Look Behind You (The Order of the Silver Star) by Elisabeth Wolfe
Authors: Elisabeth Wolfe
Ads: Link
back corner of that drawer.
He took another couple of silent deep breaths to calm himself. He could choose not to voice his prayers of thanks or save them for the covering noise of the shower. But then he smirked—the Gestapo wouldn’t be getting what they wanted from this bug in any case, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t get anything at all.
He went to look out the window and started whistling the William Tell Overture.
#####
5 Oberscharführer was the SS equivalent of Feldwebel or sergeant.
#####
*****
The news that reached Chris for the first two months of 1941 was all from North Africa, where the “Arizona State game” had begun in earnest. The British and Australians were having such success that Hitler dispatched Rommel to organize a counter-offensive. Otherwise, everyone’s attention seemed to be on Operation Barbarossa, including the SS. Chris knew the warlocks had to be up to something, but he hadn’t noticed any birds dying or anything like that, something that would suggest heavy-duty black magic at work. Not that he was an expert when it came to omens—he’d never been as interested in fairy tales as Matt had been when they were kids.
It surprised Chris, therefore, when a grim-faced Nimrod turned up at Luftwaffe headquarters in Paris on the afternoon of March 10 asking for him. “Onkel Johann?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Oma,” Nimrod replied. “She’s very ill—the doctors say she hasn’t long to live. I wouldn’t put five Marks on her even living the night. I’ve arranged leave for both of us.”
Chris nodded. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“No, no, you’re welcome to share my kit. But we need to leave right away.”
Chris nodded again, gave apologies where needed, and followed Nimrod to his car. They then drove in silence to a deserted airstrip, where a British courier plane was waiting for them.
Not until they were in the air did Nimrod look over at him with a slight smile. “Cuchulain tells me his contacts consider you most resourceful.”
Chris sagged back in his seat with a groan. “I dunno how the hell they even knew .”
“What, that you’d done something or that it was you?”
“Both.”
“Well, there may be time enough for that after the war. Though I rather think it was Cuchulain who deduced your hand in it. The three of us are the only ones this side of the Channel who know that our side knows what the warlocks are up to.”
Chris sighed. “So what’s all this about? Where are we headed?”
“London. The State Department finally had its last litter of kittens, and Frank Hamer’s coming over in the morning. We’re to help brief him on the mission.”
“ Gott sei dank . 6 We need help. The Rangers are no wizards, but….”
“They’re good men. That’s what we need.”
Chris nodded and let himself relax. “Bet Hoover never thought we’d be up against warlocks when he started this racket in ’32. Though why the hell he was more worried about the Japanese than the Mafia, I’ll never know.”
Nimrod chuckled. “It was Stimson’s idea, or so I’m told. Not being allowed to respond to Manchuria with more than a strongly-worded letter rankled, but President Hoover is a good Quaker and a gentleman, even if the Imperial General Staff aren’t. Director Hoover, on the other hand, saw a chance to get one over on the Army and Navy and soothe his paranoia all at once.”
“The Imperial General Staff probably aren’t testing cursed bombs on the Chinese, though.”
“No, Manchuria isn’t what we most need to worry about there,” Nimrod murmured absently, not looking at Chris.
Chris almost asked what he meant but thought better of it.
The next morning, rested and in his OSS uniform, Chris joined Nimrod for breakfast and then drove with him out to RAF Gatwick to meet Hamer. And seeing the tall lawman step off the plane, white Stetson firmly in place over his dark hair… well, it just made Chris smile. The
He took another couple of silent deep breaths to calm himself. He could choose not to voice his prayers of thanks or save them for the covering noise of the shower. But then he smirked—the Gestapo wouldn’t be getting what they wanted from this bug in any case, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t get anything at all.
He went to look out the window and started whistling the William Tell Overture.
#####
5 Oberscharführer was the SS equivalent of Feldwebel or sergeant.
#####
*****
The news that reached Chris for the first two months of 1941 was all from North Africa, where the “Arizona State game” had begun in earnest. The British and Australians were having such success that Hitler dispatched Rommel to organize a counter-offensive. Otherwise, everyone’s attention seemed to be on Operation Barbarossa, including the SS. Chris knew the warlocks had to be up to something, but he hadn’t noticed any birds dying or anything like that, something that would suggest heavy-duty black magic at work. Not that he was an expert when it came to omens—he’d never been as interested in fairy tales as Matt had been when they were kids.
It surprised Chris, therefore, when a grim-faced Nimrod turned up at Luftwaffe headquarters in Paris on the afternoon of March 10 asking for him. “Onkel Johann?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Oma,” Nimrod replied. “She’s very ill—the doctors say she hasn’t long to live. I wouldn’t put five Marks on her even living the night. I’ve arranged leave for both of us.”
Chris nodded. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“No, no, you’re welcome to share my kit. But we need to leave right away.”
Chris nodded again, gave apologies where needed, and followed Nimrod to his car. They then drove in silence to a deserted airstrip, where a British courier plane was waiting for them.
Not until they were in the air did Nimrod look over at him with a slight smile. “Cuchulain tells me his contacts consider you most resourceful.”
Chris sagged back in his seat with a groan. “I dunno how the hell they even knew .”
“What, that you’d done something or that it was you?”
“Both.”
“Well, there may be time enough for that after the war. Though I rather think it was Cuchulain who deduced your hand in it. The three of us are the only ones this side of the Channel who know that our side knows what the warlocks are up to.”
Chris sighed. “So what’s all this about? Where are we headed?”
“London. The State Department finally had its last litter of kittens, and Frank Hamer’s coming over in the morning. We’re to help brief him on the mission.”
“ Gott sei dank . 6 We need help. The Rangers are no wizards, but….”
“They’re good men. That’s what we need.”
Chris nodded and let himself relax. “Bet Hoover never thought we’d be up against warlocks when he started this racket in ’32. Though why the hell he was more worried about the Japanese than the Mafia, I’ll never know.”
Nimrod chuckled. “It was Stimson’s idea, or so I’m told. Not being allowed to respond to Manchuria with more than a strongly-worded letter rankled, but President Hoover is a good Quaker and a gentleman, even if the Imperial General Staff aren’t. Director Hoover, on the other hand, saw a chance to get one over on the Army and Navy and soothe his paranoia all at once.”
“The Imperial General Staff probably aren’t testing cursed bombs on the Chinese, though.”
“No, Manchuria isn’t what we most need to worry about there,” Nimrod murmured absently, not looking at Chris.
Chris almost asked what he meant but thought better of it.
The next morning, rested and in his OSS uniform, Chris joined Nimrod for breakfast and then drove with him out to RAF Gatwick to meet Hamer. And seeing the tall lawman step off the plane, white Stetson firmly in place over his dark hair… well, it just made Chris smile. The
Similar Books
