

DAVID GEORGE RICHARDS is married and lives in Manchester, England. He has been writing for several years on a regular basis. He writes science fiction, thrillers and romance stories with particular emphasis on leading female characters. Visit his website at www.booksandstories.com.

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### Also available by David George Richards:

Romance

An Affair of the Heart

The Look of Love

The Dreamer

A Fine Woman

Mind Games

The Friendly Ambassador Series

The Beginning of the End

A Gathering of Angels

Changes

Walking with the Enemy

The Twelve Ships

In the Shadow of Mountains

The Lost Girls

The Return of the Sixpack

The Tale of the Comet

The Dragon King

The Althon Gerail

The Sullenfeld Oracle

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### A Fine Woman

### by

### David George Richards

Copyright 2012 David George Richards

Smashwords Edition

Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved.

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### 

### Foreword

_A Fine Woman_ is purely a work of fiction and nothing more. But the historical events that form the background to the story are true. The failed assassination attempt on Hitler is well documented, while the invasion of Southern France is often overlooked by movie moguls. Equally important as Operation Overload in Normandy only two months earlier, it was codenamed Operation Dragoon, and was an equally fraught sea-borne landing undertaken by the US Seventh Army. The British internment camps in Cyprus for Jews intercepted while attempting to reach Palestine are also little remembered today. And finally, although concentration camps did exist in Germany during the war, the camp near Helga's estate is also fictitious, and no connection to any particular camp is intended or implied.

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### Chapter One

### Antibes 1948

"I'm looking for a woman."

Sister Marie-Thérèse looked at the young man in uniform sitting before her with a certain amount of confusion and mirth in her eyes.

"I believe you may have come to the wrong establishment, Captain," she said with a strong French accent. "This is after all a Convent, the home of the Sisters of the Immaculate Conception."

Captain Taylor smiled. He spoke with an American accent. "And I believe it to be the perfect place to find this _particular_ woman."

Sister Marie-Thérèse sat back and joined her hands together in her lap. "And what kind of woman would this be?"

"One with a past. One who would wish to hide away from prying eyes. A woman filled with guilt, maybe. Not so much for the things she did, but possibly for the things she _didn't_ do."

"And what would these things be that would gain the attention of a Captain in the American Army?"

Captain Taylor toyed with his hat for a moment before tossing it down onto the large wooden desk between them. "Look, I'm not the enemy of this woman. I met her. Once. And I know what she did, what she was involved in. I lost her soon after. Now I think I know where she is and I won't give up until I'm proved wrong."

"You sound very determined. Why?"

Taylor leaned forward and hesitated. It was a direct question and there was no point in avoiding it. "I love her."

"Ahh!" Sister Marie-Thérèse smiled knowingly. "Love is a powerful lure, a powerful emotion. All of us within this house feel love for Our Lord as we do for our fellow man _and_ woman. But The Lord comes first. If you are right and this woman you seek is here, is she not already lost to you?"

Captain Taylor nodded. "Yes, but in a way she was never mine in the first place. You see, I know her, but she doesn't know me."

The expression on Sister Marie-Thérèse's face told Captain Taylor exactly what she was thinking and he quickly rushed on.

"I know! I know! I am a foolish man who should know better! But this is no ordinary woman! And I met her under unusual circumstances!" He calmed himself and went on more slowly. "Sister, I have to find her, even if it is to leave her again. I just need to know that she is alive and well. If she is here, I must see her. I must speak with her."

Sister Marie-Thérèse stared at him for a moment. Here was an unusual man, an officer in the American Army, a man far from home searching for a woman in a Convent while most of his countrymen had already returned to that distant home.

"The war," she began, "has caused much suffering and damage. But it is over now. And France is slowly turning from anger and vengeance back to love, wine and food. For the French it is always those three and in that order. I am French and I understand these things. Do you have a family, Captain?"

"Yes. Parents and a sister."

"Do you have a wife? Children?"

"No."

"Is this what you seek here, from this missing woman?"

"No, not really. I don't think so anyway."

"Then what do you seek?"

"Peace. Peace of mind."

She paused to stare at him again. "Peace." She sighed. "Tell me about this woman, and I will tell you if she is here."

### Germany 1943

The stench was worse today. Even the dogs had noticed it. They barked incessantly and ran towards the valley on the far side of the hill where it was strongest.

The Countess Helga Burbeck tossed back her long blonde hair and gave chase, calling to her dogs in irritation.

"Tirpitz! Bismarck! Heel! Come back here!"

She should have known better than to let them off their leads this close to the valley. But she had forgotten that damned camp for just an instant. She pulled her coat about her and ran through the trees at the top of the hill and down the other side into the valley, the dogs barking away in the distance before her. The wind blew her hair back in her face as she ran, and she didn't see the man until it was too late. She ran into him, the dog-leads knocked from her hand.

The smell of leather broke through the stench as Helga found herself embraced in strong arms. The man was wearing a long and black leather coat, leather boots and a peaked cap. He was quite tall. The man released her, bowed and kissed her hand, clicking his heels at the same time.

"Obersturmführer Meyer, at your service. I am sorry to startle you, Countess, but you know this area is off-limits. I must ask you to return to your estate at once."

"I was searching for my dogs!" Helga countered. She bent to pick up the dropped dog-leads and held them out to him. "The smell attracts them! And now they've both ran off towards that camp of yours!"

"My men will retrieve your dogs, Countess, do not worry."

Even as he spoke, Helga saw men with long coats and helmets walking back up the hill towards them. They all carried machine-guns slung over their shoulders. And they all wore the same SS uniforms as Meyer. Two of them were leading Tirpitz and Bismarck by their collars.

Meyer took off his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. He stood before Helga with his hands clasped before him as they waited for the soldiers to reach them with the two dogs. As they stood close together Meyer noticed a more pleasant scent in the air and realised it must have been the Countess's perfume. It was the scent of a flower, yes, that was it, camellias.

"How is General Burbeck?" Meyer asked in conversational tones.

"My father is well," Helga replied with slightly more forced politeness in her voice.

"Do you get to see him often?"

"Not as often as I would like. Life in the Wehrmacht is harsh, Obersturmführer, as I am sure you know."

It was a dig at his position in the SS, and he responded with a smile.

"My duties do have some advantages, Countess." He looked around. "Being at home, yes, it is good. But I also yearn for the glories of victory at the front. Hopefully your father will be home soon."

Helga went back on the offensive. "And when he does I hope that infernal smell will be gone. I have complained to Standartenführer Von Osler on numerous occasions but it only gets worse. It's intolerable!"

"The people in the camp need the heating. It is winter, Countess, would you wish them to freeze?"

Helga looked down at the wooden buildings surrounded by fences and barbed wire. On the railway track she could see another train had arrived. Trains seemed to come almost everyday. Soldiers still fussed around the ramshackle railway trucks, but all the people had already gone. She wondered how they fitted them all inside. There were few real buildings in the camp, and those that there were looked harsh and foreboding. They were made of grey concrete, like bunkers.

"No," she said after a pause.

"Of course not, that would be unforgivable."

The soldiers had returned with the two dogs and Meyer bent to pat and stroke Bismarck as he spoke.

"Now I suggest that you exercise these fine dogs of yours on the other side of your estate from now on."

Helga put both dogs on their leads. "My dogs like this side of the estate. They are used to it."

"None-the-less, it would be wiser to go elsewhere. And the smell would be better."

Helga stood at her full height, which was considerably less than his, and spoke with nobility. "I will consider it. Thank you for your help, Obersturmführer Meyer."

She held out her hand to him and he bowed to kiss it as before, his heels clicking. She bowed in return and then turned and walked away. Meyer watched her walk back through the trees with her two dogs in tow. All his men watched her too. One of them came to stand next to him.

"A fine woman, Obersturmführer," he said as she finally disappeared through the trees.

"Yes, Schneider, a fine woman indeed." Meyer turned away and retrieved his gloves from his pocket, quickly slipping them back on. His expression instantly grew harsh. It was as if the donning of the gloves shrouded his conscience and drove away his gentility. He drew the Luger pistol from his belt and spoke with anger. "Now, Scharführer, organise your men! I want those animals found! They have already caused us enough trouble!"

Scharführer Schneider clicked his heels. "Immediately, Sir!" He turned and shouted at the men who instantly jumped into action.

Meyer watched them resume their search. It had been fortunate that they had intercepted the Countess before she had gone too far. She had already complained many times about the smell, and if she found out what really went on in the camp her complaints would have reached Berlin. Her father was a powerful figure. Some would say too powerful. They would have to use more lime.

Helga pulled on the leads. She was walking along the side of the hill back towards her house. It was at the centre of a large estate. She knew the land around here very well. She had grown up here and played here. Some said she was spoilt, part of the old aristocracy. Maybe they were right. She didn't care. They were just jealous, envious of her money, her father, and her position. Her father owned half the land in the area and the entire village. And when he was gone it would all be hers.

Why should she care?

Tirpitz pulled on his lead, Bismarck going with him, and they caught her by surprise and the leads were wrenched from her hand. With a bark and a yap both Alsatians bounded away.

"Oh, Hell!" Helga exclaimed and gave chase.

The dogs led her to the old summerhouse. It was long abandoned and broken down. When she was younger she used to play there with some of the local children. That was until her mother died. It had been built for her. Helga never played in it again.

Bismarck bounded through the broken door but Tirpitz got caught. Helga dived for his lead and fell head long on the ground. She landed in the mud. Tirpitz got away again.

"Damn you, Tirpitz!" she shouted as she got to her feet. Her expensive coat was all muddy, as was her face and hair. "I'll have you neutered for this!"

She kicked the broken door in and stormed through. There were three small children with an older boy inside. They all looked terribly scared as Tirpitz and Bismarck jumped up and down at them wagging their tails and trying to lick them. They were dressed in what looked like old clothing that should have been thrown away a long time before. They were dirty and bedraggled. And they smelt. The older boy had a large piece of wood in his hand. He held it up as if he was going to hit one of the dogs. When he saw Helga he raised it even higher and turned to face her.

Helga reacted instantly. She stepped forward and knocked the piece of wood from the boy's hand and pulled him by the hair, smacking him on the back. He hardly gave any resistance.

"How dare you! What are you doing in my house? How did you get here? Where have you come from?"

All the children started crying and they fell to the floor in a huddle as the dogs jumped all over them barking their heads off. The older boy lost his jacket; it just seemed to fall apart as Helga wrenched him about with it. He dropped to the floor with the others. He just cowered with his hands over his head.

Helga stared down at them and finally realised what she was doing. Her dogs were still barking and she suddenly shouted to them in her anger.

"Bismarck! Tirpitz! Down boys! Heel!" she smacked her thigh. "Here!"

The dogs stopped barking and became subdued. They walked up to Helga with their tails wagging feebly.

"Sit!"

They sat on either side of her. She patted and stroked them both. "Good boys! Good boys!"

Calm descended in the broken down summerhouse. The four children still lay huddled together on the floor. They were still crying. Helga decided to use the same forceful approach she had used on her dogs.

"Stand up! Stand up I said!" She stamped her foot. "Now! On your feet! All of you!"

They were slow to respond, but Tirpitz and Bismarck got to their feet and barked again and they moved faster.

Helga pulled on the dogs' leads. "Quiet, my boys! Sit!"

The children were now standing up and crying.

"Stop crying!"

Silence apart from snivelling now filled the summerhouse.

"That's better." Helga adjusted her muddy coat and brushed back her muddy hair. "Now, who are you? And why are you here? Answer me!"

She was like an angry schoolteacher scolding naughty children, her two dogs standing by to deliver punishment. The older boy rubbed the dirt and tears from his face.

"I am Jacob," he said in a timid voice. "This is Antoinette, Peter and Klaus. We are Jewish."

It was as if the statement settled all questions. Helga didn't think so.

"Are you from the same family?"

Jacob shook his head. "They separated us after we came off the train. Some of our mothers and fathers were upset. They argued and fought with the soldiers. There was confusion. We ran away."

Helga nodded. "You are from the camp," she said. "You have to go back there."

The three younger children burst into tears but Jacob stepped forward. "We won't go!" he said with determination. "You can kill us, feed us to your dogs even, but we won't go back there!"

Helga looked at him in surprise. It wasn't his outburst but what he had said. "I'm not going to feed you to my dogs! Don't be ridiculous! But you have to go back! You don't belong here!"

Jacob now shouted at her. "We won't go back! And you can't make us!"

Bismarck and Tirpitz stood up and started to growl. Helga tightened her grip on their leads. "You are being selfish!" she shouted back at him. "Think about your parents! They'll be worried about you!"

"They're dead! They're all dead! They shot them! They shot them all!"

Bismarck and Tirpitz began to bark. Helga quietened them in a dazed state.

"Shh, my boys! Quiet!"

They sat again and Helga looked up at Jacob. "Tell me what happened."

Jacob was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. She spoke to him again, but more kindly this time.

"Do not worry, child, I will not send you back there. But if what you say is true—"

"It is true!" Jacob burst out.

Helga nodded. "Alright, its true. But then if I keep you they may hurt me, too. So tell me the truth. Tell me what happened. I deserve to know."

Jacob glanced back at the others. They were huddled together in fear. He got no answer from them so he turned back to Helga again. He decided to trust her.

"We are from Antwerp," he began slowly. "They chased us out of our homes and moved us all together in one place. I don't know where it was. I only know there was no food for us and our parents were scared. My mother said that we mustn't worry, that it was for our own protection. People had begun to do bad things to us because we were Jewish, and so it was better if we were all kept together. My father didn't think the same. He knew the Germans were up to something bad.

"They put us on a train and took us to a camp. The train was horrible. It was just trucks and they squeezed us all in. The journey took hours and hours. Some of the older people died in our truck. And one baby too. The camp was just as bad. They took everything we had and gave us these uniforms. They made my father work. They kept him apart from me and my mother. My mother worked too. I don't know how long we stayed there, maybe a year? Then they put all the women and children into another train and brought us here.

"The journey was worse than the first one. It took longer and more people died. It didn't seem to matter anymore. When we arrived and were being taken off the trucks I saw my father again. The men had been brought on the same train, you see, but kept together in different trucks at the back. Now they were all walking passed us as we waited by the train. He was very thin, I almost didn't recognise him. But when my mother called to him he looked at us and recognised us straight away. I called to him too, and more of the others began to call out. He shouted back. He ran towards us with more of the men doing the same. Some of the women and their children ran to them in greeting. I ran with my mother. Then the soldiers shot at us. They shot my father. My mother pushed me away and they shot her too. I ran under the train. Everyone was running around. The Germans were shooting everyone, even people on the ground on their knees. I ran off. Some of the children ran with me. They shot them too. We were the only ones who got away."

Jacob just dropped his head and looked down when he had finished.

Helga was stunned. She didn't want to believe it; she couldn't believe it. But the state and appearance of Jacob and the other children was far too convincing. And she suddenly realised that her accidental meeting with the soldiers on the hill had not been so accidental after all. They had been there for a purpose. They had been looking for these children.

All of a sudden a feeling of fear crept into her bones. This was a discovery that the Reichmacht would not want to become public knowledge. It was too bad, too evil, and too dangerous.

Helga held out her hand to Jacob. "Come with me. I will help you."

The next day the smell was just as bad as usual. It had a particular odour that Helga now found to be extremely distasteful. The reason was simple. It was familiar in some way. It had something to do with hunting with her father. She knew why now.

She hurried over the hill with Bismarck and Tirpitz. It was early morning and she was taking the dogs on their usual long romp. Or that was how it would look. At first she had thought about leaving them behind. There would have been less noise and less risk of being found out. But there would also have been no excuse for her presence. Obersturmführer Meyer may have been polite, but he was SS. All the soldiers at the camp were SS. Meyer was no fool.

She kept a tight hold on Bismarck and Tirpitz's leads and gave them their head. She ran behind them as they bounded and pulled her along. They ran in a direct line, unwavering. It was the direction they always took. No matter where she was if she released them they always ran this way. Now they took her with them. Now she would find out where the smell came from and why the dogs were attracted to it.

Helga was surprised when the dogs led her away from the camp. She was sure they would take her straight to it. But instead they ran along the side of the hill and down towards the far side of the limits of the camp. There was nothing here but derelict land. Why did they come here? There was nothing here.

Then she heard the noises. It was surprising how the hillside and the tree line kept the sounds in the valley. From the house she could hear nothing; she had heard nothing. Now she could hear machinery. Was that a tractor? And suddenly there was a shot, like the crack of a whip.

Bismarck and Tirpitz were very eager now. With their tails wagging and their tongues hanging out the sides of their mouths they pulled her forward at a trot. Then at last she saw them.

Helga quickly pulled her dogs to a halt and collapsed to the soft ground in a heap between them. Bismarck and Tirpitz fussed about her, licking her face and nuzzling her. She ignored them. All she could do was sit there in the grass and stare at the vast pit.

It was a long wide trench that the soldiers stood around. At one end a large mechanical digger was pushing the soil back, filling it in. In the middle, men in funny looking outfits, their faces covered, were shovelling a white powder over the bottom of the trench. There were soldiers in the trench, too. They were closer to her, at this end. They walked around with their guns in their hands. One of the soldiers that lined the edge of the trench called out and pointed. Was that Obersturmführer Meyer? One of the other soldiers down in the trench moved to the place he had indicated. The soldier pointed his gun at the ground and fired.

The ground jerked.

Helga stared with round eyes at the trench and what lay filling it from side to side. Until that distant and slight jerk it had been just a white mass. Now it all came into sharp focus, now she could see clearly what she was looking at. She could see each limb, each form, each body piled on the next. All of them naked. All of them dead. No, not all of them, not yet.

How does a woman, a person, see the unthinkable? How do they cope without going insane? Only those that experience the unimaginable horror that man can inflict on his fellow man first hand can know the real answer. But for those that only see it rather than experience it themselves, for those that are a witness, and know that it is their own countrymen who inflict such horror, how can they bear the guilt?

There was another shot and another body jerked as the bullet slammed into it.

The same bullet also killed Helga. Who she was, what she believed in, everything she had experienced and accepted as the truth, her very understanding of life and where she fitted in the world, all of it jerked in her head as it also died.

Helga scrambled to her feet and tugged on the leads of her dogs, hurrying away as fast as she could go, her head held high.

If anyone saw her, they must not see her cowering in fright.

### 

### Chapter Two

### Antibes 1948

Captain Taylor had shifted his position on the chair and crossed his legs first one way and then the other on numerous occasions during his story. It was a manoeuvre he repeated again now as he continued.

"And that's how it started. Helga was twenty-four. She was rich, beautiful, spoilt, and yes, arrogant. She was also German, from good stock and with fine traditions. What she found out broke her faith and belief in everything she had known. I don't know if it was guilt or anger that drove her, I only know what she did."

Sister Marie-Thérèse hadn't uttered a word during his story. And unlike him she also hadn't moved. She had sat back in her chair with her hands clasped in her lap and listened attentively. Now she reached out and shook a little bell. "I think we need refreshment."

