Page 41 of A Song in the Dark

The teenaged boy in the front seat reached out and touched his arm. “You’re a good driver, Mr. Rick. I haven’t gotten sick one time.”

Rick smiled. “Thank you, George. I’m glad to hear it.”

The car fell silent once more, and he maneuvered the vehicle around the last corner before the border.

Bright headlights blinded his vision. In the distance, he could make out the shadows of a blockade and two large military vehicles.

A new checkpoint was blocking their path to freedom.

Oh, Lord, please help us. The plan had been to cross where there wasn’t one, so he hadn’t prepared the kids. This could be disastrous.

Rick looked at his passengers in the rearview mirror.

“All of you, listen to me. There is a checkpoint here. They are going to ask us questions and want to see papers. I have the papers Miss Melanie gave us and will talk to the officers. I need you all to pretend like you are asleep.” He licked his lips and took a deep breath, trying to keep any hint of fear from his voice.

“If they talk loud or touch you, act like you’re waking up from a deep sleep. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the kids responded in unison.

“Good. Do not talk to them unless I tell you to. I’ll call you by name if you need to respond.” Rick tapped his finger on the steering wheel and slowed. “I’m approaching now. Let’s ask the Lord to give us wisdom.”

The kids all bowed their heads and prayed.

The teens settled and Rick rolled toward the checkpoint, stopping just short of the German officer in front of Rick’s vehicle.

A young man came to the driver’s door and tapped the window. “Heil Hitler. Show me your papers.”

Rick leaned over and opened the glove box. He grabbed the envelope with the papers. The children had falsified passports and names, but after much debate, the group decided to keep his papers the same for this trip.

He handed the envelope to the soldier, who pulled them out, the envelope fluttering away in the breeze. He took his time, reading each passport, each document with care. After an eternity, he folded the papers and passed them back to Rick.

“Why are you going to the Netherlands at this time of night?” His eyes looked black in the shadows.

Rick lowered his voice. “Please, keep your voice low. The children are sleeping. We are driving home from Berlin. The children have lost their parents, and I am driving them to their grandmother. We have been traveling all day.”

The soldier looked across Rick at the boy and then glanced to the back seat. He said nothing, but his gaze was relentless. Rick knew the tactic well. Glare. Say nothing. Make your mark nervous. Most civilians couldn’t stand the silence and would begin blabbering.

Rick stayed calm. He began to tap a rhythm on the steering wheel. “Is there a problem?”

The light caught the young man’s eyes, and Rick suppressed a shudder. They were the coldest eyes he’d encountered in a long while.

They narrowed as they locked on his face. “Do I know you?”

Had his cover been blown? He affected a lazy shrug. “I don’t know. I do get that a lot. Must be a common face.” Rick let out a chuckle.

“No.” The word hung between them. “What is this uniform you are wearing?” His torch beamed into the car, up and down Rick’s clothing. “You are a chauffeur.”

He said it like Rick had a disease.

“I am.”

The soldier stepped back. “Out of the vehicle. Now.”

Rick clenched his jaw and turned off the car.

Slowly he eased out of the auto, feeling the press of his firearm against the small of his back.

The last thing he wanted was to have to use it.

These children deserved more than a Nazi hospital of horrors or listening to a shootout in the middle of nowhere.

Though considering what had happened to some of their friends, he knew they’d already experienced some of the terrors of the impending war.

But he would do everything in his power not to add to it.

“Now. Tell me again why you are traveling to the Netherlands at night.” The man couldn’t have been more than twenty-one years old, but he was the epitome of a Nazi soldier. Fit. Strong. Unyielding.

Rick held his hands up, palms facing his interrogator. “I am driving these children to their grandmother. Their parents passed away just a few days ago. I—”

“Christoph! Have you finished? We are needed at—” The soldier skidded to a stop beside the other young man, his eyes wide. “Hey. Aren’t you with that pianist? I saw you in Berlin. Aren’t you her bodyguard?”

Rick tamped down the surprise that shot through him.

“I am her chauffeur. But tonight, I am doing a personal favor for her while she plays for the Führer. As I was telling your fellow guard here, these children are being delivered to their grandmother. They’ve just lost their parents.

Miss Frappier has asked me to see to this matter. Personally .”

The soldier named Christoph looked at Rick. “Ah. You work for Germany’s pride. The pianist. Why did you not say so in the beginning?”

His comrade shoved his shoulder, stopping any response Rick might have made. “Christoph, leave him be, and let him pass. The general needs you now. We are being sent back to Berlin. Trouble is brewing.”

The young man nodded and glanced at Rick. “You may cross the border.”

The two men left, and Rick hopped in the car and twisted the key, the vehicle roaring to life. Jerking the gear stick into drive, he drove through the now open border, holding his breath until they were on the other side and out of sight of the soldiers.

“Thank You, Jesus.” The words burst out of him once the dark enshrouded them again.

