Shadows In Paris (Seagrove & Raven #2)

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

T he spike of adrenaline flooding Lizzie’s senses as she combed the large old farmhouse by candlelight, searching for signs of Hannah, exhausted her and she sank heavily onto the kitchen sofa.

What now? The house was deserted. Lizzie calculated if they were onto them, they would have been there already. Plenty of time had passed for poor Francois to spill everything he knew. Before they left that morning, they had placed a piece of black cotton on the top of the door that led to the basement. It hadn’t broken, so Lizzie was safe for now, but if they had arrested Hannah today, it was only a matter of time before they searched her home looking for evidence. Wasn’t it?

Lizzie dragged her bruised body off the sofa and went upstairs to set up the wireless. It was time to message Jack. He wouldn’t like what she was going to tell him, but she must tell him all the same.

Sitting at the old table in the attic, Lizzie worked out what she would say, and then used The Count of Monte Cristo to code her message .

Whilst she worked, she waited for the signal from Jack to go ahead. Minutes passed with no response. She worried she would have to wait for the next scheduled time. It would be too late by then.

Her message read:

Raven. Detained today. I am safe. Angel is missing. Can’t leave tonight. Must find Angel to get there. Seagrove.

Lizzie sat in the gloom, feeling more alone than she had ever felt. She waited for his signal, and on impulse she added, ‘Missing London.’

It was the closest she could get to telling him she loved and missed him, but she knew he would understand.

Finally, the signal came, and her message transmitted over the airwaves. Lizzie waited for a response. Hopefully Jack would decode the message quickly. She wanted his reply now. Partly because she needed his blessing for the change of plan, and partly because it made her feel close to him. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

His response came back quicker than she anticipated, and she rushed to decode his reply:

Seagrove. You must go to pickup. Coordinates on way. Do not stay. Too dangerous. Repeat, do not stay. London misses Seagrove. Raven.

Lizzie knew he wanted to write Raven misses Seagrove, but this was the sensible option and his sign off touched her sore heart. Now she must await his next message with the coordinates of the pickup and abandon Hannah against her better judgement. She moved to the attic window in the eaves. There was no blackout covering because they never lit more than a small candle or torch when they radioed. A torrent of melancholy filled Lizzie’s soul as she gazed out the window over the dark countryside. She longed to feel Jack’s arms around her and for the comfort of his presence. It wasn’t something particular he did. It was just the way it was between them. When they were together, everything felt joyful, and even during the gloomiest days of the Blitz, she believed things would turn out alright.

Lizzie had stopped trying to understand why he had such a soothing effect on her. In the early days when they grew close, she had searched for answers about why she felt so at home when she was with him. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, and no man had ever affected her in that way.

Now she accepted their connection as an unwavering reality. It was a gift, and she was grateful for it every single day. They were meant to be together, and there was no point trying to understand why.

The moon was almost full and cast a silvery light on the tall, barren trees in front of the house. How could such divine perfection exist in the midst of darkness? The moonlight illuminated the ink-black sky with its glittery silver dance. It was magical, and she stared at it, mesmerised by its mystical beauty.

Suddenly, she heard a loud noise that set her nerves alight. The eerie sound rose in pitch, and it was deep and musical and haunting. Her heart raced as her eyes followed the noise to the cluster of trees swaying in the fierce night wind. A lone black bird balanced on a branch of a tree; his thick chest feathers glinting in the metallic light.

Raven was watching over her, just as he had promised.

The fear instantly drained from her body, and she was elevated and emboldened. Lizzie knew she could do this. She knew she could stay, and she would stay. With Raven watching over her, she could do anything.

The message with the coordinates for the pickup came in, and she set it aside and scratched out her reply to Jack. She sent it in a flurry of activity:

Raven. When did Angel become expendable? Seagrove.

Silence followed. No message arrived and another ten minutes passed as Lizzie checked her watch by candlelight and searched for another glimpse of the raven. The black bird wasn’t there any longer, and she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. Was she missing Jack so much, her mind was playing fanciful tricks on her?

No. She had seen the raven, and she clutched onto the confidence of the bird’s call. Lizzie sat there waiting, growing colder in the attic as the night frosts descended and the temperature dropped even lower.

After what seemed like an age, another message arrived:

Seagrove. You are right. Find her. Be careful. Raven.

Hans appeared in front of Hannah again, staring down at her with angry eyes.

‘You think I’m such a fool, you could double cross me like that? You come into my office and steal the Reich’s secrets from under my nose?’ Hans waved his hand in the air and Hannah closed her eyes as she guessed what was coming .

