Waging War (25 page)

“Keep the English-speaking to a minimum.”
Nancy’s gaze took in both Ringo and I, and we nodded. Ringo showed
me his card, with a photo of a scruffy-haired kid that actually
looked a lot like the street urchin he had been when I first met
him. “Louis Houle,” I read out loud. I looked at him with a grin.
“It suits you.”

Archer showed me his card, which actually
did have his picture on it, with the name Alexandre Devère. He
looked much rougher in the photo than he did standing in front of
me. “You had this ready to go before we got here, didn’t you?”

“I’ve helped Nancy organize several of the
Maquis networks around Auvergne and Limoges, and this trip we plan
to disrupt as many German forces as possible.”

“So it’s pretty fortuitous that the
Werwolves might be operating in the same area, huh?” I spoke to
Nancy with an edge in my voice.

She shrugged. “The only difference is two
more passengers. Unless you’re idiots, and then I’ll have to cut
you loose or shoot you myself.”

I opened my mouth to share my ungenerous
thoughts about her tone, but snapped it shut when a tall man in a
military uniform stepped out of the aerodrome building and strode
toward us.

Archer stood up a little straighter beside
me, and even Nancy directed her not inconsiderable focus his way.
The man was in his late twenties and handsome in a square-jawed
James Garner way.

“Colonel Marks, I didn’t expect to see you
here tonight.” I thought Nancy purred, and I might have been
offended for Stella’s sake if I hadn’t known how things turned
out.

My Monger-gut kicked in, but I pushed it
down. According to both Stella and Archer, Marks was a good guy.
His eyes found Archer’s first. “You’re ready, Devereux?”

Archer nodded smartly. “Yes, sir.”

“The latest batch of messages you chaps
decoded contain several from Paris about the increased reprisals
against Maquis groups and the civilian population.” Colonel Marks
was speaking to Archer, but Nancy interrupted.

“Which means our missions against Gerry are
working.”

He turned his gaze to her. “We expect the
2
^nd
SS Panzer Division to be called up from Toulouse to
the Normandy coast in short order. It should be a four-day trip for
them, but if those fifteen thousand troops arrive there before
we’re ready for them, they could make the difference in our ability
to gain an Allied foothold in Europe.”

“We’ll harass the hell out of them, sir.”
Nancy said quietly.

“See that you do, Mrs. Fiocca.”

I didn’t have time to process that little
tidbit of information because Colonel Marks’ eyes were suddenly
locked on me, even as it was clear he was still speaking to Nancy
and Archer.

“Normally, I’d have to approve every bit of
cargo that goes with you, as you’re using military transport.
However, I’m assured that there are extenuating circumstances in
this case, and that certain … events will play out in such a way
that I should ignore the unauthorized cargo and allow the mission
to proceed.”

I couldn’t have torn my eyes away from
Colonel Marks’ gaze, even if his gaze had let go of mine. The
Monger-gut was still whirling, but my own instinct for predators
wasn’t pinging, so I made an instant decision.

“A member of my Family, and, incidentally,
yours, has gone rogue, sir. If we can stop him before he returns to
English soil, we will.”

Colonel Marks’ eyes widened slightly as he
understood my emphasis on the word
Family
.

“Your Family being …” He waited for me to
finish the sentence.

“Anachronistic, sir.”

The startled expression he wore might have
been because he realized I wasn’t from this time, or because
Clockers were just that rare. I knew Millicent was still a young
woman, and her parents were both alive, but I didn’t know of any
others that Colonel Marks would be aware of.

“Good luck, then, Miss.” He nodded to me,
and then inclined his head to Ringo before spinning on his heel and
walking back toward his waiting car.

“Well, that was interesting. I didn’t know
you and the handsome colonel were related.” Nancy’s tone sounded
speculative, and despite my desire to snap the words, I laced them
with sweetness instead.

“Well, Mrs. Fiocca, it would seem there
are
things you don’t know.”

Ringo smirked at me as we grabbed our
satchels and flung them over our shoulders. The airplane we
approached was parked facing down the runway, and there was an open
door near the tail. The pilot was finishing an inspection and
looked up with a grin. “Ready to fly, are you?”