Captain Taylor waited patiently as another nun entered the sparse and rather functionally decorated room. Only the statues of the Virgin Mary stood out as bright spots.

Sister Marie-Thérèse beckoned to the nun. "Sister Anna-Maria, kindly bring tea for our guest." She paused a moment and glanced at Captain Taylor. "I am sorry, Captain. You are American, would you prefer coffee?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, tea would be fine. Thank you."

Sister Marie-Thérèse nodded to Sister Anna-Maria and the nun left to fetch the tea. Sister Marie-Thérèse sat back in her chair once more and fixed her soft eyes on Captain Taylor.

"So what exactly was it that she did?"

"She became a smuggler."

Sister Marie-Thérèse raised her eyebrows.

Captain Taylor smiled. "I mean a smuggler of people. It started with those four children. She brought them back to her house for the first night, but some of the servants and people who worked for her were not as trustworthy as others. So she kept them in the old summerhouse, cleaning it up a little and making it more pleasant. But she couldn't keep them there indefinitely, and she couldn't turn them over to the authorities either. She had to do something herself. So she went on holiday."

"On holiday?"

"She was German, well connected, and she had money. She went on holiday to the South of France. And she took the children with her. And when she was there she made contact with the underground."

"That would have been dangerous for a German."

Captain Taylor nodded. "It was. But Jacob helped. He must have been twelve or thirteen when they first met. He stayed with her until the end."

"So you aren't her only admirer?"

"No. A woman such as this gathers as many admirers as she gathers enemies."

"True. And if this woman should indeed be within the walls of our Convent, is she here to seek sanctuary from her admirers or her enemies?"

There was a tap on the door and Sister Anna-Maria returned with the tea on a large tray. She put the tray down on the desk and placed a cup and saucer before the Captain and Sister Marie-Thérèse. Then she poured the tea from the large pot and added milk. At the end she placed the sugar bowl in reach of the Captain, smiled and left. It was all done so quietly that Captain Taylor didn't even hear her walking on the floor. It was as if she were mounted on wheels under her habit. He added sugar to his tea, stirred it and picked up his cup. Sister Marie-Thérèse did the same. Captain Taylor drank his tea and waited patiently. Finally she put down her cup and spoke.

"Your story is very interesting, Captain, but it has yet to identify the woman you seek. Nor has it clarified the reason for her presence. All I will tell you at this stage is that there is no-one by the name of Helga in this Convent."

Captain Taylor took another sip of his tea. "I never thought she would use the same name. But I noticed that you didn't say there wasn't a German woman in your Convent."

"Neither did I say that there was. Please continue."

Captain Taylor smiled and put down his cup. "Alright. But it's a long story."

"If it truly is peace of mind that you seek it would be churlish not to listen. And I am blessed with the time."

Captain Taylor nodded and then shifted position on his chair once more. "Could we move somewhere more comfortable?" he suggested hopefully.

Sister Marie-Thérèse sat back in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap. "One must suffer on the journey to peace, Captain, or the goal of its realisation would be without worth. Continue with your story."

Captain Taylor smiled. "You aren't going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"Not at all," Sister Marie-Thérèse replied. "So continue, Captain. How did this woman make contact with the French Underground? Where did she go on her holiday?"

Captain Taylor sighed and began again.

"She came here, of course, to Antibes. She hired a small Château on the road to Juan-les-Pins. The first day she went walking with the children. She asked a few locals some rather pointed questions. Most of the people ignored her or avoided her. Some even shouted at her. They all knew she was German, and none of them trusted her. But she got noticed. And on the second day she was contacted. But not by the people she wanted to meet."

### Antibes 1943

Helga left the Château in the morning to walk down to the town with the children. As on the previous day, Tirpitz and Bismarck went with them. She kept Tirpitz on his lead while Jacob walked with Bismarck. He also held Peter's hand as the two of them walked along. The other two children walked hand in hand next to Helga. She kept hold of Klaus's hand and the boy held on to Antoinette. Antoinette clutched a doll in her other hand. It was a permanent fixture. All the children looked very different from when she had first met them. They were clean, well fed and well dressed. They were all wearing coats and Antoinette had a woollen hat. They were all probably in a better condition than they had been for a very long time. They were also a lot less scared. But they weren't happy children either.

Although it was winter the skies were clear and it was a bright morning and through the trees it was possible to see the Mediterranean. It was very blue.

Jacob turned to Helga as they walked along the country road. "I think we should go back home."

Helga smiled, but the expression left her lips very quickly. "My home is in Germany, and Germany is not a safe place for Jewish children."

"We were safe in your summerhouse."

"Yes, but for how long it is difficult to say. No, we have to get you out of harm's way. We are doing the right thing."

"But it's dangerous. They don't like us here. They don't like us anywhere."

"That's not true. It's me they're frightened of. I can speak French rather well, but my accent is very obvious. They know I'm German and they know you aren't mine. They're suspicious. But word will get through sooner or later. Someone will contact us. They will be too curious not to."

Jacob looked at her as she walked proudly along the road. She was like that all the time, a Countess. She even introduced herself as a Countess. Countess Burbeck. She never hid who she was.

She was very beautiful. Jacob had never seen someone so beautiful and elegant. Her blue eyes were always cool, and she always seemed to be in charge. Nothing seemed to frighten her.

A large Citroen drove up the road towards them. They moved out of the way but the car slewed to a stop right next to them. Jacob had seen the uniforms inside before it stopped. He instantly looked down, but Helga kept her head held high as the German Officer stepped out. He was tall and quite lean with dark hair and eyes. The uniform he wore was from the Wehrmacht, the regular army, not the SS. The Officer clicked his heels and bowed curtly.

"I am Leutnant Spiegal, Countess. Oberst Riner has sent me to escort you to his office in the town. He wishes to speak with you."

Helga didn't flinch. "I was on my way into town. I was hoping to walk along the ramparts to The Bastion with the children. It is a very interesting historical sight."

"It is important that the Oberst speak with you."

"Maybe tomorrow."

"I promise the Oberst won't keep you long, Countess." Leutnant Spiegal held open the back door of the car for her and bowed once more.

She nodded at last. "Alright." She turned to the children. "In the back seat, all of you! Come on now! Bismarck! Tirpitz! Behave or you will be made to run behind!"

All the children piled into the back of the car. Helga waited until the dogs had got in as well before she climbed in herself and squeezed onto the seat. Antoinette had to sit on her knee. She had taken over in an instant, and Leutnant Spiegal had to climb in the front seat next to his driver.

The now heavily laden car turned and drove back down to the town. The town looked old and quaint with its narrow streets and wide squares. The buildings were made of stone with red tiled roofs. As the car passed through the town centre several people noted the occupants. One of those who noticed was sitting at a street side café sipping coffee. He had jet-black curly hair and he was unshaven. He watched the car go by over the rim of his cup.

The German Headquarters was in the Château Grimaldi near the Place Massena. It wasn't far from the ramparts Helga had told Spiegal she wanted to see. The outside of the building was draped with red banners bearing the Swastika. The car parked close to the entrance where guards stood with machine guns. If the children were scared by the sight, Helga didn't let them dwell on it.

"Out! All of you! The Château Grimaldi is an excellent building! Now you will see it on the inside! Come! Jacob! Bring Bismarck! Klaus! Help me with Tirpitz! Come on children!"

She bustled passed the surprised guards with her dogs yapping and wagging their tails and the children hurrying along. Spiegal had to chase after her so that he could give her directions. She seemed to walk deliberately faster.

"This way, Countess! Through here!"

Inside, surprised soldiers sprang to their feet as Spiegal went passed with his unusual entourage. They reached Oberst Riner's office as the door opened. An older man with greying hair wearing the uniform of a colonel in the Wehrmacht appeared in the open doorway. Oberst Riner stared at the commotion in his anti-room. The barking of the dogs had brought him out, and they hadn't stopped yet.

"What is going on here, Leutnant?" he said above the yapping.

Spiegal stood at attention and clicked his heels. "The Countess Burbeck, Oberst!" he almost yelled.

Helga at last subdued her dogs. "Bismarck! Tirpitz! Heel! Quiet now, my boys!"

The barking stopped and silence returned to the Château. Oberst Riner bowed to Helga.

"Thank you for coming, Countess."

"The Leutnant insisted," she replied.

"It was at my insistence. Now if you would come inside, I would like to speak with you. Alone."

"Then my children will need looking after during our meeting."

Riner nodded and turned to Spiegal. "Make the children comfortable, Leutnant. Bring them something to eat and drink."

"Yes, Oberst!"

Helga instantly added, "My dogs will need water, too."

Spiegal bowed to her. "Of course, Countess."

He hurried away and began to shout orders at the other soldiers nearby.

Helga went to kiss each of the children in turn as chairs were brought for them. "Wait for me here, my darlings. Do not worry, I won't be long."

Jacob was the last one she kissed. He watched Helga go through into the office and the door close. Then he sat the children down and sat next to them.

Inside his office, Oberst Riner motioned Helga to a seat in front of his desk. As she sat down he went around the desk and sat in his chair.

"Interesting choice of names for your dogs," he remarked as he made himself comfortable. "Although I see no resemblance with their namesakes."

"I named them after our battleships. The wolves of the sea. I thought it humorous at the time."

The Oberst signed and shook his head. "What am I going to do with you, Countess?" he said getting to the point.

"I don't know what you mean."

"A German woman, a Countess, goes around the narrow streets of town asking covert questions about the underground, about the French Resistance, and you think it wouldn't come to my notice? What kind of a fool do you think I am? What kind of a fool are you?"

"A fool living next to a large concentration camp where a thousand people are shot everyday and their bodies are buried with mechanical diggers. The smell has become intolerable."

Oberst Riner was rendered speechless by her directness. He just sat back in his chair and watched her reach into her bag and bring out a slim cigarette case. She took out one of the cigarettes and Riner quickly picked up a lighter from his desk and leaned forward to light it for her.

"Thank you," she said.

"Are the children Jewish?" he asked her as he put down the lighter.

She nodded. "And yes, I am foolish. I found them by accident. And what happens to them is of no consequence to Germany or to the Reich. Turn a blind eye, Oberst, I will not be here for long."

Oberst Riner rubbed his chin before shaking his head. "What you ask is not possible, Countess. I am not SS, but there are Gestapo agents based at Fort Carré with the main garrison. They will know about you soon, and they will not take your actions or motives very lightly. I know very little about the camps you speak of, but what I have heard is unpleasant. I don't doubt your word, and I sympathise with you, but I cannot help you. Your father is well known and respected in Berlin, that respect will give you a margin of security. But what you do is dangerous and your protection won't last. It will damage him as it will damage you. Go home, Countess. I will give you the rest of today, but tomorrow I don't want to find you still in Antibes. And you don't want the Gestapo to find you either. Do you understand me?"

Helga nodded and put out her cigarette. "Yes, Oberst Riner. Thank you."

They both got to their feet.

"Do you need a car to take you anywhere?"

"No, that won't be necessary. We can walk from here. The dogs need the exercise."

Oberst Riner opened the door for her. "Walk carefully. And avoid the café's and restaurants around Port Vauban after dark. The people there don't like Germans at all."

Helga looked up at him for a moment and then nodded. "I understand, Oberst, and I thank you again."

She held out her hand and he raised it to his lips and kissed it. "Goodbye, Countess."

"Goodbye, Oberst Riner."

Jacob reflected on the day. The morning visit to the German Headquarters had terrified him and the other children. Only Helga's bright and calm arrogance when faced with all those uniforms and guns had stopped them all from panicking. That it should be like that was a testament to the Countess's courage on their rail journey across Europe. She had treated everyone she met as her own personal servants. The higher they were in authority the more she had bossed them. It was an approach that was fraught with danger, but Helga had pulled it off each time with flair.

And so it had seemed again. But this time Helga was more reserved on their walkabout through the town. Unlike the day before she didn't approach anyone with her questions. Instead they had a pleasant day out. They ate at a street-side restaurant and finished with ice cream. Then Klaus and Peter ran along the ramparts with Tirpitz and Bismarck pulling them along. And Antoinette actually smiled and laughed.

When it became dark and she still hadn't approached anyone, Jacob began to think Helga had given up. They were sitting at a café in the Port Vauban area. The children had lemonade while Helga drank Cognac.

"Are we going home soon, Countess?" he asked her.

"Possibly," she replied. Tirpitz and Bismarck lay sprawled at her feet panting loudly, their tongues hanging out. They were still tired after their run.

"What did that German say to you?"

She looked at him. "Oberst Riner?"

"Yes."

"He told me I was foolish and that we should go home."

"Maybe he was right."

Helga turned away from him. Jacob felt deflated. It was difficult for him, he was only fifteen, still a boy, and Helga was so grown up and aloof. He still didn't know how to talk to her. He wanted to say so much to her, about so many different things, but he just didn't know how to say what he felt. He always got it wrong.

A couple wondered towards one of the spare tables. The waiter hurried over and spoke to them in a whisper that Helga quite clearly heard.

"I am sorry, we are closed now."

The couple glanced at Helga and the children and then walked away.

Time passed on. Helga ordered another Cognac and more lemonade for the children. They began talking again, but Jacob was never sure whether Helga was paying him her full attention. It was as if she was waiting for something.

Gradually the people at the café began to leave their tables and walk away. And the waiter told one or two more people that came close that they were closed. Then three men turned up and sat at the table next to Helga and the children. The waiter didn't approach them. Helga ignored the three men, but their presence caused the children to become silent. Even Jacob watched them with trepidation. And when the last of the other people had left, one of the men spoke. He had jet-black curly hair and he was unshaven.

"You have fine children, Madam," he said in French in a polite and soft voice.

Helga nodded to him. "Thank you."

The man leaned forward in his chair. "Permit me, I have not seen you before. You are not local I think?"

"That is correct. We have travelled far to be here and we must return tomorrow."

"Is this what you planned?"

"No. But my presence here is an embarrassment to some. I have been _asked_ to leave."

"Ah! I understand! The war reaches even the Cote d'Azur! But were you here for holiday or for business?"

"Business."

"Business that causes embarrassment?"

"The items I wished to trade carry a certain stigma."

The man's eyes flicked to the children. "Do you still wish to accomplish your trade?"

"If possible."

"I might know someone who could help you."

"I would be willing to meet them. Can you take me to them?"

"I could. But first we must know one another. My name is André Vignal. You are?"

"Helga Burbeck, Countess Helga Burbeck."

"You are German?"

"Yes. And my father is a General in the Wehrmacht in Berlin. It is the reason why I am considered an embarrassment. It is also the reason why I am still at large and able to make the trade I seek. At least until tomorrow, when the Gestapo will probably learn of my activities from one of their agents. My immunity may not be so effective after that."

André paused a moment and sat back in his chair. Helga waited and sipped at her Cognac. Jacob and the children also remained quiet. Only the dogs made a noise. Tirpitz yawned noisily and rolled over, stretching out his paws. André looked down at the two large Alsatians.

"The dogs maybe a problem."

"I could take them back to my Château but it would cause a delay."

"You could leave them here with the café owner."

"Would they be safe?"

"They will come to no harm. The French do not make war on dogs."

"Even German dogs?"

"Even German dogs. I give you my word."

Helga looked around at the waiter who was standing in the doorway of the café with another man. They both looked nervous. She turned back to André.

"I will accept your promise, André Vignal. I will come with you with my children. I will place my life and their lives in your hands with the same ease I do with the lives of my dogs."

Before André could reply Helga had stood up.

"Come, children! We're leaving now!"

Jacob and the other children got to their feet. So did Tirpitz and Bismarck. Helga bent down to pat and stroke the two dogs.

"Stay here, my fine boys! We will not be long!" She straightened up and held out her hand to Antoinette. The little girl quickly grabbed it. "Come children! Jacob! Bring Peter and Klaus! Hurry now! Don't dawdle!"

André and the other two men had also stood up, and they were all looking around as nervously as the waiter at the noise and commotion Helga caused as she gathered her children.

André turned to her. "Do you have to be so loud?"

Helga was unrepentant. "I have found that the best way of avoiding interest in ones activities is to cause too much disturbance. I am a German Countess after all. How would you expect me to behave?"

André stared at her a moment before turning to his companions and motioning them away. Both men hastily walked down the street. André then beckoned Helga to follow them.

"This way, Countess. I will lead the way."

Helga bowed to him and then turned to the children. "Come children!"

With Antoinette in tow, Helga led Jacob, Peter and Klaus after André and the other two men. Tirpitz and Bismarck would have followed too, but Helga called to them over her shoulder.

"Stay, Bismarck! Stay, Tirpitz! Stay!"

They both sat in the shadow of the empty table, and Bismarck shook his head and uttered a comical yowl.

Jacob had become worried as soon as the three men had appeared at the café. Up until that moment he had never imagined that Helga would be successful in contacting the French Resistance. And now that she apparently had, he was worried that something bad might happen. He didn't know why, he should have felt elated, happy even. These people would be able to help them. They would treat them well, all of them. But it wasn't him and the other children that Jacob was thinking about. He was thinking about Helga. How would they treat such a loud and over-bearing German Countess with a father in the German Army?

The house the three men brought them to had been reached by such a tortuous route that by the time they got there Jacob no longer knew where they were. Not that he knew the town very well anyway. Helga didn't seem to care. She was as calm and confident as usual. And André remained polite and respectful to her throughout their journey.

Everything changed when they went inside.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, several men and women jumped them in an explosion of noise and violence. Even André and the two men with him turned on them. The children were all grabbed and pulled away, and Helga was grabbed by at least three men who forced her roughly and violently to the floor.

All the children cried out, but it was Antoinette's howls that had the most effect. She sounded the most terrified as she screamed for her mother, and what she screamed was in French. The young woman who held her wasn't much older than Jacob, and she looked up in shock as Antoinette screamed and struggled in her arms.

"The little one is French, André!"

"She is Belgian!" he snapped back at her with an angry expression. "They are all Belgian! Keep her quiet! Keep them all quiet!"

The woman almost reluctantly covered Antoinette's mouth, smothering her shrieks. The other children were also similarly silenced.

André pulled a knife from his pocket and looked down at Helga on the floor. Two men were now holding her down. One pinned her arms to her sides while the other man had his arm around her throat and a hand over her mouth. She didn't struggle. She just lay there in their arms looking back up at André. It was as if she was just waiting for him to kill her.

As soon as Jacob saw the knife he kicked and fought more furiously, temporarily breaking the hold about him. He immediately pulled the hand from his mouth and shouted out.

"Don't kill her! Don't kill her! She's a good woman! She helped us!"

André looked up and his anger grew. "Shut him up!" he screamed.

Jacob had a hand clamped over his mouth again and at last the house became silent. Only deep breathing and Jacob's continuing struggles could be heard. André looked down at Helga again. She still wasn't struggling. She didn't even look scared. The man who had his hand over her mouth pulled back her head and moved his arm to expose her throat. Andre got down on one knee and brought the knife closer. Then he seemed to hesitate. It seemed to anger the man who held her.

"Kill her, André! She is Boche!" he said in a coarse whisper.

"Wait, Stephane! Let me think!"

