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  He stood next to the doorway, waiting for Foster to come through it. Sam’s hands tightened around the bar as he sank to his haunches to be just about the height of Foster’s knees. Holding his breath, he listened for the footsteps of his target drawing nearer as his heart pounded wildly in anticipation. With all his might Sam swung the bar against the assassin’s legs, sending Foster howling in pain, writhing on the floor. With another blow to his head, Sam incapacitated him. He searched Foster and retrieved his cell phone.

  With time to call for help Sam quietly passed through the hallways of the building, past employees and filing clerks. He tried to look as natural as possible, considering he sported a few bruises and nursed a headache from hell. Finally he made it to the lobby, dialing the only person he knew in this part of the planet.

  Within ten minutes Sam was rescued by Professor Westdijk. It was a matter of luck that Sam recalled the old man telling him he would be taking a few days off in Bourgoin-Jallieu until the end of the month. His only friend at CERN collected Sam to take him back to Jenner Manor. Two blocks into his escape Sam noticed that they were being followed by a red Mercedes that quickly caught up with them. It was difficult to outrun the red car in traffic, and Sam could see that it was Foster sitting behind them. As soon as they were on the highway the chase continued at high speed.

  Sam was impressed with Prof. Westdijk’s driving. He kept Foster at bay for a good 10km further. A call came through on his cell phone.

  “Are you alright, Sam?” Nina asked. “Where are you?”

  “Nina, don’t trust Healy! Don’t open the gates for anyone! I’ll explain later,” Sam told her urgently. “We’ll be there shortly.”

  “We?” Nina asked. But Sam had hung up already.

  “Where are they?” Lydia asked.

  “Sam sounds frantic,” Nina said. Her voice was fraught with worry. “I know that tone of his, Lydia. It is not something to take lightly. He says we mustn’t trust Healy.”

  “Bullshit. Healy would never do anything to hurt me,” Lydia disagreed.

  “Think about it!” Nina forced. “Healy stays away for the first time in how many years to catch up with a friend…just about the time that you send Purdue back? Just before you plan to finally get the Tesla schematics?”

  Lydia had to concede. The time frames would coincide. Healy did change slightly when Purdue agreed to help with the experiment, although she did not think he was at all concerned about her work. In fact, Lydia reckoned Healy was a little jealous of the attention she got from Purdue and that was the reason for his slightly cooler behavior. Then again, Healy was not a warm, fuzzy man to begin with and it was difficult to tell how he felt most of the time anyway.

  “Nobody knows that you are still alive, right? Those who knew you were working on the theories, Lydia, did they know you came back at all?” Nina asked.

  “No. They had no idea that I survived the CERN accident,” Lydia said after some thought.

  “There you go. Healy waited until you started getting messages from Purdue, to make sure that the experiment was successful!” Nina reasoned, and Lydia’s eyes betrayed her exact deduction too. “Now he had the perfect opportunity to reveal that you were still alive! Obviously the highest bidder would want to get your whereabouts from Healy and I think Sam just discovered who he gave it to.”

  Lydia looked at Nina with an ashen expression. She finally realized that she truly was in danger and she knew that at least four other people knew about the Tesla Experiment. Any of those could be showing up at her door at any moment.

  “Nina, get that skinny ass of yours behind my chair and wheel me to the second floor! Now! We have some time to prepare to dig in here at the chamber in case Purdue makes contact, so let’s make it count!”

  27

  The entire region of Haute-Vienne suffered a night of tense anticipation as the dreadful news spread through the small towns. Oradour-sur-Glane reeked of burning flesh, ammunition and scorched agricultural produce stored in barns that were now reduced to ash. The German regiment responsible decided to stay for the night to enjoy the spoils of their exploits, but the commanders did elect to send out scouts to comb the surrounding farms and communes to flush out whomever could be holding Kämpfe.

