"I didn't expect..." Rollie Pruitt began in an aghast undertone. Suddenly he straightened with righteous indignation. "Miss Roberts, what are you doing here?"
"Well, I'm just..." Betty felt a flash of indignation all her own. "What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?' This is my room! What are you doing here?" She raised the gun again. "You're supposed to be in jail."
"Oh, now, Miss Roberts," Rollie raised his hands defensively and his snide smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. "You shouldn't play with toys like that." The smile disappeared. "You might get hurt."
"You should be the one worried about getting hurt," she hissed, but fear was beginning to replace her surprise. If only she could delay him until Scott got back. She shuddered as the thought crossed her mind. Then Scott would be wandering into a situation he was wholly unprepared to meet, not unlike the last time they'd tangled with Pruitt. She'd have to find a way to handle this on her own. "Why aren't you in jail?" she demanded.
"Oh, I was in jail, thanks to you and all your do-gooder pals," Pruitt admitted as he edged almost imperceptibly closer to Betty. "But the wonderful thing about having friends in high places is their ability to make deals for you. My time in jail was more like an extended vacation than anything else. I knew it was only temporary." He made another shuffling step forward.
"Don't come any closer," Betty struggled to keep her voice from shaking. "I'll shoot you."
Pruitt smirked with smug self-assurance and shook his head. "I don't think so. You don't have it in you, do you, Miss Roberts? How would you explain the dead man on the floor to the authorities?" Elegantly, he crossed his arms. "It's so nice to catch up with old friends, isn't it? I've told you all about me, but you haven't said a word about how you came to be here with Mr. Sherwood. You must tell me all your news."
Betty shook her head in disbelief. She was standing there, holding a gun on Rollie Pruitt, and he wanted to gossip? "What do you want, Mr. Pruitt? I can assure you that whatever it is, I don't have it. My husband will be back any minute..."
"Oh, he's your husband now, is he?" Rollie rubbed his hands together gleefully. "How delightful! You really must allow me to offer my congratulations."
Quicker than she had imagined possible, his right hand flashed outward, grabbing her arm in a viselike grip and causing her hold on the gun to loosen. He wrested it easily away from her and twisting, he jerked her around until his right arm fit snugly across her chest. Automatically, her hands reached up to claw at his arm in a desperate attempt to break free. She gasped in pain when he thrust the gun up against her jaw.
"That'll be just about enough of that, Miss...oh pardon me, Mrs. Sherwood," Rollie sneered. "As you can see, I have the upper hand now. Ahh, and not a moment too soon."
Betty was momentarily puzzled by his last statement until she too saw the doorknob twist. She tried to cry out a warning, but Pruitt felt her draw in breath and cruelly tightened his hold on her. Her warning quickly became a gasp of pain as involuntary tears sprang to her eyes.
"Don't spoil the surprise, Mrs. Sherwood," Pruitt whispered, his sour breath grazing her ear. She tried to jerk her head away, but only succeeded in digging the pistol further into her jaw. "Why is it you always try to spoil things for me?"
The door swung inward, but the portal remained empty. Scott was pressed up against the wall outside, in deference to the fact that he had no idea what he'd find on the other side of the door. He controlled his breathing ruthlessly while his stomach heaved. He fingered the revolver that had served him so well in disposing of two Nazi spies a half hour earlier and prayed he wasn't already too late.
"Oh, do come inside, Scotty," came a sneering voice from within. "I've been expecting you."
Scott suddenly snapped to attention. Rollie Pruitt? He'd known something had gone disastrously wrong with their operation and now he knew why. He should have recognized Pruitt's scheming. He'd seen it often enough in the past. Scott's stomach clenched. His only thought after escaping from the mess at the Castle Allemendingen was getting back here to make sure Betty was all right and all he'd found so far was an old enemy who had reason to hate Betty and Scott equally. Where was she?
Slowly, he edged around the door, his gun raised. When he saw Betty tightly within Pruitt's grasp, his jaw hardened and his eyes grew cold.
"Hello, Pruitt," he said, his voice frigid. His eyes flicked over Betty, assuring himself that she wasn't hurt. "I never thought I'd see you outside of jail again."