"Why? So she can expose us all?"

"Her father is a General! If we kill her there will be reprisals!"

"We cannot let her go free! Kill her!"

"We must be sure first!"

Stephane looked away in disgust and André turned to the young woman who held Antoinette.

"Moniqué! Talk to the little girl! Ask her where she is from! How she got here!"

It took a little while for Moniqué to calm Antoinette enough for her to stop screaming as soon as the hand was removed from her mouth. It took even longer before she was calm enough to answer any questions. But when she did begin to talk clearly, the answers she gave led one by one to far more difficult questions. And when the heart-wrenching truth was finally out, the house was completely still.

"And this woman helped you when she found you?" Moniqué asked at the end.

Antoinette nodded. "She gave us food and washed us. She kept us at her house for a while and she let me play with her dolls. She said she would take us somewhere safe. That's why she brought us here. We came a long way. She bosses everyone, even the Germans."

Everyone turned to look at André. In response he stabbed the knife down into the floor next to Helga.

Stephane reacted instantly. "This is madness!" he shouted. "She must die!"

"Then you do it!" André shouted back.

Stephane let go of Helga's throat and snatched up the knife. He pulled her head back again and placed the blade to her throat. Helga didn't flinch. She just closed her eyes and waited. She was completely passive. At the last moment Stephane also hesitated.

André immediately taunted him.

"Go on, Stephane! Do it!"

Stephane held the blade to her throat with a shaking hand. Still no blood was spilt.

Andre smiled as he sat back on the floor. "No, Stephane, not even you can kill her! You can't do it because she wants you to kill her! And you know it! She wants you to kill her because she is ashamed! Ashamed because she is German!"

Stephane suddenly released Helga and threw the knife at the wall in his anger. Then he scrambled to his feet and stormed out the door and was gone. The knife was left quivering in the wall.

André turned to Helga and waved aside the other man who held her. "You must forgive Stephane, Countess. His family were tortured and killed for failing to give him away when he joined the resistance. He is not over their loss. He can be very violent, but the gentle man inside him will still not allow him to kill an innocent."

Helga sat up on the floor and made a show of rearranging her hair and clothes. "I am far from innocent."

"I doubt it," André replied. "Ignorant too, maybe. And foolhardy, most definitely."

She ignored the taunts and turned to the children. "Release my children at once."

André nodded and in a scramble of tears and hugs the children rushed forward and pounced on Helga. Jacob hugged her the tightest. He kissed her along with the others, but it meant more to him. Helga was almost embarrassed by the show of affection.

"Now, now, children! Calm yourselves! You didn't really think they were going to hurt me? I am a Countess after all!"

With the threat of murder removed, the house took on a far more friendly and safe atmosphere. It turned out to be the home of Moniqué and her mother and father. Moniqué was seventeen. She and her parents made the children very welcome. Food and coffee was produced out of nowhere and the children all sat around the kitchen table. There was a log fire to keep them warm and they soon became a lot calmer. André stayed behind while most of the other men left. He had things to say to Helga that she didn't want to entertain. He took her into the front room where only a short time earlier he and Stephane had nearly killed her. Jacob watched them go.

As soon as they were alone André pushed Helga against the wall. "You have to stop this, now," he said very firmly.

"No," was the equally firm reply.

"Are you mad? Do you really want to get killed?"

Helga answered with disdainful assurance. "I am safe from reprisal by the SS. I told you, my father is a General in the Wehrmacht. What I didn't tell you is that he is on the Führer's staff at the Reichstag. Even the SS are scared of him."

André saw Helga's haughty expression and shook his head. "And what of us? What of Moniqué, Stephane and the children you drag around with you? We don't possess your immunity. What happens when the SS follow your brash and loud-mouthed trail? What happens when they come here?"

The haughty expression faltered. "I know I put you at risk, and I am sorry. If I could do this on my own I would. But my permits will not allow me to travel into Switzerland. I can only travel freely in German occupied territory."

André didn't let her off the hook. "What you do is dangerous! You must stop!"

"I can't stop!" Helga blurted out, her cool calm lost at last. "I've seen them! I've seen the bodies! Smelt the death! And only a short distance from my home! Can you imagine what it's like? Can you imagine what it means to me? A German? Knowing that my countrymen can even conceive of such an evil atrocity? I have to do this! I have to! Again and again! Until my conscience is cleared or they shoot me!"

A quiet voice from the kitchen door caused them both to pause. "Are you alright, Countess?"

Helga turned away, seizing the moment to wipe away a tear that threatened to expose her. "Yes, Jacob. I am fine. Go back inside."

Jacob paused. But then instead of going back into the kitchen he quietly closed the door behind him and stepped forward.

"I'm coming back with you."

Helga turned and looked at him in surprise while André threw his hands to the heavens and turned away muttering and swearing. Helga put on a bright smile.

"Now, Jacob, don't be silly. How can you come back with me? Where do you think a little Jewish boy can live on my estate without notice, in the middle of Germany, with the SS stationed at the camp only a short distance away?"

She had intended to be cruel, but it didn't work. Jacob had heard enough. "If you're going to do this again you will need me."

Helga laughed at him. "I am a Countess, I don't need your help. You are being foolish, go and join the others at once."

Jacob stood his ground. "Will the Germans let you walk along the railway trucks and pick those you want to save?"

Helga just stared at him. André came to stand next to her. He also stared at Jacob. But to Helga's surprise he sighed and said, "He's right. If you are serious about doing this you will need him. Among the others he is just another child, a child the Germans don't care about and won't notice."

Helga spun round to face André. "I will not take him back!" she said angrily. "What was the point of bringing him all the way here just to take him back again?"

André held his finger up before her face. "You need him, and you will take him!"

Helga folded her arms in a stubborn manner. "I will not! I absolutely refuse!"

"No you don't! Not if you want to work with us! Because if you are going to do this, you will do it our way!" André began to count off the points on his fingers. "He goes back with you. He picks the children. He brings them to you. If he gets caught he's dead on his own. You are in the clear. You handle the transportation only. You bring the children here; you meet only with Stephane, or me, no one else. We take the children the rest of the way. If we are caught, you are still in the clear. And you bring Jacob with you each time and you take him back home with you. Each time."

Helga didn't like the plan. "Why does it sound like I am avoiding all the risks? Why am I always in the clear?"

André stood nose to nose with her. "Because you have a father in Berlin, we don't. The Germans won't take the boy or us while we are with you. They will take us when you have gone, when you are safe. So long as we both understand this then we can work around it. You keep Jacob with you all the time. When you have the children you can be as brash and over-bearing as you wish. Attract as much attention as you wish. Dare them to take you. But when you get here you will do nothing but wait in your Château at Juan-les-Pins. We will always contact you. We will take the children from you. Next day you go home. With Jacob. Do you understand?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"No."

Helga turned away from him and tapped her foot in annoyance. "Alright," she said finally.

Jacob smiled. He was suddenly her protector. Or that's how it felt. It was exactly what he wanted.

There was a knock at the door. It was followed by two more quick taps. André nodded and stepped forward.

"That will be Stephane with your dogs," he said as he walked to the door.

He was right. Stephane and another man were each holding one of the leads of the two dogs. But as soon as the door was opened Bismarck and Tirpitz broke free with a surge and bounded in with a flurry of wagging tails and licking tongues. Helga got down on her knees to greet them.

"Oh, my boys! Have you missed me? There, there!" She patted and stroked them as they pranced up and down whimpering and yowling.

Jacob watched her with the two dogs. She always fussed over them. Even on their journey she would talk to them and feed them tit-bits. She almost treated them like her own children. They even slept on her bed in the Château. He had seen them when he peeped through the open door in the morning. While he continued to watch, Bismarck ambled over to him, his tail wagging, and nuzzled him. Jacob smiled and stroked the large Alsatian.

While the reunion was going on, André had quickly explained to Stephane what he had agreed with Helga. The addition of this new member to their group didn't please Stephane.

"Are you insane, André? You not only allow her to live, but now you want us to work with her?"

"She can be useful."

"Useful? She is Boche!"

"Exactly. And her father is a General in Berlin. In the Reichstag."

That final statement silenced Stephane's arguments. It also caused Helga to look up at them both.

"You expect me to spy for you?"

André nodded. "Our co-operation must be paid for. We are taking all the risks, not you. Remember?"

"I have money—"

André waved aside her offer. "Your money is no good to us. It would help, but not as much as the information you can get for us, information that comes directly from Berlin."

Helga stood up and faced him. "My father will not betray the Wehrmacht."

"No. But you could visit him in Berlin at the weekends. You could visit him at his office in the Reichstag. You could see the officers that are present. You could hear things. See things. Letters, maps, uniform insignias. And what you see and hear you will tell us. It will be the least that the English will accept when I tell them about you later tonight."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will ask Stephane to kill you. This time he will not fail."

Stephane made a show of going to retrieve the knife that was still stuck in the wall. Helga watched him hand it back to André who put it away. She then glanced at the third man who stood leaning against the door. She still hesitated, but André finally made up her mind for her.

"Remember, Countess. The quicker the war ends, the quicker the killing near your house will stop."

Helga gave in and nodded.

### Chapter Three

### Antibes 1948

"Later that night, André contacted the British in London and told them about Helga. They didn't care much about the smuggling operation but they liked the idea of having someone in Berlin with a contact on Hitler's staff. André made it clear that to get one they needed to allow the other. They accepted and gave Helga the codename: Trojan."

Sister Marie-Thérèse had listened to his story with the same almost casual demeanour she had maintained since he had entered. But now she looked momentarily puzzled. "I do not see the analogy."

Captain Taylor smiled. "To the Germans it would be obvious that she was smuggling Jewish children, but the real cargo was being transported in her head."

"Ah, I see. So she did as they asked? She betrayed her country?"

Captain Taylor was taken by surprise by her remark. "That's a bit harsh."

"Is it? To give away state secrets to a third party, secrets that can lead to your own country's defeat in war, is a betrayal, is it not? Could you forgive her if she was American?"

"Could you forgive her if she was French?" Captain Taylor countered.

Sister Marie-Thérèse thought for a moment. Finally she pursed her lips and shrugged. "It is difficult. I have taken vows that allow me to forgive anyone, even the Germans, so the question is not for me to answer. There will always be some whose hearts are hardened by what has passed. They cannot forgive. And yet we must understand their pain and be able to forgive them. But I digress. I did not intend to judge her. Continue, please."

It took a moment for Captain Taylor to regain his thoughts. "Well, like I said, Jacob stayed with her. Helga brought him back with her and at first he lived in the summerhouse. It wasn't very comfortable but compared to his more recent conditions it was pretty heavenly. Helga brought him food during her walks. Those dogs got more and more exercise every day. But Helga soon worried that Jacob would be picked up, that one day he would simply not be there. So she moved him into the house as a sort of personal footman."

"You said that some of her servants were not as trustworthy as others," Sister Marie-Thérèse replied conversationally. "Was this not dangerous?"

"Oh, yes, there was some friction. But Helga knew who she could trust. She also knew which members of her staff were party members. She didn't discuss anything with any of them. She shut them all out, those she could trust, and those she couldn't. She just bossed them about more."

Sister Marie-Thérèse nodded. "She implicated no-one. But the presence of the boy must have been known?"

"It was. But she was immune; remember? And while Jacob was in her house they weren't going to seize him."

"Such boldness," Sister Marie-Thérèse remarked.

She didn't say anymore, so Captain Taylor took the opportunity to shift his position on the chair before he continued.

"At the weekends Helga went to Berlin on the pretence of shopping and getting away from the stench that pervaded the countryside near her house. She took Jacob with her in case he got picked up while she was away. I guess he didn't like those trips to Berlin, being right in the middle of it all." Captain Taylor became more introspective as he went on. "I suppose Helga and Jacob got to know one another very well during that time. A sort of bond must have formed between them. The kind of bond that grows when you face danger almost constantly."

"And did they face danger constantly?"

Captain Taylor nodded. "Yes. And they took increasingly more risks. Helga became quite adept at picking up information at the Reichstag. She didn't just observe and listen. She searched and ferreted. She stole and copied things. She took risks. And what she learned she told André. The smuggling also grew more dangerous. What started as only a few children soon developed into complete family units. Here it was Jacob who took all the risks. It was almost as if they were competing with one another.

"Jacob would go down to the summerhouse with Helga and get dressed in his original ragged clothing. From there they would go down to the camp together. He would hide near the railway tracks when the trains arrived while Helga would conveniently lose her dogs and cause a commotion. Obersturmführer Meyer was usually the victim of her outbursts and complaints about the smell. Jacob would sneak under the train and beckon first one, and then another child to join him. The parents were only too eager to push their children forward. Sometimes he had to turn some away. Gradually they began taking older children, then the mothers, and finally both parents."

"And the Germans never suspected?"

Captain Taylor smiled, but it was without humour. "Oh, they knew alright. Helga's repeated one-way trips with different children were easily worked out. But they never suspected that she was also spying. Her father was powerful, so they turned a blind eye to the smuggling. But the Gestapo watched her. Even Obersturmführer Meyer knew what she was doing. I think it became a game with them. They both knew that the other knew. They both knew that Jacob was living in her house and that she was smuggling his prisoners away. The game was trying to catch one another out. The verbal sparring between them must have been very interesting. Interesting and dangerous. And each time it got more and more dangerous."

Sister Marie-Thérèse summoned Sister Anna-Marie with more tea and sandwiches when it became apparent that Captain Taylor was going to stay for some time. It was already late afternoon. And as Sister Anna-Marie laid the sandwiches before him, Captain Taylor looked up at Sister Marie-Thérèse apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Sister. But I did say it was a long story."

"You did. And I also said I had the time to listen," Sister Marie-Thérèse replied with a gentle smile. "There is no hurry. Eat. Take your time."

Sister Anna-Marie left and Sister Marie-Thérèse blessed the food before they ate.

Captain Taylor watched her as he drank his tea. She took such delicate and neat bites from her sandwich, almost like a child. When he took up one of the sandwiches he was surprised to find that he was quite hungry, so he spoke as he ate.

"By early 1944 the duel between Helga and Obersturmführer Meyer was in full swing. She had already smuggled forty-two children and seven adults into France. Jacob was getting very good at sneaking into and out of the camp. Helga was also doing rather well as a spy. The information she gave to André was very helpful during the preparations for D-Day in June. In fact the agent known as Trojan was becoming very important to the intelligence departments in London. It wasn't long before her codename became known in Germany too. Even Obersturmführer Meyer knew the name."

"But he didn't suspect her?" Sister Marie-Thérèse asked as she took another neat little bite from her sandwich.

Captain Taylor shifted his position on the chair once again. He was sure his left buttock was going numb. He took another large bite from his sandwich. "I'm not sure that he knew about her spying. All I know is that he had other things on his mind when it came to Helga."

### Germany 1944

February was cold. White plumbs surrounded Bismarck and Tirpitz as they panted and pulled Helga forward. They were running over the top of the hill. Helga was wearing a rich and expensive fur coat. Boots adorned her feet and she wore a fur hat on her head. When they ran over the brow of the hill and were on their way down the other side, Helga accidentally on purpose let go of the two leads. Bismarck and Tirpitz bounded forward at the gallop. Helga gave chase, shouting after them.

"Bismarck! Tirpitz! Come back, my boys! Come back here at once!"

In reply both dogs barked and ran faster. Helga ran after them, clutching her hat.

Jacob was dressed in old clothes that had been left unwashed and un-cleaned. They were very similar to the clothes he was wearing when Helga first found him, but they had actually belonged to one of the first boys who had been rescued. Jacob's old clothes had been burned long ago, so Helga had decided to keep the outfit, as it was impossible to simulate the correct smell and look any other way. By now the affect was perfect. The outfit stank, and Jacob stank. But he didn't care as he edged closer to the wire fence. He was carrying several straps and belts in his hand, and he kept low as he edged along the fence looking for something.

Beyond the wire fence was the railway line. A long train was already in the siding, the large black and red engine smoking and steaming in the cold morning sun. Steam also rose from the long line of railway trucks. Soldiers ran along the far side of the train. They wore heavy coats and carried machine guns. Jacob could hear the shouting as he found what he was looking for. He lay on the ground and waited until he heard the rattle of the doors before he carefully unfastened the previously cut wire and crawled through. And once on the other side he carefully refastened the wire before hurrying towards the distant line of railway trucks.

Meyer walked along the side of the train watching as the prisoners climbed out of the trucks. Those who took too long were hauled out. The soldiers just dragged them out and they fell on the ground. Some of the soldiers climbed in to the trucks and pushed the people out. And there was no respite once they were out. The soldiers pulled them, punched them and kicked them, shouting at them constantly. Shouting was the only sound to be heard. It was a constant rattle over the background noise of the resting steam engine. It even drowned out the pitiful cries and wails of protest from the prisoners.

Meyer stared at them all, his hands clasped behind his back. It was all they deserved. They were just as disgusting as usual. Filthy and stinking, all of them. The railway trucks wouldn't even be fit for animals afterwards.

"Scharführer! Hurry them up!"

"Yes, Sir!"

The prisoners were bullied into a column in an orgy of shouting, smacking and kicking. But above the shouts of the soldiers and the hissing of the locomotive the unmistakeable sounds of dogs barking gradually began to be heard.

Meyer raised his head. "Damn that woman!" he whispered and then raised his voice. "Scharführer! Double the guard on the perimeter! Get me a squad at once! And have those prisoners taken inside now! Hurry, man!"

Schneider clicked his heels and raised his hand in salute. "At once, Obersturmführer!"

The shouting and bustling increased as the soldiers ran in different directions. Meyer hurried towards the hillside with half a dozen men while four times that many rushed along the wire fence. That meant that the number of soldiers left behind to guard the prisoners was drastically reduced. And they had two jobs to complete, causing them to be spread out even more thinly.

While most of the soldiers spread out along the side of the column, others ran among the prisoners, shouting and pulling at the bundles they held. The prisoners were now bewildered and in confusion, they didn't know what was going on, all they knew was that the soldiers hit them harder and shouted at them louder. There were screams and tears as their last pitiful belongings were snatched or knocked from their grasp and kicked and hurled aside. The soldiers lined up along the column kept back anyone foolish enough to try to retrieve anything, and soon a long pile of bundles began to form next to the column. Some of the prisoners fought to hang on to what they had left, and scuffles broke out. Children screamed and cried as they were separated from their parents in the melee and the only result was that more of the prisoners ended up on the ground, battered and bleeding. And in all the commotion no one noticed the extra boy in their midst who ran out from under the train.

Jacob fitted in far too easily. No one noticed him, not the soldiers or the prisoners. He was just another dirty and pitiful figure among the rest. Only the child he stood next to would look up at him and wonder. Jacob always concentrated on the children, spiriting them away one at a time. It was always the same process.

Jacob would jump out from under the train, run to the line of prisoners, move next to a child that was on it's own, whisper to him or her and hold their hand, and then dart back to the railway trucks, pulling the child underneath with him. He would choose his moments carefully. The more noise, confusion and turmoil, the better. If people were being killed, it was better. He didn't want anyone noticing his arrival or his departure. And once he was under the train with a child he would use the straps and belts to tie the child to the chassis of the truck.

