Betty bounced against the hard metal seat again, her bones jarring unmercifully together as the unforgiving turbulence buffeted the Lysander once again. She reached down to grip the seat with her hands, letting the cold edge bite into her fingers. The noise of the plane made her head ache and her eyes stung with tears left unshed for the last twenty-four hours.
Sitting across the narrow aisle of the plane from her, Alex caught her eye and flashed what he clearly believed was a reassuring and sympathetic grin. Betty managed only a brief upturn of her own lips before diverting her gaze again. She preferred to be alone with her thoughts and Alex's calm reassurances seemed unreasonably intrusive.
Sitting here on board the noisy, drafty Lysander, it was so easy to recall the only other time she'd crossed over the Channel when she'd been assigned to an operation in Switzerland with Scott. She'd been sitting exactly where she was now and Scott was snuggled tight against her, his strong arm around her offering comfort and warmth. She'd leaned against his shoulder and he'd smiled...
Betty shook her head and blinked away tears, willing herself to stem her thoughts from their current direction. With him there, she hadn't been afraid at all, just excited about her new job and intent upon the details of her cover story and mission. This time was different. Scott was the mission and she needed to concentrate all of her energy on finding him, not on recalling a past that had become so strangely remote and poignant ever since General Hopkins had knocked on her door last evening.
Betty shuddered when she remembered how happily carefree she'd been as she'd answered the door last night. What a contrast it was to the things she'd felt as she'd lain alone in bed later that night, trying vainly to sleep. She was doubly grateful to General Hopkins. Not only was he helping her get into France for a chance to rescue Scott, but he had also included her in the planning of the mission. The mental activity had kept her from sinking into a paralysis of grief and fear. Did the general know her well enough to realize that that was exactly the stimulation she'd need to keep her from tumbling into numbing depression?
Alex's hand suddenly reached out and patted her knee. Startled, Betty looked at him quickly.
"Ready?" He mouthed silently.
Betty nodded and drew a deep breath, checking the buckles on her parachute one last time. Butterflies danced lightly in her stomach. She'd been fully trained in parachute techniques, but she'd had only two practice jumps out of planes before this and her relative inexperience made her even more edgy than she already was. Alex preceeded her to the door, pulling the latch and heaving the door to the side. Betty gasped as the cool air rushed in, filling the cabin.
Alex turned briefly toward her, giving a jaunty salute before leaving the relative safety of the plane and stepping into the black nothingness that surrounded them. Making her way slowly to the threshold, Betty screwed her eyes tightly closed and forced herself to count slowly to ten.
Her eyes still shut, she leapt clear of the plane, springing from both feet as she'd been taught. For a moment, she felt suspended, weightless, isolated from the rest of the world in a comforting blanket of darkness. At last she opened her eyes, straining to pick out any landmarks. The countryside below her was cloaked in a mantle of ebony, making the view with her eyes open much the same as it was with them closed.
The moon was fairly well obscured by high clouds, which made it safer for them to infiltrate France undetected, but made it simultaneously difficult to be sure they were landing in the designated field. Far below, she could just make out Alex's camouflage chute and she pulled the cord for her own, adjusting her course slightly when it was fully deployed.
Within moments, her feet hit solid earth and with a muffled, "Oof," she rolled onto the ground, feeling slightly dazed for a moment before triumph surged through her. Though she would have called it crazy a few months ago, she was definitely enjoying jumping out of planes now. There was such a sense of satisfaction when your feet were back on solid ground, as if you'd battled against godlike elements and come out unscathed.
The triumphant euphoria receded quickly as Betty scrambled to her feet, gathering her deflated parachute all the while. Alex moved stealthily toward her, keeping low to the ground.
"Everything all right?" he whispered urgently.
Betty nodded. "Let's get this stuff buried, so we can be on our way. The less time we spend in this open field, the better."
"Aye aye, Captain." With an amused grin, Alex started for the edge of the clearing, Betty following close behind.
