Betty snapped another picture of the old cathedral and repressed the urge to glance over her shoulder. She looked at Scott instead and, smiling, he took her hand, leading her further down the aisle to look at another of the stained glass windows. The cathedral had been here since 1421 and boasted the highest spire in Switzerland as well as some of the most beautiful windows found anywhere in the world. Betty almost felt like a genuine tourist as she skimmed through the brochure and then looked up to the endless height of the gallery. The contours of the room must make the choir sound truly otherworldly, she mused idly.
They'd been playing tourist all morning and Betty's feet were beginning to feel it. First came the bear pits, in use since the fifteenth century as defense for the city, then the famous Zytglogge clock tower which dated from the early thirteenth century. After those had come more sixteenth century fountains than Betty thought could possibly exist and finally the cathedral. Everything was beautiful, breathtaking, and unbelievably old. Under any other circumstances, Betty would have been fascinated, but the incident in the small hours of the preceeding night had her on edge. She glanced at Scott with something close to irritation. How could he seem so normal and nonchalant?
They discussed it fully after they'd gone back to bed. There was no way to know who had been at their door. It could have been anyone from a hotel guest mistaken about their room number to a spy intent on killing them both in their sleep. By the time Scott got to the door, their nocturnal visitor was long gone, the dark hallway outside their room utterly deserted and yielding no clues as to the identity of the intruder. Scott was inclined to shrug the whole incident off. If anyone had truly meant them harm, they would have been far more persistent. It was more likely that a guest was returning from a drunken party and got lost in the twisting corridors of the huge old hotel.
Still, you couldn't be too careful in this line of work and Scott found himself taking several long, slow surveys of their surrounding area as they walked all over the city. It looked natural, considering they were supposed to be tourists anyway, and Betty was holding up extremely well even though he sensed a slight nervousness lurking just below her relaxed surface. It was just one more reason for him to keep a calm, cool head, knowing if he put up a carefree facade, it would be easier for her to do the same. He turned to her now and smiled, leaning down so he could speak to her softly.
"You look tired, my dear. Perhaps you'd like to go back to our hotel and order room service for lunch?" he suggested with a suave smile belied by the impish glimmer in his eye that only she could see.
Betty bit back an amused smile. He sounded just like an elegant character from one of WENN's soap operas. "That would be wonderful," she admitted, grateful for a chance to rest.
"I wish I could join you, but I have an appointment I must keep," he continued as he took her arm and drew her to the main door of the church.
"Oh, yes, I'd almost forgotten," Betty answered brightly, though her heart lurched in her chest.
"I'll see you to the hotel and be back within an hour. Piece of cake." He shrugged in a manner that was somehow very French, though his verbal accents still left a lot to be desired.
They continued in silence on the remainder of the short walk to the hotel. They paused outside the main door.
"I'll leave you here. Get something to eat, then get some rest. All right, Juliette?" Tenderly, he kissed her forehead.
"Yes, Edouard," she answered meekly, the very picture of a submissive wife, though her eyes told him fiercely that he'd better come back in one piece...or else.
Scott smiled briefly, then tipped his hat and turned away, hands in his pockets and a tuneless whistle on his lips as he strolled down the street. Betty watched him go for just a moment before continuing on into the hotel. He was only going to get directions for the exchange, not to the exchange itself, she reminded herself sternly. There was no need for her to be this nervous. The time for that would come all too soon as it was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Scott strolled slowly down the ancient arcade: six kilometers of shops and restaurants that had been the center of trade in Bern for centuries. He'd managed to buy the small sprig of edelweiss for his lapel that would help his contact identify him in the busy marketplace. He wouldn't actually be meeting him now, but rather displaying himself so the other man would know he had arrived. It was a disconcerting feeling, knowing the other man could be watching him at any time, sighting him like a target while he remained virtually ignorant of the Nazi's identity.
He came upon the cafe where he was supposed to pause, then take a table at which today's edition of the local paper had been left for his perusal. He took a seat, then froze, chillingly certain that he'd been spotted by the spy. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come and he turned his attention to the newspaper in front of him and the tiny slip of paper he found inside inscribed in terse block letters.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"That's him," Carl surreptitiously nudged the older man beside him on the bench before lighting his cigarette.
The jolt of recognition that traveled through the other man was so powerful that his normally imperturbable exterior almost cracked.
"Are you certain?" the man known only as the Jackal insisted.
Carl nodded with impatience. "Of course. He looks exactly as he was described to us." His frustration with the Jackal increased with each passing minute. The man had only arrived in Switzerland a couple of days earlier and yet, somehow, he'd managed to be put in charge of this operation, an operation that by rights should have been headed by Carl. He'd worked long and hard to lead his own mission, and thereby curry greater favor in the Third Reich, and he greatly resented being replaced by another man not nearly as deserving. Their line of work might be bound up in the utmost secrecy, but the rumor mill still existed and he knew as well as everyone else that the Jackal had failed Germany and that this was his last chance to prove his worth. Carl was determined to see that that would never happen.