Finding a child on their own wasn't difficult. In the confusion many children became separated from their parents. Jacob would wait and watch and then dart forward. The child would be happy to follow any kindly face. And at first his conscience pricked him as he caught sight of a mother and father searching for their child afterwards. The soldiers didn't care and never helped them. They just beat everyone without thought. Jacob would see them crying and think about rescuing them, or at least telling them what he had done. And sometimes he had to fight not to give in to the impulse. It was just too dangerous. He kept telling himself that in the end they wouldn't be angry with him for what he had done, and instead he took advantage of the turmoil they caused to hijack another child.

Sometimes he would find two or three children together, brothers and sisters, or sometimes they were unrelated at all, as he Peter, Antoinette and Klaus had been. He would take them all at once, tying them each under a truck. He always kept one child to a truck, just in case.

But sometimes the adults would realise what was going on, no matter how careful he was. They would see him run away with a child and thrust their own forward when he next looked out, beckoning to him. When they helped like that it was a lot easier. But it wasn't always the case. And if more chose to follow him than he was prepared to take, he would have to quickly abandon his mission, hiding under the trucks and hoping that none of the prisoners would give him away while he waited it out.

Jacob didn't like having to rely on others for his safety, so he concealed himself from everyone, keeping his head down and choosing the children carefully, picking only those that were isolated and without an adult near them, and running out and back only during the highest commotion, no matter how long it took. But with experience and success, he did begin to take adults too. He picked on single parents with one or two children, but only if the parent was a woman. It was harsh but Jacob had learned that this was the best way. He had tried the wrong way once before.

He had picked on a complete family unit. There had been both parents and three children. They looked calm and approachable. But as soon as he made himself known to them he knew it had been a mistake. The father questioned what was going on, who he was and where he was taking them. It took too long, and it attracted too much attention. And once he had convinced them, everyone else around within earshot wanted to come too. It caused a riot with the soldiers running forward. Jacob had to escape on his own and only just made it when the soldiers began shooting. He took no one that day. And he kept away from the men after that.

A mother with a single child was best. They were easy to convince. They were more desperate, they were more willing to believe and to grasp at any alternative, any chance at all of escape, straight away. They would even push their children forward and beg him tearfully to take them before he had finished explaining. Jacob would take them both. It helped to have a mother with him to sooth the children. And a mother with several children would be even better, as he could finish his mission quicker.

In the end, the number of people Jacob rescued depended on the number of trucks in the train minus one. And once he ran out of belts, that was it. So he made his last choices carefully.

Today was no different to any other. Jacob worked methodically, carefully, and with his heart and emotions restrained. He stuck to his now well-established criteria. He chose only the youngest children, the easiest to convince and to spirit away, the easiest to tie to the trucks, and if there was a mother with them, they could come too. And while he worked the soldiers remained all lined up on the far side of the column of prisoners, their view of the trucks and Jacob's comings and goings obscured. And the soldiers among the prisoners moved forward all the time, working their way along the column as they forced each prisoner to drop their precious bundles. Jacob just worked along behind them.

He was nearly done when it happened.

Jacob had made his last choice. He had three sets of belts left when he saw a woman with two young children clinging to her. He glanced at the soldiers. They were nearly at the front of the column. In a few minutes the prisoners would be urged to move forward. He would have to leave soon. He turned to smile at the little boy strapped to the underside of the truck above him, put his finger to his lips, and then ran out.

Helga was never really sure how close she and the dogs would get to the site of the pit before the soldiers headed them off. She wondered what would happen if she actually reached it. How would Obersturmführer Meyer react if he found her at the edge with her dogs running about at the bottom? Sometimes she wondered if that was what he wished for, that at last the game would be over and he could finally act against her.

Why was it that the threat of exposure was often far greater than exposure itself?

Helga ran after her dogs, but she didn't run too fast. She had gone through the trees and was running down the hill when she saw the soldiers. Obersturmführer Meyer was among them. She reduced her pace and then stopped. Breathing hard, she waited until he reached her.

Obersturmführer Meyer took off his gloves and bowed to her. He smiled.

"Countess! We meet again, as usual!"

Helga was instantly apologetic. "I am sorry, Obersturmführer, but my dogs get the better of me in their eagerness."

Meyer took her outstretched hand and kissed it lightly. "Yes, I have noticed."

She looked annoyed by his words and snatched her hand away. "Are you implying that I do this on purpose?"

"Not at all, Countess. But I begin to wonder if it might be easier for my men to exercise your dogs for you?"

She gave him her best disdainful look. "They could probably do with the exercise themselves. They must be bored with nothing to do but guard duty in that camp of yours."

Meyer continued to smile at her. "Ah, but you are wrong, Countess. My men have been very busy. We have had a series of escapes recently."

Helga instantly became alarmed and clutched a hand to her chest. "Your prisoners have escaped? How dreadful! Am I in danger?"

The smile on Obersturmführer Meyer's face widened. "I very much doubt it, Countess. I have men watching your estate round the clock."

Helga relaxed. "I am very relieved to hear that. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night for fear of some intruder in the house."

"Be assured, Countess, if any of my prisoners are seen near your house I will be the first to know. And I will act instantly in your defence."

"Thank you. That is very kind, Obersturmführer."

He bowed again. "Think nothing of it."

Helga could see two soldiers leading Tirpitz and Bismarck up the hill towards her. One of them was quite muddy.

"I see my two errant charges have been recaptured."

Meyer glanced down the hill. "Yes. My men are becoming quite adept at hunting in this area. There isn't much that they cannot find."

"I told you the practise would help."

He smiled again. It seemed to be what he did while he was thinking. "Will you be visiting the General again this weekend?"

"No. I have a little trip planned."

"Ah, yes. The South of France. I believe you make the trip quite regularly?"

"As often as I can. The atmosphere here remains unpleasant, so I try to spend as much time away as possible."

"I am doing all that I can to bring your distress to an end, Countess. Will you be going alone?"

"I usually try to take some of the children belonging to the tenants and workers on the estate with me. It is often the only chance of a trip many of their children have."

"I see. I hope they all have the required papers for such a long journey, Countess. I wouldn't like to think of you being detained."

"Everything is above board, Obersturmführer. And at least while I am away you are not burdened with these escapes."

Meyer lost his smile. "Escapes?"

"My dogs," she clarified.

His smile returned. "Ah, yes. Of course."

Bismarck and Tirpitz barked loudly and wagged their tails in greeting as the soldiers brought them to Helga. She took the leads they handed to her and bent down and patted and caressed both dogs, talking to them like children.

"Ah, my boys! You have led me and the good Obersturmführer a merry dance once again! What shall I do to punish you? Keep you out of my room all night? Maybe I will starve you! Who is to blame? I know you, Bismarck! You follow your brother like the puppy you are! And as for you, Tirpitz, I begin to believe you think you should be Count! Now come on! Home!"

She straightened up and held out her hand to Obersturmführer Meyer. "I have distracted you for long enough, Obersturmführer. I thank you for retrieving my dogs and now I will be on my way."

Meyer kissed the hand she offered to him and clicked his heels. "It was a pleasure, as usual Countess. In fact any opportunity to detain you is a pleasure."

"My, Obersturmführer, you will make me blush! Good day, to you." She bowed and turned away.

Meyer watched her leading her dogs back up the hill towards her estate. When she was finally gone from view he replaced his gloves and turned to his men.

"What shall I do with the Countess, Scharführer?"

"You are sure it is her?" Schneider replied.

"Undoubtedly."

"Then shoot her."

"And cause turmoil in the Wehrmacht? Now of all times? No, Scharführer. I must be patient. My chance will come. Now back to the camp! All of you! Let us see what damage she has caused this time!"

The train backed slowly out of the camp, the engine billowing smoke in regular chugs. There were no people around anymore, only the bundles they had left behind remained to be collected and sifted through by the soldiers. More soldiers closed the gates after the train had departed.

A short distance down the line, before the spur connected with the main line, the train came to a halt. Here there was a water tower and coaling stage, and long hoses ran from the water tower alongside the track. The driver and fireman jumped down from the engine and picked up the hoses and turned on the water. They began to hose down the first truck, squirting the water inside. They opened up both sets of doors, washing out the truck completely.

Underneath the second truck, Jacob hastily untied the first of his charges, recovering the belts and running with the child to the next truck. He worked quickly, moving from one truck to the next, recovering each child and adult until it was time to run across to the nearby woods.

The driver and fireman closed up the doors on the first truck and moved on to the second. They were at one end of the train while Jacob and his charges were at the other. Both men concentrated determindly on their work. Neither of them were looking for anything, and neither of them wanted to see anything.

Jacob led his charges into the woods unseen, and from here he made his way to the summerhouse.

There was an argument going on in the summerhouse to the accompaniment of barking dogs and crying children. Bismarck and Tirpitz were jumping up at everyone, and the children hung back in fear. Several of them were crying and clinging to two women.

Helga was furious. "Are you mad, Jacob?"

He shrugged. "What else could I do?"

"You should have left him!"

The 'him' she was referring to stepped forward apologetically and spoke in French. He was a large dark haired man with an unruly beard. "I am sorry, Countess—"

"I wasn't speaking to you!" she snapped, also in French. Then she turned on her dogs in equal anger. "Bismarck! Tirpitz! Silence! Heel!"

Both dogs came to her and sat down obediently. Helga didn't pause in her anger.

"And shut those children up!" she almost screamed.

Silence finally reigned in the abandoned summerhouse. It was achieved more through shock than fear. Mainly because the newcomers were surprised to see such a slight and aristocratic woman exude such anger and noise. Jacob was used to it by now and he stepped forward and grasped her hands.

"Countess, it is my fault, not theirs," he said softly. "Their only fault is that they are Jewish."

Helga was breathing hard, and she now leaned closer to Jacob. "Meyer knows!" she snarled at him through clenched teeth. "And you know he knows! I have a right to be angry! Eighteen I can take! The two women I can take! But how do we explain a man, Jacob? Why is he not in the army? Why does he not fight or toil on the estate? How can he be spared for a holiday? Answer me these questions! Because they will most surely be asked!"

"He's a Rabbi," Jacob said simply.

Helga broke away from him and paced up and down, throwing her hands to the heavens and shouting in anger. "Of course he is! What a simple solution! I can see it now! 'Not to worry, Obersturmführer Meyer, the reason this man is not at the front is because he is an out of work Rabbi!'"

She suddenly threw off her hat and slumped down on one of the frayed chairs. "I give up!" she exclaimed in despair. "It is all over! We will all be shot!"

Tirpitz sat up and laid his snout on her lap, his tail wagging slowly. She looked down at him. "It's no use you smiling at me!" she said in a softer voice. "This is all your fault in the first place!"

### Chapter Four

### Antibes 1948

By the time Captain Taylor came to the end of this section of his story, the sandwiches were finished and Sister Anna-Marie was carrying their plates away.

"It was one of the many times when Helga almost gave up," he said as he put down his empty cup.

Sister Marie-Thérèse still held her last cup of tea. "How did they smuggle the Rabbi across the country to France?" she quickly asked.

"They disguised him as an old woman called Frau Heinrik, I believe."

Sister Marie-Thérèse hardly batted an eye-lid at his reply. "So they continued?"

"Yes. And during the period between October 1943 and August 1944 Helga and Jacob successfully smuggled one hundred and twenty-eight children and thirty-five adults into France and into the arms of the Underground. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for one woman and a boy. They made twenty-six round trips altogether. Her last trip was in August, but by then everything had changed for her."

There was a slight pause before Sister Marie-Thérèse asked the question she could tell Captain Taylor was eager to answer. "Why was that?"

"Because on the 20th July 1944, Claus Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg put a bomb near Hitler in the Wolfsschanze. That's the Wolf's Lair, Hitler's headquarters in Poland. It wasn't until all the reprisals started that Helga found out that her father had been involved in the assassination plot. He was shot a few weeks later, you see. She never even suspected. I suppose it must have pleased her in a way, because it meant that her father had shared her feelings and that he would have approved of her actions. But it must have been hard for her as well. Neither one of them really knew what the other was doing. And overnight she lost her father and went from being a rather cosseted and well-off Countess to being a hunted criminal. What made it worse was that without her father's protection those who had been forced to turn a blind eye to her activities for all this time could now take full advantage. And at the top of the list of those wishing to do so was Obersturmführer Meyer."

Sister Marie-Thérèse held her last cup of tea. "Did Obersturmführer Meyer catch her in Germany?"

Captain Taylor glanced down at his empty cup. "No. Helga was on route to France with Jacob, eight children and three adults when it happened. She didn't even know until she had delivered them to André and was on her way back. The SS seized the entire Burbeck Estate while she was away. Because of his familiarity with her, and because he volunteered for the job, Obersturmführer Meyer was put in charge of hunting her down. It was almost too easy. Helga was loud and bossy on her travels, and she never hid her movements, so her route was well known to the Gestapo by then. While her father was alive their hands had been tied. Now they could act. So before she even knew her father was dead, Meyer was waiting for her at Grasse. Fortunately a friend warned her."

### Antibes 1944

Antibes was filled with noise and confusion. German trucks and half-tracks sped along the road from the main garrison at Fort Carré and crowds of people milled about on the side shaking their fists and jeering at them. They were no longer scared.

André fought his way through the crowds. He needed transport. He had to get to Juan-les-Pins before Helga left her Château to return to Germany with Jacob. All around him the people shouted and pushed forward, and it took ages for André to finally work his way through them and reach the house where Moniqué opened the door. Stephane was inside. He was as surprised to see André as Moniqué was scared.

"André? Why come here in the day? Are you insane?"

"Not insane, but in a hurry!" André replied. "We have to go up to the Château at Juan-les-Pins and warn the Countess!"

Stephane wasn't impressed. "But the Americans are here! We should wait for them!"

"No! I have spoken with London! Her father was implicated in Hitler's assassination plot! He has been shot, Stephane! And she will be next! The SS are no fools! We must hurry! Get a car!"

Stephane paused only for a moment and then turned to the young girl who had looked on fearfully as they argued. "Moniqué! Go to the tabac and tell your papa what we do! Tell him I have taken his Renault! Go now!"

"Yes, Stephane! You will find my Jacob?"

"Yes! Now hurry!"

Moniqué grabbed her coat and left by the front door. As soon as she was gone Stephane led André to the back door.

"The car is in a garage a short distance away! But the roads will be full now that the Boche are pulling out! And they won't want to stop and ask any questions should they find two men in a car barring their path! We should go by bicycle and keep off the roads!"

André shook his head. "It will take too long! If Helga leaves before we get there it will be too late! Once she's on that train, she is a dead woman!"

Leutnant Spiegal opened the door of the staff car. "Please hurry, Countess. The train will not wait, and Oberst Riner will not be able to help you if you remain behind once we depart."

Helga hurried from the entrance to the Château. She was wearing a white full-length linen coat over a yellow summer dress. Elegant high-heeled shoes completed the ensemble. She was leading Tirpitz and Bismarck on their leads and both dogs barked excitedly.

"I understand, Leutnant. And I am grateful, believe me, if somewhat surprised by your sudden arrival. But I have no wish to be trapped in France surrounded by coarse Americans and revengeful French peasants."

As she got in the car, Jacob stuffed their luggage into the open boot. Leutnant Spiegal waited until Jacob had closed the boot, run round the car and jumped in beside Helga before he closed the door. In an instant he had opened the front door and jumped in beside the driver, and a moment later the car turned and sped away, heading for the station.

Tirpitz and Bismarck jammed their noses out of each partly open window in the doors. And Helga smiled at Jacob and squeezed his hand. Then she looked forward and spoke to Spiegal.

"Leutnant, does the Oberst risk his career by giving us his aid?"

Spiegal hardly glanced back at her as the car sped along the narrow roads. "No, Countess. You are a German national. It is only natural that you should receive our help. But the timing could be better. The Americans have landed in force at Agay to the west of here. Another assault is under way at San Raphaël. It is clear that it is a full invasion. Oberst Riner has received orders to send all our forces west to prevent the Americans breaking out. With the garrison depleted and the Americans so close there are bound to be attacks from the French Underground. It is best that you are well away from here, Countess."

Jacob had continued to look at Helga as the Leutnant had explained events. Helga now turned to him again and smiled.

"Then as soon as we are aboard the train, the better."

André was frantic. "Missed her! Missed her!" he shouted to Stephane as he ran out of the Château. He jumped back in the car and Stephane got back in the drivers seat. He started the engine and waited.

"What now, André?"

André sat in the car staring ahead with his mind whirling. "The Concierge said she was picked up by a German staff car. Riner probably sent it. He must think he is doing her a favour."

"They could have taken her into the country and shot her," Stephane suggested.

"No. She's a Countess smuggling Jews. The SS will want her. If the news had reached here they would have sent a car, not Riner. He will have taken her to the station."

"Then we are too late. The train will be gone before we get there."

André turned to look at him. "Then we must get ahead of it. Drive to Mougins."

"Vallauris is nearer."

"Yes, and the train will stop there first. That's when we will overtake it. Go!"

Stephane sighed as he put the car into gear. "We should be blowing up Germans, not racing trains."

The tyres on the old Renault kicked up the gravel as it accelerated away.

Obersturmführer Meyer stood on the station platform at Grasse. He had taken off his gloves and was waiting patiently. Next to him the train from Juan-les-Pins slowly pulled in and stopped. On the station approach a truck was parked. It was filled with German soldiers whose uniform bore the insignia of the SS.

Meyer smiled. It would be a nice surprise to see the Countess again. And of course, there was her 'travelling companion.' He could be dispensed with right away, on the platform, in fact, and those wretched dogs. But the Countess Burbeck would need to be interviewed. There were things she knew that were of interest. And when she had answered his questions she would be taken back to Germany. He would enjoy seeing her shot. But not as much as he would enjoy seeing her broken.

The locomotive hissed and breathed steam and smoke as it sat waiting for the signal to pull out. All the passengers climbed on board while others alighted. One of those who climbed down from the train was Schneider. He hurried towards Meyer and clicked his heels and saluted when he reached him.

"She is not on the train, Obersturmführer! The Guard said that he saw her board at Juan-les-Pins and he checked her ticket at Vallauris, but did not see her after that!"

"What is the first stop after Vallauris?"

"Mougins, Obersturmführer!"

Meyer nodded. "Let the train go."

As Schneider hurried back to the Guard, Meyer walked to the station telegraph office. He replaced his gloves as he walked along.

It seemed that his reunion with the Countess would have to be delayed. Either she was very fortunate, or she had been warned. That just made his need to question her all the more important.

Two men wearing leather coats waited inside the telegraph office. The telegrapher sat at his desk between them. He was sweating. Meyer took off his hat as he closed the door behind him.

"She got off at Mougins. Contact our people at Cannes. Have them cut all the roads south and east of the station. I will meet them with my men. It seems that we must search for our quarry."

