The Nazi emptied Madeleine’s satchel. Truffles plopped onto the table. And one small truffle, the size of a blackberry, fell to the floor, rolled, and settled next to Ollie’s peephole.

Ollie stared at the truffle, which partially blocked his view. He prepared for the Nazi to snatch the fallen fungus and notice the crack, the loose boards. Perhaps Boar could get off a shot, but considering his lack of vision, he’d be lucky to land a lethal hit. Then the Nazi would unload his pistol. Ollie imagined bullets shattering the boards, his body punctured with lead. This crawl space would be his grave. Helplessness roiled in his gut. He struggled to control his breath.

The Nazi scooped truffles from the table and placed them inside his cap, using it as a basket. He lifted a fungus to his nose and sniffed.

Ollie saw Madeleine’s hand pass by the peephole. The truffle vanished. He squinted and saw her brush off the fungus and place it into the Nazi’s cap.

“Sie finden mehr,” the Nazi said, admiring his truffle treasure.

Madeleine lowered her head.

The Nazi turned to leave and found Louis blocking his way. He swung back his leg and sunk his jackboot into the hog’s ribs.

Louis squealed. The hog shot over the floor, knocking over a chair.

Ollie’s skin turned hot. He wanted to shoot the Nazi. While he contemplated snatching Boar’s pistol, he heard the door open as the officer left.

Soon an engine started. Tires spit gravel. And the car drove away. A moment later, the table scraped over the floor, and Madeleine plucked out the floorboards.

“You okay?” Ollie crawled from the hole.

Madeleine nodded.

“Louis?” Ollie asked.

She rubbed the hog’s ribs, causing its tail to twitch. “Oui.”

“Bloody Nazi,” Boar said, taking a seat on the floor.

Duchess flapped her wings. Ollie retrieved the cage from the crawl space and placed it on the table.

Boar pressed his hands over his bandaged eyes. “Think your bird can get a message to the RAF?”

“I know she can,” Ollie said.

Ollie finished writing a message, then removed Duchess from her cage. He attached the canister, inserted the note, and carried the pigeon outside.

“Let’s try this again,” Ollie whispered to Duchess. “The canister is on better this time.”

Duchess cooed.

Ollie tossed Duchess into the air. As the pigeon circled the perimeter, he thought of Susan and their trip to Clacton-on-Sea. An image of her sandy-blond hair, dancing in the North Sea wind. Her eyes, the color of sapphire, gazing to the sky as her pigeons flew away. The stacks of empty cages. And his growing sense of foreboding as Susan told him that most of the pigeons would not return from France.

Ollie watched Duchess disappear over the trees. He returned to the cottage, hoping that in just a few hours Susan would be reading his message.

CHAPTER 36 - EPPING, ENGLAND

CHAPTER 36

EPPING, ENGLAND