"We've just been discussing that very subject. It's so nice to meet old friends and catch up on all the news, isn't it?" Rollie observed snidely.
"Sure," Scott's brow drew down in a hard frown. "But I think it's time for this little reunion to end. You're scaring my wife," he pointed out.
"Yes, I've just been offering Mrs. Sherwood my most sincere congratulations," he gripped her chest crushingly. "Well, this is delicious. Here I've been racking my brain for the last few hours on how best to torture you before I kill you and now the answer is served to me on a silver platter."
"What do you mean, Pruitt?" Scott ground out through clenched teeth.
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Scotty? I hold here, under my power, the two things you value most in the world. Your wife and what I'm assuming must be your unborn child." He indicated Betty's slightly rounded abdomen with a careless wave of the gun. "My, my! How things have changed since we last met. Now get in here and close the door," he barked out.
Slowly, Scott complied, though his eyes never left Pruitt's face.
"Why don't you just let her go?" he suggested pleasantly. "Then we can put away our guns and settle this the old fashioned way."
"You mean fisticuffs, Scotty my boy? No no! That wouldn't do at all," Pruitt shook his head in denial. "I think we both know I'm no match for you physically, particularly after your training with General Hopkins."
Scott arched a surprised brow but held his silence. The general, Hopkins of course not being his real name, was believed to be wholly unknown to Axis spies. That Pruitt learned his name, let alone that Scott and Betty worked for him, was unnerving to say the least.
"Oh, we're well aware of General Hopkins and his little nest of spies. I wouldn't dream of letting Mrs. Sherwood go. Why, the longer I hold on to her, the angrier and more protective you get. Sooner or later, your anger will force you into making a mistake, thereby forcing me to kill her. Now put your gun down, or you'll force my hand," he warned menacingly.
For a moment, Scott weighed his options, wondering if he could safely shoot Pruitt while Betty was clutched under his arm. He threw the idea aside immediately. It was a chance he wasn't willing to take. Carefully, he reached over to the entry hall table, placing the gun on the glossy surface.
"There. Now what?"
"Now you can give me the message that my woefully misguided confederate passed to you in error," Rollie continued with an amiable smile.
Scott slowly drew the missive from his breast pocket and moved to hand it to Pruitt. At the last moment, he snatched it back. "Give me one good reason why I should give this to you, Pruitt."
Rollie frowned darkly. "Apparently I haven't made myself clear. The lives of your adored Betty and your child depend upon it, Scotty."
Scott shook his head, a coldly amused smile on his face. "You don't really think I'm going to fall for that, do you? What's to stop you from killing us after I give it to you? I might as well destroy it." Scott tore the thin slip of paper several times, effectively obliterating the message it contained.
An enraged growl escaped Rollie's lips and he hurled Betty aside. Pruitt lunged to grab the mutilated paper from Scott's hands, but he had tossed the pieces into the air and was reaching for his gun. A shot rang out with an explosive report and Scott sank to the floor.
"I needed that, you fool," the Jackal howled, as he dropped to his knees and frantically tried to reassemble the scattered bits of paper.
"Scott?" Afraid to rise to her feet, Betty started crawling toward where he lay on the floor. His face was ashen and a small pool of blood was beginning to collect on the floor beneath his left arm. His head turned toward her at the sound of her voice and she was relieved to know he was still alive and conscious.
"Stop right there, Mrs. Sherwood, or I'll kill you too. In fact, I think I will anyway." With a maniacally gleeful light in his eyes, Pruitt trained the gun on Betty and she shrank back in horror. Scott was just struggling to rise when the door crashed open with a bang and all of their attention was suddenly trained on the defiant figure outlined in the opening.
"Stop! You've fired your last shot, Jackal!" shouted a strident voice in heavily accented English.
A dim memory pushed itself to the forefront of Betty's terror-fogged mind. "Gustav?" she questioned murmurously.
In open defiance of the shouted order, Pruitt had gained his feet and was even now backing towards the balcony door. Gustav, Betty and Scott's erstwhile taxi driver, stalked the spy's progress relentlessly, his normally warm dark eyes cold and calculating, no spark of his usual mischief visible.
