CHAPTER 30
In a quarter hour, we were back in the Porter, driving southeast of Poperinghe back into the war-torn countryside. Landau’s telephone call had proved effective, for the Rijkswacht were being more than cooperative, eager to spare any lives they could after so much devastation. They did not have a large force, but what officers they could, they put at our disposal. Several accompanied Rose and an injured Alec out to the Boeschèpe cemetery, while others would be positioned to block any vehicles from traveling that way. Another pair of officers would be sent after us toward Kemmel Hill as soon as they could be roused from their sleep.
This part of Flanders was covered in undulating hills with a larger ridge stretching from east to west, across the French border. In the darkness, we could not see the knolls, but the guidebook assured us they were there. The state of the roads steadily declined as we entered the old battlefields and winding lines of trenches.
“Has the tour more or less followed the same route as the Michelin Guide?” Sidney asked.
“Mostly,” Max replied.
“Then we should make the turning at La Clytte and approach Kemmel from Locre,” I directed Sidney as I examined the map in the light of my torch.
“No, I think we should go the other way,” Max argued. “Come up on him from behind.”
I glanced at Sidney, bowing to their greater knowledge of such tactics.
His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes glued to the dusty road and rubble illuminated in the headlamps. “Explain to me the lay of the land.”
“If we continued straight, we’ll reach Kemmel village. Or what remains of it. Which according to this, is basically nothing but ruins. Beyond it lies the remnants of the château and its cemetery. To reach the hill, we have to turn right at the village. The book warns that the road skirting the foot of the hill is completely churned up and only passable because of a series of bridges, which have been thrown up over the shell holes.” Having crossed over these rickety contraptions on our drive earlier that evening, I did not look forward to doing so again. “The road to the top of the hill is inaccessible.”
Having absorbed all this, Sidney flexed his fingers around the driving wheel. “Then I suspect you believe he intends to utilize those existing shell holes in some way,” he said to Max.
“That was my first thought. If he could find a shallow enough one and dislodge the bridge or camouflage the depth, then when the motorcar dropped into the hole, it might generate enough force to trigger the bomb.” He sounded unconvinced. “It would be more likely if he tampered with the mechanism in some way.”
“Well, it’s too late now to wonder whether the man is familiar enough with ordnance to make certain they detonate,” Sidney replied. “I think we have to assume he does and pray we’re not too late to stop him from succeeding.”
We all fell silent as we steadily drove onward into the night. A creeping mist began to rise up from the soil and debris in patches, coating the ground in gossamer blankets. There was no sound beyond the purr of the motorcar engine.
At Kemmel village, I directed Sidney through the narrow turnings between the ruins of wood and stone onto the road which hugged the base of the hill. There he rolled to a stop, switching the headlamps off.
Blackness enveloped us, thick and cloying with the scents of exhaust, Flanders mud, and decay. Hours seemed to pass, even though I knew Sidney was merely waiting for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was impossible not to be conscious of my heart beating a steady tattoo inside my chest, as well as the breathing of the two men on either side of me. I knew I had made my choice, that my heart was already given to Sidney, and yet the warmth of Max’s leg pressed against mine was not unwelcome.
Sidney was the first to move, shifting the motorcar into drive. “If we have any luck,” he murmured, “we’ll see the light of his lamps long before he hears us.”
We slowly rolled forward, the tires crunching in the dirt. At first there was nothing but the same devastation we’d viewed through the headlamps, just with a narrower, shrouded view. The shape of Kemmel Hill was visible as a darker line against the starry sky. We passed the ruins of a few machine gun nests, and then the road rounded a turn.
I reached over to grip Sidney’s arm just as he came to a stop.
“I see it,” he whispered.
In the distance shined a hazy light obscured by mist.
“Got you, you son of a . . . ,” he swore, inching forward again.
“Should we be moving any closer?” Max murmured. “Sound travels further in the night.”
“Yes, but not that far. And not in this mist. Just a little closer . . . There.” He braked at the edge of a shell hole and its temporary bridge, and turned off the engine.
“Now, what’s the plan?” Max asked.
“Well, I see at least two shadows moving in and out of that light, but there may be more.” He glanced to the side out over the morass lining the road. “I wonder how passable the terrain is around that hole. The safest bet would be to somehow sneak up, surround, and incapacitate them.”
“I agree. I’d rather avoid actually firing our pistols. Who knows if they have guns?”
“I would assume they do,” I said, my mind turning over an idea.
“What are you thinking?” Sidney turned to ask, evidently having heard the contemplation in my tone.
“Maybe we should use Moilien’s paranoia to our advantage.”
“Go on.”
“Well, he thinks we’re dead. That’s what Smythe said. And this landscape . . . with the mist . . . and . . . well, we all know it still contains corpses yet to be unearthed.” I glanced between the men. I couldn’t see their faces clearly in the darkness, but Sidney’s voice was grave.
“I think I know what you’re suggesting. Tell me how we do it.”
* * *
I shivered as the breeze brushed through my loose curls and across my neck. The night air was certainly cool, but that was not what had made the tiny hairs along my arms and down my back stand on end, my senses finely tuned to my surroundings.
Before me, several yards further down the road, stood Moilien in a shallow shell hole with another man I’d never seen before, working in concert with him. I could hear their muffled voices, the strikes of their shovels, and the shuffle of dirt. At least one of the bombs had already been lowered into the crater, for we had watched them carry it over from their vehicle.
Sidney and Max had both scrambled out in opposite directions over the quagmire of the surrounding fields and the slope of Kemmel Hill. Their paths had to be wide enough so that Moilien did not spot them as they circled around, but not so deep that they became stuck in the mire. I could only be grateful the top layer of soil was fairly dry, otherwise their slog through the sucking mud would have been even more difficult.