Alex drew a small spade from the pack strapped on his back and quickly bent to the task of digging a hole big enough to conceal both of their parachutes. Betty began to follow suit, but Alex waved her off peremptorily.
"You keep a lookout. It's quicker if I do this myself."
Betty nodded her silent agreement and turned away, scanning the surrounding trees. A shiver worked it's way across her body. The undergrowth here was dense and thick, keeping them well hidden, but also impairing their sight. Anything, or anyone, could be hiding in the bushes, watching them even now. The darkness closed in around her, the silence beat upon her eardrums, the cold air crept across her flesh...
"Aaah!" Betty jumped and whirled as a hand landed heavily on her shoulder. Lightning fast, the hand moved to cover her mouth.
"Ssshh!" Alex hissed warningly. "What's wrong?" Slowly, his hand moved away from her mouth and curved around her waist, holding her close.
Betty exhaled noisily in relief. "Nothing. I'm just jumpy. Don't you think this place is sort of creepy?" Her eyes left his face to restlessly rove around the area once again.
Alex looked around appraisingly. "I hadn't noticed. Look, I know this is incredibly hard for you, but I truly believe we'll get him back. And even if the outcome is different from what we'd like, you'll be fine. Your life will go on. You have to have faith in that."
Betty brought her gaze sharply back to his, angry that he would even suggest the possibility he'd alluded to. Her brow furrowed at the look she found in his eyes, a look she'd spied there once before when he'd been teaching her to shoot. His pale blue eyes seemed cold, calculating and a desire lurked there that he made no attempt to conceal. She felt as if she were being weighed, tested, but for what purpose? The unease she'd felt the last time returned tenfold and chilled her further when she realized Scott wouldn't suddenly come upon the scene and break the poisonous spell as she tried to define the hidden meaning in Alex's eyes.
The thought of Scott was enough to end the moment this time and placing both hands squarely on Alex's chest, she gave him a healthy shove so that he lost his loose grip on her.
"If you can't have faith that we'll find him alive and well, then you shouldn't have come with me in the first place. Now get your things together and let's go." She spoke tersely, confused by the fleeting moment just past.
Alex held up his hands defensively. "All right, all right. I was trying to be realistic, but I see now that I was heartless. I'm sorry. Friends again?"
He looked at her beseechingly, his blue eyes once again warm, open and sparkling. Betty straightened her shoulders and felt a prickle of irritation with herself. Was she mentally unbalanced enough to have imagined the eerie look in his eyes? He'd become his usual self so quickly that it seemed possible the moment had existed only in her imagination. She sighed. Either way, she was stuck with him for the next few days and they'd have to work together. She extended her right hand.
"Friends." She answered him simply.
Alex nodded as he accepted her hand. "Good. C'mon, I think if we go this way, we'll meet up with Gustav and his comrades in no time at all."
Betty heaved a ragged breath and fell into step behind him, grateful to be on their way at last to finding some answers.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I wish I knew more of how it happened. One moment, I see him walking along the path, he was several yards away, but the moon was bright enough for me to see him. I look down for only a moment to find my way to the path and he is gone. Vanished. I should have noticed that there were others in the area." Gustav dropped his head into his hand and sighed gustily. "Why did they take him and not me? I could have been taken easily enough. Clearly I was not paying attention."
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Gustav. It isn't your fault." Sympathetically, Betty laid her hand over his. "It doesn't really matter anyway. The important thing is, what do we do now? Do you have any idea where he is? Is he alive?"
Gustav looked at her for a long moment, his eyes ringed with deep black imprints, definitive evidence of a profound lack of sleep. "He was this morning, or so my informant tells me. Betty, he's in the Jackal's stronghold."
For a moment, Betty closed her eyes, grateful for the chance that Scott still lived. She looked around the campfire then and studied the faces grouped around her before her eyes met Gustav's again. She felt better now that she was with him. His connection with Scott seemed so strong as he was the last to have seen him before his capture. She relied on Gustav's capabilities, his trustworthiness, and the friendship Scott and she had forged with him. If there was anyone in the world who was as determined to get Scott back as she, it was him.
