“A German officer?” Petain said, surprised.
“Yes, sir. Lebeau said it’s the same unknown German that was at the house with Locard this morning. Colonel’s insignia on the uniform.”
What the hell is that all about? Is Locard working for the Germans? “Let him know we’re serious,” Petain spat across the passenger car.
“Sorry, sir. I missed that,” Rubi said.
Dubois’s hit the soldier several times across the face. One serious shot to the jaw sent his body backwards and he fell onto the bloody seat.
“Nothing. Tell the Lieutenant to keep following them. I want an update within the hour if he can manage it. He must keep me informed.” Petain handed the microphone back to the radio operator who headed back the way he had come.
Petain sat down and picked up the mysterious soldier’s exotic weapon. “Let’s have a look at this rifle of yours. I’m sure the Grand Marshall would appreciate a weapon like this for his collection.”
The soldier shifted on the seat. Still, he said nothing.
40
0900 hours, Saturday, August 15, 1942, Suriauville, Vosges Department, Vichy France
Charlotte held Maxime close to her in the side car of the railbike. The death of a child always hit the mother hard. But even Charlotte, who had lost an infant a couple of years before the roundup began, could not imagine the pain of seeing your child die arms-length from a madman with a pistol.
“Solange,” Maxime said. She repeated the name, her words slurred by grief. Mucus dribbled from her nose and lips as she sobbed. Poor, innocent Solange.
Maxime’s tears soaked through Charlotte’s uniform. Her body heaved with each intake of breath. The policeman would pay for his cruelty.
Barbara drove southeast, deeper into the Vosges Mountains. The M22 assault rifles, portal containing backpacks, and C2ID2’s of those who had surrendered filled the extra space in the side car. A rifle barrel dug into Charlotte’s side each time the bike hit a rough patch of road. She refused to readjust to avoid disturbing Maxime’s mourning.
When the trio fled, they left behind the bodies of Justine, Ester, Stephanie, and Anna, along with all of their gear. The others taken prisoner aboard the train compounded the loss. But the image of little Solange clinging to the chained man beside her, dark eyes searching for salvation, dug claws into her mind. Charlotte’s vision clouded with quiet tears. Poor, innocent, Solange. She wiped away the moisture, hoping Maxime would not notice.
Maxime’s sobs faded after an hour, leaving a shell of the former woman behind. Her eyes targeted a point somewhere beyond what Charlotte could see. Trees and service poles passed between her and the target, yet her eyes remained fixed.
Another hour passed before Charlotte activated her C2ID2 to message the other teams. Every second that passed seemed longer than the last. She prepared to send through a second message. “Give them time,” Barbara said as she reached over and put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder.
Charlotte nodded. The world moved too slow around her. She started counting to herself. To one hundred then I’ll try again.
At fifty-seven, Hiram sent a return message: “Pick up Deborah and Danette, then go to Mamirolle. Await further instructions.”
“What? That’s it.” Charlotte needed more information. Mamirolle was the rendezvous point in the Jura Mountains, where they’d hoped to hide out until the Allies invaded, or follow Oster’s route into Switzerland. She looked at Barbara. “What do we do now?”
“Can you track the train?” Barbara said. “Find out where it’s headed?”
“I expect it’ll go back to the camp,” Charlotte said.
“Nothing to go back to,” Barbara said. “Assuming the incendiary rockets did their job.” Minutes after the train left Camp Vittel, Stephanie and Anna launched a fusillade of rocket-propelled firebombs into the two hotels that held all the Jews in the camp, before racing to catch-up with the rest of the teams attacking the train. Neither had survived that attack.
“They’ll have to figure out how to jam their captives back into the remaining hotels,” said Charlotte.
“We have to do something.” Barbara said. “We can’t just go to Mamirolle!”
“I don’t know. Colonel Oster’s plan might work before the train heads north again.”
“And if it doesn’t? You saw what they did to Maxime’s little girl.”
Charlotte stared at the red dot traveling along the tracks on the display, the path edged by forest. The view offered her no ideas. It’s just a dot. “I don’t know what to do.” The train slowed as it passed through Vittel, then kept going north. “They didn’t stop. I bet they go all the way back to the railyard in Pont-Saint-Vincent.”
Charlotte zoomed the view out to see the train’s path as it moved north toward Pont-Saint-Vincent.
“What’s that?” Barbara asked, pointing to a cluster of large buildings north of Xeuilley.
Charlotte tried to remember. She hadn’t ever been to Xeuilley. “Looks like an industrial complex of some sort.” She maneuvered the drone to get a better look at the facility. Large cylindrical towers sat on either side of the railroad tracks, connected by enclosed bridges that she assumed contained conveyor belts. “Cement factory, maybe?”
“We could drop those on the tracks,” Barbara said. “The allies destroyed the bridge in Pont-Saint-Vincent, blocking the northern route. If we block the tracks there, we trap the train between Pont-Saint-Vincent and Xeuilley.”
Charlotte looked at Maxime, her expression vacant. She thought about Trembley and the other prisoners on the train. “You’re right Barbara. We have to do something.”
Barbara turned to Charlotte for a moment, as if she needed to validate the plan. Charlotte nodded. Barbara smiled and then started the bike up again. At the next junction in the rail line, the bike turned to the left and headed northeast.
41
1020 hours, Saturday, August 15, 1942, Lapalisse, Allier Department, Vichy France
“Team Delta, this is Hawk, over.” Hiram spoke into his C2ID2 from the backseat of Locard’s car. Oster sat next to him. The Colonel donned an impeccable German uniform, while Hiram wore an ill-fitting suit borrowed from Alphonse Benoit, a much larger man.
He tried to contact Delta Team again. Still no answer. After the third attempt, Hiram tried to remain calm. Anything could have happened to them. Splitting up was a bad idea.
“Hawk, this is Team Delta, over.” Hiram jumped at the sound of Nora’s voice. “I think we’ve got a problem. A new unit is moving through Moulins. Doesn’t look like they’re stopping, over.”
“Team Delta, can you tell what the unit designation is, over.”
“Hawk, looks like Waffen SS. We’re not close enough to see unit markings, over.”
“2nd Waffen SS Panzer-Grenadier Division would be my guess,” Oster said. “If they’re heading south from Moulins, Vichy, maybe Lyon, seems like the next logical stop. Hitler is reacting to the event in Saarbrücken. I’ll wager he’s planning to occupy all of France. It wouldn’t surprise me if the little Austrian corporal went to Vichy himself to personally deliver the coup-de-grace to Marshall Petain.”
“Then we can assume the 15th Infantry Division is headed south, towards the Mediterranean Coast.” Hiram scratched his head. There goes our invasion plan. Which leaves Oster’s plan as our best shot.