The old Renault hurtled down the road from Mougins to Antibes. There were six occupants: Two dogs, three men and one woman.

Jacob sat in the backseat next to Helga with Bismarck on his lap. Tirpitz sat on the floor, his tongue hanging out as he panted. Jacob was scared but also relieved, and with André and Stephane in the car with them, he felt safe. At least they were going in the right direction now.

The knowledge that the Americans were close and that they had been travelling away from them had worried Jacob. He didn't like the idea of going back to Germany. But when Leutnant Spiegal had turned up so unexpectedly there was no way Helga could have argued with him. Jacob even wondered if she wanted to. The way she had almost dismissed André's fears when he also arrived so unexpectedly in their compartment on the train made him wonder again. But the Frenchman's bluntly spoken news about her father had obviously upset Helga. She had gone with him without a word and she still hadn't spoken. She also hadn't cried.

In the front of the car, André held onto his seat as the Renault swerved around another bend. "Can't you go any faster?" he said to Stephane.

"My foot is to the floor, André!"

André smacked the dash in front of him. "We have to get back to Antibes before the train gets in at Grasse! They have radios you know!"

The car swerved around another bend and a German half-track parked across the road suddenly came into view.

Stephane wrenched on the steering wheel. "Jesus!"

As the Renault plunged off the road, men in uniform ran forward firing their MP40 machine-guns. Bullets peppered the trees and the back of the car, and one of the tyres blew.

Jacob was bounced around as the car careered over the uneven ground. Bismarck was thrown from his lap and both dogs barked and yelped. Stephane kept the car going for as long as he could, but a ditch brought it to a final halt.

André threw open the door. "Everyone out! Run, Countess! Stephane! Get the guns!"

Stephane was already running around to the boot. He opened it and flung aside the bags and blanket inside until he reached the British machine-guns hidden underneath. There were only two. He gave one to André.

Jacob had climbed out of the car and fell to the ground. Bismarck and Tirpitz bounded out and milled around him, barking incessantly. Helga fell out the other door only for André to pull her roughly to her feet.

"I said run!"

"You run!" she snapped back at him, wrenching herself free and re-arranging her coat. "I have nothing to fear! I am German!" she said proudly.

André stepped closer to her again. "If they catch you, they will make you tell them about us! About Stephane, Moniqué, about all the people who have helped you! And there is Jacob! Now run, or I will shoot you myself!"

There were shouts in the air from somewhere near to the road. And they could hear the engine of the half-track burst into life. Stephane leaned against a tree and shouted over his shoulder.

"They're coming, André!"

Helga turned away from André. "Tirpitz! Bismarck! Heel! Follow!" She ran forward with her dogs. "Jacob! Keep up, boy!"

Jacob paused to look at André. André nodded. "We'll delay them and catch up with you! Don't worry! We don't intend to die now that the Americans are here! Go!"

Stephane fired his machine-gun. There were shouts and an instant response that scattered bark from the tree. Jacob turned and ran with tears in his eyes. He chased after Helga, the sound of gunfire ringing in his ears. Then there was an explosion.

Stephane and André ran as the Renault burned. They dodged around the trees, pausing to fire back at the soldiers who advanced carefully and methodically.

Meyer climbed out of the truck as Schneider shouted to the men in the back.

"Raus! Raus!"

The men began to pile out of the truck and run for the trees. The truck was parked on the edge of the road, and among the trees nearby was a half-track. Two men lay on the ground with their backs against the tracks, bandages marking their wounds. Another three were laid out at the back of the vehicle. Meyer hardly glanced at the bodies as he followed his men at a sedate walking pace. While he walked, they ran ahead, Schneider leading them forward at a trot.

Meyer soon came upon the smoking wreck of a car. There he found another Officer waiting for him. The Officer saluted as Meyer approached.

"They are somewhere in these woods, Obersturmführer! They will not get far!"

"You have suffered losses?"

"They caused us a brief surprise, no more!"

"But they have delayed you?"

"They will not delay us for long! We know where they are!"

There was a distant bark. Meyer smiled as he put on his gloves. He pulled his pistol from its holster. "Lead the way, Untersturmführer."

Jacob was standing alone in the woods in shock. It was suicidal, stupid, but it was his idea.

When Jacob had explained, Helga had wanted none of it, but André had merely nodded and Stephane had dragged her away. Then André had snatched the leads of Tirpitz and Bismarck from his hands and had run away with them. Jacob had just stood there in shock. The dogs had started barking straight away.

It was his idea. It should have been him. He didn't care if they caught him. If that meant that Helga got away, then he would have been content. It wasn't supposed to be André.

A shout from Stephane stirred him from his stupor.

"André! Come on!"

Jacob looked back and forth, confused by the mistaken identity. Then he realised that Stephane meant him, and he turned and ran at last.

André was never comfortable with Helga's dogs. They were German, he was French, and somehow they knew it. As a result neither dog needed encouragement to make a noise. They barked and yelped and wagged their tails as they pulled him along. Every so often they tried to turn and go in another direction. André knew they wanted to find the Countess, but he also knew that the noise they made drew everyone towards him.

Helga was furious. "How dare you let him do that!" she screamed as Stephane half dragged her and half carried her through the woods. She struggled and kicked at him and one of her shoes flew off. "Let me go, you French oaf!"

Stephane came to a halt and let go of Helga. She stepped back, hopped, and then stood before him with an arrogant and aloof expression on her face despite her lost shoe. She was about to make a scathing comment when Stephane punched her in the jaw. She instantly relaxed and fell forward and Stephane threw her over his shoulder.

"Now we can move faster!" he said as he turned and saw Jacob. He was suddenly surprised. "You? Where's André?"

"He took the dogs," Jacob told him lamely.

Stephane swore. "Just what I need! A German woman and a boy!"

With Helga over his shoulder and his machine-gun clutched in the other hand, Stephane made off at a trot.

"Keep up! Or the Boche will get you!" he called to Jacob.

Jacob chased after him.

Meyer listened to the dogs barking. This was too easy. The Countess may have been a woman but she was not stupid. And her control over her dogs was far more proficient than she would have him believe.

"Untersturmführer! Get me a map! Where are we? Where is the road?"

The Officer ran towards him and pulled a map from his breast pocket. Meyer took it and unfolded it against a tree. The Untersturmführer instantly pointed.

"We are here! The road, here!"

"Then we have been travelling in this direction," Meyer remarked. "It leads nowhere!" He suddenly turned away, handing the map back to the Untersturmführer. "Continue with your men, Untersturmführer! But have the Scharführer meet me here with half a dozen men! While you go north, we will go south!"

André knew that the game would soon be up. He could hear the soldiers nearby. They were close and they were running. The dogs barked louder and more often, they could smell the men that chased them. It was time for a change.

André pulled the two dogs to a halt, and kneeling down he drew them close to him. They wagged their tails excitedly, snuffling at him.

"Now Tirpitz, Bismarck! Find your Mistress! Find the Countess!" He unclipped their leads and released them. "Go!"

Bismarck and Tirpitz leapt forward and bounded away. He could still hear them barking as he ran.

Schneider ran towards Meyer holding something in his hand. Meyer took the shoe he offered to him. He then took off one of his gloves and put his hand inside the shoe. It was still warm. He smiled and dropped it on the ground.

"Gather the men, Scharführer! After them!"

Schneider saluted and then ran back towards his men, shouting at them and urging them to move faster.

Meyer put his glove back on. "It seems that your dogs have distracted me once again, Countess," he muttered to himself. "But this time you will not escape me. This time the game will be over."

There was confusion in the woods. Men shouted and dogs barked. The sound of gunfire filled the air only to be answered by more shouts. The Untersturmführer shouted louder than anyone else.

"Ceasefire! Ceasefire! You're shooting at one another!"

"They are among us, Untersturmführer!" one of the soldiers shouted back.

"Where? Show me!"

In answer came another bark from close by.

"There!"

Machine-guns opened up again as a black dog bounded through the trees. The bullets smacked into the trees just behind it.

"Hold your fire!" the Untersturmführer shouted. "It's only the dogs!"

André suddenly loved those dogs. They were causing havoc. In a few minutes the Germans had become strung out, their line broken. They shot at everything. He had slipped through them easily. At least three of them had been hit by their own gunfire, and he hadn't needed to fire a shot.

Jacob heard the twig break at the same time as Stephane. Despite the sound of distant gunfire, shouting and barking dogs, it had been quite clear. It had also been very close. They both stopped and looked back. There was nothing but stillness behind them. The sun shone through the leaves and branches and cast shadows. But the scattered trees of the woods soon blotted out the view.

Stephane lowered Helga to the ground. "Jacob!" he hissed. "Come here and wake her up!"

Jacob hurried to his side and began to shake Helga. "Countess! Countess! Wake up, Countess!" She stirred and murmured, but didn't wake.

Stephane held his machine-gun at the ready and inched forward, staring back through the trees. They had only just covered that ground. They should have been safe, miles away. But carrying Helga delayed him. And those who chased them only carried their guns. Then he saw them, an Officer and Sergeant and some men.

Stephane fired immediately. One of the men fell and the rest dived for cover. An instant later and they were returning fire. Stephane ducked as the bullets tore the wood from the trees around him.

Helga awoke at the sound of the shooting. She looked up at Jacob in surprise. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Then she winced and rubbed her jaw.

"André took Bismarck and Tirpitz," he replied. Then Stephane ran up to them and dragged them both forward.

"Run! The Boche comes for you!"

Bullets peppered the trees as the three of them ran. But they had hardly gone far when Helga grabbed Jacob and pulled him almost to a halt. She leaned on him and hopped on one foot as she reached down and threw off her last shoe. A moment later and they were off again. Stephane had crouched down by a tree, he squeezed off another burst from his machine-gun as Helga and Jacob ran passed him. Then he turned and chased after them.

### Chapter Five

### Antibes 1948

"I suppose now would be a good time to explain how I got involved in this."

Sister Marie-Thérèse smiled and nodded. "It would be appropriate, Captain."

She had called for more tea and Captain Taylor had gratefully drunk another cup as he carried on with his story. Now he shifted his position on the chair once more.

"Well, I landed at Green Beach with the 2nd Battalion of the 141st Infantry on the 15th August, 1944. The whole of the 36th Division was involved in the invasion of Southern France. We had been training at Salerno in Italy during July—"

Captain Taylor paused as he saw Sister Marie-Thérèse raise her hand.

"Green Beach?" she asked in a gentle voice.

He smiled. "Sorry. It was a little further west from Agay. Near Cape Drammont?"

"I see. Carry on."

"We landed at eight o' clock in the morning. A couple of hours later and we had managed to secure the beachhead and were already pushing north through Agay. Our role was to secure the Cannes-Fréjus highway and make sure that the Germans couldn't press home any attack over the mountain passes from Italy in the east. That allowed the 142nd and 143rd to head north and west.

"Anyway, on the 17th August we met up with elements of the French Underground on the coast at Théoule-sur-Mer. It had been a pre-arranged meeting to discuss the plans that had been made before the invasion. But the meeting didn't go as intended. Moniqué's father was there. He had come straight from Antibes after the telegrapher at Grasse had contacted him. The telegrapher was part of the Underground and he spoke German. It was fortunate that Meyer didn't know that. Moniqué's father knew exactly who the Germans were after when he heard their plan to block the roads south of Mougins. But it wasn't Helga he was worried about. André was quite high up in their organisation, and the French were worried in case he was captured. With the Germans pulling out they feared that there would be reprisals. André was also fully aware of the support the Underground had arranged to give us during the invasion. He knew the plans. So it was important to them and to us that we got him back.

"At first I didn't want to get involved. I had my own targets and objectives, and I pointed out that as things were going it wouldn't matter about reprisals because the Germans wouldn't be around. But the fact that André knew our plans was a problem. I asked if the French could handle it themselves, and they said that they couldn't spare any men in a rescue attempt as most of them were already committed to hitting planned targets in support of the invasion, so there weren't enough to spare to go head to head with a truck load of Waffen-SS."

Captain Taylor sighed. "It was then that I asked a stupid question. I asked what André was doing north of Vallauris right in the middle of the invasion. It wasn't just bad timing; it was downright foolish. There was nothing there, no target and no reason for him to be there. That was when they told me all about Helga. And I mean all about Helga: The camps, the smuggling, her father, the spying, her code name, and why the SS wanted her.

"Saving one German woman and a Belgian boy wasn't on our list of objectives. And it meant getting passed Cannes. But a few of the GI's in my troop were Jewish, and once they heard about the camps and what was going on in them, and about what Helga had been doing, why André had gone after her, and why the SS were hunting her, well," he shrugged, "there was just no way that we weren't going to go."

### South of France 1944

Captain Taylor came out of the farmhouse with Lieutenant Wellman. It was a picturesque farmhouse and the sound of the surf on the nearby beach added to the peaceful atmosphere created by the summer sun. No one would have guessed that it was a meeting place for Allied forces, and while the Americans left at the front, the French were doing so at the back. And despite his initial agreement, Captain Taylor was still uncommitted to the task he had been given. He looked at the six GI's gathered around the parked jeeps.

Sergeant Brannigan was the oldest and most experienced. He had dark hair and he hadn't shaved in days. He sat in the driver's seat of the first jeep with his foot wedged against the dashboard. There was a rifle in his lap and a chewed cigar in his mouth. He looked around at the pleasant view with a lazy air. Sat next to him was Johnson. He was just a kid. He had fair hair and wore glasses and he kept looking around nervously. He held his rifle tightly. Standing next to the jeep were Kowalski and Goodman. They were two more fair-haired kids. Bertolli was sitting in the second jeep. He was dark haired, handsome, and thought more about his love life than the war or anything else. He was the most confident even though he wasn't the best. He also received the most letters at mail time, and they were all from women. Sitting next to him was Valdez. Like Brannigan he was an Army regular, and although he wasn't as experienced, he was the coolest under fire.

Eight men and two jeeps. It wasn't much of a force against a truck-full of Waffen-SS storm troopers.

"I still think we should let headquarters make the call on this, David," Taylor said to Wellman as they walked towards their men. They had known each other for three years and their friendship had been born under conflict. They both knew that they could trust each other. They both also knew that what they had learned would test their friendship.

Wellman shook his head. "It'll be too late, and you know it."

"We're only a few miles from Théoule-sur-Mer; if we go hiking into the countryside on our own the Krauts could be all over us in minutes."

"The Germans are pulling out, you know that. Their whole defence is crumbling and their forces are scattered all over the place."

"It's fifteen miles or more. And we'll almost have to drive through Cannes to get there."

"We'll go round. We can go across country from La Napoule. We can move faster that way. We could be there in half an hour."

"Yeah, if we don't run into a stray Panzer division," Taylor pointed out.

"Look, if we don't go, she's dead, along with the evidence she can give at a war trial. You heard what was said in there; the Nazi's are killing Jews, by the thousands. And it must be true, or why else would the SS be after her?"

"She's with a leader in the French Underground and she's been spying for the British."

"That's just another reason to go get them."

"David, I know why you want to go, but it could already be too late. And I have to think about the bigger picture."

Wellman stared ahead. "This is the bigger picture, Robert. It's why we're here. You gave your word to the French in there, but if you don't want to go, then I'll go without you."

"And risk our men?"

"Maybe we should let them decide."

By now they were close enough to their men for their comments to be overheard.

Brannigan took the cigar out of his mouth. "Let us decide on what, Cap'n?" he asked with a Southern drawl.

Taylor sighed. "Go on, Lieutenant, let them have the full story."

André could hear shooting ahead of him. The sound caused him to run faster. His heart fell and he ran with determination. The Germans weren't supposed to be out here, they were supposed to be all behind him. He had been so pleased with himself over the trick with the dogs. Now it meant nothing. How did they get around him? The only answer was that there must have been two groups. Stephane, Jacob and Helga must have run into this second group. That meant that they were trapped. He had to reach them. At least they would die together.

Meyer leaned against a tree as he fired his pistol. He waved Schneider forward, his men following as they darted from tree to tree. Each of them squirted off a quick burst from their machine guns as they ran.

It would not be long now.

As soon as he had seen the map, Meyer had known he would find them. All the time that the Untersturmführer and his men were chasing their tails —or more rightly, the tails of those wretched dogs— they were moving away from the road. And while they did that, the Countess would be heading back to it. The lost shoe had confirmed his thoughts. They had doubled back and were heading south once more. And when they reached the road they would be beyond the Untersturmführer's original roadblock. For a moment Meyer admired her for her effort to escape. She had always been such a good adversary. But then he dismissed the thought.

What escape could she hope for? Even if she reached the road, there would be no limousine and chauffer waiting for her. Or would there? No, there would be no other car. She had been caught and that was the end of it. And besides, there was no safe haven here or in Germany. The French would kill her in their ignorance, despite her Resistance friends. And in Germany she was a traitor, she and her father.

Meyer suddenly realised that the game was over before it had even begun. The Countess must know her father was dead. Yes, those who had warned her would have known and they would have told her. She would already be a broken woman. Her father was dead and she was fleeing in panic for her life. Yes, she already knew she had lost. But in running away she had merely given him the final excuse he needed. In a way it was fitting. She had been a fine woman and an intelligent and resourceful opponent. He would honour that. Meyer decided at that moment that there would be no return to Germany in disgrace for the Countess. Instead he would finish it here and now. He owed her at least that.

Next to a farmhouse a group of American soldiers were milling around two jeeps shouting at one another.

Once the cat was well and truly out of the bag the discussion had quickly become a free for all as everyone wanted their say. And the only one of them who didn't join in was Brannigan, who still sat in the driving seat of the first jeep chewing on his cigar. As the shouts increased and Kowalski shoved Bertolli, Captain Taylor decided enough was enough.

"Alright! Knock it off, you guys!" he said shoving Kowalski back. "Spare it for the Krauts!"

"Then let's go get 'em!" Kowalski shouted back.

"Can it, Kowalski! The last time I looked I was still in command of this outfit!"

Kowalski didn't seem to think so, and Goodman looked crestfallen. "But, Captain," he pleaded. "You can't seriously expect us to sit here on our butts? Not when we know?"

Taylor looked around at his men. There was silence now, and the look in all their eyes broke his resolve. But he didn't want to give in. He felt like he was going against his orders, and for an instant he didn't know what to do or say. And then Brannigan took the cigar out of his mouth.

"Cap'n, it seems to me that a truck load of Krauts headin' south could pose a threat to communications. What if they camped out on the road to Cannes? They could shoot up passing traffic, be a right pain in the butt. Seems to me that someone should sort 'em out. It wouldn't be like disobeying orders, the road's our business, right?"

All the other soldiers nodded and voiced their agreement. They looked at Taylor with renewed hope. Taylor made a snap decision.

"Alright! But this is a quick in and out operation! Let's keep it simple! When we get there we fan out and make as much noise as possible! I want the Krauts to think the whole damn Division is in those woods! And keep the jeeps moving at high revs! Kowalski! Valdez! You're with Brannigan and me in the first jeep! Johnson! Bertolli! Goodman! You're with the Lieutenant in the second jeep! Move out!"

