Deathwatch: Inspirational WWII Suspense Read online

  She shook her head. “I wish I did. All they’ll tell me is he’s on assignment and they don’t know when he’ll be back. I know he’d speak to C for you if he were here.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  She pushed her meal back and clasped her hands in her lap. “Over two months. And I’m frantic. I keep hitting a stone wall when I ask for information. I’m so frustrated I want to shoot someone.”

  He chuckled. “As a Scotland Yard inspector, I wouldn’t advise that. It carries a heavy penalty.”

  “I don’t suppose you could find out anything?” She cast an imploring glance at him.

  “Sorry, love. We don’t have access to that information or I’d look into it for you.”

  An attractive middle-age man entered the canteen and made his way to their booth and introduced himself as William Donovan. “Lady Amherst, may I speak to you in private? I have some news about Commander Hamilton.”

  “Please, call me Grace.” She stood immediately and placed her hand on Aubrey’s arm. “Excuse me, I must go with him. Will you be here over tonight?”

  “Of course, go. I’m staying at a guest lodge in Buckinghamshire. I’ll see you tomorrow before I leave.”

  Her heart rate tripled as Donovan led her to an office off the lobby and offered her a chair.

  “I’ve heard you’ve asked about your husband, and as a fellow countryman, I feel we owe you and explanation.”

  “He’s all right . . .”

  Donovan sat on the corner of the desk in front of her. “As far as we know, he’s fine.” He ran his hand down his impeccable tie. “Because of bad intelligence, we were forced to leave the commander and one of my men behind in France after the mission was completed.”

  She fought the urge to slug Donovan and rush from the room. Instead, she shook her head. “How could you just leave them in an occupied country with no way out?”

  Before he could respond, there was a knock on the office door and a man stuck his head in. “Bill, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Excuse me, Grace. I’ll be right back.”

  After a few minutes, Donovan returned and took a seat next to her. “To answer your question before we were interrupted, when the rescue team, which your husband was part of, arrived at the prison there were more prisoners than we thought. Most of them were wounded. Commander Hamilton and my man gave up their seats to the injured soldiers. It was the only choice. Commander Hamilton speaks French and my man is fluent in German. They can survive. The injured men couldn’t have lasted much longer. We’re making arrangements to get your husband and my man home. In the interim, they’re working with the French Resistance.”

  Grace understood, but she didn’t like it. “Will you keep me informed if you hear anything?”

  “I’ll do what I can. I’m unsure how much longer I’ll be here. I’m to accompany a scientist back to the States as soon as his debriefing here is finished.”

  “Mr. Donovan, before you leave England would you do something for me?”

  He leaned back against the desk. “Anything that’s within my power.”

  “The friend I was having dinner with tonight is Inspector Aubrey Milford with Scotland Yard. Would you put in a word for him with C to bring him into MI6? Grey would do it if he were here . . .”

  “I would think the director general would be happy to have such a man. If not, I would. Have your friend put together a brief background and work history with the Yard. In the meantime, I’ll speak to C.”

  Grace rose from her chair. “Thank you. I appreciate the information about Grey’s whereabouts. At least now I know where he is.”

  ***

  Donovan watched her progress across the lobby, a lovely dispirited figure, and his heart went out to her. He had no intention of relaying to her the message the agent had given him. One of the Marquis teams Grey and Mack worked with ran into German reinforcements while trying to destroy a bridge outside of Calais. All four men had been killed.

  CHAPTER 20

  French Countryside

  Near Calais, France

  Grey scampered back to the team. “Are you finished? Two Germans will be marching over that hill at any time.”

  “One minute. We are setting the charges now,” Raul whispered.

  “I’m not sure we have a minute,” he muttered under his breath. He raced back down the knoll to watch from the trees.

  The Germans had stopped for a smoke. Finished, they shifted their rifles to their shoulders and trudged towards the tracks.

  Time was up.

  When the blasts went off, these woods would be crawling with Germans. Praying there were no more troops nearby, he scurried down the hill and tossed a grenade into the back of the truck. As the explosion sounded, he shot the two Nazi soldiers. Almost immediately, the bombs under the bridge and tracks boomed, sending smoke and debris falling like rain above him.

  The team sprinted into the shelter of the trees, stopped for a moment to ensure the tracks and bridge were totally demolished, then hurried deep into the wood. The Nazis wouldn’t be far behind. God, please don’t let them have dogs, Grey whispered.

  After two hours of taking evasive trails to lead the Germans away from their safe house, the team arrived back at the farmhouse and safety.

  Grey and his companions reached the barn and stomped on the cellar door. One of the pilots opened the hatch, two machine-gun-toting Marquis guerilla stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Are the others back?” Grey asked as he and the team stumbled down the steps and sat on their cots.

  A dark look pasted over Big D’s face. “They will not be coming back.”

  Raul stood. “Captured?”

  Big D shook his head. “All four were killed. That’s better for them, better for us, than capture. They would have tortured them into revealing our location.” He collapsed onto a chair, his face wrinkled with grief. “There were more guards at the bridge than they expected.”

  “Did they blow the bridge?” Grey asked.

