17. Yellow Line

THEY SAT DOWN TO GIVE THE MAN TIME TO MOVE AWAY from the opening.

"I hope that window doesn't land me in a place where someone will spot me right off," Alec said to Eva.

"Der Mann—for him it worked. He has done so before, ja?" Eva said. "Maybe a closet or secret room? In our Hans in Magdeburg, we made a secret room—for hiding silver, other things."

Alec nodded. "It's time," he said softly. "Wait for me. But if I take too long—if I don't come back—go home to your aunt. I'll hurry. But I don't know what I'll find. Stay away from the cliffs there," he said, pointing to the white rocks. "And promise me you won't follow me inside."

"Nein. I cannot follow," Eva agreed.

"Aye," Alec said. "If I'm going to do this, it must be now."

Rising to his feet, he walked the last few yards to the rocks and, swift as a goat, scrambled up and rested quietly on top of the ledge. Following the man's lead, he moved to his left and ran his finger around the edge of the window cover. He tugged lightly on it, and it pulled away from the window. Then he put one leg into the opening and searched for something to rest his foot on. He felt a hard surface and placed his foot there. Then, backing into the window opening, the cover still in his hand, he drew his other leg in and stood up. Since he knew he might need to make a quick escape, he left the window covering off. Then, peering into the darkness, he laughed nervously. The hiding place was a lavatory, and he was standing in the sink.

Stepping down from his perch, he moved to a door in front of him. Light was creeping in near the floor. He listened for any sounds and then tried the doorknob. The door creaked as he pulled it open and peeked around its edge. To his right, as far as he could see, was a dimly lit tunnel. For just a moment, he wanted to turn around and go back to Eva. But he waited for his eyes to adjust, and then he looked again. No one was in sight. He knew he couldn't stay in the lavatory, but his feet wouldn't move. His mind was telling him to scramble back through the window—to go home.

He stood there, hearing only the sound of his own breathing. Then Margaret's familiar voice seemed to whisper, "You've come this far, Alec. You can do the rest as well."

Sliding past the door and into the hallway, Alec turned to his right. Several openings branched off from the tunnel before him. Creeping along, he listened for the sound of footsteps. No one was coming. He was relieved that his soft shoes let him move without a sound.

Slowly, he made his way down the corridor. Single bulbs burned dimly in the ceiling. The tunnel smelled damp and moldy. Passing each side opening, he noticed that the hallways were marked by colored lines. To his right, he saw a blue line leading away from him. Up farther to his left, a red line trailed off. At his feet, he saw a yellow stripe. He started straight ahead along the yellow line until it angled to his right. Then he paused.

Ting, ting. A sound rang out from his right. Ting, ting. It sounded again. He turned toward it. Two right turns—he needed to remember.

Hunched down and staying close to the wall, he passed several more hallways on his right and left. Each was marked with a colored line.

Ting, ting. The sound grew louder as he continued. Ting, ting, ting. He was nearly upon it. It was metal against metal, ringing out from a room up on the left.

He felt that he was being sucked deeper and deeper into the castle. He looked around the long hallway, expecting to be caught any minute. Then the sound was right next to him, and he ducked into an opening in the wall. Ting, ting. It rang out again. Crouching lower, he saw that he was not in a hallway this time, but a large entrance leading into a room. A curtain separated him from what was inside.

Taking a breath, he stood halfway up. The tinging began again, and he realized it was just on the other side of the curtain. He crept toward the curtain and nudged it aside. The stronger light made him blink. As his eyes adjusted, he stared in disbelief at the sight before him. There, arranged neatly in three rows, were several hospital gurneys. All of them were empty but for one patient tucked over in the corner. A nurse, with her back to Alec, was stacking metal basins on a shelf near the patient. Alec wasted no time. He crawled into the room and ducked behind a gurney near the doorway. The long sheet draped over it kept him hidden. The patient moaned, saying something to the nurse.

"Why, yer going to be all right, mate. Don't give it no mind," the nurse said. "I seen worse, I 'ave. Aye, ye've 'ad a bad time of it. But I'm takin' good care to 'elp you. And soon we'll get you 'ome to yer mum and dad. And that bloody swine, 'itler, 'e'll get 'is."

The man on the gurney moaned again and let the attendant check his wounds. From where he was hiding, Alec could see that the man had a bandage covering the end of his left arm where his hand should have been. Wrapped around the man's head was another white bandage showing a spot of red blood seeping through. Alec knew it was the color of war.

"Yer not the first to be lyin' in 'ere," the nurse continued. "Cripes! We've 'ad others like you come from France! This bloomin' war, it'll bring us plenty before it's done. And, Churchill, God bless 'im, 'e's got a full-blown row to manage."

Listening to the nurse, Alec knew he didn't have much time. He looked around and waited for the right moment to escape. He needed to find someplace or something that could tell him more than he was hearing in this room. But where was he to look? Or to go? He started to move, then ducked down again as he heard the clicking of heels on the concrete floor outside the room. Someone was coming down the hall.

