Shadows In Paris (Seagrove & Raven #2)

Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

‘ I s something wrong?’ Hannah asked the soldier, who held out his hand expectantly for their papers.

Lizzie blinked as she heard a man’s voice emerge from Hannah’s throat. What a chameleon she was.

‘You tell me.’ The soldier spoke passable French with a thick German accent. ‘Do you know anything about the woman in that poster?’

Hannah shrugged her shoulders with a touch of insolence. ‘Why would I?’

‘I’m asking the questions, not you,’ the soldier replied as he shuffled their papers in his hands.

Lizzie’s heart felt like it would beat out of her body, it was strumming so fast as she watched the exchange. Hannah looked calm, and Lizzie was relieved she didn’t have to do anything but stand there like a dutiful sister.

Hannah had murdered a high-ranking Nazi and here she was, acting as cool as a cucumber. The expression was one her mother used, and it was perfect for this nail-biting situation.

Lizzie glanced around to see if they had any chance of making a run for it if needed, but there were groups of soldiers nearby. They were stopping people and asking for their papers in every direction. Lizzie breathed a little easier when she saw they weren’t the only ones being questioned. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

‘And what about you?’ The soldier turned his attention to Lizzie, whose heart pounded as his eyes fixed on hers.

‘My brother gave you my papers,’ Lizzie said, surprised to hear the statement glide out so effortlessly.

‘Why don’t you share the same family name?’ The soldier kept his hard stare on Lizzie as he quizzed her.

‘I’m a married woman, as you see from the papers. My brother bears my maiden name.’

The soldier nodded to himself and passed the documents back to them both.

Lizzie allowed herself to breathe again. Had they passed the checks and were free to leave now? She daren’t ask and give the soldier any ideas.

‘If you see this woman in the poster, what will you do?’ he asked.

Hannah replied in her gruff male voice. ‘We will report her whereabouts to you. Is there anything else, sergeant? We’re in a rush to get home to our sick mother.’

‘Did you serve in the French army?’ His voice was controlled and vaguely threatening.

Hannah pointed to her spectacles. ‘I wasn’t conscripted. My sight is very poor.’

The soldier appraised Hannah, his grey eyes cold. Then, after what seemed the longest time, he stood aside and indicated for them to pass. ‘You’d better hurry. We’re locking down the city in our search for the murderer.’

‘Who was murdered?’ Hannah asked, as if she had all the time in the world.

‘You don’t need to know that. Let’s just say they killed the wrong man. He was the son of a close friend of Herr Himmler, and we have orders to arrest that woman and take her straight to Avenue Foch.’

When they were alone, Lizzie exhaled slowly, her breath ragged and heart still thumping manically. ‘I thought I was going to faint from sheer terror!’

‘Me too,’ Hannah said.

‘You’re only trying to make me feel better. You were so composed. I’ve never seen anything like it!’

‘Remember, I grew up with his type in Berlin. Probably went to school with a bastard like that.’

‘Thank God, he believed you,’ Lizzie said, still awed by Hannah’s impersonation of a man.

‘It’s not over yet. We’ve got a long way to go. If he’s right and they’re locking down the city, we need to get out now.’

‘Where is Raven?’

‘I know the location. We met there a couple of times on operations before the war. It’s snowing again, and it’s too far to travel by bicycle. We’d better grab a car.’

‘A car?’ Lizzie asked, her head spinning. At moments like this, she saw how much she still had to learn about surviving behind enemy lines.

They cycled along the riverbank until Hannah slowed and signalled for Lizzie to do the same. ‘Let’s leave the bicycles here,’ she said, and they propped them against a fence where they were partially hidden by a bush. ‘Hopefully we won’t need them again, but you never know.’

Lizzie pulled her coat around her, shivering in the freezing morning mist. ‘What a gloomy day,’ she said.

‘It might work to our advantage. They’re combing the streets for blonde women and in this mist, it’ll be tricky to spot them. That should slow their damn search down and, in a few hours, we’ll be gone.’

‘How do we get a car?’ Lizzie asked .

Hannah pointed with her chin. ‘See that milk truck?’

Lizzie peered around the bush and saw a grey, medium-sized truck parked on the opposite side of the road.

‘We’re going to borrow that. Looks like they’ve done their morning rounds and have parked up for the day.’

‘I know nothing about trucks.’

‘You keep watch. Whistle to warn me if you see someone coming before I reach the truck. Once I’m in, walk down the street, and I’ll stop at the corner so you can jump in.’

Lizzie watched Hannah saunter across the road and approach the truck. No one was paying any attention as the young Frenchman opened the truck door, fumbled about in the cabin, and fired up the engine after a couple of attempts. The big wheels edged onto the road and joined the flow of traffic.