"How do we get him back?" She asked him eagerly.
Gustav sighed deeply, rasping a hand along his jawline. "It is not easy. The castle is well guarded and has a complicated layout, but my informant is reliable and gives detailed information. She's seen Scott every day, and he's holding up well. She did have some disturbing information for me this evening, however."
The pause grew lengthy and Betty prompted him with a nod.
"The Jackal has been away for several weeks on business in Berlin. He left strict instructions that if Scott was captured, he was to be left alone until he returned from Germany. Apparently, the Jackal considers Scott his own personal project. I'd hoped to infiltrate the castle and rescue Scott before the Jackal arrived. Therese informs me now that the Jackal has returned early and that Scott will be tortured for information and most likely executed tomorrow night."
Betty's stomach heaved as she realized how short their time was. "So our Section N leak has been at work again. Pruitt knew all along that Scott was coming. He set the whole thing up with whoever the traitor is in our own division. It's frightening to think how much hangs on this one mission. The future of Section N, the fate of the Jackal...and Scott." Her voice trailed off and she found herself once again blinking away tears.
"I know it is difficult." Gustav reached across to clasp her hand. "But we do have a plan. We'll move just after dusk tomorrow evening and with any luck, all will be over by this time tomorrow." Slowly he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. "Come. It's late and we all need some sleep. Tomorrow we'll go over the details of the plan, so you'll know what you need to do."
Betty nodded her agreement and stood, following Gustav away from the campfire toward a nearby row of tents. The camp was makeshift and easily mobile, perfect for quick getaways. Gustav's troop had more permanent headquarters elsewhere, but the majority of the band had moved earlier that week to this location to be nearer the Jackal's lair.
The ground was uneven, damp, and rocky, and sleeping on the ground had never been Betty's idea of fun, but just then, the simple tent had all the appeal of her feather bed back home in Elkhart. She yawned heavily and Gustav grinned.
"This will be your tent for the night. It's not the Ritz, but..." He shrugged and flashed a quick, teasing grin before the light again left his eyes. He cleared his throat, but his voice was rough nonetheless. "Betty, I truly am sorry. It was my false information that led Scott into a trap."
"Gustav, you couldn't have known." She stood silently for a moment, studying him in the dim light. The last year of the war had aged him considerably. His thick, curly hair was shot through with gray and there were new lines around his mouth and eyes. An idea suddenly occurred to her. "What about the contact you got the information from? Could they have been setting you up?"
"No, no." Gustav's hand sliced through the air. "I've known Henri since I was a boy. He was as duped as I. We must look elsewhere for our leak, but we will find it."
"Maybe if Henri could tell us where he got the information..."
Gustav nodded. "I have tried, but I cannot find him. He has vanished, much like Scott. This is a dark business, Betty, and we must end it tomorrow."
"We will," Betty announced decisively. "Good night and thank you." Impulsively, she leaned into him and kissed his cheek.
Gustav's smile returned and his hand lifted to cover the spot on his face that her lips had touched.
"What is it they say in American movies? I'll never wash that cheek again." Laughing boisterously, he faded into the darkness and Betty stepped into her tent to find her blankets and and the blank forgetfulness of exhausted sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Scott's head snapped back once again as the man's beefy fist made solid contact with his chin. His head cracked against the wooden headrest and a warm ooze of blood trickled slowly through his hair. Gingerly, Scott shook his head, trying to clear it, then gave up, letting it lightly come to rest on the board that supported his back rigidly.
"Come now, Scotty. I really dislike having Rolf mistreat you in such a manner. It would all be so much easier if you'd just tell me everything you know about Section N and your leader, the ever-elusive General Hopkins. Then I could get on with the business of killing you. I'm sure even you would prefer that by now," Pruitt grinned maliciously.
Scott managed a lopsided grin, one side of his face so swollen that it was held virtually immobile. "Why don't you ask your informant? He seems to know more about what's going on than I do."
Enraged by hours of fruitless questioning, Pruitt leapt at Scott, yanking his head back by grabbing a handful of hair. "If my informant had access to all the information I need, I wouldn't bother even questioning you. It seems pointless as it is," he finished on a growl.
