Deborah flipped down the goggles and took off into the darkness.
Laughter had replaced the serious conversation going on around the heater. Barbara turned to Hiram, smiled, and fell right back into the discussion.
9
0915 hours, Thursday, July 16, 1942, Perpignan, Pyrénées-Orientales Department, Vichy France
Captain Petain sat at the head of the polished mahogany conference table, sipping an espresso as Emile Locard organized his presentation. To his right sat Lieutenant Lebeau and on his left Officer Thibult, one of the officers who had been at the scene. He wondered about the reliability of Locard’s report given his oft-expressed distaste for the government’s collaboration in the Nazi-ordered roundup of the Jews and Gypsies in the Free Zone. Despite Petain’s distaste for the man, he might provide information of use.
Petain knew better than to resist. With his granduncle running the country, his potential for advancement remained unlimited. He followed his orders and pushed the men beneath him to do the same.
So far, his men had found no trace of the escaped maids. A pair of soldiers had been reported missing, but their disappearance seemed disconnected from the missing women. Probably passed out drunk somewhere, or deserted. His team had visited every inhabited building in the area since the two failed to report for duty, still nothing. Over the past few months, his men gained unparalleled experience in search and seizure after the Nazi-inspired pogrom that tore through his quiet town. This little woman hunt should have been easy, simple.
“On with it,” Petain said before taking another sip, the small cup uncomfortable in his large hand.
“Well sir,” Locard said. “The three men in the command car died instantly, a result of the explosive device detonating under the vehicle. Corporal Leveque died two days later from injuries sustained in the same blast. Three of your men and one of the drivers were shot with thirty caliber rounds and I’d presume all shot by the same rifle.” He slid a small manila envelope to the side.
“Why do you say that?” Petain asked.
“Two reasons, sir. First, you reported that you found all four casings in the same foxhole, and second, the striations on both the cartridges and the slugs themselves display similar characteristics.”
Petain nodded.
“This is where it gets interesting.” He picked up one of the small envelopes and dumped the contents into his hand. “Patrolman Leblanc and one of the hired drivers were killed with multiple nine-millimeter shots like this.” He held up one of the slugs.
“These little fellows are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. You see, they have fins. Implies they exited a smoothbore machine gun, not a rifled weapon. Still, they struck with amazing power and tore the two men apart. I found no crimp point for the cartridge casing and we found no used casings on the ground. We’re dealing with a new type of weapon here.”
Petain glanced into his now empty cup. “What about the tracks I found?”
Locard tapped his finger on a piece of paper before him. “Based on the location of Patrolman Leblanc and the driver in comparison to the tracks, and the location of the foxhole relative to the stopped trucks,” he stopped for a moment considering the drawing. “My guess: the mysterious nine-millimeter weapon was mounted on a cart of some kind, the depth of the impression implying it’s quite heavy. And, not so easy to hide.”
“A second man operated the weapon?” asked Lieutenant Lebeau.
“Perhaps, though the only additional shoe prints found at the scene belonged to women. The second man may have ridden in the cart, meaning it’s self-propelled.”
“The prisoners we caught didn’t speak of another man, or of a vehicle,” Officer Thibult said.
“The tracks led away from the scene along the tree line. They may not have witnessed it,” Locard said.
“And the other set of tracks?” Petain wanted to steer the conversation away from the five prisoners he’d executed.
Locard reviewed the image of the second set of tracks once more. He said a few quiet words to himself that Petain found indistinguishable. “You don’t know what it is.”
“I’m afraid not.” Locard pushed all of his papers back into a single pile, setting the odd shaped envelopes containing the bullets on top. “I’d like to question the remaining prisoners about the incident.”
“That’s not going to be possible.”
The criminalist’s look of disappointment took a sudden turn toward anger as he comprehended Petain’s statement.
“You’re dismissed. Now move along,” Petain said.
10
0100 hours, Friday, July 24, 1942, Rivesaltes, Pyrénées-Orientales Department, Vichy France
Hiram jumped through the aerial portal at one o’clock in the morning. He snapped the aerial portal shut using his C2ID2, then stretched his arms and legs so the wingsuit caught the air. The enormity of the camp filled the view of his night vision goggles as he approached. He drifted toward J block, scanning for guards as his target grew.
After a light touchdown, he noticed an open entry point in the barracks to his left. Deborah, backed by a few of the other women, had told Hiram the barracks doors remained closed and barred after dark. The open door surprised him.
Weapon at the ready, he edged his way along the building wall and stole a glance inside. The barracks appeared to be empty. Hiram slipped inside and soon confirmed that the building was deserted.
He made his way through the next building in J Block. Nothing. Twenty minutes later he determined F Block was empty as well, confirming his worst fear. His actions resulted in the prisoners’ move to Drancy ahead of the known timeline.
Hiram approached the guard shack at the gate that separated the special camp from the remainder of the compound. He found a lone French policeman flipping through a woman’s lingerie catalog, not paying attention to his duties.
The policeman never expected a Taser.
“All teams, this is Hawk, respond, over,” he called over his radio, an encrypted digital system, immune to tracking or eavesdropping using 1940’s era technology.
“Hawk, this is Team One, over,” said Anna. While Danette led the team ready to breech the outer camp’s perimeter, her lack of a common language with Hiram required her team have a Hebrew speaker on the radio. Danette’s team prepared to distribute hundreds of pistols to the gypsies, Spanish refugees, and the others imprisoned at Camp Joffre, as they made a break for freedom.
“Hawk, this is Team Two, over.” Sarah checked in from the cargo vessel M.V. Calais at Port Leucate.
“Hawk, this is Team Three, over.” Deborah waited by the nearest police barracks with a rocket launcher.
“Team Three◦– abort, I say again abort. Head to the rally point. Team Two, detonate the satchel charges around the shore batteries and cast off immediately. Head due south for twenty kilometers, then circle. I’ll provide further instructions shortly. Team One, I’m headed to exit point alpha with a prisoner. ETA five minutes. Provide cover fire if I’m detected.”
“What the hell happened?” Sarah said.
“We’re too late. F and J Blocks are deserted. My prisoner may be able to tell us what happened. Team Two, your position is untenable without the planned diversion. I don’t want to release the larger prison population until I know what happened to our people.” Hiram hefted the policeman over his shoulder. “You have to go now!”
Twenty minutes later Hiram and Team One met Team Three at the rally point northwest of Camp Joffre. They headed back into the wilderness as fast as they could go carrying the half-conscious French policemen.