"Don't make me do it, Jackal. You could spend the rest of your days in a nice cozy cell instead of ending it right here," Gustav suggested invitingly, his voice like smooth, dark velvet.
"Never! I'm never going back to prison," Pruitt spat, waving the gun in a wild attempt to cover all three people in the room. His other hand fumbled with the handle of the balcony door before he succeeded in wrenching it open. "You'll have to catch me first," he sneered as he ran onto the balcony and leapt over the edge, falling with a crash to the decorative border of bushes just below. Gustav chased after him, his gun trained on Pruitt as he got to his feet and ran into the crowd, but decided not to attempt a shot into the busy thoroughfare. He spotted his partner, already following Pruitt on foot, and nodded with satisfaction, trusting Henri to capture the Jackal. Gustav turned back into the room, slipping the gun into his waistband.
Betty scrambled across the floor and raised Scott's head to cradle it in her lap.
"Edouard, are you all right?" she asked anxiously, slipping back into her assumed role. Although Gustav appeared to be helping them, he didn't warrant their complete trust yet and Betty was fearful of letting their masks slip too far.
"I'm fine. It's just my arm." He tried to grin reassuringly, but the expression ended in a grimace of pain.
"Just lie still for a minute," Betty said as she lifted her skirt to rip a long strip of cloth from her slip.
"What can I do?" Gustav knelt at her side.
Betty looked up in surprise from fashioning a tourniquet around Scott's arm. "I'd almost forgotten you were here." She managed an apologetic half-smile. "We need to get him to a hospital."
"No, not yet," Scott objected weakly.
"You're in no position to argue," Betty reminded him.
"I can easily take you in my taxi. I won't even run the meter," Gustav offered with a charming smile, something of his usual humor returning.
Betty shot him a grateful look. "Do you think we can get him downstairs between the two of us or should we call the porter for help?" she asked anxiously.
"Neither. Juliette..." Scott struggled to sit upright.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"The clock shop. We have to get the message there so it can be transmitted to Hopkins." Scott's voice sounded weaker.
"Darling, don't you remember," Betty spoke soothingly and smoothed his forehead with her hand, "you tore it up. There is no more message to relay."
An impish grin lurked around Scott's mouth. "That was the coded version. The decoded one is in my other pocket."
Hastily, Gustav searched Scott's pockets. "Mein Gott! It is here!" He opened the paper. "Supply train schedules. This information could be enormously valuable to the Allied cause."
"Right. We haven't got much time." Scott made another attempt to sit up.
"Wait. I'll take it to the shop. Gustav can get you to the hospital." Betty spoke efficiently as she applied pressure to Scott's wound.
"You need the code or he won't let you in." Scott eyed the other man warily, wondering how much they could trust him.
Understanding the dilemma, Gustav held up a hand, palm outward. "I, too, work for the Allied cause. I'm assigned here under Mr. Dulles. I've been tracking the Jackal for the last two months. You must trust me. You have no other choice." He spoke urgently, sincerity ringing clearly in his words.
Scott nodded and told Betty the coded phrase she'd need to repeat to the shop owner to identify herself.
"The rainstorms are good for the cabbages?" Betty parroted with a wrinkled nose. "I've heard better lines than that on WEEP."
Scott managed a hoarse laugh. "Just go and come back as soon as you can. We'll wait here for you."
Betty started a protest. "You have to get to the hospital now..."
"Go, Juliette," said Gustav. "It won't take more than five minutes for you to deliver that paper. When you return, we'll get him downstairs on our own. The less people involved in this the better. No hospitals for the same reason. I have a doctor friend a few blocks from here who will patch Edouard up and won't ask questions."
Betty nodded her understanding and carefully lowered Scott's head to the floor before jumping to her feet.
"Be careful," Scott said with a concerned frown.
"Yes," Gustav agreed. "My partner Henri is tracking the Jackal, but he is not the only spy in the city. Now run, and watch your back."