Hannah’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he started.

“Oh. I am sorry. I only meant to say you were wonderful back there. And the Lord was watching out for us.”

George nodded. “I was praying so hard. And God heard!”

Rick let out a breathy chuckle. “Indeed He did.”

Fifteen minutes later, the children were ensconced in Celestia’s car, ready to head back to her home. Ready for a chance at a new life.

As was their protocol, they exchanged letters of information but did not speak above a whisper. Rick filled Chaisley’s grandmother in on the new checkpoint.

“When I get back to Berlin, I will talk with Chais and Mel. We will have to find another way into the Netherlands. One that isn’t such a main road.” He gave Celestia a grim smile. “I pray your trip home is a safe one.”

Celestia patted Rick’s cheek, her hand warm against his skin. How long had it been since he’d felt the warm touch of a mother or a grandmother?

His eyes burned.

Too long.

“May God continue to protect you, Rick. Give the girls my love.”

He gave her a short nod and strode back to his car. At least it was dark, so no one could see the tears streaming down his face. He pulled out his kerchief and wiped away the moisture.

Oh, if his friends saw him now, the ribbing he would take. The thought sobered him. Where were all of his friends? Those he’d trained with had spread across Europe, filling out their intelligence network. Were any of them still alive?

Swiping a hand across his face, Rick pushed the thoughts away. Now that the kids were safely across the border, Rick had one more mission.

He drove back toward the border, relieved to see the checkpoint was still open. No soldiers stood about, and the two military vehicles that had been there half an hour ago were gone.

A single soldier walked out as Rick drove to the border and must have recognized the vehicle and waved him through.

Thanking the Lord for His mercy, Rick sped back into Germany.

Another half an hour into his journey, he turned toward a railway station. Killing the headlights, he rolled slowly forward, his gaze darting over it.

Though the intelligence wasn’t clear on exactly which communication hubs were permanent and which were moving, Rick’s recent source had been adamant that this station had recently been outfitted as a permanent hub.

Parking his car a block from the station and away from any streetlights, he slipped out of his chauffeur uniform and pulled a black sweater on.

A dark cap covered his blond hair. He grabbed his rucksack and exited the car, darting in and out of shadows to the depot.

Nearing the east wall, he crouched and settled his breathing, listening for any sounds of disturbance.

Nothing. No sound at all.

He slipped to the back of the building and paused again. There was no light back there, and it took some time for his eyes to adjust. Shadows began to form, and soon he could make out the shape of a generator at the back of the building.

He slid his hand along the rough siding of the building, inching his way toward the power source. If his intel was correct, there was a box on the other side of this generator containing a mass of wires. All he had to do was cut and shred the lines and then get out.

The grass swished around his feet as he rounded the generator and spotted the large metal box.

A silver lock glinted in the small shaft of moonlight.

Rick set his pack down and fished out his lock-picking kit.

Within a minute, the soft snick of metal releasing from metal let him know he’d succeeded.

Removing the lock, Rick lifted the metal lid, wincing at the groaning of the hinges.

He paused and waited again. When he heard no footsteps, he put the lid to the side.

He fished the small torch out of the side pocket of his sack and held it low over the box.

The soft glow illuminated the cluster of telephone wires, and a shiver raced down his arms.

He’d found it.

Rick unsheathed the small, sharp knife he kept hidden in his boot and sliced through the wires.

He grinned. There was nothing like the satisfaction of a sharp knife slicing through wires and ultimately scrambling German communications.

He removed large chunks of the wires and then lit a match and tossed it in.

He could revel later. Right now, he needed to get this box back together and get on the road.

Five minutes later, he made it back to the car.

He slid in, tossed his rucksack on the passenger seat, turned on the car, and headed back to the main highway to Berlin.

When no lights flashed in his mirror and no German military vehicles came speeding up behind him, Rick released a long breath, and a smile turned up the corner of his lips.

Mission accomplished.

For tonight, anyway.

But it wouldn’t stop the Nazis for long.

So someone was rescuing disabled children and sending them away. The irony.

It was almost laughable. The Führer wanted to rid Germany of the infestation of the Jews and the inferiority of those who were a drain on society. This so-called rescue helped their cause. Let them take the little rats away.

Twice, he’d been informed of the border crossings. Twice, it had been after one of the pianist’s concerts in Berlin. And twice, it had been her driver with the disgusting little refugees.

It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.

At this point, he didn’t care about those fleeing. Let them leave. It would make his job easier later.

But if Miss Chaisley Frappier—who’d played at the Führer’s request and been his guest—was involved... he would humiliate her, strip away her fame, and use her as an example for the future.

Soon the time would come to bring her to her knees. When all the world was watching.

The Führer would applaud him taking the initiative.

Once Hitler took over in Europe, they’d dispose of those unworthy of life properly. Preparations were already being made.

For now he had a different job to do.

But he’d be watching the pianist.