He spoke in an Irish accent with the
accompanying Irish smile in his voice. The pilot was in his
mid-thirties, black-haired, fair-skinned and had twinkling green
eyes. His face held an easy grin as he shook hands all around. “I’m
Sean Mulroy, and I’ll be your tour guide tonight.”

His name sounded familiar, and I struggled
to remember if I’d read it in a history book or something. He
helped Nancy into the back of the plane, then Archer handed her our
bags and followed her inside. I was next, and when Sean’s large
warm hand engulfed mine, something in my touch startled him. “Oh,
right, then. Up you go, Miss … Elian, is it?”

I stared at him. “Do you know my
Family?”

His easy grin was back. “I know of them, of
course. Might even have been related to them at a time. And then,
o’ course, I’m Irish. We know things.”

Irish pilot. Possible mixed-blood. Familiar
name. I took a chance. “Well, after the war, if you ever do run
into the Elians, they have a daughter named Millicent you might
like to meet.”

His eyes brightened. “Is that so?”

“The manor’s in Ingatestone, but you should
know, she can be a bit prickly that one, and her father won’t trust
your intentions. Millicent and I are a lot alike, actually. We
think we can do everything on our own, but we actually need someone
strong enough to stand at our back, even when we push them away.
Just something to think about if you ever do meet her.”

“Interesting advice, Miss Elian. I’ll bear
it in mind.”

I gripped his hand tightly and almost gave
him a hug, but managed to catch myself just in time. “It’s really
nice to meet you, Sean Mulroy. I hope to see you again.”

He looked a little dazed as he handed me up
into the belly of the plane, and Ringo whispered behind me,
“Meddlin’?”

I looked him straight in the eyes and gave
him the raised eyebrow. “Maybe.”

Ringo grinned back. “Thought so.”

The interior of the plane had seven seats
and was like being inside the ribcage of a whale shark. Nancy was
already strapped into hers, and Archer helped me into a seat next
to him, while Ringo chose one behind us. “Normally we’d parachute
in, but we’ll have to take our chances with a landing in the free
zone.” Nancy’s tone was back to being friendly, and I found it hard
to stay annoyed with her.

“Thanks. I’m a little rusty on my
parachuting skills.”

She grinned. “I thought as much. Mulroy’s
the best VIP transporter there is, though. He’ll get us in, and get
himself out before Gerry even realizes they’ve got visitors.”

There were bags already loaded into the
cargo area of the plane and Nancy caught my glance. “Guns,
explosives, money. All the things that keep life interesting, don’t
you think?”

I looked at Archer’s face and could see his
jaw clench. He wasn’t such a fan of the killing toys either, I was
glad to see.

Sean yelled back to us to put on our
headsets so he could talk to us during the flight, and once the
engines had started I also realized they were the only ear
protection we’d get. There was no such thing as insulation in this
airplane.

I turned around to find Ringo staring around
in rapt fascination. He’d never flown before, so his experience was
one of marvel and delight, whereas mine was a little more of the
oh-God-I-hope-this-thing-makes-it variety.

Our flight across the channel was just over
an hour, according to Sean’s commentary, and then another hour
overland to the airfield at Limoges. I estimated it was probably
just after midnight when we started to land, and it looked like the
whole town was dark. Archer must have read my thoughts because he
spoke into the headset quietly. “Maquisards will come with lights
when they hear the plane.”

“And there they are,” said Sean. “When we
stop, be prepared to jump out. I have about five minutes on the
ground before they come looking for me, and I’d like to live to
fight another day, if you please.”

I braced for a landing I couldn’t see, and
Archer gripped my hand tightly as we bumped lightly on the runway.
Sean was a better pilot in his little plane than most commercial
airline pilots I’d ever flown with, and I was out of my harness and
out of the plane as soon as the door was thrown open.

Nancy used hand signals to direct two
Maquisards to empty the cargo area of bags, and when the door was
fixed back into place, the two taps on its metal body to let Sean
know he was clear was the only sound I heard.

