Cast No Shadow, Peter Sharp [books to get back into reading txt] 📗

Further commands were cut off by the crash and rattle of machine guns. Rounds sang as they flew by. Screams rose above the gunfire. Kelly sprinted to his rear, ducking and swerving, frequently changing direction until the sound of gunfire was remote enough for him to catch his breath and take stock of his situation. It was a tactic the group had practised several times before. If ‘hit’ they were to disperse and each individually make their way to a predetermined rendezvous, but this was the first time they had had to use it. ‘Rendezvous 3’ meant different things to each of the small subgroups, so that if captured they would be unable to identify the locations of the other subgroups. Kelly’s subgroup consisted of Rahn and Élise.

A knot had formed in Kelly’s stomach; partly in fear for his own life, but also because of desperate worry for the fate of Élise and the others. Had they made it? What of the screams? With a feeling of intense loneliness and despair, Kelly started his circuitous route to the rendezvous.

Kelly lay for about two hours, observing the farmhouse from the cover of a dense hedge about two hundred yards from the buildings. He was unsure of what to do. For all he knew there could be a detachment of SS waiting for him inside. He needed some kind of sign, some kind of reassurance.

A light had come on just before dawn and had been extinguished just as the first rays of light crept through the elms that bordered the farm. There was a rattle and a man emerged from a side door, his garments announcing him as the farmer. Walking slowly as he pulled on a jacket against the morning chill, he made his way towards one of the outbuildings and entered.

There was a cry! Cut off.

Kelly tensed and waited. Seconds later the man emerged with another walking alongside him. They hurried towards the main building. The second man was unmistakable.

Rahn!

Kelly was about to rise and make his way towards the farmhouse when there was a rustle in the bushes only a few yards to his right. He froze, his grip tightening on his Thomson machine gun. A figure was emerging from the bushes. Élise!

His heart leapt as he eased himself forward and whispered her name, she spun raising her 9 mm, but visibly relaxed when she recognised him emerging from the undergrowth. She rushed to him and flung her free arm around his neck, sobbing and shaking as she did so. She was a wreck. The lines in her contorted face were emphasised by the black camouflage soot, now smudged by the tracks of her tears. Her clothes were wet and muddy and there was blood oozing through the torn black sweater. She seemed on the verge of passing out.

Kelly lifted her, slinging her around his shoulders in a fireman’s lift, and ran to the farmhouse, their progress watched by a concerned Rahn who opened the door for them and ushered them inside.

Kelly laid Élise on a sofa before turning to the priest and embracing him briefly. Then he returned to Élise, barely conscious. As he raised her arm to remove the sweater she called out in pain, causing him to pull back. The farmer’s wife came to the aid of the injured girl, shooing the men into the kitchen and with instructions to her husband to make coffee, she set about administering to the girl.

“I wish I had listened to you,” said Rahn, massaging his face wearily. “You were right about the size of the group.” Kelly raised his eyebrows. “At least one of them was a traitor. I hope he was the only one.”

“Which means,” said Kelly, “that they may have some idea of the location.”

“Not from the one who left the party early,” said Rahn. “I caught up with him on the way out. He won’t be telling any secrets!” He tapped his machine gun as he spoke.

Their conversation was interrupted by a cry from the other room. Kelly rose, but Rahn stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Leave it to the woman,” he said. “These are good people. I know them.”

They speculated about the fate of their comrades. Rahn’s voice was full of compassion as he told how he had seen Andre fall, but he was unable to throw light on the others. “Claude was next to Élise, perhaps she will know if he made it?” said Kelly, his voice at once eager and optimistic, but his inner worry betrayed by the slight faltering. Before Rahn could answer, the farmer’s wife came in, wiping blood from her hands with an old cloth.

“The woman will be fine. Sorry about the noise. I had to clean the wound and get some iodine in it to stop any festering. We only have iodine for the animals. I’m afraid it’s very strong and will have hurt the poor girl, but I had to use it.”

“Thank you, Mother,” said the priest. “You have been so kind. How badly is she injured?”

“A muscle in her back has been ripped by the bullet. It is not serious but will be extremely painful.”

It was several hours before Élise was able to talk to them; between tears and sobs she told how Claude had stayed behind as rear guard to protect their escape, calling to her to go. He could not have survived.

“I suspect I have been totally compromised,” said the priest disconsolately, the sadness clear in his voice. “I cannot now return to my parish, therefore, if you will permit, I will join with you and Élise.”

Both Élise and Kelly enthusiastically agreed. At this moment they needed all the allies they could find and there was no doubt that in a tight spot, Wolfgang Rahn was a good man to have on your side.

Invasion

Élise walked softly into the room and slumped down against the wall, her eyes black rimmed with exhaustion. Rahn, who had been dozing in the