  Being wounded by a falling beam under one of the structures earlier had Sturmbannführer Diekmann incapacitated. The medical officer had administered morphine to still his pain, putting him to sleep for the night. Purdue used the opportunity to slip away behind the back of the only structure that was practically ignored, save for being used as sleeping quarters for the night. The young girl had followed Purdue’s advice reluctantly, but she knew that any man who killed one of the Germans to save her had to be someone she could trust. She had no choice otherwise.

  The clumps of pea brushes populated most of the next kilometer of land off the boundary of the obliterated town. There were trees and the odd brook running through the terrain which was pivotal to her survival, and she found a place by the water to hide until morning. Her body was weary, exhausted from the emotional devastation of what had happened to the people she knew so well but the water soothed her skin and burning eyes in the coolness of night.

  She heard a rustling somewhere in the pea brushes. The fair haired man from earlier was stumbling through the dense foliage, having no idea where he was going. It was good to see him, yet she was afraid to show herself. He collapsed to his knees in the water, gulping up handfuls of it and washing his face. For a long while he just sat there in the faint light of the moon while she scrutinized him.

  “You are English?” she said hesitantly from her hiding place.

  Purdue perked up. He was not sure if he heard what he thought he did, so he just listened. “Are you hurt?” she said again.

  “Where are you?” he gasped. “I am from Scotland, yes. Your English is good.”

  She stood up, drawing Purdue’s attention. “Merci.”

  He waded through the uneven growth of bushes to her side and whispered, “I hope your family was not there in that town.”

  “My family is dead. Long ago. But those people were like family,” she cried. Her small hands covered her eyes as her body shook, making Purdue feel a hundred times worse about bringing Diekmann and his devils here.

  “I’m so very sorry. They were looking for one of their commanders and we thought he was here,” Purdue explained in the most tender voice he could manage. They sat in the silence of the wildness outside the two that was still alight with tormenting fires.

  “That man you are looking for is in Oradour-sur-Veyres,” she mentioned matter-of-factly, playing in the ground with a stick she picked up to defend herself with before.

  Purdue sighed, “Yes, we know that now. But now it is too late for your town.”

  “So if you let them find him all this death would be for nothing,” she speculated, impressing Purdue with her mature sensibilities. “Are you going to lead them there to kill those people too?”

  Her words shocked Purdue to the core. At first he wanted to retort, but he realized that she was absolutely correct. He would cause another massacre if he allowed Diekmann to know where Kämpfe really was. Nina had the right information, Lydia gave him the right information and he went and gave the wrong details. It was all his fault and he had to make up for it. In his mind he figured that he could still procure the Tesla schematics from Helmut if he could find his way to Oradour-sur-Veyres.

  “No, I am fleeing from them too,” he said. “My name is Dave. And I am going to make sure the same fate does not fall to the next town.”

  “I’m Celeste,” she said. “If you want to warn them, we should go now in the night, Dave. I want to get as far from Oradour as I can! Please.”

  “So do I, young Celeste, so do I,” Purdue said firmly. “But how will we get there?”

  “Come,” she said, and got up. “We have to get to Henri’s farm. He can take us to the town if we tell him what it is about.”

  “Who is Henri?” he
asked her.

  “A farmer we know well. His son is one of my friends and he is in touch with the Resistance. I will not tell them that you came with the intruders otherwise they might arrest or kill you,” Celeste said.

  “That is a good point. The prisoner they have there has something of mine that I want back,” Purdue lied, but if Helmut was anything like the animals he was to be rescued by, there was no reason to feel sorry for him.

  Purdue and Celeste stalked through the trees and along the rocks, keeping out of the moonlight most of the time. In his mind Purdue was very worried about reporting to Lydia and with the night overhead it was a constant reminder that his days in this point of the tapestry had come to an end. As long as he could collect the schematics soon he could get to a place where he could use the BAT, hopefully to return home.

