The Adventures of Andrew Doran: Box Set Page 10

  Our truck was where they had left it and we reached it only barely as gunfire grew closer and closer to us.

  Andorran Police knew this was Nazi business and must have feared retaliation. They made no move to stop us or to help the garrison. It would seem that they had only came to watch the old hotel burn to the ground.

  I hopped into the truck on the passenger side and slid over to the driver's side. Turning the key, the engine

  roared to life. Olivia jumped in right behind me and slammed the door shut. I gunned the motor then, and took off in the direction of the Andorran/French border.

  ***

  Ten miles had passed before I slammed on the breaks and took my first calm breath. My heart was still racing and I looked at Olivia; terror and soot covered her face.

  "I think that it would be best if you got out now." I said. "Thank you for your help. I'm sorry about what happened with Robert and Felix. The Nazis will be expecting me at the border, and they won't be nice to anyone traveling with me."

  She gave me a look so hard that I feared she had been turned to stone.

  "Americans!" She exclaimed. "I said before that you're not getting through the border without my help. I am going with you."

  I jabbed my finger in her direction. "No," I said, anger rising in my voice. "No more help from you. I appreciate what you've done, but you can't go with me. That's final!"

  "Final? The man driving my truck is trying to tell me what is final?" She crossed her arms. "I go with you. There is no other option. If you happened to notice, the Germans were also shooting at me. I am no longer safe in Andorra. You need me to get you into France and you could use someone to watch your back."

  I faced forward and tried to clear my mind. She had a point. We had worked well together in the hotel, and the Germans would certainly be hunting her in Andorra la Vella, but if she were to come with me it would be another weapon that the Nazis could use against me. Also, I didn't want to get wrapped up in her war. The war wasn't my concern. My concern was getting the book back. Olivia had made no attempts to hide her goals of helping the Resistance. She could be easily distracted from my quest.

  My decision was made when it crossed my mind that making my way though a Nazi controlled France was going to be tough. I was worried that she would use me to help her and the Resistance, but that was when it crossed my mind to instead use her and her connections.

  The devil be in me, but I would not pass up any sort of militant help that might ease my journey into Berlin.

  It also hadn't escaped my notice that Olivia hadn't flinched at the mention of Miskatonic or my use of magic.

  "Alright. You can come, but my goal doesn't change. We need to get the book back. If I think you are slowing me down at all, I'm cutting you loose.

  "Oh, Dr. Doran, I promise you, I will not be the one slowing you down. You'll have to work hard to keep up with me."

  I smiled and raised my eyebrow, "Oh? I like the sound of that."

  Olivia rolled her eyes at me. "Keep it in your pants, American. You are not my type."

  I smiled and started the truck back up. Putting it into gear, I replied, "Yes, ma'am," and took off for the northwestern border of Andorra.

  Chapter 4: The Thing in Lyon

  Olivia had been correct.

  I needed her more than I had expected.

  Her truck wasn't the only reason, either. I needed her papers. Olivia had papers that allowed her to continue carrying her wine across the border to Andorra under the condition that she took a shipment to the French Garrison as well. When she explained these papers to me, Olivia expressed the belief that as the war escalated, those papers wouldn't hold any importance anymore. We were fortunate that they still worked for us.

  It also helped, sadly, that Felix could not make the trip across the border with us. The Nazi soldiers had expected a driver and they would have been hesitant to believe that Olivia would have been hired on for the job.

  We were only stopped once more after the border crossing and that was when the real fear sank into my soul. They began demanding that we explain what our business had been in Andorra and immediately began questioning any ties that we might have had with the French Resistance. It was obvious that our rendezvous with the French Garrison had been spreading quickly.

  When they then demanded our business in France they ignored Olivia while she attempted to explain and instead barked that they wanted the explanation from myself.

  I gave Olivia a quick glance, but then summoned up my will and put every ounce of effort into my French accent.

  "My name is Felix Laurent. We were returning to Martin Fayette's winery, on the eastern side of Lyon." It seemed to work that I had used Felix's name. It would have done me no good to use my own. If anything could have been learned from our run in with Lukas Herrmann, it was that the Germans had a good idea of who Dr. Andrew Doran was and what he was aiming to reclaim.

  The soldier eyed me with a look I couldn't quite read and then continued. "And who do you work for?" I had to tread carefully here. My lies were only getting deeper, but I had to stick with the story that Olivia had shared with me.

  "As I said, I work for Mademoiselle Olivia's father, Martin Fayette. I drive the truck." I nodded to first Olivia and then the truck that was directly behind us.

  He nodded as well, ignoring the truck and instead indicating Olivia. "This is Mademoiselle Olivia Fayette?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Why is the daughter of your employer riding with you?" His suspicions were growing.

  I shrugged while keeping my hands above my head. "When she asked I said yes. How could I deny such a.." I only hesitated because I couldn't remember the French words. The hesitation actually worked to my advantage, as the solider holding the papers caught it and thought that I was hinting at indiscretions.

  He snickered and glanced at Olivia inappropriately. I was surprised by the sudden heat I felt rise in my chest. My warrior lust was rising because of this man's glance at Olivia. I kept my ridiculously misplaced jealousy in check and gave a knowing smile when he looked back at me.