They were already clambering aboard the two jeeps with a whoop of delight before he had even finished. There was an eagerness in them that he hadn't seen since they landed. This was a mission they had a particular interest in.

Jacob ran with tears in his eyes. He knew they wouldn't escape now. But he didn't care for himself. He had done what he could, and he would face God with a clear conscience. But he worried about Moniqué. He didn't want to think of her crying. And he worried about the Countess. But he knew she wouldn't cry, at least not on the outside. She never did.

Bullets smacked into the trees around Jacob as he ran. It caused him to duck down. They were being chased now. It was the final dash before the end. Stephane had run out of ammunition. He had thrown the machine gun aside and grabbed Helga and ran with her. For the first time she hadn't protested. She ran barefoot, being dragged along by Stephane, her white linen coat torn by the branches that pulled at her as she went by. Jacob followed just behind them. He could see she was already tired.

Jacob looked back as he ran. He could see the soldiers now; they were running out in the open with no fear of return fire. He could hear the clanking of their ammunition belts and the heavy impacts of their boots. He could see the grim expressions on their faces as they fired—

With a loud crunch, Jacob ran straight into a tree. He was still looking back as he ran, mesmerised by the sight of their pursuers so close on their heels, so he hit the tree at full pelt just as the bullets did the same. He bounced off and sprawled on the ground in a shower of scattered bark, stunned and unconscious, the back of his head bloody.

In an instant, the soldiers were upon him. One of them kicked his inert body. It was a heavy kick, but it brought no response. The soldiers ran by.

Meyer smiled as he passed the body. He didn't even look down. Instead he fixed his eyes on the white coat the Countess wore as it flashed between the trees ahead of him. He slowed to a halt and aimed his pistol carefully.

"Countess! Countess! You have left someone behind!"

The shout caused Helga to slither to a stop, Stephane's grip on her hand briefly broken. She knew that voice, and she looked back, sudden fear on her face.

"Jacob! Jacob?"

Meyer squeezed the trigger on his pistol. There was a loud crack and a bright red blossom appeared above the waistband on Helga's yellow summer dress. She was shocked by the impact, but then she staggered and lost her footing. She fell to her knees still looking surprised, a gasp passing from her lips.

"Forgive me, father—"

Even as Meyer smiled in triumph, machine gun fire cut down two men near him. Meyer ducked and dived behind a tree as Schneider shouted a belated warning. All the soldiers turned and fired at the unknown enemy, taking up new positions, and when Meyer looked back at Helga hoping to see her body, she was gone. A flash of white among the trees marked her departure as Stephane once more carried her still form over his shoulder. Meyer shouted new orders as he pointed to his men.

"Scharführer! Stay here and secure the area! You! And You! Come with me!"

Meyer gave chase, the two men following him. He had to be sure.

André fired his machine gun at the soldiers ahead of him. The sound of the shooting was already attracting the rest of the soldiers from the road. He could hear their shouts behind him. He was in the middle. He should have sneaked away while he had the chance, they would never have found him. But then that German Officer had called out to the Countess. And when she turned André had seen him shoot her. He couldn't do anything about it. And now all he wanted to do was get that Officer. But even in that he was to be foiled. While the soldiers pinned him down with a constant barrage, the Officer had run away with two men. Again there was nothing he could do.

Somewhere a dog barked.

Stephane hurried through the woods with the Countess over his shoulder. He should have abandoned her, but it wasn't in his nature. He ran as fast as he could, but he couldn't outpace the soldiers.

Behind Stephane, Meyer ran almost lazily as his men darted ahead of him.

"Bring down the oaf!" he shouted.

The men complied by firing their machine guns.

Stephane cried out as the bullets hit his legs. He fell and Helga was tossed aside, her body rolling in the grass.

It was all over. Stephane lay panting, his hand to his bloody legs. He felt the soldiers standing over him. He could smell the leather of their boots. When he finally looked up, their machine guns were pointing down at him.

Meyer put away his pistol and walked calmly up to the two figures on the ground. He took off his gloves as he stood over Stephane with his men. He smiled.

"Kill him!"

A single rifle shot rang out and one of the men dropped to his knees before crumpling to the ground. As Meyer looked around in surprise a second shot rang out and the second soldier spun and fell into him. Meyer was knocked to the ground. He dropped his gloves and pushed aside the body of the soldier just as Stephen tried to reach for him. Meyer twisted away and scrambled to his feet. There was another rifle shot and blood splashed on Meyer's arm. He clutched at it with his good hand, and keeping his head down, he ran.

"Damn it, Bertolli! You missed him!" Goodman called out.

Taylor ran passed them. "Keep moving! Valdez! Keep point on the right! Brannigan! Take the left! Wellman! Use one of the jeeps to get our wounded friends out! Let's get this party on the road!"

The soldiers ran forward, shouting and firing their rifles at no one in particular. Bertolli paused to throw a grenade, and the explosion was deafening.

Stephane looked up as he was suddenly surrounded again.

"Americans!" he breathed with a sigh.

As Captain Taylor lead his men passed at the run, Lieutenant Wellman knelt down next to Helga. He examined her carefully. The red patch on her midriff had grown and there was a thin trickle of blood from her mouth.

"Is this Trojan?" he asked.

Stephane didn't know how the American knew the Countess's code name, it was the only word he had recognised, but he was past worrying. He nodded.

Wellman looked up and then glanced across at Stephane's legs. "I need to get you both back to a field hospital." He turned and raised his voice. "Kowalski! Get the medical kit! And get Johnson up here with that jeep!"

Rifle shots rang out and mixed with the sound of machine guns, grenades exploded and tore trees to fragments, and shouts filled the air. But the shouts were in a new language and they were backed by the sound of vehicles that blared their horns.

By the time the Untersturmführer caught up with him, Schneider was near panic. Everyone was shooting in different directions and another man fell to a single rifle bullet.

"What happens here, Scharführer?"

"They are Americans! We must have crossed their lines!"

"Where is the Obersturmführer?"

"I don't know!"

The Untersturmführer swore as another grenade exploded. He waved to his men. "Fall back to the road! Fall back!"

The soldiers didn't need to be told a second time. They all turned and ran back the way they had came. And as Schneider made to follow them, a bullet hit him in the back. He threw up his arms and fell forward. He landed next to Jacob.

André couldn't understand who was firing at who. He could hear the sound of an engine, but it wasn't the half-track. For a moment the Germans had been all around him, but now they seemed to have fallen back. And then he saw them.

Americans.

André stood up, and in that moment one of them almost shot him. But then an angry looking Captain ran up to him.

"Are you André?"

"Yes."

"What the Hell are you doing out here? Are you trying to get killed?"

"The Countess—"

"Yeah! Yeah! I know all about her!" Taylor hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "She's back there! My men have put her on a jeep! Now get moving! I don't want to hang around out here long enough for those Krauts to realise that we aren't the whole damn army!"

"You are not the whole damn army?"

"Hell, no! What you see is what I've got!"

André looked shocked. "This way!"

As soon as he had spoken, André began running. Taylor didn't wait any longer either.

"Valdez! Goodman! Bertolli! We're pulling out! We've got what we wanted!"

A horn blared and a jeep bounced over the roots from a tree as Brannigan drove over a bush and slithered to a stop next to them. The soldiers scrambled on board, Captain Taylor with them.

"Follow that Frenchman!"

Jacob awoke with a throbbing head. Someone was licking his face. As his eyes opened and the fog cleared from his mind, Jacob found himself being nuzzled and licked by Tirpitz and Bismarck. Both dogs were wagging their tails and were obviously excited and worked up. Jacob sat up slowly, patting Tirpitz.

"Alright, boys, I'm awake! I'm awake!"

Both dogs moved closer despite his protests and he had to pat and stroke them both. But then the sight of the dead German sergeant lying right in front of him brought his mind sharply into focus. Jacob got to his feet.

"Come on, boys! Find the Countess! Find your mistress! Come on now!"

With a flurry of barks, Tirpitz and Bismarck bounded away. Jacob chased after them.

At first the barking of the dogs worried him. But the woods seemed to be empty. There were no soldiers anywhere. Then he heard Bismarck and Tirpitz barking even louder, and when he caught up with them, it was to find two bodies on the ground. They were German soldiers, both shot. And nearby was Helga's white linen coat. There was blood on the coat and on the grass.

Jacob sank to his knees as Tirpitz and Bismarck began to sniff around the bodies and at the coat. They must have caught her. They must have caught them all. Stephane had run out of bullets, so André must have killed the soldiers. That meant he had been here. They would all be dead, or captured. If the Countess were still alive they would torture her and then shoot her. As Jacob fell deeper into despair, Tirpitz and Bismarck began to play tug of war with something they found on the ground. And when they bumped into him, each growling and snarling, Jacob shouted at them and tried to take the object from them. It looked like a ragged piece of cloth.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

Bismarck shied away, but Tirpitz wouldn't let go as Jacob pulled on the rag still clenched in his teeth. It ripped and Tirpitz held aloft his half of the prize in triumph.

Jacob looked down at the piece that was left in his hand. It was a tattered piece of half of a glove.

Tirpitz shook his half of the glove like a rat, snarling. Then he tossed it aside, barked loudly, and bounded away. With a scramble of claws in the grass, Bismarck bounded after him.

Jacob jumped to his feet and called after them. "Wait! Stop!"

He ran after them, but it was no use. Both dogs were running like lightening, and they were barking furiously. He soon lost sight of them.

Meyer crept forward slowly and surely. Keeping as low as possible he was heading back the way he had came. He had tied a handkerchief around the wound on his left forearm. It hurt badly and the handkerchief was stained red, but at least it was only a graze.

As a German Officer in the SS, Meyer knew he would be a great prize to the Americans if they captured him. It was a prize he didn't want them to have. He was surprised and shocked to find the Allied forces so far in land already. But the news from the local SS headquarters at Fort Carré had not been good. The Americans had gained a foothold and were moving fast. If he were on the wrong side of their lines, he would have to be careful.

With a last explosion, the noise of gunfire and shouting had slowed and stopped. But the woods were not silent. Meyer could hear dogs barking.

The sound of those wretched dogs barking made him smile. They had obviously been left behind. Their mistress was dead and no one cared about them. Their pampered lives would be over. He wondered how long they would survive foraging in these woods.

He was sure now that the Countess was dead. When he saw the way she fell after that French oaf had dropped her, he had known his aim had been good. The bloody patch on her dress confirmed it. And when he saw her on the ground she had looked completely lifeless.

Meyer had just passed the burnt out wreck of the old Renault when the barking got distinctly louder. He paused for a moment. Were they looking for him? He drew his pistol from its holster and looked back. It didn't matter. He would be at the road soon and the Untersturmführer and his men would soon despatch the wretched beasts. He hurried on, the barking getting louder by the second. He ran the final few steps to the road.

"Untersturmführer! Untersturmführer!"

Meyer came to a sudden stop in the road. The half-track was gone. So was the truck. The road was empty.

Bismarck and Tirpitz burst out of the trees behind him. Barking and snarling madly they both leapt at him. He turned at the last instant and fired his pistol but missed. Both dogs hit him like missiles and he was bowled over.

Fists, knees and boots competed with tooth and claw as man and dogs rolled around in the grass. Meyer still held his pistol in one hand, but Bismarck had his wrist while Tirpitz went for his throat. Meyer held Tirpitz at bay with his free hand while he kicked at both dogs with his feet. With jaws snapping only inches away he finally heaved Tirpitz aside and punched at Bismarck in the head again and again. For an instant, Bismarck released his hold and Meyer wrenched his bloody hand free and jumped to his feet. At that moment Tirpitz leapt at him again, his mouth gaping as it went for the hand holding the pistol.

There was a gunshot and a yelp. Meyer was again felled, and this time his pistol was knocked from his grasp. But Tirpitz also fell in a heap.

Now there was one dog, snarling and growling as it inched forward, one man, alive, bleeding but undaunted, and one Luger pistol, lying on the road between them.

Meyer dived for the pistol and Bismarck leapt at him. Both came together close to the pistol, but with Meyer reaching for the ground his body was lower and his neck was within reach. Bismarck caught him and his teeth sank in.

Two jeeps rushed across the fields and farmland towards La Napoule. It was the same route they had taken on their way from Théoule-sur-Mer. And as before, the only people they saw were French farmers who waved and shouted at them in joy. But this time André would shout back, and even Stephane would wave.

The two Frenchmen were in the same jeep as Captain Taylor. The Countess was with Lieutenant Wellman in the other jeep. Both jeeps were now overloaded, and everyone hung on as they bounced over the uneven ground. The bouncing caused Stephane to moan and swear whenever they hit a larger bump. It probably wasn't doing the Countess much good either. But at least they were all alive and they had avoided bumping into any German forces. Taylor would be happier when his wounded passengers got proper treatment. The rather basic field dressings they had might be enough for Stephane, but the Countess needed more professional help, and soon.

André must have read his thoughts. "I know people at La Napoule!" he shouted above the sound of the jeep's motor. "There is a small hospital there! The doctor who runs it has worked with us before! You can leave us there and be on your way!"

"The Countess and your friend need proper treatment!" Taylor shouted back.

"And they will get it! Do not worry, Captain! There are no Germans in La Napoule! They will be safe there! And soon even Antibes will be free again!"

Brannigan glanced across at Taylor as he drove the jeep. And Valdez and Goodman also waited for his reply. Taylor finally nodded.

"Alright! We'll stop in La Napoule! But I need to contact Division and let them know what's going on!"

There were two bodies lying quietly and still on the road. One was that of a dog, the other was a man. Meyer lay on his back, his throat ripped out and his eyes staring. His pistol lay on the ground only inches from his hand. Nearby, Bismarck sat by his fallen brother, nuzzling him and whimpering. Tirpitz made no response. The bullet had entered through his gaping mouth and had passed through his head. With a final growl and yap, Bismarck turned and bounded away.

### 

### Chapter Six

### Antibes 1948

Sister Marie-Thérèse looked at Captain Taylor thoughtfully. "Considering your original reason for searching for this woman, Captain, you seemed rather unaffected by your first meeting with her."

Captain Taylor nodded. "Love is like that. Someone you hardly notice or think about when you first see them turns out to be the one person you have been looking for all your life."

"And you believe that of this woman?"

He smiled. "It took a while. It wasn't until we stopped at La Napoule and I helped to carry her in to the small hospital there that I even noticed what she looked like."

"She was blonde and she was beautiful." Sister Marie-Thérèse filled in the description without hesitation.

Taylor stared at her for a moment. He couldn't remember telling her what colour hair the Countess had. "Yes," he said simply. "She was also very ill."

"So you stayed with her in La Napoule?"

"I didn't have any choice. When I managed to get through to my division HQ, I came clean and told them the lot. I thought they would chew me out, and at first they did. But when the knowledge of who Trojan was filtered through, I was told to stay right there with her until she could be moved. It was strange, really. All I wanted to do was to get back and do my job. And the only thing Lieutenant Wellman wanted to do was stay right there with her. Instead I stayed and he was ordered back with the men. Even André left. Only Stephane remained in the hospital. He couldn't walk. I hardly saw him. I spent all my time with Helga."

"And that was when you fell in love her?"

He nodded again. "I stayed close to the Countess for two days. I sat next to her bed almost all of each day. And I slept on a cot in the same room at night. For the first day she hardly moved after they got the bullet out. But then she became more restless. It was probably a mixture of delirium and drugs. She would moan and mutter in German. Sometimes she cried, other times she shouted. Even in the night. The nurses would hurry in to try and keep her quiet. A German voice would not have been well received by the other patients in the hospital.

"The doctor in charge there had wanted to keep her presence a secret. He was worried about reprisals against collaborators. And some of the staff were not too happy treating her either. I can't blame them really. The doctor told them she was a prisoner and I was her guard. They didn't know who she really was or what she had done. But they knew what the Germans had done to some of their friends and relatives. There was a lot of hatred waiting to well up. So I ended up looking after her. I would bathe her face when she became heated, and I would soothe and calm her when she was agitated. Sometimes I just held her while she slept.

"I was holding her like that on the morning of the third day when she awoke. She just opened her eyes and looked up at me. She said something and all I did was look down at her and smile like a fool. I didn't know any German. Then an army ambulance turned up and before I knew it she was gone and I was on my way back to my men. I never saw her again."

"Did you try and find her?"

"Yes. And I still am. I know she recovered, and I know she was questioned. I even know where she was questioned and by who. But then things get a lot fuzzier. The war moved on. We went into Germany, and then we found all the camps, and what she had told us turned out to be the tip of a very big iceberg. Her role as a spy for the Allies was quickly overshadowed by her role as a witness to atrocity. Even her escapades as a smuggler were forgotten. And once the proper investigations started she was moved around a lot, never staying in one place for long, and always there were more questions. Who had been in charge at the camp near her estate? Who were the men on his staff? Which division of the SS were involved? Were they all SS? How many trains came? How often? How many trucks in each train? Where were the pits? And how many were there? It must have been torment. But very soon she became just one witness among thousands. She got swallowed up with the rest and I lost track of her movements. By then the war was over and I was in Berlin. I tried to find her, I really did, but she just seemed to disappear altogether. Your Convent was my final lead."

"Ahh!" Sister Marie-Thérèse nodded. It was now her turn and there was a pause as Captain Taylor waited for her answer. She decided to delay a little longer.

"What happened to the young Jewish boy?"

"Jacob turned up at Moniqué's house with Bismarck later that first night. He had walked all the way back. Even then he thought everyone at the house would have been captured and killed. He was surprised when Moniqué opened the door. And he was even more surprised when she told him what had happened. He actually fainted."

There was another pause. Sister Marie-Thérèse finally sighed.

"You must understand, Captain, that many women come here for many different reasons. Some come merely because of their love for God. Others come seeking redemption. And some wish merely for solitude and isolation. What many of them share is a need for confidentiality. I would not break that confidence lightly."

"You can trust my discretion, Sister. I do know everything about her, after all."

"Yes." Sister Marie-Thérèse stared at him across the table. "You said when you began your story that you were in love with this woman, but that she was not in love with you. You said that you searched for this woman for peace of mind, not for marriage. So what exactly would that be?"

It was a fair question. Captain Taylor shifted his position uncomfortably on the hard chair and tried to ignore the pins and needles in his slowly awakening left leg. "I need to see her again. I need to see that she is well, and above all I need to say things to her, things I was too stupid and unable to say when she first awoke. I've even learned to speak German as a result of my protracted stay in Berlin, so this time I will have no excuses. I don't think anyone has spoken to her about the good things she did, about the risks she took and the help she gave to us."

"And you think she would be interested in these things? Do you think she seeks praise and gratitude?"

Taylor shook his head. "I'm not a fool, Sister. I told you that she didn't know me. She saw me only the once, and I doubt if she would recognise me. She was an arrogant and spoilt German Countess, she probably hasn't changed in that respect. She will probably tell me off and send me on my way with a flea in my ear."

"It is the result that I think you would prefer. You want her to scold you and berate you. It would mean that, after everything that has happened to her, she had survived intact. You want her to be arrogant and strong. What you don't want to see is a broken woman."

