Not today, Frederich told himself. If Vidrik took him out, Ida was dead. He had to get her somewhere safe. Only then could he decide the next move. He remained scanning the area with his pistol pointed forward until his instincts were satisfied, then finally relaxed his arms and strode back to where Ida was hiding. He found her kneeling on the ground with her head bowed.
“Come,” he said tenderly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
When she stood up, he took her hand and led her away, careful to put himself between her and any unexpected bullets. They zig-zagged through the esplanade and ran along the bridge above the River Seine then descended a set of stairs to the isle below, not stopping until they were safely hidden behind some trees.
18
Frederich looked at Ida properly for the first time. Her face was pale and her hair was twisted up. Her cheeks, chin and arms were scraped all over and covered in red, her nose was bleeding and a slit had opened above her eye. Frederich grimaced at the sight and bit into his jaw. I’m going to rip that son of a bitch to shreds. Ida said nothing, only gave him a determined stare, defiantly holding back tears. Frederich reached his hand out and gently touched her face, caressing where it had turned red. Then he reached over and hugged her, overcome with relief that she was alive. She placed her hands on his shoulders, but there was barely any life in her embrace.
“Are you ok?” he said.
Ida lowered her head and looked away from him. She sniffled.
“What are you doing here?” said Frederich. “How did he find you?”
Ida walked off abruptly and went across to the bench, which faced a small, concrete square shielded by trees. Frederich sensed he had pushed too hard. He waited where he was, leaving Ida her space. The gunfire in the distance was gone and replaced by the sound of ambulance and police sirens. The alert from Intel had gone out almost an hour ago. Full retreat. The counter-offensive was over. Frederich had no idea what had caused it, but he gathered that the operation had not gone well. He was happy to wait to find out the details. After Bibby and the scramble to get to Paris, he was sapped. He had been beside himself with worry during the flight, convinced that Ida would be dead when he got there. When he arrived, he could barely believe what he was seeing; Ida putting up the fight of her life with Vidrik viciously trying to maul her. Now there she was, her body and pride banged up, but still breathing.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” he said, walking over to Ida.
She remained silent, staring off into the distance.
“Ida,” said Frederich gently.
“I’m an idiot,” she blurted. “Stupid!” she yelled.
“You need to tell me what happened,” said Frederich.
Ida turned away and shook her head.
“Ok. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. But we should get to the hospital and have you checked out.”
“I’m fine,” said Ida defiantly. “Thank you for what you did. You don’t have to stay if you have somewhere else you need to be.”
Frederich felt a convulsion in his stomach.
“It’s not like that,” he said defensively.
“No?” said Ida, turning and giving him a questioning stare. “You don’t have someone else to kill tonight?”
“What’s going on, Ida?”
Ida sighed and frowned. She began breathing heavily and her face turned bright red.
“Dammit!” she yelled, raising her head to the sky. “I hate this!” she screamed. “I hate Paris! I hate The League! I hate Vidrik!” She turned and looked Frederich directly in the eyes with a scorching stare, her loathing on a level he had never seen before. “I hate you!!” she screamed at him at the top of her lungs.
A searing pain cut through Frederich’s chest. His eyes opened wide, his mouth fell open. The pain spread to the rest of his body while he gave Ida a confused, searching look.
“You don’t mean that,” he said with a croaky voice.
“Don’t I?” she said, pursing her lips together and narrowing her gaze. “What happened in Poland, Frederich? One bullet wasn’t enough? What kind of monster does that in front of children?”
Frederich’s entire body iced over. Monster. He could barely fathom hearing the word coming from Ida’s mouth. He lowered his head and looked away. His face grew intensely hot. It got too much. He turned his anger outwards. How dare she! he thought. He had saved her life twice now. What gave her the right?
“You want to talk about me?” he said with force. “What the hell are you doing here, Ida? What brought you to Paris in a fucking cocktail dress when you knew Vidrik was after you? Huh? Not enough parties for you in Berlin? There’s a war happening right now. Why didn’t you go home to America when you
