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

A shot rang out from the garden. Kelly ran through the open door in time to see the German pistol whipping Élise to the ground. He stood over her, his weapon levelled, ready to fire. Kelly raised his weapon, aimed and fired in one movement. The German spun on his heel and crashed onto the concrete pathway firing as he fell. A kick in the left shoulder followed by searing pain sent Kelly tumbling backwards. He quickly scrambled into a kneeling position, retrieving his dropped pistol as he did so, but the German was already sitting up, his pistol on aim. A crack from a pistol near Kelly’s head signalled the arrival of Rahn and the death of the German as a round crashed into his forehead.

A rustle in the bushes and the female emerged. She held a pistol clenched in both hands at waist level, making for the open gate.

“Stop!” called out Rahn. “Drop your weapon, now!”

The woman spun to face them. Both Kelly and Rahn had their weapons raised. A second of time stretched to an eon as Kelly looked into Sybilla’s frightened eyes. He could see she was visibly trembling, and he noted the startled look of recognition in her eyes. Kelly tightened his finger on the trigger of his 9 mm, then released it again without firing.

Instead, Rahn fired. Wood splintered from the garden fence. The woman ducked and sprang to her side. She disappeared through the garden gate and raced into the night.

Kelly made to pursue, but a firm hand grasped him by the collar and dragged him back.

“No, my friend, no time!” Rahn hissed. “I’ll help Élise. Come on!”

Élise was already on her feet, but the rolling eyes and the trickle of blood running down her forehead signalled concussion.

With Rahn clutching Élise, and Kelly in agony from the shoulder wound, they sprinted down the avenue and over a fence into a field, along the fence line, across another field and into the woodland at Bois Couderkerque.

Quickly they identified the main track through the wood and followed it. At the first junction Laure was waiting as agreed. Without a word she motioned them to follow her off the track and into the densest part of the wood. The three comrades stumbled and crashed after Laure until she stopped abruptly, then started feeling around in the undergrowth.

Laure was pulling at something. By the limited moonlight filtering through the trees, they watched as she uncovered the opening of a hole in the ground. A hidden bunker. She motioned them to climb down using a set of wooden steps. “Not you!” she whispered to Kelly.

Laure helped Kelly remove the black jumper, throwing it into the bunker, and then ripping the buttons on his shirt she opened it far enough to view the wound. “Not good, but you won’t bleed to death! Down!” she whispered, almost pushing him into the hole.

Laure followed Kelly down. In the poor light he was still able to see the inside of their refuge. Basically a concrete hole about eight feet square, the walls were lined with wood. A number of alcoves into the walls were visible. Then Laure pulled down the hatch and they were in total darkness. Kelly felt his way to a wall then slumped against it.

Someone was moving around the bunker. Kelly felt a hand on his right arm, then a hand was feeling his face, a voice in his ear, whispering, “Dan?” It was Élise.

“Yes,” he whispered pulling her to him and cradling her in his one good arm. The irony, the almost comic-opera proportions of their current position, was not lost on Kelly. He was in great pain, exhausted and stressed. They were in a hole in the ground not much bigger than a grave and he was cradling a young woman who had come within a whisker of losing her life twice within the space of a few days. At least he still had his Élise … and Sybilla was alive! Kelly stopped trying to analyse the confused feelings that tumbled and spun in this mind.

It was a long night. Occasionally Kelly fell into a fitful slumber but that was rare. Most of the time he simply sat, the wall supporting his back, his shoulder throbbing with pain. He held tightly to Élise as if afraid to lose her. She stirred little, now and then moaning softly as if slipping in and out of consciousness. At least Rahn was sleeping, his breathing deep and heavy. Sleeping the sleep of the innocent, thought Kelly, smiling to himself in the darkness.

The trapdoor opened. The bunker’s occupants blinked into the light that revealed a tableau of four people all with weapons levelled at the opening. Tonton descended slowly, carrying a rucksack. He called up and another rucksack sailed into the bunker. “Here!” he said. “Take off your dark outer clothing and put these on. It’s a beautiful spring day outside. Leave your dark clothing here, we will attend to that.”

Tonton then produced several bottles of water, located basins from one of the alcoves and bade them wash off the soot from their faces and, in Élise’s case, the blood also. Élise, now apparently recovered apart from a lump the size of an egg on her head, helped Kelly who was still in pain. Tonton produced a field dressing and the shoulder was bandaged. To avoid being conspicuous, Kelly slipped his left hand into his waistband to support the damaged shoulder.

They joined Tonton’s wife, keeping watch at the entrance of the bunker and, after securing the escape hole, they made their way arm in arm along the forest track just like a family out for a walk.

After a de-briefing by Rahn, Tonton joined Kelly and Élise, and was effusive in his praise for the three who had eliminated one of the most wanted fifth columnists in France. He declared himself unworried by the escape of the woman. He had no doubt she would be dealt with