawked at Fred. “I’m—”
“Please, no names. It is better that way.” He beckoned them to follow. “Come. You must be fatigued, but it is best to leave this place. My home is not far.”
Emily groaned as she stood. “Please tell me there is a mattress in my future.”
Fred nodded, his face beaming. “Yes, all the comforts you can imagine. You will stay the night as our guest. In the morning, we will take you to the station. We have tickets for the train to Bern where you can blend into the masses of the city, then make your way to your next destination.”
“Okay.” Gerard’s heart constricted. A plan that would get them safely behind OSS walls and the end of their mission. The end of their marriage. He frowned and rubbed his chest. The annulment no longer held the allure it did at the beginning of this assignment. Mere months had passed since she walked into his classroom. How could she have gotten under his skin in such a short time?
She stopped, hands on her hips. “Are you coming?”
He tilted his head and grinned. “Impatient, aren’t you?” Despite fatigue, hunger, and miles of travel, her porcelain skin glowed in the fading sunshine. More importantly, she was beautiful on the inside. An unshakeable faith in God, a sense of humor, and intelligence. Like no woman he’d ever met.
And he would never be the same.
j
Forty-eight hours later, Gerard and Emily sat in Allen Dulles’s office debriefing the man who looked more like a professor than a spy in his tweed jacket and blue flannel slacks. His complexion ruddy, he had a small, graying mustache. Sharp blue eyes studied them from behind rimless glasses.
He sat back in the chair that squeaked with his every move. “You’ve told quite a tale. Lots of narrow misses, I’d say. I’m pleased you made it out alive. You’ve proven yourself capable. With the exception of going back into France, you can have your pick of assignments.”
“Thank you, sir.” Gerard ran a hand over his spiky hair. “I’m willing to serve wherever I’m needed most.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to transmit more messages than I did…to be more helpful, sir.” Emily rubbed the back of her neck.
“Nonsense. You were compromised early. It happens. You know the average life expectancy of a radio operator is six weeks. Needless to say, some last longer, but many perish almost immediately. You’re lucky to be alive to tell the story…not that you can say anything to anyone, but you understand.” Savory-smelling smoke from the pipe clenched in his teeth encircled his head.