Chapter 25
chapter
St. Aubin
With gloved hands, Gerrit used his knife to sever the telephone line into the Aubin Hafen gun battery. How ironic that after warning Bernardus against sabotage, Gerrit was committing sabotage himself—to protect half a dozen lives, including his own.
He sheathed his knife, ran along the beach to the wooded area, slid into the car, and drove toward the hotel.
To prevent a manhunt, he had to convince the Germans that Bernardus had escaped—preferably, had died in the attempt.
He had to explain why Charlie had fetched him at the Forum, which had been witnessed by Riedel and others.
He had to explain why he’d waited so long to alert the Germans.
He had to convince them of his own loyalty.
And Gerrit had never been good at lying.
“Start with the truth. Stay as close to the truth as possible.” He added a prayer for forgiveness for deviating from the truth—again. But if his story worked, he could save the lives of Bernardus, Charlie, Arthur and Opal Jouny. And Ivy.
Gerrit drove down the darkened road. He could still see Ivy’s wide brown eyes staring at him with a mix of confusion and shock and .
. . hope. Or maybe he’d seen his own hope in her eyes.
He hadn’t wanted her to know about his resistance activities, but now she did.
Now she knew he wasn’t a collaborator looking only to save his own skin.
Now a path had opened between them.
He longed to meet her on that path.
But Bernardus’s rash actions had imperiled Ivy, and a romance with Gerrit would imperil her even more. If the Germans found out what Gerrit had done, connected him to her . . .
His jaw clenched. Once again, distance was the best way to protect Ivy. He couldn’t bear the thought of that sweet soul being imprisoned, tortured, executed.
At the hotel, Gerrit stashed the mine map in his desk. If the map didn’t bear marks of the evening’s misadventure, he’d slip it back into the technical section office on Monday.
Gerrit ran upstairs to Ernst Schmeling’s room. Being short of breath and disheveled suited his story well. He pounded on the door. “Herr Oberbauführer! Herr Oberbauführer!”
In a few seconds, Schmeling opened the door of his darkened room, pulling a dressing gown over his pajamas. “This had better be important. You disturbed my sleep.”
All Gerrit’s frustration and anger at Bernardus infused his voice. “It’s Kroon—he betrayed us.”
“Pardon?” Schmeling blinked heavily. “Betrayed?”
“He tried to commit sabotage. I went to stop him, but I was too late and he was injured and he escaped in a boat but he’s so badly injured I don’t think he’ll survive.” Gerrit ran the words together and shook his arm to the west, toward St. Aubin.
“Slow down. Start from the beginning.”
Gerrit took a long breath. “I was at the Forum with the other men when Charlie Picot fetched me.”
“Charlie . . . ?” Schmeling flicked on his bedside lamp and wrestled off his dressing gown.
Gerrit stepped inside, closed the door, and faced it to give Schmeling some privacy. “Charlie is a local lad who works on a cargo ship, the Ormer. Bernardus and I have befriended him, and he shows us around the island.”
Cloth swished. “To the point, van der Zee.”
“Yes, Herr Oberbauführer. Bernardus drove Charlie to St. Aubin this evening, told him to stand watch while he blew up the breakwater. I can’t believe it! I trusted him!” His voice shook with genuine fury that his friend had endangered so many people.
A curse from Schmeling. “He blew up the breakwater?”
“No, no. Charlie came for me, wanted me to stop Bernardus. I don’t understand—why would Bernardus think Charlie would approve of sabotage? One of Charlie’s sisters works for the Feldkommandantur. Everyone knows the family is loyal.”
“Come.” Schmeling flung open the door, wearing his uniform jacket over his pajama pants. “Continue.”
Gerrit marched alongside Schmeling. “Charlie brought the OT car Bernardus had taken. I sent the boy home, and I drove to St. Aubin and—”
Another curse, and Schmeling jammed his cap over his rumpled gray hair. “You didn’t come for me first? Sound the alarm?”
“I . . .” The truth clogged his throat. “Bernardus is my oldest friend. I thought I could dissuade him. He’s a reasonable man.”
Schmeling shoved open the door to the stairwell and pounded down the stairs. “He’s a traitor.”
Gerrit was too, but he had to convince the man otherwise. “I went to the breakwater to stop him. Charlie told me he was using a rowboat to tow the explosives. There was an explosion—Bernardus set off a mine. I heard him scream.”
“Good. He’ll scream even louder when we catch him.”
“I—I don’t know if you will. I had to lie low for a few minutes. The searchlight at St. Aubin’s Fort switched on. I didn’t want them to shoot at me.”
On the ground floor, Schmeling opened the door and strode across the lobby to the telephone. “Wise. I’ll grant you that.”
“After the searchlight turned off, I ran out to him. He was badly injured. So much blood. He’d dragged himself into the boat. He threatened me with his pistol, told me not to follow him. Since he couldn’t finish the job, he’d removed the explosives and was sailing for France.”
“I’ll call for patrol boats.” Schmeling grabbed the telephone receiver and started dialing. “Which is what you should have done.”
“I tried,” Gerrit said. “The telephone line in the battery is cut.”
Schmeling cursed yet again, then barked orders into the telephone.
Gerrit still had almost an hour’s delay to explain—the gunners at St. Aubin’s Fort would have noted the time of the explosion.
Schmeling slammed down the receiver, beckoned to Gerrit, and marched to the door. “Come along.”
Gerrit followed him out into the cool night. “I tried to stop him, Herr Oberbauführer. His boat was damaged in the explosion—I saw holes, saw Bernardus bailing water. I took a rowboat from the harbor and followed him.”
Schmeling gave him a disgusted look and jerked open the car door.
Gerrit climbed in on the passenger side. “He’s my friend. My oldest friend.”
“You had no warning that he was about to betray us? None at all?” Schmeling tore down the road.
Gerrit heaved a sigh. “He’s been despondent lately. He thinks Germany will lose the war, and he’s worried about what will happen to him afterward. Maybe he thought the Allies would look more favorably on him if he was a saboteur.” All of it true.
“A dead saboteur if we catch him.”
“He’s dead either way.” A longer sigh from deep in his gut.
“Even if the boat wasn’t damaged, he couldn’t row all the way to France with his injuries.
But the boat was damaged. I rowed for a while, but I never found him.
I had to turn around—I was concerned about our guns at Noirmont Point.
Then I fought the tide on the way back.”
“The map of mines on the bay.” Schmeling swung a glare to Gerrit. “It’s missing. He must have taken it.”
Gerrit groaned. Now he’d have to burn the map. “How could he?”
Schmeling added yet another curse to the night. “Drowning is too good for him. Bleeding to death is too good for him. He deserves to hang.”
Bernardus still might die due to his injuries, during surgery, or if captured. And Gerrit added yet another sigh to the night.