Lizzie hurried to the corner, neck tucked inside her collar and hands deep in her coat pockets as she waited for Hannah to reach her. Soon she saw her smiling face and jumped into the seat next to her.

‘Where to, love?’ Hannah asked, winking cheekily at Lizzie, who laughed.

Hannah had stolen a truck in a few minutes, and Lizzie watched as she expertly changed the gears and turned onto the road out of Paris.

Relief coursed through her. They were on their way out of the city before it was in total lockdown. When she was back in London, she decided she would definitely take Jack up on his offer to teach her to drive properly. Sometimes a bicycle just wasn’t enough.

The milk truck wasn’t built for speed, and they bounced down the road with the empty crates crashing into each other in the back.

‘I feel sorry for the poor milkman when he discovers his truck is missing,’ Lizzie said. ‘What will he do, do you think? ’

‘Hard to say, but it was this or travel all the way to the woods by bicycle. It would take too long, and we’d freeze to death before we got there.’

Hannah turned onto a back road. ‘We’ll take the slower route and avoid the road checks. Let’s hope our milkman has enough petrol to get us to the woods.’

Lizzie rested her head against the leather seat and thought of Jack as snowflakes fell and whirled past the window. Had he made it to Paris, and would she see him today? It seemed surreal, and she didn’t dare get her hopes up. Hannah told Lizzie she thought Jack would have arranged the pickup for near the woods and they might leave tonight. In the meantime, they would lie low in the cottage.

The snow was coming down fast as they weaved around the back lanes towards the woods. Lizzie was almost falling asleep to the rocking movement of the old truck, when its wheels veered off the road and they almost hurtled into a ditch.

They clambered out of the truck, and Hannah assessed the damage. ‘The wheels are bogged down in the snowdrifts. We’ll have to walk the rest of the way. It shouldn’t be too far now.’

Lizzie gazed at the fields that were dusted in powdery snow. It was like an idyllic scene from a painting. ‘How will you manage?’ Suddenly, it all seemed too real. She would leave with Jack and go back to her lovely bedroom full of her belongings, but what about Hannah? It hit Lizzie that she had nothing of her own and her throat swelled, and she swallowed to stop the emotion overcoming her. ‘What will you do? You don’t have any of your things apart from that little satchel.’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m used to living like this. I travel light for this very reason. When you’re on the run, you soon realise that things aren’t as important as you imagined. ’

‘What is important?’ Lizzie asked.

Hannah looked at Lizzie. ‘People. Good people are important. Things can be replaced, people can’t. That’s why I live like this.’

‘You amaze me, Hannah. I’m going to miss you so much.’

‘Come on, let’s not get sentimental. We’ve not made it out alive yet. We’re still too close to the scene of the murder for comfort. We need to get out of sight until the plane comes for you.’

Lizzie trudged after Hannah as the snowflakes danced around them. It had been snowing on and off for weeks and the snow and ice were slippery to navigate and several times Lizzie nearly went flying. She clutched onto Hannah’s arm, and they covered the final stretch, propping each other up.

Hannah got her bearings, turning slowly around. She set out again and Lizzie followed. ‘We should see it in a minute. The cottage is in a clearing near a stream.’

‘There!’ shouted Lizzie, excitement bubbling as she spotted a curl of smoke rising against the white sky. ‘Raven has lit a fire to signal to us.’

They walked a bit further until they arrived in a clearing with an ice-covered stream, and when Lizzie turned her head, she saw a small stone cottage nestled under some trees. ‘How beautiful. We made it!’

‘We did. I haven’t been here in ages,’ Hannah said, striding towards the door. She raised her hand to knock, and a familiar deep voice echoed from behind them. ‘Stop right there.’

Jack appeared, a rifle in his hand, smiling from ear to ear.

Hannah gave a genuine shriek of delight and raced to hug Jack. ‘Here you are! I see you are as sharp as ever.’

‘No one’s approaching this cottage without me seeing them first,’ he said. He drew back and chuckled as he took in Hannah’s disguise. ‘And I see you’re still up to your old tricks, monsieur.’ His dark eyes found Lizzie’s, and he winked at her. ‘Hello, Seagrove. Thank goodness you made it.’

He opened his arms to greet her too, and she walked into them, gripped by a wave of fierce emotion, but awkward in front of Hannah.

‘Great to see you, Raven,’ she said, glowing as she stared up at him.

He squeezed her tightly and released her slowly. The feel of his hands lingered on her body, and she longed to stay close to him.

‘Let’s get you inside out of the cold. I lit a fire.’

Jack opened the door for them both to enter the little cottage and Lizzie stared about her. ‘This is like something out of Hansel and Gretel.’

‘No wicked witch, though. Come in and get warm, you two. I’ll bring you something to eat and you can tell me all about your exploits, and why you didn’t follow your orders, Seagrove!’