  “Come, over here,” Celeste whispered, jerking at Purdue’s sleeve. “There, down there, see?” He looked down on the shallow valley and saw two small structures in the trees where a yellow glow emanated through the windows. On approach they heard that the farm’s people were outside, talking with someone else.

  “It looks like Joseph Jean is there too,” Celeste whispered as she ducked through the trees, leading Purdue along in the shadows of the trees.

  “Who is he?” he asked her.

  “The leader of the local militia,” she revealed. “He will definitely be able to take you to the German officer.

  Purdue was nervous. If word came out that he came with Diekmann’s unit he would be done for. There was no way of telling how the farmers would construe the arrival of a stranger from nowhere accompanying a child from the town the Nazi’s had just decimated and razed utterly. His French was good enough to understand the people in front of the house, but he told Celeste that he would prefer she translate for them when needed.

  “Who’s there?” Henri shouted into the dark trees as Celeste and Purdue came down the small winding path. He aimed with his shotgun into the dark, joined shortly after by Joseph. Both men had their barrels pointing right at the two figures they discerned in the shadows.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot, Henri!” Celeste cried. “Raise your hands, Dave,” she told her companion. Her voice was shaky.

  At such a young age the poor girl had not just had to endure the death of her parents years ago but now she had lost her only home and the only people she still had to protect her. Her flight thus far had kept her calm from necessity, to help the English stranger and to stay alive in the grasp of the Nazi’s, but the girl was still in shock from the attack and from what she had to witness. Trauma was edging away at her nerves and her vulnerable psyche, but she had to get to safety first, before she could start to process what had happened to her.

  “Celeste?” Henri frowned. “Marie! Marie, it is Celeste! She is alive!” He aced to swoop up the girl in a tight embrace, but Purdue kept his gesture of surrender while the other man held him up with the gun.

  For the first time Celeste allowed herself to cry again. Henri’s wife, Marie, came out with a shawl to cover the girl. She embraced Celeste and consoled her as she broke down.

  “Sit down by the fire,” Henri told Purdue as they pushed him into the small house.

  Celeste recovered long enough to speak again. “This is Dave. He saved me from the Nazi’s and he is looking for the prisoner you have, Jean. Can you help us?”

  Jean and Henri stared at Purdue, and then exchanged astonished glances between them. The whole house went quiet and even Henri’s wife let go of Celeste for a moment to look at Purdue. In the firelight they could now see him properly and their faces froze in suspicion, and an inkling of fear.

  “What do you want with the prisoner?” Jean asked Purdue, breaking the spell they all seemed to have fallen under for a second.

  “He has papers, designs, of a very dangerous weapon the Nazi’s want to use to kill their enemies in their masses. I was sent to make sure he does not get those papers back to the Germans,” Purdue explained, using some dramatic license to enhance his story and look better in their eyes. He reckoned that telling them how their friends were tortured and killed because of him might bring him some disadvantage. It was imperative that the French Resistance see him as an ally.

  “Are you related to him?” Henri asked.

  “No, not at all. Why?” Purdue asked in alarm. He did not need to be affiliated with Helmut Kämpfe at all, especially among these people.

  “Bring Dave some water, please. You have never met him before, the captive?” Henri asked as his wife got Purdue something to drink.

  “No, never. That is why Celeste suggested I ask for Jean to take me to him. I have no idea what he looks like,” Purdue admitted, gratefully accepting the cool water from Marie.

  The men scoffed, even smiled a little.

  “We’ll take you to him in the early morning,” Jean agreed finally. Purdue had no choice but to trust them. For now he had to get some rest and hope that Diekmann would not send emissaries looking for him before he got to Kämpfe. More than that, he was terribly worried about the BAT and its rapidly withering power.

  28

  In the very early hours, while they were all asleep, Purdue slipped into the stables outside to report to Lydia and let her know that he was planning to come back. The box lit up, but the power was considerably less this time, hardly out-shining the interior of the empty stables. Still, he spoke into the microphone.

