Waiting for the lieutenant to wake, Ollie retrieved Duchess from the barn and brought her into the kitchen. He asked Madeleine about troop movements, locations, numbers, and equipment. But Madeleine was unable to provide any meaningful intelligence, other than that the Luftwaffe was using a local airfield.

“The Wehrmacht is everywhere,” Madeleine said, rolling a cigarette. “They’ve taken over many of the homes in the village. They loot our food, making us wait in line to receive nothing but scraps.” She twisted the tips of the paper and stuck the cigarette to her lips. “Our men have not returned from the front. They’ve either been killed or sent off to prison camps. It’s only women, children, and old men.”

Ollie nodded. From his jacket, he took out the codebook, once used by Susan’s father in the Great War. The cover was warped and crimpled, but the pages were in relatively good condition for having been stored in a pigeon loft. He thumbed through it, gathering an understanding of the sequencing and codes. He quickly wrote a message and slipped it into the canister attached to Duchess’s leg.

The pigeon cooed. “Good girl, Duchess,” Ollie said.

“Your pigeon has a name?” Madeleine asked.

Ollie nodded.

She puffed her cigarette.

“So does my Louis.”

Ollie looked at the woman. “Louis is a fine name for a pig.”

She gave a slim smile. “Truffle hog.”

Ollie pretended to understand what a truffle was by nodding his head, then hobbled outside with Duchess tucked into his arm. The lieutenant would be pissed, maybe even try and shoot him. But he didn’t care. He only wanted to return Susan’s pigeon. And with each wasted moment, he felt opportunity slipping away.

“You’re going home,” Ollie said.

Duchess tilted her head.

He stroked her back. “Fly high and stay clear of bullets.”

The pigeon blinked.

He tossed Duchess into the air. She flapped her wings and soared above the barn. She circled the perimeter twice to gain her bearings, just like the pigeons had done during the trip to Clacton-on-Sea, then flew west. As she disappeared from sight, he heard Boar gag and cough. The anesthesia had worn off.

CHAPTER 28 - EPPING, ENGLAND

CHAPTER 28

EPPING, ENGLAND

Bertie’s shoes shuffled over the disinfected floor of RAF Hospital Ely. Slowly, he stepped to Susan and cleared his throat. “No,” he said. “It’s not Oliver.”

Susan exhaled. “Are you certain?”

He nodded, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his eyes. “He wore a wedding ring.”

She swallowed, then searched for the right words. “Will he recover?”

Bertie shook his head.