She had hit the nail on the head and Captain Taylor had no reply. For the first time since he had entered he lost his confidence and he looked like a guilty schoolboy found out by the teacher. Sister Marie-Thérèse didn't relent. Instead she opened him up even more.

"You have learned a lot about this woman, and each thing you have learned has made you want to know more. From a mere nuisance pulling you away from your duties, she has slowly become a person you wanted to know and be with. You have fallen in love with her from afar, and you did this after you met her. Each thing you learned made you realise how valuable she was and how foolish you had been not to have seen it in her eyes and in her face. You held her in your arms and yet you let such a wonderful woman slip you by. And that knowledge has caused you to search for her, to track her down until you could see her again. And why? Because you wish to have said the things you could not say, because you were ignorant, and you seek the opportunity to say them. You wish to rewind time and recapture that moment when she was weak in your arms. You said that it is not love that brings you here, but that is a lie. You are besotted by this woman."

"Is she here?"

It was a sudden demand.

"Why is it you, Captain Taylor? Why is it not Lieutenant Wellman? I would have expected him to seek her out."

"He's dead." It was said too quickly. Captain Taylor paused before repeating the statement more calmly. "David's dead. He was killed in the Ardennes during the Battle of the Bulge. Valdez too. The rest are okay. Brannigan's still in the army."

Sister Marie-Thérèse sighed again, but more sadly this time. "My first impulse is to deny you the information you seek. It would be better that way. But I believe it would be best that you know."

Captain Taylor's heartbeat quickened. It was the moment he had waited for, and at last she would give him the answers he sought.

"Yes, a woman you describe did come to us after the war. She came because she was restless and unsettled. There was nowhere she could call home or where she could find solitude. She was also filled with a deep bitterness that was matched only by her guilt. It was as if she took the whole of the blame for what her countrymen had done on her own shoulders. And mixed in that was the loss of a father she had loved but become distanced from. Like you she wished to rewind time and put right what she had not done. She wished to say things to her father that had for too long been left unsaid. It was impossible. So instead she sought to repay the debt her people owed.

"Sister Camellia was headstrong and a nuisance from the start. She came here to serve and to do good things, but even as a novice the constraints of our way of life in our house were not for her. She spoke when she shouldn't, she forgot her prayers, she interfered with others, and she never obeyed. For all of us here, Our Lord comes first. For Sister Camellia there was always another job or task she had to do. Our discussions were frequent and turbulent, and she often forced me to say many Hail Mary's afterwards. I should have cast her out, as her behaviour was affecting the other sisters. But I kept her here because I could see the pain within her. In the end the work we were doing in Cyprus seemed ideal for her. In fact Sister Camellia jumped at the chance."

Captain Taylor looked crestfallen. "She isn't here? She's in Cyprus?"

Sister Marie-Thérèse paused for a moment and stared off into space. It was as if she hadn't even heard him.

"With hindsight it is clear to me that I shouldn't have let her go. She was only a novice, but to go to Cyprus, to help all those people in the detention camps there who had so little, it was exactly what she wanted. She begged and I couldn't deny her."

"In Cyprus?" Captain Taylor pressed.

Her eyes focussed on him again. "Maybe I should explain and all will become clear. The British had been given control of Palestine after the First World War, and even during the Second World War, they limited immigration by Jews into Israel."

The penny dropped and Captain Taylor breathed out loudly and collapsed back into his chair. "Of course, the British Mandate of 1922. In 1939 they passed a law that limited immigration into Israel to 75,000 in ten years. It was grossly inadequate."

"Yes. There was a lot of unrest, particularly after the war. Many Jewish people felt that the attitude of the British did not help their attempts to escape the Nazi persecution in Europe. In fact the law you refer to came into force at the height of that persecution. It couldn't have been more badly timed, as it hindered many Jews from making a final escape before war trapped them. Many perished as a result."

"The British have given up their Mandate. Israel became an independent state in May." Captain Taylor spoke in a subdued voice. He already knew what was coming.

"Yes, but it is a little late now. Should I continue?"

He nodded.

"Sister Camellia went to Cyprus in 1946. It was at the height of the illegal immigrations when the Mossad Aliya Bet was smuggling people into Israel from all over Europe. Many of the ships they used were inadequate and unseaworthy. But they only needed to make one voyage. Unfortunately, the British, if they are anything, are efficient at naval engagements. Many of those ships were caught and their occupants were interned in detention camps in Cyprus. The conditions inside were not good. There were many volunteers, and Sister Camellia went to a camp in Caraolos near Famagusta. But she did more than care for the sick. When I heard what she was doing, I did many more Hail Mary's."

Captain Taylor shook his head and suppressed a smile. "She was smuggling again." It was a simply stated fact that he had known from the moment Sister Marie-Thérèse had referred to the British Mandate. What was it about the Countess and smuggling Jews? The thought was an unspoken question but Sister Marie-Thérèse answered it anyway.

"I suppose she couldn't help herself. She was a volunteer in the camp, and as a nun, a novice, she was considered as no more than an innocent, so she heard things. She was always quick witted, and she soon began to make contacts with Mossad. They had people in the camps who were training the refugees to be soldiers in the coming conflict. They know that their neighbours won't accept them in Palestine, so they are already preparing. But that is the future.

"What Sister Camellia learned she put to good use. She volunteered to pass messages from the outside, and soon she was meeting the ships and boats on the coast at night. She knew many languages, and with people coming from all over Europe, not all of whom could speak good Hebrew, she was an asset. Soon she was heavily involved in the smuggling operations and it wasn't long before the British began to suspect."

### Cyprus 1946

There was no moon that night. The sky was clear and the night was still warm after another hot day. Now the sound of the surf on the deserted beach was calm and soothing. A light flashed out at sea and another light answered it. Soon the shadowy outline of a small boat appeared close to the shore, and a moment later a figure jumped out of the boat and stood thigh deep in the surf. There was a handshake and a wave, and then the figure in the water began to push the boat back out to sea. Oars flashed and the boat moved away. With a final wave the man in the water turned and waded ashore.

From silence and calmness the beach now became a scene of agitation as another figure appeared from inland. Sister Camellia, dressed in a white nun's habit, rushed along the beach with her skirt hoisted up in a most unladylike fashion, her Rosary beads and crucifix jangling. And the army boots that adorned her feet also clashed with the uniform of religious service.

The man looked round, startled by a hoarse cry uttered in Russian.

"Yuri! Yuri! You are in danger! Hurry!"

Yuri smiled at the sight of Sister Camellia. But her warning didn't go unheeded.

"What is it, Sister? Why this panic?"

Sister Camellia slithered to a halt next to Yuri, her boots kicking up the white sand. She dropped her skirt and grabbed him by the shoulders. "The British are here! They know you are coming!"

He looked shocked. "Then why signal me ashore?"

"They have a patrol boat waiting nearby! They will board the merchant ship that brought you! We have to get you away from here!"

She pulled him forward, but Yuri shook his head after a quick glance along the beach revealed lights that pierced the darkness. "It's too late, Sister, they're coming."

Sister Camellia looked around for somewhere to hide. Up on a hill above the beach was a small house. "This way! You have to hide!"

She grabbed him with one hand and hoisted her skirt with the other and they ran up the beach together. Yuri questioned her all the way.

"How did they know I was coming?"

"Someone in the camp was overheard! Major Thompson is on his way and the roads are already blocked! I only just made it!"

Yuri swore. "Sorry, Sister, but my arrival tonight was supposed to go unnoticed!"

"I forgive your blasphemy, Yuri! But I have thought far worse on my way here! And I will have to say many prayers in penance tonight! But first you must be hidden!"

Two army trucks followed a jeep along the beach, their headlights lighting up the sand. They drew to a halt just below the hill and the soldiers spilled out.

Major Thompson climbed out of the jeep and saluted to the Sergeant who approached him.

"Have the men fan out and search the beach, Sergeant Atkins!"

"Yes, Sir!" The Sergeant saluted and turned and ran back to the trucks.

"All right you 'orrible lot! Spread out and search this beach! I don't want a single clam left unturned from the water to that there hill! Now move it!"

As the men began to form a line and cross the beach in a systematic fashion, Major Taylor leaned against the bonnet of the jeep. Still sitting in the jeep was another officer. Major Thompson spoke to him without taking his eyes off the searching men. "What do you think, Harrington?"

Captain Harrington let go of the steering wheel and scanned the hillside. "I think we'll have more luck inland. That house up on the hill, maybe."

"Yes, I think so too. But I have a feeling our quarry will have been warned."

It wasn't long before Sergeant Atkins returned. He stood to attention and saluted. "The beach is clear, Sir! But Smith and Williams found footprints going inland and up the hill!"

"Very well, Sergeant, then have the men follow. Search the area beyond the beach as far as the roadblocks. And bring the trucks. We'll meet you up on the hill."

"Yes, Sir!"

The Sergeant went to give the new orders to the men, and Major Thompson climbed back into the jeep.

"Alright, Harrington, let's go up and take a look at that house. Take your time, we aren't in any hurry."

The house had once been part of a farm. Now a wealthy family in Famagusta used it as a retreat in the summer and at weekends. Tonight it was empty. As the jeep drove up the road and parked outside the white walled house, Major Thompson wasn't surprised to see Atkins and some of his men gathered around a female figure in white. He smiled but Captain Harrington was less pleased.

"It's that bloody nun again!" he said in annoyance as he pulled the handbrake on with a wrench. "You should have let me arrest her this morning!"

"Arrest a nun?" Major Thompson shook his head. "Tut, tut, tut, shame on you, Captain!"

Harrington wasn't ashamed at all. "She's a trouble maker, Major! And you know she's working with the Israelis."

They got out of the jeep and walked towards the soldiers with the nun at their centre.

"You leave Sister Camellia to me, Captain. The Cypriots value their religion highly, and although we have the run of the place, this is still their country. I don't want the Pope excommunicating anyone."

"Yes, Sir."

Atkins met them halfway and saluted. "The footprints led this way, Sir! Two sets! And we found the lady when we got here! Say's she's praying and hasn't answered any questions!"

"That's alright Sergeant. You've done a fine job. Have the men take a few minutes rest while the Captain and I speak to the lady."

"Yes, Sir!" Sergeant Atkins turned and shouted to the men still loitering around Sister Camellia. "Alright you lot! Stop gawping and get back to the trucks!"

The soldiers moved away and Major Thompson and Captain Harrington came to stand next to Sister Camellia. They stood on either side of her as she faced out to sea. As Sergeant Atkins had said, she was praying, her fingers passing slowly from one bead to another as she silently mouthed the words of the Rosary as she held her open prayer book. Major Thompson paused for a moment to stare down at the sand and water stained hem of her habit before he spoke.

"I am sorry, Sister, but I must disturb you. If you don't mind?"

Sister Camellia stopped praying, sighed and closed her prayer book. "As you wish, Major," she replied in English. "What is it you wish to know?"

"Why are you here?"

"I am often here. It is quiet and peaceful, and the sound of the sea is calming. I feel closer to God in this solitude, surrounded by His skill at creation. I come here to pray, to do my penance and to wish for a more enlightened, tolerant and liberal future. Why are you here, Major?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Oh?"

"Yes. An insurgent. Someone who intends to cause trouble in the camps. Someone who will talk of freedom and escape when none are possible."

"All people deserve to be free."

"And they will be, all in good time."

"Some people are impatient. And what you are doing is wrong."

Thompson sighed. "I know your views, Sister. But the situation isn't that simple. Palestine is a powder keg waiting to go off. You think we should let all the people go just like that. But what about the Arabs and Palestinians who are already there? Where are they supposed to go?"

"They can live together, in peace."

Thompson now smiled. "Forgive me for saying this, Sister, but people are not that understanding or forgiving. There'll be war if we don't do this right, and that will lead to more suffering. Now, where is he?"

Sister Camellia looked away. "I don't know who you mean."

"That Mossad agent who landed tonight, the one who intends to organise the escape next week."

Sister Camellia glanced at the house briefly. It was swift but it told Thompson all he needed to know. He smiled again.

"Harrington, get Atkins and some men and take that house apart. Pull the floorboards up, everything."

Captain Harrington saluted gleefully. "Yes, Sir, Major."

Major Thompson watched Sister Camellia as the soldiers noisily broke down the door of the house and bustled in. There were shouts and crashes as furniture was moved aside, and the sound of stamping feet as men in boots ran up the stairs. Major Thompson noticed the sweat beading on her forehead. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and held it out to her.

"Are you hot, Sister?"

She took the handkerchief he offered and patted her brow and face. "It is a warm night, Major. Thank you."

She handed him back the handkerchief. Thompson took it and put it back in his pocket.

"It must be warm in that habit," he said as he glanced down at her long and full skirt. "Do you ever wish for something lighter or shorter?"

"It would not be proper."

"No, I suppose not," he said as he began to walk around her gazing down at the skirt. "But surely your skirt is more full, heavier, than those of your sisters?"

"It is the same, Major. None of us is favoured any more than another."

"Hmm, it seems fuller to me. Bulkier."

Sister Camellia looked him in the eye as he came to stand in front of her. "I find your interest in my clothing both inappropriate and unnerving, Major. Please cease this interest at once."

"Unnerving?" Major Thompson asked innocently with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. I am a lone woman, isolated, and surrounded by you and your men. You could do anything to me. The habit I wear is my only safeguard, and you hint at disrobing me."

Major Thompson now feigned shock. "I meant no such thing, Sister! Forgive me for alarming you! Here!" he held out his hand and took her arm. "Let me escort you to my jeep. You could be away from here in an instant. I will have Sergeant Atkins drive you back to your Convent in Famagusta straight away."

He saw the look of brief confusion in her eyes as she attempted to back-peddle. "No, Major, I wouldn't want to put you out—"

"It would be no bother at all. The Captain and I will travel back with the men in the trucks. Please." He pulled on her arm.

Sister Camellia stood her ground stubbornly. "No, no, it is not necessary, Major. I over reacted, please forgive me. I will be quite all right going back to the Convent on my own, I assure you."

"A lone woman?" he echoed her previously spoken fear.

She smiled sheepishly. "I exaggerated. It is often easy to hide behind my femininity. I am sorry."

"You wish to stay out here on your own?"

"I have my prayers to finish. The solitude helps my concentration."

He let go of her arm. "As you wish."

The noise from the house continued as the search neared its end. Major Thompson ignored the noise and the house as he watched Sister Camellia open her prayer book once more.

"I know what you're doing."

She looked back at him in puzzlement. "Excuse me?"

"I know what you're doing, Sister."

"I don't know what you mean."

Major Thompson lost his good-humoured nature. "Oh, yes you do. Now don't play games with me, Sister. We are both far too intelligent for that. You are here because that man was going to be here. You are either here to meet him, or to warn him that we were coming. I'll wager my army pension that it was the latter."

"This is preposterous!"

"Is it? You haven't moved a step since we arrived. You're hot and sweating even though the night is no more than balmy. There were two sets of footsteps leading up here and yet only you remain. Oh, yes, I know what you do, Sister. And not for the first time. You are a pain in the neck. And do you know why? Because I can't touch you. You are a nun; if I arrest you there will be a stink that will reach London and Rome. So my hands are tied, as you know damn well. But I can arrest the man you shield."

Sister Camellia looked stunned. "You are mad, Major! The sun has touched your head! How can you accuse me of such things?"

"Then prove me wrong! March away in disgust!" He stepped aside. "Go on!"

Sister Camellia hesitated, and Major Thompson smiled in triumph as he stepped closer to her. He leaned forward until his face brushed the edge of her hood.

"I will make a bargain with you tonight, Sister," he whispered menacingly. "I will leave with my men empty handed. In return you will leave Cyprus. Immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

Sister Camellia paused for a moment and swallowed. Then she nodded her head.

Major Thompson stepped back. "Good."

The noise from the house subsided as the men began to file out. Captain Harrington came forward.

"He's not in the house, Major."

"No, I didn't think he was. But I know where he is."

"Where?"

Major Thompson glanced at Sister Camellia before turning and looking out to sea. "On that ship. He must have been warned before he came ashore."

"But what about those footprints up the beach?"

"Foot prints are foot prints, Captain. Anyone could have left them. It's a good night for lovers. Forget them."

"You could be right, Sir, but we don't know for sure."

"We will do when HMS Saracen catches up with that ship."

"HMS Saracen?" Sister Camellia asked innocently.

"A corvette off shore. As you see, Sister, we are well prepared tonight." He turned to Captain Harrington. "Secure the house, we're pulling out."

Harrington saluted. "Yes, Sir!" He turned away. "Sergeant! Gather the men! Have that house secured! Bring up the trucks! We're pulling out!"

As the soldiers hurried to obey, Major Thompson tipped his head to Sister Camellia.

"Good night, Sister. And keep safe. You never know who you might meet on the road, and I wouldn't want you to come to any harm."

"I shall be quite safe, Major, I have my guardian angel to protect me. But I thank you for your kindness. Good night."

With a brief smile and another bow, Major Thompson turned on his heel and walked quickly back to his jeep. As soon as he got in he raised his hand and waved it forward and the engines burst into life. The small convoy set off down the road and the house was soon left behind.

Captain Harrington steered the jeep as he turned to look at the Major. "Why did you let her go, Sir?"

"She's leaving Cyprus, Captain. And having her out of my hair was more important than catching that Israeli agent."

"Do you think she was shielding him?"

"Wouldn't be surprised if he was under her skirt all the time."

Harrington glanced across at Major Thompson, unsure whether he was joking or not.

Back at the house, alone at last, Sister Camellia sighed and lowered her prayer book.

"You can come out now, Yuri."

Fingers curled round the hem of her skirt and raised it. Yuri rolled out with a gasp. He was hot and sweaty, but he was also laughing.

"You are amazing, Sister! You must marry me now! I insist!"

She began rearranging the skirt of her habit. "You should stop asking me, Yuri! I am a nun!"

"A _novice_!" he clarified sitting up. "I asked at the Convent on my last trip. Anyway, now that I have seen what an unusual choice of underwear you have on, you have to marry me!"

She leaned over, grabbed him by the head and pushed him to the ground. "My underwear is none of your business! Now get up, Yuri! We have work to do and we have wasted enough time as it is!"

Yuri laughed again as he scrambled to his feet. "You are a hard woman, Sister, but I love you none-the-less!"

They walked up the road and left the house behind them. Yuri looked around.

"Where is the car?"

"There is no car. Roadblocks, remember?"

He nodded with a sigh. "It will be a long walk."

"Good. It will calm you down."

He looked across at her. "You don't like it when I get personal, do you, Sister?"

"You shouldn't toy with me. It isn't right."

"I don't toy with you. You are a very beautiful woman, and you are wasted in that outfit. You are wasted in that Convent. You should be free like all of us."

She glanced at him and smiled. "As your people are free?"

He nodded in understanding. "Yes, I have work to do. And now that the British know I am here it will be a lot harder." He suppressed a smile. "It was rather difficult to hear much from my hiding place, so tell me, Sister, what exactly did that British Officer say to you?"

