I heard the sound of an engine racing. If I acted now, the noise would be a distraction. I stood, took off my helmet, and strolled around the corner of the building. Someone might notice a slouched, running figure out of the corner of his eye. But walking casually, as if I owned the place, I might not draw a second look. I held the Thompson slung down at my side, the knife held blade up in my palm. I could see guys getting into their trucks and others running around, yelling and pointing. I made it to the front of the barracks and turned right. No one looked at me. Three more paces to the door. I mounted the wooden steps and turned the handle. It was dark inside. It took a second for my eyes to adjust. I was in a corridor that ran the length of the building. I shut the door behind me, kicking it closed with my foot to keep both hands free.
It was too loud. A voice, in French, came from the room Diana was in, off to my right.
"Albert?"
"Hmmn," I grunted, and flattened my back against the wall, as I heard the shuffling of heavy feet, and in a second the large form of a man filled the doorway to the room. He was holding his rifle by the barrel, dragging it along the floor as if he couldn't be bothered to pick it up. I pivoted on my left foot and brought my right hand around in an upward arc, driving the knife between his ribs and into his heart. He looked surprised, his mouth hung open for a second, and then I felt a weight pressing down on my hand as his legs trembled a bit and gave out from under him, so that all that was holding him up was the knife blade in his ribs. The rifle dropped from his hand. I stopped it with my foot so it wouldn't make a racket. I eased him down, grabbing his shirt with my left hand so he wouldn't hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. His eyes sought me out and a small sound escaped his mouth, a gasp, or a last word, I don't know. By the time he was flat on the floor he was dead, even though his eyes were still locked on mine. I went around him and pulled his body into the room, so it couldn't be seen. When I drew out the knife, thick blood dripped from the blade, drops splattering on the dead man's face. I focused on the knife, not wanting to look at him. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion, and now I couldn't get back up to speed. The air itself felt thick, slow and deathly.
"Billy. Billy!"
Her voice snapped me out of it. Diana was sitting on the bed, holding up her hands, which were still tied with a thick, knotted rope, although she had chewed part of the rope almost through.
"Hang on," I said as gently as I could.
I started to wipe the blood from the knife on my pants, then thought better of that and wiped the blade on the shirt of the guy on the floor. I had expected to feel something more, but it had happened too fast, there was too much to manage, the weight of him, the rifle, the need for silence. Then the stunned aftermath. And now Diana.
I went to her, knelt down and whispered, "Be very quiet. We're getting out of here, now."
She stared at me, as if my words were hard to understand. Then she nodded, slowly. She held up her bound hands. I brought up the knife to cut the rope. There was still sticky blood between my fingers.
The front door to the room began to open. I backed away from
Diana and stood against the adjacent wall, next to the corpse. She lay down again in the position I had seen her in through the window.
Mathenet strode in. He went right to the desk, to the left of the door. He hadn't seen me or the body. He opened a drawer with a key and took something out, put it in his jacket pocket and picked up a briefcase from under the desk.
"Jean?" he called out as he straightened up. I had the Thompson leveled at his gut. He opened his mouth again but no sound came out.
"If you don't want that nice uniform all messed up, then do what I tell you."
His face went white. He nodded.
"Shut the door," I said.
He did. Diana sat again, holding her hands out to me. I cut through the rope, and I saw Mathenet s eyes dart to the guard's body and back to the knife.
"What do you want?" he said.
I was about to say, to get the hell out of here in one piece, when I heard yelling and footsteps outside. Loud engine noises reverberated in the courtyard again, and then the door flew open, in the midst of a torrent of French from Villard. He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw me, one hand on the doorknob, the other at his holster.
"No," I said.
Moving the Thompson to cover him, I debated killing him right then and there, but we needed to make a getaway and pissing off a dozen or so SOL thugs by gunning down their boss would not help us. Diana walked over to pick up the dead guard's rifle.
"No," I said again, for her benefit.
"Lieutenant Boyle, once again I must protest your interference with purely French internal affairs. Formulation of charges will have to wait though, as we must be on our way. Lieutenant Mathenet, give me the briefcase," said Villard as he held out his hand.
"Not so fast," I said.
"What are you going to do? Shoot us? Then what? You will be dead within the minute."
"It's not a very good plan, I'll admit, but it does have something going for it," I said.
"What is that?" Villard said with a sneer.
"You'll die first."
He laughed. "You are too gallant to sacrifice the life of this young lady in order to kill me," Villard said. "Come, Mathenet, now!"
Mathenet was still thinking. He didn't have Villard's bravado and his indecision showed. Villard took a step toward Mathenet and grabbed him by the collar. I tried to keep my aim on Villard but he ducked behind Mathenet and then propelled him toward us, as he snatched the briefcase from his hand. The door slammed behind him as Mathenet bumped into us. Diana went down, her rifle firing into the ceiling. I staggered, trying to keep my balance as Mathenet struggled to untangle himself from her, but I steadied myself a split second before he broke free and gave him a rap on the head with the butt of the Thompson. He fell to the floor just as the door opened and two SOL goons spilled into the room. I pulled the trigger and sprayed them with the Tommy gun. They went down with arms and legs flailing. Smoking cartridges littered the floor and now there were three dead Frenchmen in the room plus one who was unconscious. It was getting crowded.
I lifted Diana. She still looked dazed, not quite sure where she was.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, my eyes on the door.
"You came for me," she said. "I was dreaming about you… You were on fire."
"I'll explain later. We've got to blow this joint in a hurry. Come on."
"Wait." She knelt and unbuckled Mathenet's holster. She pulled out his revolver, cocked the trigger and held it to his head.
"No!" I said. "I need him. I need his evidence."
"He injected me, kept me drugged. I won't let him escape." The barrel was still pointed at his temple.
"No, he won't. We've got the exit covered, but you and I need to get out now!" I grabbed her arm and pulled her along. She held on to the revolver but she followed me. We stepped over the twisted bodies of the two guards in the doorway. I had expected the SOL to send reinforcements, but no one else was in the building. The other barracks room was empty, the only sign of life two cigarettes in an ashtray burning down, the gray smoke curling up from them, left by the two dead guards.
I heard a faint, muffled yelling coming from somewhere. Then, from outside, a loud noise of engines again, and machine gun fire. It sounded like a full-fledged battle. Maybe the rest of the commandos had arrived. I ran to the doorway, signaling Diana to stay low, leaned around the doorframe and saw a bright muzzle flash as bullets hit the wall just above my head, wood splintering, concrete from the walls spraying me with gray dust.
I lay in the hallway, my head buried under my arms. What the hell was that, I asked myself.