Echoes

They were hurrying through the station in Paris, when an SS officer grabbed Rupert's arm and called out his name. But it was the name of the SS officer he had impersonated three months before, and not the one he was now. The reality of what that could mean had Amadea shaking in her shoes. But the two men wished each other well and a Merry Christmas, as Amadea and Rupert walked calmly out of the station and hailed a cab. They went to a small café, from there they would walk to Serge's place. As they sat down at the café, and ordered the coffee that was available, Amadea's face was gray.

“Everything is fine,” he said calmly, looking into her eyes to steady her, and speaking to her in French once again. It was nothing less than a miracle that they had pulled it off from beginning to end.

“I am definitely not made for this,” she said softly, looking apologetic. She had been feeling as though she were going to throw up since that morning. And he looked tired himself. The trip had been a tremendous strain, but also a huge success.

“You're much better at it than you think. Almost too good.” She was so convincing as the wife of an SS officer that he was beginning to fear she would do more of this work. And he didn't think she should. You could only risk your life so many times. He always said he had at least ten lives. But she was young, and it somehow seemed like too much risk. At forty-two, he felt as though he had already lived. With his wife and boys gone, no one would miss him if he were gone, except his kinders. What he did, he did to pay the Germans back for his wife and sons, and also to serve his king.

They walked to Serge's grandparents' house after that, reported in, changed papers. Rupert used the radio for several hours, changing frequencies every fifteen minutes, so the Germans couldn't use their tracking devices to pinpoint their position, and listened in to what was happening in France. They did everything they had to do before they left, and Amadea decided that her premonition of something going wrong had been silly. It couldn't have been smoother.

In the end, they drove down to Melun that evening, and got back to her farmhouse before too late. She sat in the barn with him as they had before, and walked out to the field with him after midnight. It was so cold that there was frost on the ground, and there was a light snow in the air. She held his arm so she wouldn't slip on the patches of ice, and he steadied her several times. They had a familiar ease with each other, as though they really were man and wife now, or at the very least somehow related. They were waiting in a clump of trees for the plane to come. It all seemed very routine. It was hard to believe they had been in Germany the night before, and nearly for an entire week. She no longer even cared that it was Christmas. They had survived. That was all that mattered.

The plane came just before one that night. It had been a long wait in the freezing cold. Her hands were numb as she shook Rupert's and wished him a Merry Christmas and a good trip. This time he bent and kissed her cheek.

“You were extraordinary, as usual …I hope it's a good Christmas for you.”

“It will be. We're still alive, and I'm not in Auschwitz.” She smiled at him. “Enjoy Christmas with your kinders,” as the children of the transport were called by their English foster parents, and all who knew of them.

He patted her shoulder then, and she watched the others signal the plane in. They didn't need her for it tonight. She had just come to see him off, like any dutiful wife at an airport. She stood back among the trees, and watched him run across the field to the waiting Lysander, and as he did, a shot rang out. He bent low for a minute, and she saw him clutch his shoulder, and then keep running. There were more shots, and she saw two of the men with the torches fall, with the beams from their flashlights pointing upward. Amadea sank deeper into the bushes. There was nothing she could do for any of them. She wasn't even armed. But she had seen that Rupert was wounded. Within seconds, they pulled him into the plane and took off, closing the door as the aircraft lifted. The other members of the cell had run across the field and disappeared, dragging the two injured men with them, but both were dead. Within minutes there were soldiers everywhere, and she knew that they would be visiting all the neighboring farms. There might be reprisals, or perhaps not, since no Germans had been killed or injured, only Rupert.

The soldiers headed off after the men who'd fled, and she ran home as fast as she could. She ran into her room, tore off her clothes, and got into bed in her nightgown, rubbing her hands and face as hard as she could to warm them. But her room was ice cold anyway.