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

corner, lowered his pistol. He had snapped to full alert at the first soft footfall. Kelly, who had been cleaning his 9 mm, continued to assemble it, but raised his head and smiled at Élise. It was a smile of sympathy. Bravely, the woman smiled back. She was clearly all in.

The house they were in was the end building of a row of six attached cottages. Fire had ravaged the row some months previously and it had been left derelict, condemned but not yet demolished. The room was completely devoid of any furniture and the three were reduced to sitting and sleeping on the floor. The first rays of the sun were beginning to appear through the gaps in the roof tiles making the black charred beams gleam.

It was a dangerous hideaway, but the best they could find in the little town of Berques. The place was alive with Germans coming and going, but they seemed fully pre-occupied with the forthcoming invasion.

The small group had fled St Omer, believing they had been compromised and had been torn between heading south to Bethune and probably relative safety, or moving further north, more dangerous under present conditions, but where they would be more likely to make contact with an active resistance group. They had travelled the thirty kilometres to Berques in two days, travelling at night and hiding up by day.

During that time, they had eaten only once, having thrown themselves on the mercy of a lone traveller they had surprised and nearly frightened to death. Once recovered from his shock, he guided them to his home near Wormhout where they had eaten their fill of the meagre fare on offer, making up for the lack of variety with ample bread dipped in some kind of consommé. It had been a risky venture, but they were starving and driven to it.

They had arrived three nights before and taken it in turns to move out at night to try to make contact with the underground, but it was a dangerous business. Most of the locals were falling over themselves to distance themselves from the Germans and would provide as much help as they could including food, water and wine, however a word in the wrong ear spelled disaster for at least one of them. They had agreed that a person acting alone was the best way to scavenge for information and provisions. Furthermore, they had sworn that if the night patrol had not arrived back by dawn they would crash out of their current location and find new accommodation.

It had thus been a great relief to Kelly to see Élise enter just as dawn was starting to break.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I’ve made contact.”

The other two simultaneously sat bolt upright, questions spilling from each of them. Élise smiled and held up her hand.

“It wasn’t easy. They didn’t trust me. They have already had one bad experience with a woman who tried to infiltrate the group who turned out to be a double agent.” She winced slightly as she wriggled to try to find a comfortable position. She was still suffering with her back, but they had only dared to remain in the farmhouse outside St Omer for a further day before setting out for Berques.

She had endured agonies during the journey, often been reduced to pitiful tears. Kelly and Rahn had taken turns to try to support her. During daylight, the two had kept watch and allowed Élise to sleep. She was now much improved but still subject to back spasm occasionally.

Rahn impatiently signalled her to continue. She gave him a mock scowl and recounted her tale. “They will meet with us tonight and, if they believe us, they will find us a safe house.”

“And if they don’t believe us?” asked Kelly, leaving the question hanging in the air. Élise shot him a sideways glance that explained much more than words could.

“Right!” said Kelly. “Fine. That should focus the mind. Wolf, for Christ’s sake don’t slip into German, will you?”

Rahn chuckled quietly, ignoring the blasphemy. “Perhaps I’d better assume a false name as well.”

“I’ve explained your backgrounds to them,” offered Élise, sounding serious. “I’ve told them to expect a mad Irish-Serbian and an even madder French-German priest.” They all laughed, shushing each other to quiet as they did so.

Kelly and Rahn kept watch for the rest of the day and allowed Élise to sleep. As twilight began to draw near, they sat talking, impatient for the time for the rendezvous with the resistance. Then with some reservations they collected their weapons together and readied themselves to slip quietly into the night. Before they left, Rahn beckoned them to him.

“Spare me a second,” he whispered. “This is for me, please indulge me.” And he sank onto his knees, placed his hands together and quietly prayed, his words barely audible in the gloom. The other two followed suit, Élise crossing herself. Kelly, an atheist since his teens, simply used the calming words of the priest to help him ready himself for the coming inquisition which could result in all of their deaths.

When Rahn rose, he embraced each of them in turn before stepping out into the street, his Thomson machine gun cocked and ready. In an instance the quiet, loving priest blended silently into the shadows and completed his transformation into a foreign legion trained killing machine.

Rahn and Kelly had each told their stories and Élise was well into hers. At that moment, much to the interest of the male members of the resistance group in particular, she had her jumper raised showing the ugly wound inflicted during the ambush. She concluded her story and sat on the chair indicated by the leader of the group, known to his team as ‘Tonton’ because of his age and kindly nature.

“Wait here please, we need to discuss.” He, along with four of the others, moved into the adjoining room. They picked up the weapons belonging to Kelly and his group as they did