“After the detonation, I made it to the rendezvous point, but they never showed. I tried to contact them via C2ID2.” He looked over Agnes’ shoulder, scanning her display as he talked. “Then I launched an Icarus drone, trying to expand the range. Wouldn’t work either, too much interference in the upper atmosphere.”
“What about Vera?” someone asked. Hiram waited while the translator interpreted her words.
He looked up at the women. I forgot; they don’t know. “Elle est morte.” She’s dead.
Agnes stopped looking at her screen and turned to Hiram. She shook her head, disbelieving as her eyes reddened. He thought he’d need to set someone else on the task of finding the missing members of the Alpha team. “Danette et Deborah?” Isadore asked.
“I don’t know. Agnes is trying to find them. If they survived, they’d be moving south from Spicheren towards the rendezvous point in the Vosges Mountains.” He pointed to a spot on Agnes’ map display.
She nodded her understanding and went back to work. He told them how Vera had died and about the small unmarked grave where she now rested. “Deborah and Danette hid on a farm in Spicheren. I’m afraid they may have been too close to the blast.”
“There is some good news.” Nathalie handed Hiram her C2ID2 display as the Babel Fish chattered along. “We found Rosette while you were away.”
“Is she with her family?” Hiram asked.
“No, we’re not quite sure what happened. Dumb luck we found her. Nora was flying the drone in circles around her home. She spotted a policeman watching the house and decided to follow him when he left.”
“Go on,” said Hiram.
“He drove to a farmhouse about a hundred kilometers southeast, in the town of Saint Chamond. She went in for a closer look and saw Rosette. It could be a hiding place.”
“Good work. Tell Nora I said so. Any word from Sarah yet?”
“Nothing,” Ida said.
“Without Sarah, this whole plan is FUBAR,” Isadore said, the translator repeating.
Hiram smiled at the use of the term “FUBAR” It was an English term they’d picked up from him, although he hoped no one knew the literal translation.
“Fucked up beyond all recognition,” the Babel Fish said at the conclusion of Isadore’s translation, then helpfully added French and Hebrew translations for the benefit of all those present. Hiram blushed. The others did not seem surprised.
“I tried to contact the Spanish Maquis yesterday for an update. Took me all day to reach the contact they provided in Lyon. I heard back from him a few hours later.” Four anxious faces stared back at him.
“Sarah boarded a British submarine with a wounded RAF pilot Tuesday night. Maria didn’t make it that far. That was all the contact could tell me.” The news added to the emotion of the group. Most now teared up. “I’m sorry.” Around him, the women began talking. The Babel Fish grabbed a few words from their mixed conversations, spewing gibberish back at him.
After a few long moments, Agnes looked up, puzzled. “Why can’t we reach Sarah?”
“I don’t know the answer to that question. I think we have to assume that Sarah made it to England, and that our plan is still a go. She’s got the rendezvous coordinates. And, the Americans can’t have missed what happened to Saarbrücken.”
“Are you sure the bomb detonated?” Ida said.
“No question,” Hiram said. “The destruction extends for five kilometers in every direction. Sarah will find a way to make contact. Otherwise-”
Nathalie cut him off. “Otherwise, there’s Barbara’s plan.”
30
2045 hours, Sunday, August 9, 1942, over the Indre River Valley, Vichy France
“Hawk, this is Raven, over,” Sarah said for the fiftieth time since the navigator told her they flew in orbit over the Indre River Valley. Still no response. She intended to keep trying until the B-17 Flying Fortress turned back to England. Cruising at about seven thousand meters, her insulated and heated flight suit remained her only protection from the frigid air both inside and outside the aircraft.
Sarah looked out through the large, multi-faceted nose window. The dark night sky cloaked everything beyond the nose of the plane. She looked back at her C2ID2.
The aircraft’s other passenger, Captain Joseph Trembley of the American OSS, said, “Two P-38 Lightning fighter planes out there. Sneaky bastards, just the way we like ‘em.”
“Raven to Hawk, come in Hawk,” Sarah tried once more. If they didn’t make contact on the next orbit, the P-38s flying alongside the B-17 needed to break off and head back to England before they ran out of fuel. She expected a second set of P-38s to take their place. Soon, the B-17 would turn back to RAF Uxbridge as well.
“Hawk, this is Raven, over.” The C2ID2 covered a range of only a few kilometers, but Teams Bravo through Golf would be within range, somewhere in the valley beneath them, based on the rendezvous coordinates Hiram had sent to the C2ID2. Where in the hell are they?
“Raven, this is Hawk. What’s your status, over?” Sarah jumped at the sound of Hiram’s voice, the welcome sound bringing her to tears. She wiped her eyes, smiled, and returned her attention to the C2ID2.
“Good to hear your voice, Hawk.” Sarah blinked back tears that had turned sour. “My companion didn’t make it, break. Your demonstration convinced the high command to proceed with our plan, over.”
Captain Trembley huddled with the navigator in search of a convenient drop zone. He held up a signboard with a set of map coordinates written on it while she waited for Hiram’s response.
“What’s your location, over?” Hiram asked. The navigator took the signboard and wrote on it, then showed it to Sarah.
“Angels twenty at thirty-one Tango Charlie November four six two six.” She knew what the words and numbers meant. Hiram had spent hours preaching proper radio procedure during the long walk to Spain. Both Sarah and Maria had been prepped so they knew what to expect. Hiram had also given the women a safe phrase that could easily be weaved into the conversation if the interests of their new allies diverged from their own. The stakes remained high. Hiram’s weapons promised destruction. After the Saarbrücken display, Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted to see more, but she trusted these men to make the right decision. And, she mused, Hiram would verify the intensions of the Allied players before he allowed anyone to handle such power. “We have a package for you.” Sarah read from the signboard again, “Drop coordinates thirty-one Tango Charlie November five four five two six four. Codename Falcon, over.”
“Copy that Raven.” Hiram mapped the coordinates on the C2ID2 and replied. “We’ll be in position to retrieve the package in about forty-five minutes.” Sarah imagined Hiram signaling those with him to start moving.
“Raven this is Hawk, over.”
“Raven, over,” she said.
“Raven, can you launch a communications drone from England when you return, over.”
“Negative, Hawk,” she replied. “Lost everything except the C2ID2. Will be able to establish communication once you retrieve the package.”
“Roger Raven. I’ll call when we are in position, over.”
“Roger, out.” Sarah broke the connection.
Time passed like molasses. She had gotten back in touch with Hiram and the others and she wanted to be the one to jump, to be reunited with them all. Forty minutes later Hiram called to say they were in position to cover Captain Trembley’s jump.
The aircraft made a turn to the right, then the plane slowed as the bomb bay doors opened behind her, the noise deafening. Trembley rose and gave her a thumbs-up before moving into position in the bay. The navigator held up an open hand and counted down by curling in one finger at a time. When he closed his fist the OSS captain plummeted into the darkness below.