For my part, I simply had to wait on the road for their signals. This seemed the easier task, but I found that as the minutes stretched by, so did my nerves. I had thought the abandoned battlefield quiet, but I discovered I was wrong. The scrabbling of rats through the dirt, the clicking of insects, the whistling of the wind through some hole in the twisted metal wreckage—all was amplified.
And then there was the knowledge of what lay out there under the upheaval of that earth. Left out here on my own, it would be all too easy to fool myself into believing the spirits of those who died were still wandering these unhallowed fields.
Which gave me heart that this plan just might work. For surely, I wasn’t the only one unnerved to be standing on this unholy ground in the black of night.
I expected to see Max’s lighter flicker first, for he had the easier of the two hikes, but it was Sidney’s lighter that flared a short distance up the expanse of Kemmel Hill. Then a moment later, I saw Max’s. Both were barely a glimmer, like a firefly passing through a forest, but I knew it was them. Inhaling a deep breath, I moved forward, praying this would work.
Steadily, I drew ever closer, shocked Moilien and his partner hadn’t yet noticed me. When still they didn’t look up, even though my steps were taking me nearer than I felt comfortable, I elected to moan. At first I felt ridiculous, but the longer I did so, the more fitting it seemed as I poured myself into playing my role, mourning my supposed, untimely death. Both men slowly lifted their gazes as I came to a stop about twenty yards away, purposely halting at the edge of a shell hole, as if to hover over it in my rippling skirt.
At first, neither of them moved, but then Moilien shook his head. In the moonlight, I could see he’d removed his mask. “No. It can’t be. You’re dead.”
The second man dropped his shovel and stumbled backward. He tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground. That’s when Max scrambled up onto the road to stand over the crater, pointing his pistol down at the man. Sidney emerged more sluggishly from the muddled dirt of the hillside, his gun aimed at Moilien.
But this proved too much for the man, for he let out an infuriated, terrified cry. He clambered out of the shallow hole and darted into the field from which Max had emerged. His steps were too quick for him to be paying any heed to where he was stepping. Then Sidney lowered his weapon and took off after him.
“No!” I shouted even as he vaulted over a pile of debris. “Sidney!” I moved to the edge of the road, searching for his silhouette against the horizon, but his form had been swallowed up by the darkness. “Forget him. It’s too dangerous.”
Initially, I could hear the sounds of their fumbling footsteps, but even that was soon lost to the night. Clenching my fists, I paced a circle in the road. “Blast him! Blast him!”
“It will be all right,” Max assured me as he ordered the other man up out of the hole. “Sidney knows what he’s doing . . .”
Before he could even finish that statement, there was a tremendous boom. It shook the earth and knocked me to the ground. At first, I worried one of the bombs Moilien had been burying had exploded, for who knew how he’d tampered with them. But then I realized I was not hit, and the terrifying flash of light had come from the middle of the field, not the roadway.
I pushed myself upright, staring out over the black field, my eyes momentarily blinded in the darkness that descended after the searing light. The patter of dirt raining down filled my ringing ears.
“Sidney,” I gasped, blinking into the distance, trying to clear my eyes. I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t hear him. Where was he? “Sidney!” I screamed.
Oh, why had he followed that madman? Why? He could have let him go.
How close had he been to that blast? Could he have survived? Was he lying out in that field injured?
I couldn’t see!
“The lights, the lights,” I turned to yell at Max, who was kneeling in the dirt. “Point them at the field.”
He was stumbling to his feet to do so when the sound of something approaching arrested us both. Through the darkness, a figure emerged. My every nerve strained toward it, desperate for it to be my husband.
When his features began to take shape, I clasped my hands over my mouth, unable to withhold the sob that had been building in my chest. He staggered over a depression in the earth and clambered up onto the road, sizing up the situation in one glance before dropping to his knees before me.
“You . . . you wretch!” I cried, swatting at him even as he pulled me to his chest. I collapsed against his shoulder, gripping the sides of his coat in my hands as I wept.
“I’m all right, Verity,” Sidney crooned rather stiltedly. In truth, he sounded a bit stunned.
I pulled back, swiping at the tears on my face, and lowered my hand to find it covered with grit. It was then I realized that he was coated in a fine powder of dirt.
I lurched away from him, scanning his face and torso. “Are you injured? Were you hit?”
He shook his head. “No. I . . . I stopped to turn back about a minute before . . .” He swallowed. “Before the explosion.” His body trembled as he inhaled a deep breath. “He must have stepped on a buried shell or mine.”
“Why did you go after him?” I demanded, my anger returning now that I knew he was safe.
“I couldn’t let him get away. The man meant to kill you.” His eyes gleamed with fervor. “I wasn’t going to give him the chance to try again.” He lifted a hand, smoothing my hair back from my jaw. “But then I realized it was suicide. That there were too many unseen hazards. Trenches, and shell holes, and coils of barbed wire, and . . . and unexploded shells.” He paused, searching my face. “That I had no desire to actually leave you a widow. Not when there are so many men already waiting in the wings.”
I shook my head. “Oh, Sidney. You know they . . .”
He never let me finish my sentence, capturing my mouth with his own. I wrapped my arms around him, never intending to let go.
Then a voice to my left cleared its throat, and I pulled back, though not too quickly, for Sidney would not allow it. I flushed, looking over to where Max still stood with his gun pointed at Moilien’s collaborator.
He smiled good-naturedly. “Pardon the interruption, but what would you like to do with this fellow.”
Sidney opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of voices calling to us in the direction of our parked motorcar made him reconsider. It was the Rijkswacht officers who were supposed to join us. They must have heard the explosion.
He shrugged his head in their direction. “Why don’t we ask them.”