She told him, and when she was done, Yuri was stopped in mid stride.

"He knew I was there?" he asked in shock.

Sister Camellia stopped and turned to face him. "Of course he knew you were there! He's not a fool!"

"And he did nothing?"

"He asked me to leave." She shrugged. "He _told_ me to leave."

Yuri looked at the ground. "You can't leave. We need you."

There was a pause that was tinged in sadness. Sister Camellia went back to Yuri.

"They know what I'm doing, Yuri. I am compromised. Any information I bring to you from now on must be considered suspect. They will follow me. They will watch me. Maybe they have already begun to do this. The breach in our security tonight could be down to me. I am endangering you and the others. It's over, Yuri. It's for the best."

Yuri looked up and grasped her hand. "Come with me. When the break out takes place you could slip away easily." She began to shake her head so he simply spoke faster. "No one would notice! You could do it, Sister! There will be confusion and panic! No one will be interested in you anymore! Come back to Israel with me! Please, Sister!"

From shaking her head, Sister Camellia began shouting him down. "No! No! No! Stop it, Yuri!"

He finally did as she asked, the despair clear in his eyes. She thought about relenting, but she couldn't.

"I love you dearly, Yuri. But I am a nun, a Christian, a Gentile. You have work to do, important work. Here in Cyprus it is just the beginning. When you get home the real work will begin."

"You could be with me!" he said with feeling.

"It is not my place, and you know it!"

"You think you will face prejudice from my people after what we have endured? And after what you did? You worked with the French Resistance in the war! You smuggled Jews across Europe from Germany itself, how could you think that?"

"And how did you think I got away with it, Yuri? I'll tell you how! Because I am German! And not just any German! My father was a General in the Wehrmacht! He helped plan Operation Barbarossa, the invasion of Russia in 1941! And later he was on Hitler's staff in Berlin! He was one of the masterminds behind the massacre of your people, Yuri!" She suddenly pulled back the hood from her head, revealing her short cropped blonde hair. "I will be a German woman with Nazi connections living among Jews as the wife of a Jewish leader! Are you mad, or just stupid?"

She uttered the final question in German and Yuri was left cold. He just stared at her when she had finished. Helga expected to see that look in the eyes of others, but seeing it in his eyes hurt her deeply. More deeply than she had imagined. But it was a test that had to be applied. She turned away and pulled her hood back into place. She walked away without looking back. Slowly, Yuri followed her, quickening his pace until he was next to her again. Neither of them spoke. They were both too ashamed.

### Antibes 1948

Sister Marie-Thérèse sighed in a rather sad fashion. "The very next day I received word that Sister Camellia was leaving Cyprus and would return to the Convent. But it was already too late."

There was something final about that statement that worried Captain Taylor. "What do you mean?"

"In the past, Sister Camellia faced danger from the Nazis in her own country and here in France. In Cyprus the British would never have considered having her shot even though they could have proved her involvement conclusively. They merely asked her to leave. No, as she well knew, the risk she faced was from the very people she was trying to help. She was a German woman, helping Jewish refugees who had come from slums and ghettos where some of the worst acts of violence outside of the camps had been committed. They hated the Germans even if many of them were German themselves. Sister Camellia was wise enough to know this. She hid her origins, even though it wasn't in her nature. But once her true nationality was revealed, her nun's habit did not protect her."

Captain Taylor now felt completely cold. He just stared at Sister Marie-Thérèse as she continued.

"You must forgive them, Captain. They had endured the worst that man can inflict on man, they had been caught at the moment of their escape, even in sight of Israel itself, and now they were back in another camp. And although this was not a death camp, the barbed wire and wooden huts made it look the same. It is not quite clear how the others in the camp became aware of her true nationality. Maybe in his sadness and shame Yuri had spoken of it to someone he thought he could trust; someone in whom that trust was misplaced. I don't exactly know who did it or why, but they came to her that very night with wooden clubs."

"I don't want to know," Captain Taylor said quickly. "Not the details. She's dead, isn't she?"

Sister Marie-Thérèse nodded solemnly. "The people who did it were apprehended and punished. The refugees in the camp were embarrassed and dismayed by the display of violence towards a woman of God. And those she had worked with made them feel worse by explaining what she had done during the war. Some of the people wrote to me afterwards expressing their regret. I have many letters that you could read if you wish, even ones from the British passing on their condolences. Do you wish to see them?"

He shook his head and didn't reply.

"What happened is tragic, ironic, but I believe it was what she would have wished, a final release. I'm sorry, Captain. I did say that my first thought was to hide the truth, but you would only have gone on searching. It is best that you stop and go on with your life. It is for this reason that I have told you this. I'm sorry, Captain, I see that this has shocked you deeply. Do you wish another drink? Some more tea?"

"No." He picked up his hat from the table, his fingers trembling. "I've taken up enough of your time, Sister. I should be leaving." He stood up shakily, his half numb leg almost giving in. He suddenly wanted to leave and be away from here; from the Convent that had filled him with such hope of success but now felt empty and cold.

Sister Marie-Thérèse also got to her feet. "As you wish."

Captain Taylor left in subdued silence. Sister Marie-Thérèse watched him go and then stood by her large desk as she thought for a while. Finally she came to a decision and picked up the receiver of the phone on her desk.

### Chapter Seven

### Antibes 1948

Antibes bustled with life. It was summer and the sky was bright and blue. The sun was hot and people wore light clothing. There were many holiday people in the town and the traffic matched the crowds at the marina. In the Place Massena the Château Grimaldi was now bedecked in French flags as if in a taunt at the previous residents. There was hardly any sign of the recent occupation and life now went on in typical Gallic fashion.

Captain Taylor didn't notice any of it. His arrival had been marked by an excitement, now he felt only a depression. He walked from the Convent through the town, brushing passed people who looked at his uniform in curiosity. No one cheered him or hailed him as a liberator. Those days were already long gone. Captain Taylor didn't notice and didn't care. He also didn't care how he ended up at a café by the marina, and he also didn't remember ordering his coffee. It was still un-drunk and had gone cold by the time a well-dressed man with jet-black curly hair took the seat next to him at the table.

It took awhile for Captain Taylor to notice his companion, and he was so deep in his thoughts that he probably wouldn't have done so if the man had not spoken.

"Did she tell you about Sister Camellia?"

The man spoke good English. Captain Taylor looked across at him and instantly recognised him. "I tried to find you, you know."

"I hid from you. Did she tell you?"

"Yes. How is Stephane?"

André laughed. "Stephane has a limp and walks with a stick. He still hates Germans. Someone tried to sell him a Volkswagen the other day and he chased him away with his stick." He waved at the waiter who nodded and brought him a cognac. He took a quick gulp before turning once more to Captain Taylor.

"Why are you here, American?"

"Because I am an idiot."

"An idiot who is in love with a dead woman?"

Captain Taylor lowered his head. "She's been dead for two years and I didn't even know."

"There are others that still live. This you already know. You have spent time asking my compatriots many questions, and you have learned much, and yet you still know nothing. You should visit the school at Juan-les-Pins. Moniqué works there. Some of the nuns from the Convent also take classes. There is one among them that might interest you."

As Captain Taylor stared at him, André downed his drink, threw some coins on the table and got to his feet. He was about to leave when Taylor called to him.

"How did you find me?"

"A friend telephoned me." André turned and walked rapidly away. In a moment he had been swallowed up in the throngs of people on the promenade.

The school at Juan-les-Pins was old. The buildings were in stone with wood panelling inside that made every sound echo. As Captain Taylor walked inside the floors creaked. He took off his hat as he walked passed rows of coats piled on hangers. They were small coats. He paused by the doorway to one of the classes. The top half of the door was a glass window, and inside he could see the familiar small tables and chairs with paintings on the wall, a globe and the large blackboard with chalked words in French at the far end. Children of about eight or nine years filled the class, girls and boys, their concentration on the woman who wrote on the blackboard. The teacher smiled at him. Captain Taylor smiled back and then moved on.

There was something about primary, or elementary schools that never left you. They instantly felt familiar, and yet far too small. Everything seemed to have shrunk. It was the feeling he had when he had gone back to his own school. It hadn't changed size of course; it was just that he was a lot larger.

He came to the end of the corridor. There was another that went off to the right, but his attention was caught by a set of double doors that faced him. Again the top half of each door was glazed. Inside he could see a hall with climbing bars and beams. In the middle of the hall was a wooden vault with a heavily worn material covering the top. A noise made him turn and look down the side corridor. It was a scraping noise that was caused when a large Alsatian dog shuffled to its feet. It must have been lying down outside the door to another classroom that was reached by this corridor.

Captain Taylor stared at the dog. The dog stared back, it's tail wagging lazily.

There was the sound of a bell and the door to the classroom opened. Noise spread though out the school as all the children emerged from their last class of the day in joyful freedom. School was over and it was time to go home, and to play. The corridors filled with children who stroked and patted the dog as they passed it. The dog wagged his tail more energetically and snuffled at the children who went by. Captain Taylor backed against the double doors to get out of the way as the children rushed by him. There was confusion and the rush of feet, coats were grabbed from hooks and there was a constant babble of words and shouts.

And then they were gone.

Captain Taylor stepped forward. He could hear voices in French. He looked along the short corridor to the doorway where the dog still waited. A young man appeared with a child at his feet. It was a small boy who was far too young for school. The boy instantly went to the dog and pulled on its ears. The dog licked his face in return. A young woman now emerged from the classroom. She was speaking to the young man in French.

Captain Taylor knew exactly who they were, and yet he just stood there and watched as Jacob picked up his son and held him in his arms. Moniqué waved to someone inside the classroom and bid her farewell, then she looped her arm through Jacob's and they walked towards him.

As they passed him, Captain Taylor nodded in greeting. They both smiled brightly at him as if they knew who he was and why he was here. Moniqué even giggled. He smiled back, said nothing, and watched them walk down the corridor as they whispered to each other. They went outside and down the steps, and then, like the children, they were gone.

Someone else emerged from the classroom. It was another man. He was taller, older, with a Slavic look about him. He looked at Taylor with suspicion, and he instantly warned the one inside of his presence.

"Sister, there is an American soldier here waiting for you." He spoke in English, his accent more American.

A slim and elegantly beautiful blonde haired woman emerged from the classroom. She was wearing a simple skirt and blouse, a cardigan draped over her shoulders, and she used a stick to steady herself. She paused in the doorway and looked at Captain Taylor.

"It's alright, Yuri. Moniqué told me he was on his way here. You better leave us."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure. Go on now. I will meet you later at Moniqué's house."

Yuri nodded and walked passed Captain Taylor, still eyeing him with distrust. Captain Taylor still said nothing. He was too busy watching the blonde woman.

They were now alone in the school, apart from the dog that now sprawled at the feet of the woman. She looked down at the dog and prodded it back into life with her stick.

"Get up, Bismarck, you lazy bones! If your brother were here he would make you run!"

Bismarck climbed to his feet with a yawn and nuzzled her, his tail wagging. In return Helga reached down and began to stroke and pat him

"Yes! Yes! You big puppy! I missed you too!" she told him. "Now get a move on! Come on!"

Helga urged Bismarck forward and came towards Captain Taylor. She used the stick heavily, as if she needed it. "Walk with me, Captain, and say what you have to say."

Captain Taylor nodded and fell in step beside her as they walked along the corridor passed the other classrooms. They were all now empty.

"Did Sister Marie-Thérèse tell you I was coming?" he asked. It was the first thing he had said.

"No. She telephoned André and he telephoned Moniqué. She told me."

So they did know who he was. "It was André that told me to come here."

"Yes. I told him too."

"Then you know who I am and why I am here?"

"Everyone in Antibes knows why you are here. You have been asking questions for days. Even Oberst Riner would have found you out."

Captain Taylor smiled. "He survived, you know. He's in Berlin, working with the French in their Sector."

They were now at the entrance to the school. She paused and looked up at him. "I'm glad," she said. She looked at him more closely. "I remember you. You were at the hospital."

He nodded. "Yes, at La Napoule. I helped look after you."

Helga instinctively placed a hand to her midriff as if she could still feel the pain. She withdrew it quickly and leaned on her stick. "Take my hand, Captain. I need help with steps."

He took the hand she offered him and they walked down the steps from the school entrance and out into the afternoon sunshine. Captain Taylor kept his eyes on her every step of the way as they crossed the playground together. He couldn't believe that she was really there after all that time. He could smell her now that she was so close to him, it was a delightful fragrance of some sweet flower. And he felt the glow from her as her hair shone in the light. But the stick and her need for support worried him.

"They hurt you badly, didn't they?"

"They broke my hip, several ribs and cracked my skull, but I am renowned for having a thick head. I recovered. The British helped a lot. Major Thompson had me airlifted out on an RAF transport. I went to hospital in Marseilles. I recovered well as you can see, but like Stephane, I limp. It pleases him greatly."

Bismarck waited for them at the side of the road. There was little traffic and most of the people outside the school were parents recovering their children. Most of them had already gone, but those that had remained to talk idly, nodded as the American soldier and teacher went through the school gate. For some reason the hand Helga had offered him at the steps had looped its way through his arm and now they continued in that way, arm in arm. But she still leaned heavily on the stick. Bismarck now followed them lazily, his tongue hanging out.

Captain Taylor held his hat in his free hand. He felt the sea breeze in his hair. He watched the breeze ruffle her hair, creating silver wisps that danced briefly.

"Why did they all hide from me if they knew I was here asking questions?"

"They are very protective."

"Was Yuri protective?"

She glanced at him. "Yes. He was most upset at what happened. He blamed himself for a long time. But he knows it wasn't his fault."

"He's in love with you."

She laughed briefly. It seemed to fill her whole face. "Hah! Yuri is an old friend. He is only visiting."

"But he _is_ in love with you."

"Once, but not anymore. That is all in the past. Yuri is married now like Jacob and Moniqué. And like them he has children. But why are you jealous of him, Captain?"

"Because I love you."

She didn't flinch at the statement, and Captain Taylor was surprised at how easily he had made it. But he had to add something.

"Sister Marie-Thérèse thinks I am foolish. Do you think I am foolish?"

"Do you have a car?"

It wasn't a question he expected. "No. I came by taxi."

"And you let it go?"

"Yes."

"Then Sister Marie-Thérèse was right; you are a fool. Yuri will have gone with Moniqué and Jacob in their car, so now we must wait for the bus. The stop is just here."

They sat down together on the small bench by the stop. Bismarck threw himself down next to Helga and sprawled out. She glanced down at him.

"Lazy boy! You're getting fat! I blame Moniqué; she's too soft with you! You got into bad ways while I was away!"

She sat back on the bench. They were still arm in arm. Captain Taylor liked it that way.

Helga put her stick down on the bench next to her. "Where are you staying, Captain?"

"A small hotel in Antibes," he replied. "Nothing extravagant."

She nodded. "I could once afford to lease an entire Château. It was just down the road a ways. Now I stay at the Convent."

"Yuri called you Sister. Are you still a nun?"

She turned to him. "It would be easy to say yes and send you on your way." She looked away again. "But then I would be the fool."

They sat in silence for a moment as the odd car rumbled passed. Then Helga spoke again.

"I was once a Countess with an entire estate, money, horses, servants, anything and everything. I was spoilt and arrogant. Then my private and cosseted world died a gruesome death. Now I have only Bismarck. Even Tirpitz has gone." She sighed. "I live in the Convent because Sister Marie-Thérèse allows me too, and because I have no where else. In return I work in the school. I teach English. I am not a nun, no more am I a novice either. They call me Sister because it's still safer than calling me Helga."

"Surely the time of reprisals has long gone?"

"Grief lasts a lifetime, Captain. It is best to be safe. And in any case, I have no love or attachment to my former life. I am neither German nor French. I am certainly not a Countess."

"Doesn't the estate still belong to you?"

"When my father was killed it was appropriated by the Nazis and after the war things got confused over ownership. Part of the problem is that I am also officially dead." She turned to him. "I can blame you Americans for that. It was decided that I should be dead for my own protection."

Captain Taylor laughed. "I know about that, and I'm sorry. But I am sure it could be put right."

"I told you, I have no interest in my former life. It would bring me only sadness to return."

He felt that sadness now. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed before or made light of what happened. I know what your father did and why he died. I think he was a good man who believed in his country and knew what was happening was wrong."

She squeezed his arm. "Yes, I know this too, and you don't need to apologise, Captain. My being officially dead is funny. I have been dead twice now, once as the Countess, and once as Sister Camellia. I am making a habit of it, you might say."

He smiled and then a light went on in his mind. "Of course! That's the scent I can smell in your perfume!"

"Camellias?" she confirmed. "Yes, I have always liked their scent. It is why the name was so appropriate. But to get back to what we were talking about, I am happy here. And staying here is the only thing that is important to me. Do you understand?"

She was looking at him intently. He looked back at her equally intently. "Yes."

She squeezed his hand again. "Good! I wouldn't want you thinking I would be the happy wife living in Little Rock."

"Of course not! Even though Little Rock is a very nice place."

She eyed him a little more suspiciously. "You aren't from Little Rock, are you?"

"No. New Jersey."

"Would you like to return there? Have you a family? Brothers? A mother?"

"I have a sister and my mother and father are still living. And yes, I would like to go back now and again. I think I owe them a visit although I do keep in touch. But my life is elsewhere. Or I would like it to be."

"You are anything if not determined, Captain." She hugged his arm and then patted his shoulder with her free hand. "And you are not foolish. But I would be if I turned you away. You know all there is to know about me. I am laid bare before you, and there is no embarrassment in hidden secrets. And I have no one else. So I ask you, come with me to dinner at Moniqué's house tonight. You will be made welcome."

"I'd love to. But what should I call you? Sister?"

She thought for a moment. "Sister would be best in public, at least for a while. But you can call me Helga when we are alone. But what should I call you?"

"My name is Robert. Robert Taylor."

"Like the actor?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, like the actor!"

"You don't like that?"

"It's just that everyone I meet mentions it."

"It is a good strong name. I like it." She held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Robert Taylor."

He smiled and took her hand. "Pleased to meet you—" he paused a moment, "—Sister."

They shook hands. And as soon as they let go, Helga patted his shoulder again.

"Good! And now that the introductions are over, you can begin your courtship proper. I shall be marking you on both oral skills and presentation."

He laughed. "Trust me to fall in love with a school teacher!"

She leaned closer to him. "And a very bossy one, to boot! I shall not be easy to court, Robert, so be warned. And there will be others who will watch eagerly and with great fascination."

"Is it too late to change my mind?"

"Far too late! Our bus approaches! Help me up, Robert! Pass me my stick! And wave your hat to the driver or he may not stop! Bismarck! On your feet, you fat dog!"

They got up together. Captain Taylor flagged down the approaching single deck bus, and despite her independent nature, Helga did need her stick and his help in boarding the bus when it stopped. Bismarck jumped on after them. And when they were safely in their seats, with Bismarck under it, there was a grinding noise as the driver put the old bus into gear and it slowly rumbled off along the road to Antibes.

