pale red by the sun rising behind them. Soon he was out of sight. She went back inside the barn, fighting the urge to run after him.
Teach made his way carefully through the jutting rocks and boulders along the path. He forced his feet forward, on the only road that would bring him back to her.
.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Madeleine pushed her bicycle down an alley towards the front entrance of a police station. She was relying on recent intelligence and swift action was required. She didn’t like having to expose herself to enemy eyes, but the situation dictated it. She wore no disguise. She needed to appear as normal as possible and for the men to focus on her body, not her face, using it to her advantage. Her clothes were worn and threadbare. Few Frenchwomen had any new clothes given the shortages and rationing. Although her skirt and sweater were loose, her looks captured the attention of the police officers loitering around the entrance. She made sure that the clothing didn’t obscure her curves completely, positioning her body to ensure that they didn’t. Madeleine leaned the bicycle against a lamppost and picked up a few loaves of bread and a wheel of cheese from the basket behind the seat. The loaves were irregularly shaped baguettes, partially wrapped in paper with the top halves sticking out. Time to play the scared rabbit, she thought, moving uncertainly, trying to appear frightened and nonthreatening. The men showed no concern for security, despite the fact that two of their more important masters were inside the station on an inspection.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle, you’re new. Where is Marc today?” The closest of the officers called to her as she moved towards the door.
“My uncle is sick and can’t make his deliveries,” She answered, making only brief eye contact with the policeman, smiling demurely, shrinking slightly into herself.
He admired her openly, running his eyes up and down her body.
Bastard, Madeleine thought. I’d shoot you dead before you put a hand on me.
“You’re much better looking than Marc,” he said loud enough for the others to laugh.
“You’re too nice sir. I’m sure you flatter all the girls,” Madeleine answered.
“Those that will talk to him,” one of the other guards added.
“Bah, don’t listen to them. They’re just jealous that I have a girlfriend who appreciates the job I do.”
“You wouldn’t know a terrorist if they bit you,” the other guard said. Thank God for that, Madeleine thought, smiling at the joke.
“I’ve arrested more than one member of the Resistance,” he answered, making a rude gesture to the other guards. “Let me get the door for you. I hope Marc stays out for a while so that we get to see you again.” The man smiled, urging Madeleine in and away from his fellow officers who were trying to embarrass him.
“Thank you monsieur, I’ll be sure to tell my uncle how nice you’ve been,” She almost whispered as she slid past him and into the hallway of the police station. I made it, she thought. Now work quickly. Follow the plan.
Moving down the hall, she saw two leather overcoats hanging on a rack, bearing Gestapo insignia. The intelligence was right. A routine visit by the hated German secret police was underway.
Madeleine glanced behind her, checking to see she wasn’t followed. Her features tightened. She straightened and moved deftly towards the back of the building where the small kitchen was located. She walked past two offices along the corridor and heard voices coming from the one closest to the kitchen. They were distinctly German. As she unloaded the bread onto a table, she listened to see if a third voice came from the room. She moved slowly and with patience, remembering that for what she intended to do, patience and nerve beat bravado and recklessness every time. The men in the room were smoking, and would have at least one of their hands occupied, she thought. Good, they won’t have time to react. She smelled the
Teach made his way carefully through the jutting rocks and boulders along the path. He forced his feet forward, on the only road that would bring him back to her.
.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Madeleine pushed her bicycle down an alley towards the front entrance of a police station. She was relying on recent intelligence and swift action was required. She didn’t like having to expose herself to enemy eyes, but the situation dictated it. She wore no disguise. She needed to appear as normal as possible and for the men to focus on her body, not her face, using it to her advantage. Her clothes were worn and threadbare. Few Frenchwomen had any new clothes given the shortages and rationing. Although her skirt and sweater were loose, her looks captured the attention of the police officers loitering around the entrance. She made sure that the clothing didn’t obscure her curves completely, positioning her body to ensure that they didn’t. Madeleine leaned the bicycle against a lamppost and picked up a few loaves of bread and a wheel of cheese from the basket behind the seat. The loaves were irregularly shaped baguettes, partially wrapped in paper with the top halves sticking out. Time to play the scared rabbit, she thought, moving uncertainly, trying to appear frightened and nonthreatening. The men showed no concern for security, despite the fact that two of their more important masters were inside the station on an inspection.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle, you’re new. Where is Marc today?” The closest of the officers called to her as she moved towards the door.
“My uncle is sick and can’t make his deliveries,” She answered, making only brief eye contact with the policeman, smiling demurely, shrinking slightly into herself.
He admired her openly, running his eyes up and down her body.
Bastard, Madeleine thought. I’d shoot you dead before you put a hand on me.
“You’re much better looking than Marc,” he said loud enough for the others to laugh.
“You’re too nice sir. I’m sure you flatter all the girls,” Madeleine answered.
“Those that will talk to him,” one of the other guards added.
“Bah, don’t listen to them. They’re just jealous that I have a girlfriend who appreciates the job I do.”
“You wouldn’t know a terrorist if they bit you,” the other guard said. Thank God for that, Madeleine thought, smiling at the joke.
“I’ve arrested more than one member of the Resistance,” he answered, making a rude gesture to the other guards. “Let me get the door for you. I hope Marc stays out for a while so that we get to see you again.” The man smiled, urging Madeleine in and away from his fellow officers who were trying to embarrass him.
“Thank you monsieur, I’ll be sure to tell my uncle how nice you’ve been,” She almost whispered as she slid past him and into the hallway of the police station. I made it, she thought. Now work quickly. Follow the plan.
Moving down the hall, she saw two leather overcoats hanging on a rack, bearing Gestapo insignia. The intelligence was right. A routine visit by the hated German secret police was underway.
Madeleine glanced behind her, checking to see she wasn’t followed. Her features tightened. She straightened and moved deftly towards the back of the building where the small kitchen was located. She walked past two offices along the corridor and heard voices coming from the one closest to the kitchen. They were distinctly German. As she unloaded the bread onto a table, she listened to see if a third voice came from the room. She moved slowly and with patience, remembering that for what she intended to do, patience and nerve beat bravado and recklessness every time. The men in the room were smoking, and would have at least one of their hands occupied, she thought. Good, they won’t have time to react. She smelled the
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