  The Nazi soldier handed Olivia back her work papers and allowed us to get back into the truck. After we did, we began prepping a new plan.

  The further from Andorra we were to travel, the less believable our story was going to be. Our new plan was to sell the truck in Lyon.

  Lyon was a large city. It wasn't quite Paris, but it wasn't Andorra la Vella either. According to Olivia, our largest issue would be the same as our issue in Andorra: a large number of Nazi soldiers.

  We hoped that if we kept our wine story, adding the fact that the war had butchered profits and we needed to sell the truck, we would escape Lyon relatively unscathed.

  As the truck pulled away from the soldiers Olivia looked at me, her face was more unreadable than usual. "You did well back there."

  I smiled, more from shock and confusion than anything else. "Thank you. For a second there, I was worried we'd have to kill them all."

  That earned a smile from Olivia. "Well, I would have," she said. "I'm sure they would have shot you as soon as they realized that you were an American."

  "Yes," I replied. "I'm sure they have as much faith in Americans as you do."

  Olivia patted my knee then. I'd be lying if I didn't say that her touch gave me the good kind of chills. "You're improving my opinion of your people every day. By tomorrow, I might even stop cringing at the sight of you."

  I laughed. "That'll be the day."

  Driving into Lyon was surprisingly simpler than driving to Lyon had been. We entered the city at around five in the evening, local time. We had the truck sold by six.

  In my honest opinion, Olivia had been ripped off. My opinion didn't matter in the Fuehrer's France. Olivia had explained that if you were selling a truck in this poor economy than you were more than likely running from persecution and any price would be better than keeping the truck. We has been lucky to leave with even a somewhat decent price.

>   We took a quick dinner at a cafe near to where we sold the truck and we didn't speak. Olivia had been keeping her eyes on the people. She was looking for someone. It wasn't just soldiers either. I was keeping my eyes open for them and Olivia's eyes never crossed any of my potential threats.

  We'd been walking for about ten minutes after leaving the cafe before I realized that Olivia must have found what she was looking for. We were following someone.

  My French partner was quick, and took immediate notice that I had caught on. "Keep your eyes in your head, American." She whispered. "Also, take your hand out of your bag. He will not be a threat."

  The bag she referenced was the only thing that I had salvaged from the truck. Olivia had been quick to point out that my sword would be hard to hide without the bag that I had left to burn in the Andorra Inn. The new bag was slightly smaller but it had belonged to Robert, and had been filled with all of his things. It was just big enough for the scabbard and the pistol.

  We turned down an alley close behind our quarry, and I was unsure whether or not he knew that we were behind him. If he had an ounce of the attention to detail that I had, then he should have noticed us by now.

  He turned another corner and Olivia started to trot, taking the corner almost immediately after him and a step or two ahead of me.

  Against Olivia's command, my hand was more than on my pistol as I drew it from the bag and rounded the corner.

  The sight that greeted me was exactly as I had predicted. Our quarry had turned the corner in the alley and waited for our headstrong lady. As Olivia had rounded the corner, he had grabbed her and shoved her against the nearest wall. He held a short knife to Olivia's chest.

  I recognized all of this in the same instant that I rounded the corner. In a flash of movement, my pistol was pressed against his temple.

  Without moving his head, Olivia's assailant looked at me through the corner of his eye. "You were right, Olivia. The American is fast."

  I was confused and any soldier will tell you that confused is the worst place to be when you're about to do battle. My confusion led to hesitation and I did not pull the trigger.

  "Put it away, Dr. Doran." Olivia said. "I knew that you would be incapable of listening to me if I told you not to draw your weapon." The attacker pulled his knife away from Olivia's breast ad in a swift movement it

  was vanished from my sight.

  Leaning away from the wall, Olivia waved her hand to indicate the man with the knife. "This is my contact in Lyon." He thrust out with his hand. "His name is Leo."

  I slowly lowered my gun and put it back into its holster in my bag.

  "And Leo is our...?" I pressed.

  Olivia rolled her eyes. "He is our place to stay for the evening. Unless you'd rather sleep in the streets?"

  "I've never seen the streets pull a knife." I mumbled and Olivia ignored it. Slightly louder, I said, "Then let's stop standing around trading baseball cards and get to this safe house." I looked away from Olivia and to Leo. "Where is this wonderful house of sleep?"

  Olivia eyed me, and not for the first time I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I assumed that she was trying to read what thoughts I had toward this man or the method they had for finding each other. That was part of it. The other part, I was embarrassed to admit even to myself, was that I was wondering to what depth their relationship had gone before I was in the picture.

  I had to remind myself that I knew nothing of Olivia and, aside from light flirting in the truck ride, I had no reason to assume that she had any interest in the "American.' On top of that, I doubted that I was even interested in her. While she was a gorgeous woman, she was the first woman I had sustained any lengthy contact with since before my time with the Night Watchers. I was undercover with them for barely more than a year, and their ladies were into bloodletting and the sort. If I'd been traveling with a gun-toting granny, I am certain that I would have found her just as enticing as I was finding Olivia now.

