Jackdaws

“I stopped to set a charge on the diesel fuel line in the generator room, like you said. Greta went on ahead of me. But she never reached Antoinette’s place. I’ve just met Paul, he hasn’t seen her. I came back to look for her.” Jelly had a paper packet in her hand. “I told the guard at the gate that I just went out to fetch my supper.”

Flick was dismayed. “Greta must be inside-hell!”

“I’m going back for her,” Jelly said determinedly. “She saved me from the Gestapo, back in Chartres, so I owe her.”

Flick looked at her watch. “We have less than two minutes. Let’s go!”

They ran back inside. The switchboard girls stared at them as they raced through the rooms. Flick was already having second thoughts. In attempting to save one of her team, was she about to sacrifice two more-and herself?

When they reached the stairwell, Flick paused. The two soldiers who had let them out of the basement with a joke would not let them in again so easily. “As before,” she said quietly to the others. “Approach the guards innocently and shoot at the last moment.”

A voice from above said, “What’s going on here?”

Flick froze.

She looked back over her shoulder. On the staircase coming down from the top floor stood four men. One, in major’s uniform, was pointing a pistol at her. She recognized Major Weber.

This was the search party Dieter Franck had asked for. It had appeared at precisely the wrong moment.

Flick cursed herself for a bad decision. Now four would be lost instead of one.

Weber said, “You women have a conspiratorial air.”

“What do you want with us?” Flick said. “We’re the cleaners.”

“Perhaps you are,” he said. “But there is a team of female enemy agents in the district.”

Flick pretended to be relieved. “Oh, good,” she said. “If you’re looking for enemy agents, we’re safe. I was afraid you might be dissatisfied with the cleaning.” She forced a laugh. Ruby joined in. Both sounded false.

Weber said, “Raise your hands in the air.”

As she lifted her wrist past her face, Flick checked her watch.

Thirty seconds left.

“Down the stairs,” said Weber.

Reluctantly, Flick went down. Ruby and Jelly went with her, and the four men followed. She went as slowly as she could, counting seconds.

She stopped at the foot of the stairs. Twenty seconds.

“You again?” said one of the guards.

Flick said, “Speak to your major.”

“Keep moving,” said Weber.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to go into the basement.”

“Just keep going!”

Five seconds.

They passed through the basement door.

There was a tremendous bang.

At the far end of the corridor, the partition walls of the equipment chamber exploded outwards. There was a series of crashing sounds. Flames billowed over the debris. Flick was knocked down.

She got up on one knee, pulled the submachine gun out from under her overall, and spun around. Jelly and Ruby were on either side of her. The basement guards, Weber, and the other three men had also fallen. Flick pulled the trigger.

Of the six Germans, only Weber had kept his presence of mind. As Flick sprayed bullets, Weber fired his pistol. Beside flick Jelly, struggling to her feet, cried out and fell. Then Flick hit Weber in the chest and he went down.

Flick emptied her gun into the six bodies on the floor. She ejected the magazine, took a fresh one from her pocket, and reloaded.

Ruby bent over Jelly, feeling for a pulse. After a moment she looked up. “Dead,” she said.

Flick looked toward the far end of the corridor, where Greta was. flames were billowing out from the equipment chamber, but the wall of the Interview Room seemed intact.

She ran toward the inferno.

Dieter found himself lying on the floor without knowing how he had got there. He heard the roaring of flames and smelled smoke. He struggled to his feet and looked into the Interview Room.

He realized immediately that the brick walls of the torture chamber had saved his life. The partition between the Interview Room and the equipment chamber had disappeared. The few pieces of furniture in the Interview Room had been thrown up against the wall. The prisoner had suffered the same fate and lay on the ground, still tied to the chair, neck at the horrid angle that indicated it was broken and she-or he-was dead. The equipment chamber was aflame and the fire was spreading rapidly.

Dieter realized he had only seconds to get away.

The door to the Interview Room opened and Flick Clairet stood there holding a submachine gun.

She wore a dark wig that had fallen askew to reveal her own blonde hair beneath. Flushed, breathing hard, a wild look in her eyes, she was beautiful.

If he had had a gun in his hand at that moment, he would have mowed her down in blind rage. She would be an incomparable prize if captured alive, but he was so enraged and humiliated by her success and his own failure that he could not have controlled himself.

But she had the gun.