  “No,” the leader replied.

  Grey shook his head and picked up his backpack. “Then we must go back tonight.”

  “Are you insane?” Big D challenged. “Did you not hear me say they have fortified the bridge with additional troops?”

  Grey stuffed additional ammunition and grenades into his kit and threw the pack over his shoulder. “That’s exactly why we must go back tonight. They won’t expect a second attack this soon. If we wait, they will harden the target so solidly it will take an army to do the job. Tonight, four men can do it.”

  A red flush colored the Marquis leader’s face. “I forbid it. We have lost enough men for one night.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but I’m not asking for permission. This is our war as much as it is yours.” Grey glanced over at Mack who nodded.

  The Nazis were building those ramps for the flying bombs that would be pointed directly at England. It was imperative to delay their construction as much as possible. Every minute of they were postponed allowed England to prepare their defenses.

  Grey looked directly into Big D’s eyes. “We only did half the job tonight. It will take the Germans weeks to repair those tracks. But with the road open, they can still send troops, weapons, and machinery to the coast. If the road bridge is gone, it will stop them for a while. Any delay we cause is a plus until the Americans come to our aid. They’ll have to get into this war sooner or later. We must hold on until they come onboard. Mack and I are leaving. If anyone wants to join us, you will be welcome.”

  Raul rose and started to outfit his pack. He jerked his head pointedly at his partner, who rose and did the same.

  “Anyway we can get a ride?” Grey asked. “We need to get this done before daybreak.”

  Big D huffed a loud breath. “I will drive you crazy men there. Don’t blame me if you are all killed.” He stomped up the stairs and opened the hatch.

  Road to the Coast

  Calais, France
/>   The four men loaded into Big D’s ancient Citroën, Grey in the front seat with the driver. Stifling gas fumes spilled from the engine into the car’s interior. He cracked the window and filled his lungs with fresh air.

  Big D dropped the team a quarter mile from the bridge. The countryside and forest were bathed in the darkness, and Grey wished for the night vision goggles back in London. Somewhere in the distance, sheep bleated.

  Grey set up an observation post just above the target. Thoughts of the goggles brought a vision of Grace into his consciousness, her lovely face as he’d seen her before she boarded the flight to Cairo.

  He wasn’t being heroic when he insisted the team go back and finish the operation. It was simply a job that had to be done. They must delay or stop the building of the flying bomb ramps by men on the ground or pilots in the air.

  If he didn’t make it back to the farm tonight, Grace might never know where he died or why he was here. He’d give anything for the chance to hold her in his arms one last time. He stuffed the morbid thoughts away for another time and refocused on the work they must do tonight.

  The team approached the bridge from the west. The viaduct ran east to west across a wide river, on the ocean side of Calais. Lights glowed with activity at each end. Arrogant in their earlier success, the Germans didn’t try to hide their presence.

  As Grey had hoped, the Nazis left only ten guards at the site and they appeared to be drunk, celebrating the victory. Their intoxication was a godsend. Drunk soldiers would be less vigilant, increasing their odds for successfully completing the mission. Nevertheless, it was still only a fifty percent chance at best. Those chances decreased significantly if there were more troops nearby. If the guards raised an alarm, it could all be over in a heartbeat.

  The Marquis were trained in stealth, used to moving in the shadows as silently as fog. That would be a must tonight. They must not be detected before everything and everyone was set.

  He and Mack elected to take out the guards. They were trained to kill silently. Grey checked the knife in the scabbard at his waist. His Browning HP had a silencer, but if he had to fire the weapon the pop would be loud enough to bring nearby guards running. They would recognize the sound immediately.

  He and Mack moved into the darkness to dispatch the five guards closest to their position. Once the Germans were down, Raul and his partner could set the charges while Grey and Mack cleared the bridge’s east end.

  The first three guards were easy.

  With three down, they circled around behind the last two. Mack sprang forward at the fourth man. He must have sensed Mack coming. He turned, and opened his mouth to shout. Mack’s knife flashed and the man fell at his feet without a sound. Grey had taken care of number five. He gave Raul the “all clear” signal to start setting the explosives in place.

  The only way to reach the other side of the overpass was to walk across. Swimming the river would take too long and daylight stalked just below the horizon.

  He and Mack slipped into the dead Germans overcoats, and hats. With Mack laughing and talking loudly in German, they staggered to the other side.

  Beyond the lighted perimeter stood three soldiers. They waved, held up a liquor bottle, and beckoned them forward. He and Mack eased toward the group, knives ready. When the three men were down, he and Mack split up to find the last two guards.

  The terrain on this side was much like the other except for more trees. The hillside was grassy and wet, making their feet slip as they searched for the last two men. They found them asleep under a tree in a drunken stupor.

  Grey hated the killing, but in war it was kill or be killed. He’d always thought God gave soldiers special dispensation in battle. King David and his men killed thousands in war but never lost favor with God until he killed a good man because he wanted his wife.

  A pink glow at the sky’s edge signaled dawn would soon make an appearance.

  Grey and Mack set the charges in place around the east side’s support beams, moving quickly from one column to the next. They set the detonators and sprinted across the bridge to meet Raul and the other Frenchman.