The smile reappeared momentarily. "Temper, temper, Rollie. Is this any way to treat a guest?"
Pruitt growled again and sent Scott's head crashing against the board before pacing away in disgust. Scott winced and closed his blurry eyes, pleased that Pruitt was having such difficulty controlling his anger. The "questioning" had gone on for hours and the only result so far was Scott's various cuts and bruises and a row of angry red bruising along Rolf's knuckles.
Rolf studied his hands as he joined Pruitt on the other side of the room. "We are getting nowhere," he told the other man unnecessarily. "And I don't understand what our goal is here. Our man in Section N has been very helpful. There is nothing this one can add to that."
"There is always more," Rollie insisted. "Each agent is privy to only a small amount of information that pertains to their missions. This agent has access to information that our agent doesn't, and I promised Berlin that I would try to extract anything I could from him before his execution. I see now that I may have to try different tactics, however." His voice trailed off thoughtfully.
"Well you had better do it soon. We are running out of time," Rolf reminded him tersely.
Pruitt whirled on him in anger. "Do you presume to tell me my job, you impudent cur? Leave me with him. Go and be sure the others are ready for attack. The rebels could move against us at any time."
Rolf glanced uncertainly from their prisoner and back to his leader. "You are sure you can handle him? He's bested you before."
"Go," Rollie snarled, incensed at the mention of his earlier incompetence. "I'm more than capable of dealing with him, particularly in this condition. Look at him." Scott's head lolled to the side, his eyes closed and his breath coming in heavy, labored gasps. Darkening bruises and dried blood coated his face, giving him a particularly disreputable appearance, as if he'd been on the losing side of a drunken brawl. "He's no threat to me, and it won't be long before he's broken. Now go and do as you're told."
With a curt nod, Rolf exited the room to carry out his orders, leaving Pruitt to shake his head despondently over the inferior men recruited by the SS.
"Now, Scotty," Pruitt turned and advanced slowly on his victim, taking sick pleasure in his battered and nearly broken state. "I've come to the decision that the reason you haven't wanted to share anything with me is that you have no incentive to do so. You went into this session knowing you would never come out of it alive, therefore you have nothing to lose by remaining silent. What if I gave you something in return for your cooperation? What would you say then?"
Scott managed a grim, derisive laugh. "Pruitt, you don't have anything I want. There isn't a thing in the world you can offer me that will get me to tell you anything."
"Oh, you're so smug aren't you? So sure of yourself. What if I told you that I would spare the life of your precious Betty in return for the information I need."
The prisoner snorted in utter rejection of the suggestion. "Then I'd say you were offering me something over which you have no power. There's no doubt in my mind that Betty is safely in London, probably trying to find a way back to the States even as we speak."
Pruitt shouted with exultant laughter before leaning into Scott, one hand braced on the headrest of the prisoner's chair. "I know how much you must wish that were true." The odious man wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "But I have it on excellent authority that she is, even now, in France and with the very man who helped plot your own downfall."
The traitor's name came from Scott's mouth with a snarl. "Gustav." He struggled ineffectually against the rough ropes that bound his wrists to the rigid wooden chair. "Untie me, Pruitt, and let's settle this once and for all."
Pruitt stood erect, towering over his victim. Casually, he put his hands on his hips, exposing the revolver he wore at his waist. Scott observed it through narrowed eyes, but Rollie was too caught up in his own gloating to notice. "Don't be in such a hurry to leave me, Scotty. We've only just begun to bargain."
"There's not much to bargain with while I'm tied to a chair. Why should I be surprised? You always did take the coward's way out," Scott jeered.
"You won't have so much bravado a few hours from now, Sherwood. If my information is correct, the rebels will attack before long and I won't let you die before they do. When Betty's here in this very room, perhaps you'll reconsider your decision to be uncooperative. Meanwhile, perhaps you should spend some time reflecting on which you love more, your country or your wife?"
Our Mutual Spy
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