The Jackal looked down an Carl sneeringly. Snide little toad, he thought contemptuously as he sensed the other man's animosity. He knew he'd displaced the younger man, but his sense of his own superiority left no doubt in his mind that Carl was woefully incapable of completing the operation, while he, of course, was the ideal man for the job. Once this job was complete, the Nazis would see his true value and place him in the upper echelon of power where he deserved to be. The successful end to this mission had been his sole and ultimate goal...until now.
The Jackal looked across to the man now seated casually at the cafe table and his eyes gleamed with thoughts of revenge. Now he knew the mission could never be completed as originally planned. He couldn't knowingly transfer sensitive information to an Allied spy. But he could allow Carl to do so.
Yes, the Jackal grinned cunningly, and when he exposed Carl's ignorant treachery, he would capture Scott Sherwood single-handedly and reap all the benefits. Gleefully, he ticked them off mentally: rid himself of Carl's odious presence, expose an Allied spy plot, thereby gaining the favorable notice of the Reich, and best of all, gain vengeance on a man who had wronged him so sorely in the past that it still rankled like a fresh wound.
The Reich had very nearly been duped...would still be duped if not for his interference. Oh yes, they'd be grateful, he'd see to that, and he'd also see that Scott Sherwood would suffer before he died. The thought almost made him laugh aloud.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Unaware that he had reawakened the twisted passions of an old enemy, Scott slowly finished reading the newspaper. He left enough money to cover the cup of coffee he'd had, then stood to leave the cafe, carefully resisting the temptation to look around in an attempt to spot his contact. Chances were he'd already left anyway.
Casually, Scott made his way back to the hotel, window shopping along the way, and even stopping long enough to buy Betty a scarf. She had the door open before he could even get his key in the lock, having been anxiously watching out the window for his return. Her arms came around his neck and she kissed him soundly before pulling him inside.
"I'm so glad you're back," she breathed softly in English.
"So am I," he said, pleased with the greeting and anxious for a repetition. He bent and picked her up to kiss her again. When her feet were back on the ground, he smiled down at her. "I forget how short you are when you don't have shoes on."
Betty laughed in response. "Did you get the information?"
Scott nodded. "Mmmhmm. Piece of cake, just like I said."
"Well don't keep me in suspense," Betty prodded him. "Where? When?"
"The grounds of the Castle Allemendingen. Tonight at seven," he told her.
"Oh. Scott, I've been thinking," she began slowly.
"Uh-oh," he intoned.
"Very funny, Mr. Sherwood," she said wryly. "But don't you think I should go with you tonight? Just in case anything goes wrong..."
Abruptly, Scott shook his head. "That isn't part of the plan, and if there's one thing I've learned in working with Section N, it's that you always stick to the plan unless it becomes impossible to do so. Don't worry. You'll be perfectly safe here and I'll be safer if I'm not distracted by trying to watch out for you."
"You're right," Betty sighed heavily. "Just be careful. I don't want to have to catch that Lysander by myself tomorrow night."
"You won't. I promise." His eyes met hers earnestly for a moment before he grinned roguishly. "Now, guess what I bought for you in the Arcade."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Jackal leaned into the dark, recessed doorway of a vacant storefront across the street from the Gauer Schweigerhof and lit a cigarette. He'd tailed Sherwood here and intended to come back this evening after Scott left to keep his appointment with Carl. When Scott returned from collecting the information, the Jackal would by lying in wait for him, ready to pounce and exact revenge.
His nerves thrilled. He'd waited a long time for this opportunity and the strain of waiting even a few hours more was nearly unbearable. He was a patient man though, and knew that the revenge would be all the sweeter for the extended anticipation.
There was plenty to do to occupy him before the time came to end Sherwood's life. First he'd need to contact Hans, the third spy in their little network. The Jackal grinned with something close to affection. Now there was a boy who showed promise. Hans would follow his instructions blindly and to the letter. When the success of this mission brought the attention of Berlin upon him, he'd have to be sure that Hans' contributions wouldn't go unnoticed, although it would have to be clear that his role had been strictly as a subordinate.
He'd tell Hans that he'd discovered Carl meant to betray them all by passing information to a known Allied operative. The boy would believe him without question and would dispose of Carl exactly as ordered. The Jackal rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. This plan was shaping up to be a truly marvelous way to kill two birds with one stone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few hours later, Scott waited cautiously in the protective cover of a grove of trees at the Castle Allemendingen. His contact had yet to show himself in the little clearing and Scott grew impatient as the sun sank ever lower in the west. The walk here had been a long one, but he hadn't dared to take a taxi; the less people involved, the better.
