Treacherous Is the Night

He passed me our shoulder satchel and then peered around the edge of the stall. Tugging me forward, we inched along the wall toward the door. A few steps outside the entrance stood a man. In the darkness it was difficult to tell who he was, but he seemed familiar. Something in his fidgeting stance reminded me of someone.

Sidney palmed his pistol, frowning fiercely. I could tell he was tempted to rush him, but though we knew at least one other man was out there dousing the barn, we had no way of knowing how many others we couldn’t see. Whatever the odds, we weren’t going to escape that way without being seen and plausibly shot at. So I trusted he knew what he was doing when he pulled me deeper into the barn. Sure enough, in a stall closer to the far end, one of the boards was missing from the bottom of the outer wall, and the others were rotting away.

He began kicking at those boards with his heel, widening the gap through which I could see the outside. The smell of smoke assaulted my nose, and I glanced behind me, searching for flames. When the space seemed wide enough, he knelt and cautiously peered out. Pulling his head back inside, he urged me to scramble through.

The scent of kerosene was strong, and I realized I was crawling through a puddle of it. Stumbling forward, I kneeled in the sodden grass several feet away, scouring the length of the barn as Sidney struggled to squeeze his larger frame through. Once he was free, we wasted no time in making a hasty retreat deeper into the field. The clouds above obscured the moon, and I prayed whoever was behind us setting fire to the barn did not see us running away.

Several hundred feet from the structure, Sidney pulled to a stop and we swung around to see what was happening. Flames licked up the front of the stables over the space where we’d slept, slowly spreading over the wood. At the corner near the main door, we could see at least two silhouettes watching it burn. Two men who obviously expected us to be inside, burning along with it, for there was no urgency in their movements.

I tugged against Sidney’s hand, pulling him away. There was no use in attempting to confront them now. They would see us coming long before we could do anything to stop them, unless he planned to crawl on his belly through this muddy field. It seemed best for now to let them believe we were dead. And that meant we needed to flee further before that entire barn went up in flames, illuminating the night for some distance.

We stumbled forward as quickly as we dared so as not to risk either of us being hampered by a twisted ankle or worse. Every once in a while, one of us would glance behind us to be certain we weren’t followed. However, when the darkness closed in around us again like a comforting blanket, and it became obvious we had escaped without being seen, we slowed our steps to a walk.

At the edge of a tiny stream, I asked to stop in order to catch my breath. Sidney turned with hands on hips to watch the inferno in the distance, but I kept my gaze resolutely away from it, allowing my eyes to fully adjust to the blackness of night. Wiggling my fingers inside my gloves, I studied the rise and fall of the land and the landmarks I could see.

The stream formed a large arc in the middle of the field before continuing westward. Rather helpfully, the moon peeked through in snatches as the clouds scuttled by overhead. It was during one of these short intervals that I noticed the copse of trees about three quarters of a kilometer distant from us, toward which the stream flowed.

“This is perhaps going to sound unbelievable, but . . .” I glanced at Sidney. “I think I recognize where we are.”

He stepped closer as I lifted my arm to point toward the trees.

“If I’m right, then there’s a house on the other side of that wood. I rested there one day with a downed British pilot we were endeavoring to guide to Holland. It may not be stocked like it was during the war. In fact, it probably isn’t. But there’s a chance there may be fresh clothing and tools to fix your motorcar.” I paused, grimacing at the thought. “If those men didn’t fire that as well.”

“Don’t even say it,” Sidney snapped.

I lifted a hand to his arm in commiseration. I knew how attached he was to his Pierce-Arrow.

He sighed in resignation. “Lead on, then. What do we have to lose?”

I turned to follow the course of the stream and Sidney fell into step beside me, taking the satchel from me.

“Who do you think those men were?” I asked, wondering who had attempted to kill us. The thought made my stomach quaver now that we were further from the danger. “You got a better look than I did. Did you recognize the man by the door?”

From his answering silence, I could tell he did. “It was the man we confronted in Liège. The one who claimed to be that author.”

“Jonathan Fletcher?”

“I should have pummeled his lights out then,” he growled.

“But why? Who is he really?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“And who was with him?”

“I don’t know that either,” he snapped angrily. “Maybe that fellow in the mask you saw on the boat. Or perhaps it was Xavier come to finish us off.”

“You don’t have to snarl at me,” I retorted, lengthening my stride to charge ahead of him.

Unfortunately, with his longer legs he had no problem catching me up.