Squeezing in tighter between the gurney's sheet and the wall, he froze as two British soldiers pushed aside the curtain. Standing not six feet from Alec, they stared at the man in the corner.

"This is only the beginning, mate," the one closer to Alec said.

"I know. But we've no other plan. With Belgium gone and France to follow, we've no choice but to heed the vice admiral's orders. Aye, we've men stranded on that coast. England needs them home. The navy alone can't do it; we've got to ask for help."

"But civilians?" the first soldier argued. "The risk to their lives? Can we bear those losses? Blast them—the Jerries have already sunk two of our ships, and the Luftwaffe has been flying over northern France for hours, bombing our lads. What are we thinking, asking civilians to cross the Channel?"

"If we don't do something, we'll lose them all," the second responded. "And then what will the people say? They'll say they would have helped if they'd known.... We'll have a bloody mess either way, that's for sure. And we'll see every hospital in England filled. But we'll see every lad dead if we can't get to them soon.... Aye, we need the little ships. If it's seaworthy and can make it across, it will be put to use. The call has gone out tonight only to the docks, but by supper tomorrow, all of England will know. In the next few days, the prime minister and the archbishop will implore all of England to pray."

The soliders' words echoed in Alec's head. Though he had heard the rumors for days, he now knew he was hearing the truth. England really was in trouble. Thomas and Will and the others were stranded in France. The entire army could die. They were calling for help—they were calling for his help.

He had to get out of the castle. But the soldiers lingered, watching silently as the attendant moved around the room. They were dressed much like Will and the others had been: brown trousers and shirts, and gray socks tucked tightly into their boots. But the boots caught his attention. Clean and smooth against the concrete floor, they revealed that the men had spent little time outside the castle. Oddly, tied to their thick black belts were gas masks, which Alec had once thought so amusing. Now, seeing the masks dangling from the soliders' waists, Alec found them frightening.

Then, as if he had ordered it, a bell rang in the corridor beyond. The soliders looked at each other, turned, and moved down the hallway. Alec heard their heels striking the scrubbed concrete, and the sound soon died away.

He waited a minute and then looked again at the patient on the gurney. The man had lost his hand. Alec tried to imagine what he would do if he woke up to find his hand missing. It was the part of war Aga had been trying to tell him about. Now he understood.

When the attendant turned her back, Alec slid out from behind the gurney and scrambled down the long hall. As he hurried back the way he'd come, someone shouted from far behind him. "Stop. Stop now!" Without looking back, Alec broke into a run. Frantic, he raced down the corridor searching for his escape. Then he stopped. He looked down. A red line ran along the floor beneath him.

"The yellow line!" he gasped. "Where's the yellow line?" Turning full circle, he heard the voices growing nearer. "The yellow line," he said again. "Where's the—" Then he saw it: another hallway, just a short way back. Turning, he retraced his steps and dashed down the long corridor marked in yellow. The small light outside the lav door kept him from missing his exit a second time. The shouting behind him grew louder now. "Stop!" the voice called from down the hall. He didn't dare turn to look; he was out of time.

He tried the handle and was relieved when it turned. Back in the lavatory, he flipped the lock on the door and stepped quickly onto the sink. He reached toward the window, but his hand bounced back. Someone had replaced the covering! He clawed at the edges of the board and, prying it loose, slapped it away from the opening. The shouts of people outside the door nearly froze him. But he thrust one leg, then the other, through the opening and dropped to the ledge below and ran back down to Eva.

He pulled her along as, together, they raced through the shrubbery. They stumbled down the rocky path until they reached the street below and ducked into a nearby alley. Fearing the soldiers might still be after them, Alec led Eva through the alley and out the other end, stepping over rubbish as they ran. Soon they were on the street just above the docks.

Breathless, Alec and Eva ran around the back of the dockmaster's shack and crumpled to the ground.

"Alec," Eva whispered. "What happened?"

Holding her hand tight against his heaving chest, Alec whispered, "They're trapped, Eva. The lads in France. They're trapped. I'll tell you the rest later. For now, we need to get back."

Perhaps because she was too tired to protest, or maybe because she did not want to think about being chased again, Eva followed as Alec led her home. By now, curfew had begun, so they stayed in the shadows and reached Market Street without anyone spotting them.

At her stoop, Alec let go of Eva's hand and said, "I don't know when I'll be back. This news will muddle our cargo plans for the Britannia tomorrow. But I'll find a way to come by as soon as I can."

Eva nodded and turned away. He waited until she was inside and then headed to the Shaftbury. His mind still reeling from what he had heard, he crept through the back door and down the hallway to his room. Everything was quiet as death.

He closed his door and stared into the darkness that surrounded him. It was more than the darkness of night. It was the darkness of fear. A darkness that would not go away with the dawn.

His mind couldn't rest. He knew what the captain would do. He knew what his father would say. He knew his own path was set.