  “Hope you can hear me?” he started. “Please ready the chamber. I intend to return in…” he checked the watch he took from the dead Nazi he left at the horse cart, set to the original entry time, “…twelve hours exactly.”

  A crackle grew louder and the frequency hummed as he waited with baited breath. There was a weak signal sound, then a voice.

  “—ave, Nina says— Helmut…—ds the Tes— papers where no-one can take it from him!’ Lydia shouted. He could hear Nina directing her in the background.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  ‘Pur—, you cannot — back yet. We have trouble here…” Nina tried to tell him, but he had no idea what they were talking about.

  “Where is Sam? Nina? Nina!”

  Before he could continue the light waned and the box was left far cooler than it used to be when he was done transmitting – not steaming like a blacksmith’s iron anymore, but hardly smoldering.

  He collected the BAT and slipped it back into his pocket. He checked the time again, just to make sure he knew where twelve hours would take him. There was no more time to waste. He deliberately made a ruckus in washing up in the outside trough so that his guide would wake up.

  “If you don’t mind,” Purdue told Jean, “I have urgent business with your prisoner.”

  A half hour later Jean and Purdue bade the farmer, Marie and young Celeste goodbye and made the trip to Oradour-sur-Veyres. On the way there Jean hardly spoke a word to the English stranger, but he certainly looked at him a lot.

  “What are you going to do with the papers you want from the Nazi officer, then?” he asked. Purdue had to sift through the right phrases to keep up his reputation as a friend while not mentioning anything far-fetched that could alienate Jean and his movement. The French Resistance could not find out that he was a guest of the Reichkanzlei or that he showed up from thin air, so to speak.

  “My organization will destroy it after committing it to record for historical documentation,” Purdue employed his tact. He felt like an attorney or a publicist, spinning the truth to twist it into something acceptable. Among all the questions he did his best to answer, Purdue was dying to ask one of his own. He desperately wanted to know why they studied him so, why they could not stop staring at him. He hoped that they did not by chance see him with Diekmann’s company and now recognized him.

  “If you don’t mind I will accompany you when you go to see the German officer,” Jean finally said. “That is our only condition for you to be allowed to see him. And only because you saved our Celeste. Just know that.” />
  “I am grateful for the opportunity, Jean. Believe me, I completely understand that you will not allow a stranger to speak to your prisoner. I have no problem with that,” Purdue smiled respectfully, yet inside he dreaded the notion. He needed to be left alone with Helmut Kämpfe to attain the papers, but if this was the only way to get near him, it would have to suffice.

  Just after 10am in the morning they arrived on the hill above the small town of Oradour-sur-Vayres. Purdue’s stomach churned. He had never before felt such a feeling of foreboding from all sides as he did now. Not only was he running out of time with the BAT, but he had to remember that by now, Diekmann had to be aware that he absconded. With German scouts all about the Haute-Vienne department keeping an eye out for him, he could not move about freely without taking note of prying glares in is direction.

  “Let me do all the talking, Dave,” Jean told him as they drove into town. “I will make sure they don’t overreact to your presence. This is a very sensitive matter, especially now that the Nazi’s destroyed one of our towns in retaliation for this man’s capture. In fact, most men here are just waiting to kill the pig.”

  “I don’t blame them,” Purdue answered inadvertently, but his words pleased Jean.

  He gave Purdue a hat to conceal his hair and face and told him that it was so that Diekmann’s men would not see him here, but in truth Jean was hiding Purdue’s looks for quite another reason. “Come, Dave. Let’s get this over with.”

  After the men of the Resistance were briefed on who Purdue was and what he did for Celeste he was reluctantly allowed to go into the small shack hidden behind the water mill where they were keeping the Nazi officer. Following Jean and his shotgun into the musty little room decked out with nothing more than a few heaps of straw and a bucket for waste. The Resistance was definitely not kind captors to any Nazi.