His weight shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. Fifteen minutes late. What could be keeping him? Just as Scott was beginning to wonder if perhaps he'd read the note wrong, there was a rustling in the bushes on the other side of the clearing. Scott watched with bated breath as a short, stocky young man with dark hair entered the glade. He looked around intently, scanning the surrounding rim of trees for any signs of life.
Scott drew a deep breath and expertly pushed back his nerves. He'd been in a lot tighter spots than this, he reminded himself, and he probably would be again. As casually as possible, he left his concealed spot and stepped to the edge of the trees.
~*~*~*~
Hans watched from his vantage point as the two other men showed themselves in the clearing. He raked them both with a contemptuous glance. Traitors! They had no idea of the power of the Reich. If they did, they wouldn't be making this foolhardy attempt to undermine the plans of the greatest power the world had ever known.
He felt a rush of pride as he thought again of how the Jackal had entrusted this all-important part of their plan to him. The rifle he held was old and heavy, but a thoroughly reliable one of German manufacture. The perfect weapon with which to destroy the enemies of his homeland.
The two men were speaking softly now, too softly to be overheard from Hans' hiding place. Trading their poisonous Allied secrets no doubt! Let them talk, Hans thought with a sneer. They'd be dead soon enough, and unable to tell their tales to anyone.
~*~*~*~
Their coded phrases at last complete, Scott and Carl approached each other warily. The German extended a meaty hand, a tiny square of paper enfolded in his palm. Scott moved to accept it and resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his pants after touching the Nazi's fingers.
"Heil Hitler," the man pronounced in vehement undertones, his ferrety eyes darting all around the clearing.
Scott bit back a sneer. "Heil Hitler," he returned with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. They backed slowly away from each other, both reluctant to turn their back on the other man.
The bullet whizzed past Scott's ear, missing him by mere inches and causing him to duck sharply. He glanced over his shoulder from a crouched position, knowing the shot had come from behind, but unsure if he was the intended target. He looked back around to Carl and found the other man half-reclined on the ground, his eyes furiously blazing at him.
"You betrayed me," he hissed through clenched teeth, the bullet in his chest causing him to labor for each breath. "You don't work for the Reich." His hand moved relentlessly to his waistband and the gun he'd concealed there.
"Wait a minute! It's not me..." Scott began as the sick feeling that they'd both been grossly betrayed settled in.
Carl managed to wrest the pistol free of his waistband. The shot rang out before Scott had even drawn his gun.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Betty paced fretfully across the bedroom floor. She'd tried to lay down and rest while Scott was out, but her nerves were frayed and sleep eluded her. "He's late." The words chased themselves around her brain again and again. He should have delivered the decoded message to the little clock shop around the corner, the owner of which was an Allied sympathizer who operated a wireless to relay messages to others with similar viewpoints, and been back here by now.
Her arms crossed in frustration. She should have gone with him, never should have let him go alone. The memory of her nightmarish last weeks in Pittsburgh crowded close upon her. What if this was what those dreams had been warning her about? What if Scott was alone and bleeding to death on the grounds of the mysterious Castle Allemendingen at this very moment?
Her imagination was potent this evening and Betty exhaled gustily as she tried to calm it. She'd be rational about this. If she wanted to know where Scott was, she'd simply have to track him down, starting with the clock shop to find out if he'd ever made it there. The heck with Section N and sticking to the plan, she thought gleefully.
Calmer now that a course of action had been set, Betty was just reaching for the jacket she'd slung over the chair earlier when she heard the doorknob on the main door of their suite twist. The sound was small and hesitant, two things completely incongruent with Scott's normally brash nature and the thought gave her pause. She listened breathlessly as the door swung open, straining to hear the sound of footsteps falling on the plush carpet. The door cautiously swung to and Betty made her decision when she didn't hear Scott's voice following the sound. As noiselessly as possible, she crossed the bedroom to the nightstand and extracted the pistol Scott had hidden there earlier. She crept back to the door and tried to peer around it, but couldn't see enough of the main room. Slowly, she moved forward, holding the gun in front of her as she'd been taught in her Section N training, knowing she looked fully capable of using the weapon, though in reality, she couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. She'd hardly ever seen a real gun, much less held one when her training began and there hadn't been time before they left for Switzerland for her to become truly adept, but if there was one thing her training had taught her, it was how to play a part. Had she taken a moment to consider her situation, she'd be terrified, but her training had been thorough, enabling her to be calm and act as she knew she must.
Her breath caught in a gasp and her arms dropped uselessly to her sides. She blinked once, twice as the man, startled by her gasp, turned around. Her eyes closed for a moment and she resolved to have them - no, her whole head - examined when she got back to London.
"Miss Roberts?" the Jackal breathed in disbelieving accents.
Betty's jaw dropped. She'd never forget that voice.
"Rollie Pruitt?"
Far From Pittsburgh
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