“I didn’t ask for any of this to happen. But it is proof that there’s something wrong. Something very wrong. Why else would someone wish to kill us?”

He grunted his agreement. “Well, whatever the reason, I suppose we should be glad their preferred method of murder is setting fires. After all, there are a lot more effective ways to kill someone.”

I nearly stumbled. “You’re right. The fires all do seem to connect to one another. First the attempt on Emilie, then Madame Zozza’s death, and now this. Killers do tend to stick to the same modus operandi. It’s what they know.”

Sidney turned to look at me, and I could practically hear the thoughts in his head spinning, wondering where I’d learned such a thing, but now was not the time to elaborate.

As we entered the copse of trees, our steps slowed as we cautiously picked our way through them. I drew to a stop when the house with three gables came into view through the branches. All was dark and quiet, but that was to be expected in the middle of the night. We approached silently, alert for the slightest indication that anything seemed off.

The entrance to the house was through a little door in the left gable, and as I drew near I noticed the windows were still boarded up. If someone had intended to return here, they’d either been unable or elected not to. I moved to open the door, but Sidney stopped me with a hand on my arm, insisting on going first. Holding his pistol at the ready, he stepped through the threshold. I glanced behind us, scanning the trees before following him inside.

The door opened into a spacious room which seemed to echo with loneliness at its abandonment, just as it had during the war.

“Stay away from that corner,” I directed Sidney as I moved toward the large stone fireplace, its carved ornamentals shrouded in dust. “Some of the floorboards and wooden wall panels are crumbling with rot.”

I reached for the door of the cupboard to the right of the hearth, its rusty hinges complaining from disuse. Inside it appeared like the normal wooden interior of a closet, but I knew better. Bending over, I pushed against the back wall near the bottom. It swung inward as the top swiveled outward, with the pivot at the center of the wall.

I glanced back to find Sidney leaned over watching me. “Close the cupboard door and follow me.”

He did as he was told, crawling after me into a dark, eight-by-eight square room. Underfoot crunched hay strewn across the floor. Once he was through, I let the wall drop back into place and reached up and then down to shoot bolts into sockets in the ceiling and floor, preventing anyone outside from opening the hidden door.

“Very clever,” Sidney proclaimed, examining the mechanisms.

“Yes, it came in quite handy at times for our agents. The local German patrols and gendarmes liked to stop in this house to warm up, never knowing there was a secret room just beyond the cupboard, hiding the enemy.”

He turned to look around at the hay-strewn space, its only contents a few boxes, an old carriage lamp I was lighting, and a partially burned candle. “But what if they discovered you were here? Wouldn’t you be trapped?”

I shook my head, striding toward one of the far corners and bending over to search for the rope buried by straw. “This is a trap door leading into the cellars. And then from there one could escape through a grating in the outer wall.”

“This space was well-planned.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the impressed tone of his voice. “Well, I don’t know who precisely to credit with the design. Perhaps it was here before the war. Either way, we put it to good use.”

I knelt to rummage through the boxes, eager to be free of my kerosene-soaked skirt. Fortunately, there were a few ragged items of clothing—an old gray skirt for me and a pair of brown trousers. They were hardly ideal, but given the alternative, I was happy to have them.

Sidney seemed of the same mindset, swiftly exchanging his pungent, wet bottoms for the ragged pair. Though he did sigh rather heavily to see they were at least three inches too short for his frame.

The first box also contained a blanket, and he located a small collection of tools in the other, including a pair of pliers. So with that matter sorted, we bedded down together on a mound of hay for whatever remained of the night.

I’d only just settled comfortably when I heard his breathless snorts of suppressed laughter. Sidney struggled for a few more moments, before I glanced over at him where he lay on his back.

“What is so funny?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. It’s just . . . I used to lie awake during the war sometimes aching for you. But I didn’t expect when I returned that I would find myself lying awake beside you aching in every other muscle.” He guffawed.

I rolled over to swat him. “Sidney.”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close even as he still trembled with laughter. I stared up at him in disapproval, though it was almost certainly foiled by the smile that tugged at the corners of my lips.

* * *

In the windowless room it was difficult to tell how much time had passed. It was surprisingly warm and cozy. I recalled thinking the same thing the last time I’d stayed there. Though, at the time, I’d believed it was exhaustion that made it so. Perhaps it still was.

