Page 61 of Shadows In Paris
Lizzie didn’t mention that her cover story sister worked at German High Command. If Hannah was being interrogated because of Francois, she wouldn’t crack easily, and Lizzie figured even if they were subjecting her to unspeakable horrors, it would take a while before she spilled any details, if she did at all.
Lizzie breathed in and out steadily. The chances were, they knew nothing. Their questions were still mundane, and she guessed they had no clue who she was.
Follow your gut, Lizzie.Jack’s voice rang loudly in her head.
Her gut said they knew nothing, so she continued to be slightly insolent and very dull with her answers. They asked her a few more questions, and then the yawning one shrugged and barked something at the other. They moved to the next target, and Lizzie released a ragged sigh. The interrogation, if you could call it that, appeared to be over.
More time passed slowly, and the prisoners waited. A few fell asleep and even snored, whilst others cowered against the wall, obviously frightened of what their fate had in store for them.
Lizzie’s mouth was dry, her head banged, and she was parched. They’d given them nothing to drink since their arrival that morning. She felt lightheaded and was panicking. It didn’t look like they were going to release them anytime soon, which meant she would miss the pickup Jack had arranged for that night. She would also miss the scheduled meeting with Hannah. That was if her cover wasn’t blown, and Hannah showed up.
‘Merde,’Lizzie muttered.
Everything had gone wrong since they shot poor Francois. She hadn’t been in contact with Philippe because it was too dangerous, but she took comfort that he wasn’t locked in this room with her. There was still a chance the others hadn’t been arrested, and she was the only one in custody.
When her watch crawled to 6 p.m. it was getting too late to make the meeting. Lizzie needed Hannah to show her to the pickup spot.
What would Hannah do when Lizzie didn’t turn up?
Lizzie mulled this over but didn’t come up with much. She thought Hannah would search for her in the area, and then go home and wait there. What else could she do? Just as Lizzie resigned herself to the thought that she was in there for the night, the heavy door clicked open again and light from the hallway streamed in.
The soldiers entered again and grabbed two detainees, who struggled a bit as they dragged them out of the cell. Lizzie’s heart rammed against her chest as she stood there in the shadows, wondering what they would do with her.
‘You can go,’ barked one soldier, casting his eyes around the exhausted-looking group.
Some of them quickly scrambled to their feet, but most of them stared at the soldiers, their eyes glazed, not quite believing they were free to go. Lizzie could see some of them were scared this was a trap, and they were about to fall right into it if they stood to leave.
Lizzie’s senses screamed at her to get out of there whilst she could, so she walked towards the soldiers. ‘Thank you, gentleman. My sister will be worried, and I need to find her. Which is the quickest way out?’
It was as though she opened the floodgates, and the others streamed after her, nudging and pushing to get out of the miserable dark cell.
The soldiers led the way and soon the raggle-taggle groupspilled out onto the pavement, hardly believing their luck. Lizzie wondered what they would do to the two they had removed from the cell. Then she moved away, walking fast, before the soldiers changed their minds. She could still make the meeting with Hannah if she ran and went back for her bicycle afterwards.
Once out of sight of the soldiers, Lizzie broke into a run and moved as fast as she could, until she reached the spot near the Seine, where they were supposed to meet around 6.30 p.m.She flopped down, gasping on the nearby bench, desperate for water, but that would have to wait. She had made it just in the nick of time. Minutes ticked by, which turned into an hour, but there was still no sign of Hannah. As she waited, her jubilant elation at being free again withered like a deflating balloon.
Had the worst happened, and the Gestapo had Hannah?
CHAPTER 30
Curfew hadn’t set in yet, but it was dark and freezing as Lizzie cycled back to the farmhouse after retrieving her bicycle. The only light was from the moon and fortunately she had memorised the turnings to take after so many journeys during the past few weeks. She was about to take a turn into a country lane, when her tyres skidded; she lost control and the next thing she knew she was cartwheeling through the air before landing on the icy ground like a discarded doll.
‘Ouch!’ The word escaped Lizzie’s throat before she could stop it. Fearfully, she scanned the area to check no one had overheard her crying out in English. One instinctive sound like that would identify her as a British agent, and she cursed herself—inwardly, this time—for such an amateur blunder.
Fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Lizzie pulled herself up, her weary, aching body complaining with every move. She could not afford any injuries now. Gingerly, she moved her limbs. Nothing seemed broken, and she stooped to pick up the battered bicycle and eased herself back onto the seat.
It had been one hell of a day. She must be due some good luck soon, she thought, as she cycled. A sober voice reminded her she’d been incredibly lucky to be released from the German cell. They could easily have kept them locked up indefinitely, even if they were innocent of any crime. That was the terrifying thing in a dictatorship—there were no rules or checks.
Lizzie corrected herself: the Germans were incredibly methodical, so there would be rules and checks, just not the kind of rules and checks that would help a French citizen. Lizzie realised she was shaking as she pedalled along the dark country lane, partly from the cold seeping into her joints and partly from the shock of falling off the bicycle.
As she neared the farmhouse, she was disappointed to see it was in total darkness. There was no dim light shining through the blackout blinds. That meant one of two things—either Hannah hadn’t made it home, or she was home and pretending not to be. It was only a few days since the disastrous sabotage operation. With every day that passed, the less likely it was that Francois had spilt what he knew about the Liberty Network to the interrogators, but they were still in danger.
Francois’ friendly face loomed in her mind again. She thought of how he had offered her a cigarette to help pass the time when they waited on the bank for the train during her first sabotage operation. He was a good man, and she prayed he wasn’t dead, even though it would be safer for the network if he was. Hannah said there was a chance he had swallowed his cyanide pill in time.
Lizzie circled the farmhouse from afar several times, taking different routes, looking for evidence the house was under surveillance. There was no sign of German military or any vehicles at all. The place was rural, and it was unusual to bump into anyone after dark. Farmers retired to their homesbefore nightfall and lived to the rhythm of the sun rising and setting. Days were short, and winter was a time for maintenance and renewal, ready to plant and reap their rewards in warmer months. The Nazis kept the farmers dancing to their tune, supplying them with whatever they commanded. They didn’t have it easy, even though they were out of the spotlight of the city.
After circling the area and seeing nothing that alerted her to danger, Lizzie entered the back garden. There was a faint hint of dusky sky, and the moon cast its magical glow so she could make out the shape of the door. Soon, the darkness would thicken and wrap itself around the old building, which had many secrets to tell.