  Taking shelter behind a knoll, they waited for the explosives to do their job.

  And waited.

  Nothing happened.

  Grey looked over at Raul. He shrugged and started back over the rise.

  Before Raul took two steps, a blast shook the ground. Some of the sound was absorbed by the space and trees, but still Grey’s ears rang.

  Grey waited for the percussion waves to clear, then peeked over the hill. The bridge folded inward in slow motion then plunged into the swollen river. An opaque white cloud billowed above the water and spread across the landscape. Concrete, rebar, and things Grey couldn’t identify hurled at them, but somehow missed. The air around them became heavy and hard to breath. He choked out a breath, his face covered with dust, and smiled.

  It was a beautiful sight.

  Grey slapped Raul’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before we’re overrun by storm- troopers.”

  French Farmhouse

  Near Calais, France

  When Grey and the three men dragged their weary bodies into the barn for the second time in ten hours, Big D opened the hatch and hurried them down the steps, his voice anxious, speaking in rapid-fire French. “Thank God, you are safe. We received word on the wireless you blew out the bridge. The roads have been crawling with trucks full of Boche for the past two hours. We’ve imagined every horrible happening that can be conjured by the human mind. German troops have searched the farmhouse twice. They are insane with fury.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “I fear many reprisals.”

  Grey barely comprehended the spy leader’s words. His three team member had fallen onto their cots, in a dead sleep. Their adrenalin rush had vanished long ago. Drained beyond words, Grey’s head hit the pillow and for the first time in weeks his last thoughts before sleep claimed him were not of Grace.

  ***

  Big D watched them as they slept. The peaceful sleep of the heroic, of the courageous, the Marquis leader thought. Good men who had accomplished a miracle tonight, and lived to fight again. A task he himself thought impossible. Sometimes, the righteous prevailed.

  The Marquis would have to cease activity for a while. The Boche would be on high alert.

  He would like to keep the Englishman and the American here as part of his guerilla fighters. The Commander had a head on his shoulders for guerilla fighting.

  The Resistance leader huffed a deep breath and lit a cigarette. He filled his lungs with a deep draw from the cigarette and blew it towards the ceiling. Tomorrow he would seek a way to return the two men to their country. Tonight, they had earned that right.

  Bletchley Park Mansion

  Buckinghamshire, England

  Grace met Aubrey for breakfast the next morning in the canteen. He didn’t share Grey’s fondness for Spam and powdered eggs, opting instead for tea and toast. She smiled, remembering the first breakfast she and Grey shared here the morning she went to work for him. How different he was from the man he seemed to be that day. Under the steel outer shell lay a kind and gentle soul.

  When they were seated, she filled Aubrey in on her discussion with Donovan.

  “You mean they just left him in France?”

  “That was my first reaction,” Grace said. “But it isn’t as bad as it sounds. He volunteered. Wounded RAF pilots took his place.”

  Aubrey finished his toast and lit a cigarette. “So what happens now?”

  “Mr. Donovan assured me he is trying to bring them out of France. His people are in contact with the Resistance, but the coast is over run with German troops. I pray it will be soon. I’m so frightened for him.”

  He took her hand and squeezed. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. Grey is one of the ablest men I know.” He snuffed out his Woodbine in the ashtray and smiled. “Some rather good news for me. C sent a message to the lodge. He asked to see me today. He didn’t say what it concerned, b
ut perhaps I can ask about a position with MI6. I was shocked. I didn’t think anyone knew I was in Buckinghamshire. But I suspect these chaps know everything.”

  Grace hid a smile behind her tea cup. William Donovan worked fast.

  ***

  Aubrey was ushered into C’s office by his efficient secretary and offered tea, which he declined.

  The Director General pointed him to a chair, then returned to sit behind his mammoth desk. “I wanted to thanks you personally, Inspector Milford, for your assistance in the Vidal case. Commander Hamilton gave you most of the credit for the case’s quick resolution.”

  “Commander Hamilton is too modest, sir, but I appreciate your kind words.”

  The next words out of the DG’s mouth almost made Aubrey fall from his chair. “Inspector Milford, would you be interested in working for military intelligence? You were vetted when you joined the Vidal case. We can’t be too careful of those allowed to work on agency business.”

  “Yes, sir, I would be very interested. As a matter of fact, I had intended to broach the subject with you.”

  “Is there a reason you wish to leave Scotland Yard?” C asked.

  Aubrey nodded and decided to be honest. If MI6 discriminated against Jews, he needed to know up front or he’d find himself with the same problems he’d had at the Yard.

  “I’m Jewish, sir, adopted by an English couple. I never tried to hide it. I just didn’t think it was important. My Jewish background recently came to the attention of my superiors and it seems to have put a quash on my career. I was taken off investigations and put to shuffling paperwork and petty crimes.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want this to sound arrogant, sir, but I’m better than that. My solved cases ranked higher than anyone at the Yard.”

  “How soon can you start?” C asked.

  “I’ll turn in my resignation as soon as I get back to London. They may be so glad to get rid of me, they’ll release me immediately. Otherwise, it usually takes a fortnight.”