OP-DEC: Operation Deceit

Chapter 19

Carsten escorted Claire and her aunt away from the landing point. He quickly led them along the wide corridors between the bunker and the outlying buildings. Stacks of crates and other industrial debris pressed against the divergent walls. Otherwise, the area appeared empty. Only the occasional soldier milled about halfheartedly. It was hard to tell what exactly had made Carsten so riled up.

Behind the small group, the other spy, Kappel, chatted excitedly with Claire's father. Claire concentrated on every word the dark-haired man said even though Carsten's hand gripped tightly around her elbow. She could barely believe where she was or how she continued in the face of death. She guessed that Carsten's determined energy fueled her own.

"Tell me, Herr Healey," Kappel said. "What is it like in one of those tin coffins?"

"Exactly as you just described them," Healey replied. "A coffin full of dead men, all on their way to the grave. Stinking and rotting the whole way."

Claire thought the appraisal fitting. They were dead too, the walking dead carrying themselves to a grave in order to save their killers the trouble. Her eyes slipped to the ground, unable to hold her head up anymore under the strain. Though her life dangled over a precipice, she only craved sleep, too tired to fight the threat. Her head throbbed and her muscles felt torn. She lifted her chin with some effort, deciding she need think only of the moment. Her father's conversation with his new friend provided the hand to brush her pain and worry aside.

Carsten's fingers loosened their grip on the flesh of her arm. His thumb gently caressed the space just above her elbow. The feather-like caress startled Claire, eliciting a shiver that paused her heart. She sucked in a breath of air, noting how strange such a show of affection felt, considering all he'd done to her thus far. Her eyes searched his profile, but he focused intently on the walk ahead. She would find no answers there. She kept her gaze away, not wishing to engage him and thus raise his ire.

"I am glad I did not get this assignment," Kappel laughed. "Hauptmann Reiniger has a much stronger stomach for such things. I am afraid I would have been useless to him and a burden to all of you."

"You need to grow a backbone, Leutnant." Carsten smiled at him. "Or you will never leave the continent."

"That is the difference between you and me, Hauptmann." Kappel smiled back. "I am content right here. I have all the danger and all the glory, just as you have reaped. What with the air raids."

Claire's head pounded again. She focused on a long black sedan at the end of the corridor, willing her muscles to relax despite their misuse. The vehicle sat alone with only the driver in attendance. He waved to them, standing behind his open door. Claire thought of a mob film she'd seen as a kid and wondered if this was her ride.

"You mean you have all of the wine and French women you need," Carsten grinned back at him.

"You must admit," Kappel replied, "That is an adventure in itself."

"Yes, but there are no medals for being wounded in such a manner," Carsten told him. "And you are fond of medals."

"Pigs," Claire said under her breath.

Carsten watched her instead of focusing ahead. The magnetism of his stare pulled her reluctant eyes to his. She frowned in disgust as well as in discomfort.

"Best behavior," he rasped with an evil glare, squeezing her arm for good measure.

Claire bore a defiant air. The tears sprung in her eyes, but she wouldn't allow her face to show it. She'd had plenty of practice since meeting him.