A minute later, Sean Mulroy’s little plane
was down the runway and had taken off, its engines already fading
into the distance.

The four of us followed the Maquisards into
the woods just off the runway, and it wasn’t until we were a couple
hundred yards away from the airport that anyone dared to speak.

Nancy issued rapid-fire orders to the men in
French, and Archer translated for us under his breath. “We’re going
to Gaspard’s headquarters at a farmhouse outside of town.”

“Are you going to be able to find a
protected place to sleep?” I whispered back.

Archer smiled grimly. “Fortunately, the
Maquis keep hours like I do. I’ll be fine.”

About an hour later, I was very glad for my
too-new boots after a hike that would have turned ankles and caused
blisters in anything else. I could sense several Mongers around the
farmhouse when we finally arrived, and I told Archer as much.

“Seems logical the Maquis would attract
them,” he whispered. “There’s a lot of anger in this country about
the German occupation.”

“Just watch your back. There’s more than a
couple,” I murmured.

Ringo and I sat in the kitchen of the big
stone farmhouse sipping hot mint tea and staying out of sight of
the group of young men and a couple of women who lounged against
the walls of the big sitting room. We could hear them, though, and
easily picked out Nancy’s and Archer’s voices as they conferred
with a skinny guy they called Gaspard and two of his lieutenants at
the table in the center of the room. They consulted maps and argued
the about locations for setting explosives. Even with my limited
French, it was clear Nancy and Archer were the plan-makers, and
they used the Maquis as consultants. What was the population of
this town? Was the map correct about that bridge? And who could be
counted on to help … or hurt their missions?

Occasionally, one of the men would shuffle
into the kitchen for water, or to scrounge a piece of bread. One or
two of the older men smiled at us in a hospitable way. The younger
men seemed suspicious and hard, and their initial reaction to our
presence was always a scowl. My predator instincts were starting to
shift into high gear, and I could practically see Ringo’s
street-edges sharpen in a way I hadn’t seen since I first met him
in London.

I didn’t know what their lives had been like
for the past four years since the Germans had occupied France, but
it seemed like everyone carried a layer of anger, sometimes just
below the surface of their skin, and sometimes it was hard and
thick, like armor. Bodies were lean and strong, and spoke of too
much running and hiding, and not enough sleep or food.

We had walked among soldiers before, but
these people were different. Archer came into the kitchen after a
pair of scowling guys, probably in their early twenties, with
flinty, fifty-year-old eyes, had passed through the room. He read
the tension in Ringo instantly, and then looked to me for an
explanation.

“Nothing happened.”

“Then why does he look like he wants to tear
them limb from limb?” Archer nodded at Ringo, who had shifted his
gaze back down to the mug he gripped as if it was the only thing
keeping his fists from flying.

“They spat, that’s all.”

“And called her Putain,” Ringo grumbled.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Archer looked at me. “Why are you
downplaying it?”

“Because they’re like feral wolverines, and
the idea of one of you taking them on over some imagined slight
against me makes me want to throw up. I just want to go someplace
where no one can knife us when we sleep and close my eyes for a
minute without worrying we won’t wake up.”

Archer looked at Ringo’s fists clenched
around his mug and he nodded. “Let’s go.”

We left the farmhouse by the kitchen door
without telling anyone we were going, and I was absurdly happy
Archer didn’t feel the need to say anything to Nancy.

Archer led us into the woods, and within
about ten minutes, I no longer felt the random Monger-gut I’d been
having since we landed among the Maquis. We emerged into a small
clearing on the edge of a much bigger one, and I realized we were
on the outskirts of a village.

“Where are we?” I whispered. There was just
enough light from the moon that the moss growing on the low stone
walls looked like bloodstains.

“Oradour-sur-Glane. My father’s gamekeeper
came from this village. This is his great-granddaughter’s farm.”
Archer led us to a stone barn just outside an old farmhouse and put
his finger to his lips as he carefully opened the big wooden door
just enough to slip inside.

When the door was closed behind us, I
chanced another whisper. “Does she know you?”