Warren seemed crestfallen at his plane’s disappearance. They searched for a fruitless half hour in case the weeks had marred their memory.
“We can take the train out,” Julian suggested. His lungs burned from the day’s exertion, and the thought of sitting on a train, even a German train, was appealing.
“Were I in charge of the manhunt, the train station would be the first place I’d look.”
“How much petrol is in the car?”
Warren frowned. “Not much.”
“Enough to make it to a different station?” Perhaps taking the train from a smaller station would be safer.
Warren shook his head. “We may have to walk partway to the station as it is. Unless we can buy more.”
“Fuel is rationed, and we don’t have cards.”
“Black market?”
Julian tried to think of where they could get illegal fuel. Herr Sauer wasn’t above using the black market, and Julian knew some of his sources, but he didn’t think it would work. “Most of the local dealers would recognize me. Earning an illegal profit is one thing; aiding a spy is a little more serious. If we went farther from Essen, it might work, but—”
“But we don’t have the fuel for that. I guess we’ll take the train.”
Julian pulled together a strategy as they started back. “They’ll expect us to go north to the closest border. We can go to Cologne and then Aachen instead. Less direct, less suspicious. I’ve never crossed the border on foot, but there’s got to be a way.”
“We have plenty of money for bribery,” Warren said. “That should help a little.”
They hiked back to the Horch. Julian moved more slowly now, wheezing as much as breathing, and Warren was using his left leg only gingerly. Neither of them was completely healed, and three weeks in jail had eroded their physical endurance.
As they neared the edge of the woods, Julian held his hand out. “Slowly. We’ve been gone a while.” He peered around a tree, and his stomach dropped. The guard they had left handcuffed in jail was strolling around the car. Julian spotted a second policeman a few paces away.
Julian motioned Warren back. They could shoot the guards, but he wasn’t sure that was the best strategy. Once they were in the thicker trees, he whispered, “We can go around.”
* * *
The sun was slipping beyond the western horizon when they reached the station. Smoke and steam filled the air, a sign that most mechanics had gone away to war and German trains were no longer running at their efficient best. In the mist-filled twilight, Julian picked out numerous military policemen checking passes. He gulped, then winced at the pain in his throat and glanced at Warren. Some of the Canadian’s bandages had fallen out of position, so Julian tugged them back into place around his jaw. “I’ll buy tickets to Bonn.”
“I thought you said we’d go as far as Cologne, then head for Aachen.”
“We’ll pay the extra. If anyone asks, the clerk will give them the wrong destination.”
While he waited in line to purchase tickets, Julian looked back. He could tell Warren was nervous. The uniform helped him blend in, but not being able to understand what was said all around him had to be nerve-racking. In front of the trains, a line had formed, and prospective passengers were being thoroughly questioned. With his bandages, no one would expect Warren to speak, but they would expect him to follow directions.
“This way,” Julian whispered, pulling on Warren’s elbow and leading him away from the crowd. He hailed a pair of soldiers at a broken train window. German soldiers weren’t so different from French ones, and he had an idea. “Comrades, will you make a pair of men on their way home for convalescence leave stand in line in the cold? I’ve been gassed, and the cold is bad for my lungs. And my friend’s leg isn’t completely healed. If we stop to rest, we might miss the train, and then my friend will miss the birth of his first child.”
Almost instantly, the window was pushed open to its widest, and the men hoisted first Warren and then Julian into their car. Julian caught the bewilderment on Warren’s face, but the pilot quickly hid his surprise.
“Thank you,” Julian told the soldiers. McDougall had been thoughtful enough to put cigarettes in his uniform pocket, so Julian handed them around as thanks to the men.
It wasn’t until after the train left and most of the soldiers had finished their cigarettes that Warren leaned next to Julian. In a voice barely audible over the noise of the train, he asked, “What did you tell them?”
“I said we were too weak to wait in line, and if we missed the train, you would miss the birth of your first child.”
The corners of Warren’s lips crept up. “I wonder what Claire would think were she to hear rumors that I’m fathering German babies.”
“Claire?”
“My girl.” Then Warren frowned. “Or at least she was.”
The boxcar they sat in was crowded with other soldiers, but Julian hadn’t slept well the night before, and their series of escapes had worn him out. He drifted off to sleep as soon as he closed his eyes.
When he woke, it was light outside. Had they slept through their stop? One of the real German soldiers was awake too. “Where are we?” Julian asked.
“A few minutes from Cologne.”
“Why did it take all night?”
The soldier shrugged. “Mechanical problems. And they searched the train a few times. Probably looking for deserters.”
Julian wondered if they had also been looking for escaped spies. He shook Warren awake when the crowded Cologne station came into view. As they pulled to a stop, a conductor came through and told everyone to stay where they were. The policemen needed to see everyone’s papers.
“Not again,” one of the soldiers grumbled. “At this rate, I’ll spend all my leave on the train.”
A policeman yawned as he came into their section. “Papers, please.”
The passengers groaned collectively, then reached into their pockets for identification, leave passes, and travel papers. The policeman reached Julian midway through his search of the car and cringed at the blood-stained paper and Julian’s apologetic explanation. He glanced at the document but didn’t touch it with his fingers. He did the same with Warren’s.
Only after all compartments on the train from Essen had been checked were the passengers allowed off. Julian bought tickets to Aachen. He slipped a lean, elderly conductor a wad of bills and managed to avoid another paperwork inspection.
“I’m not sure how much longer we can do this,” Julian admitted to Warren. “We’re bound to run into someone who isn’t timid about dirty papers and who doesn’t accept bribes.” The train rolled out, but the smooth hum of the wheels meeting the track failed to soothe Julian’s anxiety. Frost crystals formed on the windows of the insufficiently heated train car, blocking his view of the land they passed, but even if he couldn’t see it, he was still in enemy territory. Freedom was far, far away.