  On another side of an already too many sided coin, it was possible I was only being used as well. Feminine wiles were the oldest weapon in the arsenal for derailing a man from his mission. I had to stay ever vigilant, not jealous.

  Thinking with a clear head, I still knew nothing about this Leo.

  His French was heavily accented, more so than anyone that I had come across yet. When he spoke, it took me slightly longer to translate than it had for any of the other Frenchmen that I had run into.

  "Yes," he answered. "It is this way. I think we could all use a drink."

  "A little stronger than wine." Olivia added.

  Leo flourished with a bow and indicated the rest of the length of this new bend in the alley.

  We walked then and kept mostly quiet aside from Leo directing us down different roadways and alleys. We finally came upon a small residence tucked away behind several equally small shops.

  We entered through a small front door and into a tiny kitchen. The entire home wasn't much bigger than the Dean's personal library, but I was sure that it was more than adequate for the purpose of hiding members of the Resistance.

  I set my bag down on the small table in the corner of the kitchen and turned toward our host. "Are we the only ones here?"

  "Tonight you are." He answered. Leo waved his hand to indicate the rest of the house. "Make yourselves at home. The owners are away in Paris, visiting relatives." He put his hands into his pockets. "There is one bedroom upstairs. I suggest that we give that to Olivia, while you and I take up places on the floor down here."

  I nodded agreement. It wasn't only gentlemanly, it was also safer. Leo and I could watch the doors and Olivia would have fair warning if we were to get into any sort of entanglements.

  Olivia caught this, too. "That is unacceptable. I do not need protectors. I will sleep down here and Leo can take the upstairs room."

  He shook his head emphatically while I decided to remain uninvolved in the argument. I wanted to see how this played out.

  "That was not a request." Leo replied coolly. "The upstairs will be safer." He smiled at her and shrugged.

  "We will need your fighting as our backup if we get into trouble."

  Olivia stepped forward and slapped Leo across the face. Without saying another word she turned and stormed across the room and up the stairs.

  Leo pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed his face where Olivia had struck it. "That woman." He said quietly. "There is no winning with her."

  "That is why I am grateful that she is on our side." I replied.

  "Our side?" Leo asked. He'd obviously had a moment to talk to Olivia that I had missed.

  "Well, her side. Your side. Not the Nazi's side." I folded my arms. "Whatever you might have heard about me, I am sure that you didn't hear I was a Nazi sympathizer."

  Leo walked over to the little table and grabbed a chair. He turned it around and then sat down facing me. "I have heard very little of you, Dr. Doran. At the very same time, if I get caught by our enemies than I am sure that I know too much."

  My arms still crossed, I encouraged him to continue.

  "The word among our German friends is that an American is trying to get into Germany to steal a weapon. They say he's a Doctor, and they fear him. Even afraid, they still wish to catch him alive. It seems that they want him as badly as they want this weapon he seeks." Leo leaned forward then and put his hands on his knees. "The rumors within the Resistance tell a different story. They claim that this American is a wizard, sent from America to place a curse on the Reich." He leaned back again, his excitement replaced by a smug look. "You are the first American that I have seen who seems to be working his way toward Germany. So tell me, Dr. Doran: Are you man or wizard?"

  A wizard?

  I had never been called a wizard before. A practitioner, maybe. I've even been called an imp and, most frequently, a hack. Never have I been called a wizard, but for all intents and purposes, the argument could be made that I had more power than the average scholar. I'd read up on
the wizards of old, though. The Necronomicon never shied away from the subject. Wizards of old held much more power than I ever had and they got it in much more sinister ways. My little bit of magic that I could control was based on knowledge that I had gained in my travels and from that dreaded book. The wizards of old had made deals with demons and beings from beyond reality itself. This gained them knowledge that the human mind was never meant to know. For this reason, they grew mad over time and after the madness, they would grow corrupt.

  I was no wizard. A stage magician with a gun, yes, but a wizard? Definitely not.

  I didn't say as much to Leo, instead telling him that I was only a man, but yes, my mission was not that of the French Resistance.

  "Olivia and yourself are dedicated to the freedom of France. I respect that, but I'm not part of it. I have my own direction to travel." I explained. "If I have help the Resistance without jeopardizing my own mission, than I will where I can. I have no love for the Nazis, but getting sidetracked will result in a much greater loss to the world than just France."

  "Oh, hero?" He smiled up at me. "Is the world yours to save then?"

  I only looked at him. He may have given us a house to stay in, and Olivia may have trusted him,but I didn't even know if I trusted Olivia yet. I owed his man nothing. "I'm going to bed." I turned and walked into the living room, scooping up my bag on the way.

  I sat in a corner on the floor and rested my bag under my head. I then pulled my journal and my gun out, placing the gun next to me and began writing in my diary. When I had finished, I replaced it in the bag and attempted to drift to sleep.

  I had been ling with my eyes wide open for about two hours when I first heard it. The sound was unmistakable. Someone was pounding heavily on doors and shouting in French. I couldn't hear the words, but

  they were angry.

  Leo was already at the window with his own rifle in his hands. I hadn't known he had a rifle and silently wondered what other weapons had been hidden around the house.