Betty scurried down the first flight of stairs, then took the main staircase at a far more sedate pace, unwilling to attract any undue attention. Once on the street, she joined the other late evening pedestrians and tried to casually blend in with them. She forced herself not to hurry and succeeded fairly well, though she couldn't resist the temptation to glance over her shoulder a couple of times. No one hovered in the background or lurked in dark corners and she sent a prayer heavenward that Henri would catch Pruitt.
She turned off onto a much quieter side street. The way was almost deserted and the few street lamps that dotted the sidewalk barely penetrated the darkness between them. Though it was late, one shop still had a single small lamp burning in it's window and Betty hurried towards it, sure now that she hadn't been followed. She rapped lightly on the door and after several tense moments an elderly man shuffled to the portal to open it.
He looked her up and down in an appraising silence before lifting his eyes to meet hers.
"It's unseasonable weather we're having, isn't it?" he observed casually in a creaky, disused voice.
"Yes, but the rainstorms are good for the cabbages," she responded with bated breath.
The old man's face broke into a thousand wrinkles as he smiled warmly and extended a hand. "Welcome, I've been expecting you."
Betty accepted his hand with a smile as he drew her inside. She took the note from her pocket and handed it to him after he'd made sure to close the door.
"Won't you stay for a glass of wine or something?" he invited graciously.
"Thank you, but no, I really should be getting back," Betty replied, surprised by the offer.
The shop's proprietor nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes. Well, perhaps another time. I'll be sure to get this job done for you right away."
"Again, thank you," Betty told him as she headed for the exit. "Good bye."
"Good bye. Take care." The little old man waved from the doorway of his shop, then retreated inside to extinguish the small lamp in the window.
Betty shook her head and smiled as she hurried back to the main street. The spy business was definitely nothing like her imagination painted it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next evening found Scott and Betty once again trekking through the woods to the same field where they'd been dropped off a few days before, though Gustav came along with them this time. He'd insisted upon seeing them safely to their destination and carrying their bags. Considering Scott's weakened condition, Betty was enormously grateful for the extra help.
After arriving back at the hotel the previous evening, Betty and Gustav had contrived to get Scott down to the lobby while attracting as little attention as possible. She'd checked them out, explaining that they were returning to Geneva posthaste to deal with a family emergency. Meanwhile, Gustav spirited Scott out to his waiting taxi and they'd sped off to the doctor's house when Betty joined them a moment later.
Gustav's doctor friend had been efficient and compassionate, not to mention a hearty supporter of the Allied cause. He did a thorough job of tending to Scott's wound and insisted that they spend the night and the following day resting in his house. Betty was warmed by the reception they'd received from both Gustav and the doctor, who'd accepted them into his home as if they were old friends.
She smiled now as she looked back on it and decided she might need to revise her outlook on her job as a spy. While it definitely had it's dangerous and terrifying aspects, the camaraderie that sprang up between near-total strangers was undeniably infectious and Betty realized that although she barely knew the people she'd been working with, she'd miss them when they went back to London. She also fairly glowed with a sense of accomplishment. The information relayed to Hopkins via wireless would probably prove invaluable to the Allies and the French resistance fighters. A few more operations like this, Betty mused, and the tide of the war could change.
They came to a halt just inside a line of trees on the outskirts of their field. Dusk was gathering rapidly and their time in Switzerland was growing short. Distantly, Betty imagined she could hear the faint buzzing of a Lysander and she knew the time had come to take their leave of Gustav.
Seeming to sense the same thing, he turned to her and offered his hand.
"Well, Juliette, thank you for a most exciting time. I only wish..." He broke off wistfully.
Betty nodded her head sadly. "I know. Next time," she said hopefully as they all thought of the Jackal's wily escape from Henri's clutches. She laughed a little ruefully. "I feel so strange. Like we know each other so well, but you don't even know our real names."
"That's all right." He leaned toward her and spoke confidentially. "You don't know mine, either." He laughed heartily and turned to Scott. "Edouard, it's been a pleasure. I hope to work with you again someday."
"Yeah, hopefully next time we'll even catch our man," Scott said dryly.
