Boar straightened his jacket and looked in Madeleine’s direction. “If I had known, Madeleine, I wouldn’t have made such a remark.” He gripped his pistol holster. “You touch me again, Yank, and you’ll wish the Nazis had found you.”

“Enough.” Madeleine inhaled her cigarette and blew smoke over the table, creating a cloud barrier between Ollie and the lieutenant. “We have much planning to do, if you want any chance of returning home.”

“Madeleine,” Boar said, “with all due respect, there’s little chance of us getting back to Britain. Once my eyes are healed, I plan to use my bullets on the Wehrmacht, assuming I don’t use them on this Yank.”

“You’re of more use as a pilot to fight the Luftwaffe. Yes?”

“Perhaps.” Boar drank the last of his coffee and looked in Madeleine’s direction. “My condolences.”

“Merci,” she said.

Boar’s words surprised Ollie. He had believed the pilot to be an insensitive bastard and wondered if the shake he had given him had temporarily unveiled a trace of human consciousness, buried under thick layers of war calluses.

Madeleine cleared her throat, then placed her cigarette in Boar’s hand.

As Madeleine and the lieutenant shared another cigarette, Louis trotted to the door. He sniffed and scratched his hooves over the floor. Madeleine began to get up and stopped when Ollie placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll let him out,” Ollie said. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Madeleine smiled.

Ollie looked forward to spending a brief moment outside. After all, it appeared quite clear that he’d be spending his days, at least until his body recovered, breathing stagnant crawl-space air and burnt tobacco. As he opened the door, a bird shot over his head. He ducked. The hog squealed. The lieutenant jumped and ripped out his pistol.

Ollie looked up and saw the bird flutter to the counter.

“What the hell is it?” Boar said, gripping his pistol.

“Pigeon,” Madeleine said, placing a hand on Boar’s arm.

Boar gave a heavy exhale, then returned his pistol to its holster. “Keep that bloody bird locked in its cage, Yank.”

At first, Ollie thought his eyes had failed him. It can’t be Duchess. I sent her home. She flew away.

The bird perked its head, then ruffled its luminescent feathers.

Ollie plucked Duchess from the counter.

The pigeon cooed.

The first thing Ollie noticed was that her feathers were cold. Then he noticed that her canister was missing.

CHAPTER 32 - EPPING, ENGLAND

CHAPTER 32

EPPING, ENGLAND