“I wouldn’t try and run if that’s what you are thinking.”
Martin tapped on the door in a nervous, twitching rhythm.
After five minutes, the sentry returned with papers in hand.
“The Hauptsturmführer permits you to pass,” the sentry said, and handed Lafayette the documents. “We must check the papers of the second truck as well.”
Lafayette nodded and waved his driver to proceed.
They drove past the checkpoint and pulled over to await passage of the second truck. The deep growling of several airplanes interrupted the evening lull. Overhead, a formation of five aircraft passed south of the roadblock. Four Focke-Wulf Fw-90 fighters escorted an Fw-200 Condor transport plane.
“Must be somebody important,” Martin said. He continued tapping on the door, the same nervous beat.
53
0010 hours, Tuesday, August 18, 1942, Les Alliés, Doubs Department, Occupied France
Hiram’s team would have to wait to search for Barbara. After this mission, and assuming they survived, he planned to go after her. Anger and suffering fueled her disregard for the rest of the team. And grieving Maxime had gone along with her, an otherwise unlikely pair.
The convoy rolled through the dark, quiet commune of Mamirolle. He ordered a stop to pick up Danette, Rosette, and little Leverette, who opened his eyes for a brief moment as they passed him into the back of the first truck in the line-up to be reunited with his little sister. When Hiram asked about Garon’s status, Rosette shook her head and moved on to take her place in the cabin of one of the trucks. Danette picked up a set of NVGs, chose a truck, and climbed in. They drove in darkness toward the French-Swiss border.
Hiram followed a dirt road onto a forested hilltop that overlooked Les Alliés. He led the convoy deep into the woods and brought the Citroën to a halt. The trucks and railbikes pulled up behind him.
“Stay put,” he said to Petain.
Petain peered out the windshield. “I know better than to go running in the forest at night.” He rubbed the spot on his chest where he had been pegged with the Taser.
By the time Hiram, Trembley, and Deborah climbed out of the car, Danette had set to work positioning guards around the parked convoy. Several refugees climbed down from the trucks and helped the others out. The long ride had worn down Hiram in the posh Citroën. He could not imagine what the ride had done to those in the back of the trucks. It’s almost over.
“Charlotte, Simone, get your drones up,” Hiram said, Deborah repeating his instructions. “I want to know where every guard within ten thousand meters is located, on both sides of the border.” The two women went to work.
“What about Barbara?” Charlotte said. “I think she disabled the tracker on the railbike. I put up a drone when we stopped in Mamirolle, but I didn’t find her signal.”
“We’ll deal with her later,” Hiram said. “We have more immediate problems.” Where the hell is Team Bravo anyway?
“Danette, you’re in charge until we get back. Captain Trembley, Deborah, and I are going to do some scouting. Make sure nobody wanders off, especially the truck drivers. And for God’s sake, keep everyone quiet and maintain light discipline. We are close now and can’t afford any screw-ups.” Deborah passed a shortened version of Hiram’s message to Danette.
Danette nodded. Hiram, Deborah, and Trembley headed through the woods, Deborah supporting Hiram as he walked. Trembley was still carrying the HF radio, but he now sported an M22 assault rifle.
They positioned themselves to look down on the dark, quiet town of Les Alliés. About a half kilometer south of the town, a road leading to the Swiss border cut through a shallow ravine.
“One checkpoint at the bottom of the ravine, another one at the top,” Deborah said, adjusting her night vision goggles.
Trembley fought with his goggles as he looked up to the top of the ridge. “Two patrols walking the bottom of the ridge. I can’t see the border at the top of the ridge though. Damn contraptions.”
“I make the ridge about a hundred meters high,” Hiram said. “The road through the ravine has a six, maybe seven percent grade. With an incline like that, the trucks will be noisy and slow.”
Trembley pointed toward the hill leading to the Swiss border. “And that slope is about a twenty-five percent grade. Easy for you and your soldiers, but not for the civilians we busted out of the camps. The younger ones might be strong enough, but we’ve got a few that can’t even walk. Well, maybe not so easy for you,” he added after glancing at Hiram’s leg.
“We’re sending as many of them up that hill as we can,” Hiram said. “Captain, would you mind monitoring the patrols? See if there’s a pattern we can exploit?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Trembley said. He settled into a more comfortable position and took out the powerful night vision scope. “Going to have a good look at that village, too.” Deborah and Hiram headed back into the woods.
“Hiram, the only thing stopping us from taking these people through the checkpoint is documentation.” She stopped walking. “The healthy ones and the children, they’ll make it. But not the older ones.”
Hiram turned to her.
“You’ve got all this technology. Remote controlled flying machines, silent weapons, robots. Don’t you have a means of producing a handful of documents for the ones we know won’t make the climb?”
“And then Petain can talk us through the border.”
“He’s gotten us this far. No one expected him to be our savior after all the damage his men have done.”
“It’s worth a try,” Hiram said.
54
0100 hours, Tuesday, August 18, 1942, Les Alliés, Doubs Department, Occupied France
Petain sat in the passenger seat of Lebeau’s Citroën. Several soldiers surrounded the car, most of them female. Hiram Halphen, the mysterious soldier with his advanced technology, had taken off into the woods in the cover of night along with the other two individuals who had occupied the car.
With the windows open, Petain heard a woman near the car ordering the others around. “Keep everyone close,” she said. “Put the little ones back in the trucks.”
Petain scooted over into the driver’s seat of the car. Halphen had taken the keys. He adjusted the side view mirror so he could see the scene behind him without looking interested. They had approached the refugees’ destination◦– the Swiss border. Given what was happening in France at the moment, escaping with the Jews to Switzerland might be his best option. Even if he managed to stop the Jews from getting out of France, he wouldn’t be seen as a hero. With Locard dead, he’d be the person the Gestapo would hold responsible for all the problems they had caused since their escape. However, once the road trip ended, Petain feared he would be killed. He needed to escape before that happened. With hundreds of refugees wandering around, distracted by their unearned bit of freedom, he figured he better slip out soon, before Hiram Halphen returned.
He watched the guards, searched for his way out of this mess. Then, he found something better◦– a distraction.
Three of the escaped prisoners decided they wanted to head toward the Swiss border immediately. “We can’t wait for him to come back. All these easy targets. We don’t want to be among them,” one of the men said.
“We made it this far,” one of the female soldiers said. “Trust us. We’ll get you all out of here.”
But the men did not want to hear it. Petain watched through the mirror. The men headed for the woods.