"Don't be bitter, my friend. You got two of them and a man like the Jackal can't hide forever. He's far too hungry," Gustav reasoned.
"You're right. We'll get him next time," Scott said, extending a hand for Gustav.
The sound of the plane was growing louder by now, causing them all to look skyward.
"Ah, here is your ride. Until next time, my friends. When all this is over, you must come to my home and we'll celebrate by drinking wine all night long. Good bye, and God be with you." So saying, Gustav disappeared back into the trees, leaving Scott and Betty to make their way to the plane and on to London.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Epilogue
The next morning, Scott and Betty were seated in General Hopkins office much as they had been five weeks earlier. Hopkins' mood was celebratory. The information he'd received as a result of their mission was already paying off. The RAF was even now preparing to make two bombing runs that would hopefully destroy Nazi supply trains that very day. He quickly sobered, though, when Scott told him of the Jackal's true identity.
"I had no idea Pruitt had already gotten so far," he muttered reflectively. "Or that he was the Jackal we've been hearing about from Switzerland."
"I had no idea he was even out of prison. Don't tell me you couldn't have told us that in the beginning," Scott remonstrated in frustration. "That information was on a need to know basis, Lieutenant, and we had no idea it would have any bearing on your operation. Looking back, it's easy to see how wrong I was. I apologize for not keeping you updated on a situation that you've been so nearly connected with in the past." The general appeared genuinely sorry and Scott nodded his head as an acceptance of the apology.
"There's something else, General," he added.
Hopkins looked at him sharply, wary at the tone of Scott's voice.
"Pruitt said he knew all about you and your division. I'm afraid you may have a leak that could undermine all your future operations if you don't plug it ASAP," Scott told him grimly.
"A leak? I can hardly think it's possible. I've hand selected all my men." The general paused, deeply in thought.
"How else could he have known your name, or that you were sending spies to the continent?" Betty reasoned. "The only reason he even mentioned it to us was because he thought we wouldn't live to tell anyone about it."
"You're right," the generally slowly acquiesced. "Looks like I'll be doing some sleuthing on my own. In the meantime, you two are due for a little R and R- at least until that arm heals, Lieutenant."
"Aren't I going to be reassigned?" Scott asked.
"Are you joking? You and Mrs. Sherwood just pulled off the most successful operation in our division to date. As soon as your arm heals and Mrs. Sherwood recovers," he indicated Betty's stomach with a vague wave of his hand, "you'll be jumping right back into another operation."
The announcement made Betty unaccountably happy. "Really? Where are we going next time?"
"Well, I don't know yet, but you'll probably be over on the continent...."
"Oh no," Scott groaned. "Here we go again."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You know, if I had any sense, I'd have made sure you got on that plane to the States this afternoon," Scott observed quietly, though his arms tightened around the woman in his lap.
"I think you show much better sense by letting me stay," Betty retorted, softening her words with a kiss.
"Well, I guess life is just imitating art," he observed philosphically.
"What do you mean?" Betty asked in puzzlement.
"Just a few short months ago, you were writing and I was starring in a radio drama that everyone described as the Nick and Nora Charles of international espionage. Now here we are..."
"Nick and Nora Charles, minus the snappy banter," Betty laughed.
"I think we've had some very snappy banter," Scott rejoined with an injured air.
"I guess we've had our moments." Betty allowed with a smile before a sigh escaped her. "That makes me think of Mr. Berger. I wish there was something we could do for him."
"We are doing something for him, Betty. The mission we just completed, whatever missions we complete in the future, all help to bring the war a little closer to an end so Mr. Berger can get back to his home and his business and sponsoring 'Footsteps in the Dark'. And so every GI can go back to his family and so we can go back to Pittsburgh and WENN and raising our own family. Heck, we work so well together, this war should end in no time," he announced optimistically.
"We do work pretty well together, don't we?" Betty agreed. "Well, before we can finish saving the world, you have to heal that arm. I think we should get you to bed."
Suddenly, Scott's wicked grin reappeared. "Very exciting," he murmured before pulling her closer for a kiss.
The End...For Now...
Far From Pittsburgh
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