The sound of the sharp slap rang out around the room, and she opened her eyes as the sting lashed at the delicate skin of her right cheek. Her azure eyes glowed with defiance despite the pain. It was too late to pretend there had been a misunderstanding. He clearly knew she was in the Resistance and had been passing on intelligence, so there was no point denying it.

The Nazi officer bedecked in all his finery, stepped back and then lashed out again as his hand hit her other cheek with the full force of his muscular arm. Hannah moved her head slightly, as if to banish the pain. It was more a punch than a slap, and her skin transformed from pink to purple.

‘Not so courageous now, are you, you French traitor?’ Hans spat the words, and his spittle landed near her eye.

Hannah couldn’t speak with the tape over her mouth, so she just glared at him. He stood for everything she loathed, and everything that had ruined her life and that of her beloved family. It was probably for the best, she thought. If she could speak, she would only anger him further, taunting him about hitting a girl like the coward he obviously was.

Thoughts flashed through her mind, and she tried to figure out what to do. How could she escape this literal bind? Hannah knew there was a way because her years in the field had taught her there was always a way. You just couldn’t always see it.

Hannah steeled herself for another bashing as her captor brought his large hand into contact with her cheek once more. This time his ring with the Nazi eagle symbol caught her skin, and she felt it split and the blood gush to the surface and seep down her face.

What do you know for certain, Hannah? she asked herself from within her fog of pain. What do you know?

The worlds tumbled around her mind as she grasped for clarity. This was her chance to work out what to do. It may be her only chance. The torment was only going to get worse based on the expression of relish on his face. Hans was enjoying every second of hurting her, and she guessed he would not stop unless he had to. She could barely move, so she couldn’t fend him off physically. Words were all she had. Hannah cursed herself once more for her negligence. She was better than this and blamed herself for allowing him to tie her up. He was far bigger and stronger than her, but she had the skills to bring him to his knees. If only she’d not followed him into his den like a little lamb to the slaughter.

The thought of succumbing to his cruelty made her angrier and renewed her strength. Anger was her friend. Hannah had learnt to draw on her emotions in a way that fuelled her missions. If her work required her to kill a German, all she had to do was picture her mother and father being herded into a Nazi truck outside their home in Berlin. That gave her the strength to do what she must when her resolve weakened, and she doubted her choices.

But who would choose a life like this?

No one. She always gave the same answer to her own question. No one chose a life like this. No sane person chose a life in the Resistance, but sometimes life put you in an impossible position where all you had were two choices: Fight back or surrender and die.

Since that day when the Hitler Youth girls smacked her about, she had promised herself never again to be a victim. They could do what they liked to her body, but they would not break her spirit. They did not have the power to break her spirit, and that kept her going through the awful years when she was alone on the run, working undercover, with nothing to her name but her desire to destroy the Nazi terror machine. That’s why no matter how many times Hans slapped or punched her with his big hard hands, he wouldn’t win .

There was something she longed for. It wasn’t noble, like fighting for freedom and justice, but it was locked inside her soul like a festering wound, and one day she would release it into the light.

Revenge.

Hannah would exact revenge on those bastards who had destroyed her life and taken her family. And revenge would be sweet, of that she was certain, no matter how much her face throbbed as the blood dripped into her mouth and down her chin.

‘Tell me who you work for,’ snarled Hans, snapping her back to the moment.

Hannah raised her head and looked at him with insolent, blazing eyes. Then she shook her head slowly from side to side. The pain in her head was like a boomerang, but she shook it again for good measure.

‘You silly little girl. You think you can look down your superior French nose at me and resist my advances like I’m dirt on your shoe? Do you really think I didn’t suspect you?’ Hans spat on the ground near her feet. ‘Wearing these unattractive clothes to put me off. Thought that would work on me, did you? Well, I have news for you. I’m not an idiot. I was the smartest boy in the Hitler Youth. I was a founding member with honours to my name, and I’m going to be promoted to general long before my contemporaries. And you’re going to help me, you ignorant whore. It’s quite a coup to catch a spy at Reich HQ, you know.’

Hannah continued to stare at him, her eyes unflinching as she watched him fluff himself up with his own sense of self-importance and superiority.

‘I’m asking you one more time, and if you don’t answer, I’ll do more than slap you, you traitor bitch.’

Hannah’s eyes never wavered from his, and the more she stared at him, the more furious he became until his face was bright red and a vein pulsed in his thick neck.

‘Who do you work for? I’m warning you, it’s time to give me some answers. I found the camera in your handbag. So clever, aren’t we?’ he hissed, his tone mocking. ‘Not quite as clever as you thought, though. Your game is up mademoiselle and now you’re going to pay a deadly price.’