The slit trenches were still there, but there were improved shelters as well. Sloping walkways had been dug into the ground, with entrances covered by wood beams layered with sandbags. Some of them were pretty large, and nurses were guiding the patients who could walk into them. I knew there were plenty of nurses, doctors, and patients left inside, and I prayed the Luftwaffe wouldn't aim at the hospital. At the same time I wished the army would move the goddamn supply dump next to us a good ten miles down the road.
We made our way down into a smaller shelter. We had to duck going in, and the ceiling was low inside as well. I couldn't stand up straight, so like most everybody else I squatted and listened to the insectlike buzzing get nearer and nearer.
'Where's the bloody RAF?' Harry asked no one in particular.
There was a faraway sound of bombs, explosions that sounded like fireworks. It lasted a full minute, the buzzing coming ever closer. I heard the rhythmic, slow, pumping sound of a 40mm anti-aircraft battery, not too far away. I glanced at Harding. He was crouched by the side of the door, still holding Gloria's hand. A jailer or a lover?
The anti-aircraft batteries around the supply dump opened up, and the noise level increased, until we couldn't hear the planes anymore, which didn't matter since the anti-aircraft fire meant they were coming our way. Gloria took her hand away from Harding and lowered her head, covering her ears tightly. Harding put his right arm around her.
As smooth as silk, she made her move. She lowered her left hand, as if she was going to take his again, but it kept going, down to his leather holster. She unsnapped it, pulled out the big. 45 automatic, flipped the safety off and raised it to Harding's head.
'Get back. No one move or I'll kill him!' she screamed loud enough to be heard over the anti-aircraft fire and the thudding of bombs that had started to shake the ground. Clumps of dirt shook loose from the sides of the shelter as if someone was just outside hitting it with a sledgehammer.
'Gloria, don't, there's no where you can go,' Harding pleaded with her. She backed toward the entrance.
'You're right, Sam. Nowhere. You've got me right where you want me. But I'm not playing by your rules. If I can't have it all I'm not going to rot in a stockade waiting for the firing squad.'
'Gloria-' Harding began, moving closer to her. She pulled the hammer back and held the automatic, squarely aimed at his forehead.
'I'd hate to do it,' she said, 'but I will. Back off.'
Harding eased back. She unbuttoned two buttons of her fatigues and reached inside her shirt. Hidden within the bulky men's uniform was the notebook.
'You're a smart young man, Billy. Here's your reward. Five million dollars, maybe more. Waiting in Switzerland.' She tossed the notebook to the ground and backed out of the shelter. Another load of bombs hit nearby and I could feel the vibrations shake the ground. Harding followed Gloria to the entrance. She fired once, striking the ground in front of him. Then she was gone.
Harding started after her. I grabbed him by the shoulder, to prevent him from jumping out of the shelter.
'You can't go out there, Major!'
'Let go of me, Boyle!'
He turned and swung at me, hitting me on the jaw hard enough to loosen my grip. He scrambled up the walkway and I followed. The enemy aircraft were almost on top of us. I pulled him down. We both crouched as low as we could as tracers lit up the sky and the chatter of machine guns joined in, small puffs from the 40mm guns exploding above us. Straight into this hell flew five, no, six formations of four bombers each. I could hear other bombs going off farther away, and guessed this was only a part of the main raid. Heinkel 111s again, their spade- shaped wings beginning to become visible.
Gloria ran right toward them, as close to the supply dump as she could get. She was about a hundred yards away, all alone above ground. She turned once, gazed in our direction, and dropped the pistol, then calmly walked forward as she raised her arms, palms outstretched. I kept both my hands on Harding, as we watched, transfixed, from the dugout entrance. The drone of the engines mixed with the anti-aircraft fire until sound enveloped us and felt like it would crush our eardrums. We could see the bomb bay doors open, as if in acknowledgment of Gloria's gesture. The lead plane dropped its load and then the others followed, the bombs wobbling in the air for a hesitant second, then gaining speed and becoming blurs that exploded inside the supply dump, throwing up flames, black smoke and crashing thunder that crept toward Gloria, her honey brown hair blown back by their force. The concussion from the blasts staggered her, thrusting her back a step. A final stick of bombs walked their way toward her, the last of them exploding where she stood, eruptions of fire, smoke, and debris covering everything. She was gone. But on her own terms.
I pulled Harding down so he wouldn't have to look out on that scene once the dust settled, but it didn't matter. His eyes were closed and tears traced rivulets through the dust on his face.
Chapter Thirty-five
It wasn't until the day after the air raid that Harding got around to telling me. I don't blame him for the delay, as he had just watched the woman he loved, and who had broken his heart twice, get blown to bits. But that didn't mean I liked the message much either.
It was hands-off time with the Frenchies. No interference with local affairs allowed. There was still a lot of delicate diplomacy going on, and Ike wanted things running smoothly. Even if those things were run by the same former Vichy officials who had done the Germans' bidding and would probably sell out to the Germans again if they made a return appearance. It was determined that Major Gloria Morgan was behind the murders and theft of the drugs, and that Luc Villard's other activities, such as smuggling, ransom, and murder, were all local concerns, best left to the local authorities to handle. Or not, since Luc Villard was one of those local authorities.
I was pretty steamed over that, but there wasn't anything I could do, at least nothing I could think of right then. Harding had Doctor Perrini check out Kaz and me, and the doc ordered us to stay at the hospital for observation. Harding liked the idea of keeping me out of circulation for a while, in case I tried anything stupid. So he kept us at the 21st, while I tried to think of something that wasn't stupid, that might have a chance of working. Harry Dickinson was well enough to be discharged, so Harding grabbed him from the Royal Navy for limited detached duty while he recuperated fully. Harding wanted a bodyguard for us while Kaz worked on the code. I rested my head and thought about things, while Harry stood watch and Kaz deciphered the notebook. The search of Gloria's quarters had produced Gray's Anatomy, with a pencil and paper next to it. Gloria had almost finished deciphering the contents of the notebook when she was called to Walton's office. They found the morphine and nalorphine under a false compartment in her footlocker. She also had her passport hidden there. The Army didn't require one for travel, so I wondered what had been on her mind when the war started. Had she planned to make a big score all along? Then desert, and cross over to a neutral country? Or was she simply prepared for any opportunity that might come her way?
I had sent a note to Diana at the hotel, telling her I might be stuck here a few days. I didn't hear back. I knew she was waiting for me to do something about freeing the prisoners, the kids who had been involved with the coup attempt. But that was one of the local matters we weren't supposed to interfere with.
I watched Kaz work all day to finish transcribing the contents of the notebook, making letter substitutions. With Gray's Anatomy in hand, it was easy. We got the names of two banks, one in Berne and one in Zurich, Switzerland, each followed by a series of numbers. It was my guess that Villard was in this with her, and given each of their natures, only one would've been skiing in Switzerland this winter. That was the key to my plan.
Harding came to collect Kaz's transcriptions and decodings the next day. We met in Walton's office. Walton was told to go elsewhere. Thankful to still have his job, he willingly made himself scarce. Kaz went over everything and handed his report to Harding. Before he could take the notebook, I grabbed it and flipped through it, idly looking at the pages.
'Major, I would guess that whoever we have in Switzerland is going to receive these numbers pretty fast, and these accounts are going to be cleaned out. For the benefit of the war effort.'
