Page 62 of Tides of Resistance
‘I don’t know. It depends, but soon I will go on a trip, and it’s possible I won’t be able to return to St. Malo. That’s when you’ll need to send the letter. Charles can deliver it to the mansion.’
‘And what if the German asks for your address in Paris?’ she asked.
Lizzie pondered. It was a good question.
‘Say the mail has been so unreliable you haven’t received a letter from my mother in months and have unfortunately mislaid the address. Fob him off politely—he’s SS, but he’s also been raised as a German aristocrat and, as such, he observes social etiquette. Anyway, my bet is he wants a mistress here for convenience, not a long-distance companion to correspond with.’
‘What a clever girl you are,’ Aunt Giselle said. ‘That makes sense, so I shall do exactly as you say. I do hope you’ll be with us for some time before you leave on your mysterious trip.’
With one last hug, Giselle urged Lizzie to be cautious, and as she exited the back door, Minou brushed her ankles and meowed for dinner as she bent down to stroke her.
Lizzie reached the harbour entrance. A guard asked her the purpose of her visit, and she noticed he stood straighter when she said she was there by invitation of Heinrich Adler. He checked her papers and opened the barrier. Once through, shespotted a car, and Heinrich’s driver rushed around to open the door for her.
‘How beautiful you look, Rose,’ Heinrich said as she joined him in the back of the car.
She accepted his compliment with grace and tried not to panic about how she would fend him off if they were left alone. There was a crackle of tension in the air, and she sensed he was nearing the point where he would try to kiss her. He had got close to it after their last lunch, but she’d been lucky when he was called away on urgent business.
She couldn’t rely on luck, and the little knife nestled in the lining of her coat that she had worn again despite the increasingly warm weather. Heinrich was a big, muscular man, and although she was trained to kill with her bare hands, it was the last option she would use. Heinrich was more useful alive than dead. If she killed him, all systems would be alerted, and she’d be hunted down, reducing her chances of getting the critical intelligence and film back to London.
The skill of an SOE agent was in moving as silently as a cat. Her mission was to extract intelligence undercover, not to create chaos and murder Germans—even high-ranking Nazis—unless in self-defence or critical to the mission.
The car pulled up in front of a gorgeous white yacht, and Lizzie made a show of gasping. ‘What a beauty she is!’
Heinrich held out his hand to help her across the long wooden gangplank, and they boarded the magnificent yacht, which bobbed gently on the sparkling water.
It was a sunny afternoon, and Lizzie accepted Heinrich’s offer to remove her coat but laid it on the cushioned bench in the cockpit area.
Heinrich wore dark trousers, a sailing jacket and an officer’s cap in place of his uniform. It was more casual than his usual attire, but there was no mistaking his identity, the collar tabs onhis jacket clearly marked him as an SS officer. Lizzie watched with growing trepidation as his leather-gloved hands cast off and he started the engine like a proficient sailor.
Lizzie had hoped the captain of the yacht would accompany them, and now her chest hammered as the reality of being completely alone with him on the open seas sunk in.
‘You are a skilled yachtsman,’ she said, swallowing the lump in her throat and attempting a light tone.
‘Yes, we have glorious lakes in Bavaria. I learnt to sail with the Hitler Youth and won many prizes. I often wished I lived by the sea, and during my time in St. Malo, I have developed my skills accordingly.’
‘Sailing on a lake must differ greatly from the sea,’ Lizzie said. ‘Not that I know much about sailing, living in Paris.’
‘It is different, and the tidal patterns and coastal hazards around Brittany can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t worry, mademoiselle, you are in safe hands.’ Heinrich flashed her a predatory smile. ‘The previous owner taught me exactly how to handle her.’
The SS officer’s large, gloved hands caught her eye again, and she shivered. The implication was clear. The previous owner had been forced to teach the thief who stole his yacht how to get the best out of her for his own pleasure.
Lizzie dragged her thoughts out of the swirl of anger that wouldn’t serve her now. ‘We will sail completely alone? Silly me, I imagined you would have some kind of captain or helmsman.’
‘No need, Rose. I love nothing more than sailing. Soon we will toast our fortuitous meeting with a glass of champagne on this spectacular afternoon.’
‘It’s hard to believe there’s a war going on,’ she said when they were out on the open water, surrounded by natural beauty, the sun gently warming her face beneath her brimmed hat.
Heinrich turned to face her, still steering. ‘Victory is inevitable. Whilst these times are difficult for some, they are merely a natural and necessary part of implementing the new order of the Third Reich. Life will be better for you because of it once we destroy the enemy. Trust me. You will see.’
Lizzie made herself keep her eyes on his.
Trust him.
His certainty that Germany would win the war was frightening, and for a moment she slipped into an alternative reality. If she weren’t so entrenched with the Allies and exposed to the diabolical truth of the evil Nazi regime, would she be in danger of falling under his spell?
Heinrich was intelligent, handsome and charismatic. The Nazis had entranced much of their own nation with the seductive promise of the power and success of the rising Third Reich. The thought plagued her as the yacht picked up speed and rode the waves; the vessel rising and falling with the swell of the water and she closed her eyes, abandoning her senses to the salty breeze, wishing she were back in London in Jack’s arms.
Her longing for him was palpable and almost brought her to tears.
