The Embers of Resistance

Chapter 20 Christine

Christine could only assume that it was nighttime but, given that the trunk she was being transported in was pitch black, she had no reference and no clue how much time had passed. Though the boot of the British Minister's roomy Chrysler was well-ventilated, she was still plagued by her cough and did her best to stifle it anytime she felt the car stop, afraid a passerby would hear something unusual from the trunk. In the knapsack she clutched in her hand were credentials—a British passport, one of the most unattainable ones no less—supplied by Kate's father. It was in the name of "Christine Granville," and stated her birthdate as seven years later than her actual one.

She gasped as the Chrysler came to a sudden stop and something hit the side of her stomach, hard. Christine realized that her assailant was one of the cans of petrol, also supplied by Kate's dad, but that didn't help her sore gut feel any better.

Fresh air flooded her lungs as someone opened the trunk door. "Finally," Christine exclaimed as she extended her arm to the driver, one of the Minister's assistants.

"Sorry for the tight quarters," the driver said with a stiff British accent.

"No worries," she said as she climbed out of the boot and stretched. It appeared to be late evening and Christine, having not been able to sleep at all in the trunk, was uncharacteristically fatigued. "Is this the hotel?" she asked, looking up at the nondescript building.

The driver nodded. "Andrew should have already arrived."

Sir O'Malley, Kate's dad, had concocted the idea of smuggling Christine over the Hungary/Yugoslavia border in the trunk. Andrew had insisted on driving the Opel, as he was familiar with most of the guards due to his smuggling activities and figured the two of them would need a car for the rest of their journey.

Andrew was indeed waiting for her. After he let her in, he twirled Christine around the tiny room. "Welcome to Belgrade. I told you it would work."

Christine giggled, happy to be in his arms again. "You were right."

He stopped spinning her to grab the bottle of brandy. "Let's toast to freedom in Yugoslavia with some of Kate's Hungarian brandy."

Did he really have to drop Kate's name at that moment? Christine rubbed her face, knowing that they owed part of their successful escape to Kate. "Sorry, I'm tired," she mumbled to Andrew.

"Well, make sure you get some sleep." He went to the windows and pulled open the blinds. "So you can be ready to take this city by storm in the morning."

She flopped onto the bed. "Don't forget we still have work to do before we leave for Turkey." The plan was to spend a fortnight in Yugoslavia before continuing on to Istanbul.

She sat up as she began making a list out loud. "I have to resume contact with the Musketeers, and our couriers will need to find new routes." She paused with her pen in the air. "And of course, see if I can find out any information on my mother." She jotted down 'Countess Skarbek.' "And you have to connect with your courier and figure out how to..."

"All right, all right." Andrew took another chug of brandy. "These things all take time, but they'll get done."

She reached for the bottle as something occurred to her. "Who will be the contact in Budapest now that we're gone?"

"We'll find someone. What about Kate?"

Christine refrained from wrinkling her nose. "Too young." She took another drink. "What about Jerzy?"

"Your husband?"

"Yes." She set the brandy down. "He is fluent in Polish, Russian, French, German, English, he's intelligent, amiable, and excels at bossing most people around."

"Except you, of course."

She lifted one shoulder halfheartedly. "You have to admit, he is a good candidate."

Andrew rubbed his forehead in thought. "But you don't think that, by bringing him here, you would be flaunting our relationship in his face? Do you not fear repercussions?"

She smiled. "Clearly you don't understand our marriage. As long as I'm upfront about our affair, he won't mind—he could never believe I'd leave him for good anyway. And we know, as a Ukrainian, how much he hates the Nazis and would do everything he can to thwart them." After a moment, she added, "He might have his own—shall we say—unique code of honor, but where work is concerned, he shines above most."

Andrew blew out his breath. "I suppose, if you have that much faith in him, he'll do."

She went to the desk and pulled out a pen and paper. "Then I'll summon him straight away and tell him to meet us in Istanbul."