Whatever the case, some hours after our arrival I was woken by the sound of the cupboard door opening. I sat upright almost at the same time Sidney did. He began to scrabble for his pistol, but I placed a hand on his arm and shook my head. With the bolts in place, no one could open the secret door. If they even knew it was there.

That was the question. For it could well be a passing traveler, searching for a warm place to rest. Or just someone exploring the vacant house.

But if they knew about the secret door and this secret room, well, then that signaled something quite different. Either someone privy to the knowledge had shared it with an outsider, or someone working with the intelligence networks in Belgium during the war was outside that door. I had a difficult time believing the timing of such a visit did not indicate the latter.

Something scraped against the wall, as if feeling along it. My heart lodged in my throat as I glanced at the trap door, wondering if we would have to attempt to flee. If the men from the barn had realized we’d escaped, perhaps they’d guessed where we’d gone and planned to set the house ablaze as well.

So when someone suddenly rapped on the wall as if paying a call at the door to our flat, it was understandable that I should jump.

“Verity, Sidney, I know you’re in there.”

My eyes met my husband’s. Both of us recognized the voice.

“Let me in. I have information you need.”

Sidney arched a single eyebrow in skepticism.

When neither of us answered, he spoke again in a wry voice through the wall. “You can’t think I mean you any harm.”

I frowned, whispering to Sidney. “What should we do? We can’t just sit here.”

It was his turn to glance toward the trap door, but I shook my head in impatience. “If he knows about the secret door, then he likely knows about the second exit.”

He sighed, but reached over to light the carriage lamp, and I blinked at the muted glow.

“Verity?”

I looked to Sidney, and he nodded.

“Just a minute, Alec,” I snapped back, not wanting him to think for a moment his presence was welcomed.

“You open the door,” Sidney murmured in my ear after positioning the lamp where he wanted it. He drew his pistol, standing in the shadows as he leveled it at the spot where Alec would emerge “But stay to the side as he crawls through.”

I wanted to trust he wouldn’t shoot him unless it was absolutely necessary, but given our trio’s complicated history, I would be lying if I didn’t say I harbored doubts. Sidney noticed my hesitation and cast his black scowl my way. Lifting up a prayer that there wouldn’t soon be blood on my hands, I reached down to release the first bolt and then stood on tiptoe to trigger the second.

Just as I stepped to the side, the wall swung inward and Alec’s dark head poked through. He shimmied through the opening, only to rise to his feet to find Sidney’s Luger pointed in his face.

His mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. “So that’s how it is, is it? Though, I suppose I can’t blame you given the night it appears you’ve been having.”

“Search him,” Sidney told me.

I thought about arguing, for the last thing I wanted to do was run my hands over the body of the man I’d told my husband less than thirty-six hours before that I’d slept with when I’d believed he was dead—all while my husband looked on. But he was right. We didn’t know if we could trust Alec. It would be foolhardy in the extreme not to confiscate any weapons he might be carrying. Not that I didn’t think he could be equally as deadly with his fists if the situation called for it. But the less options for him to do harm, the better.

It didn’t help that Alec seemed to find the entire exercise a colossal joke. “Is this retribution for that time I had to search you?” he quipped as I slid my hands over his arms and then along his torso, harking back to our first meeting at the Kommandantur in Brussels.

“It’s not retribution if you’re still enjoying it and I’m not,” I retorted, amazed at his cheek in flirting with me in front of my husband. Then again, he didn’t know that Sidney now knew about us.

“Ah, right,” he murmured, though the gleam in his eyes clearly communicated he thought I was lying.

I rolled my eyes as I knelt to search down his legs, doing so more roughly than was necessary. Lifting up his right trouser hem, I extracted a dagger from a holder attached to his ankle and sank back on my heels to hold it up for both men to see. I arched my eyebrows pointedly at Alec.

“Did you honestly think I would be completely unarmed? I had no idea what I would be walking into after seeing that blazing inferno of a barn in the distance from the main road. And then when I spotted what a wreck they made of Sidney’s Pierce-Arrow.”

I withheld a gasp, though I couldn’t stop from turning my head to look at Sidney. The dim light of the carriage lamp cast stark shadows over his features, making his hard jawline even more pronounced, as well as the anger glittering in his eyes.

“Is he clear?” he bit out.

“Yes, just the knife,” I replied, rising to my feet.

Sidney lowered his pistol, transferring it to his left hand as he approached.

“Well, now that that unpleasantness is over with . . .” Alec began, only to be cut off by Sidney’s swift punch to his face.