He watched the Yank’s bird fly about the cottage, banging against a curtain and knocking a cup off the table. Realizing it’d be difficult to catch a bird with his bare hands, even in a small room, he retrieved a blanket from his hole under the floorboards. He tossed the blanket, like a net, into the air.

Duchess swooped. The blanket grazed her tail and fell to the floor. She darted to a bookshelf.

Boar picked up the blanket, and holding it like a matador, he closed in on the bird.

Duchess, her body aslant, clung to a shelf with her talons.

Boar threw the blanket. The bird and several books fell to the floor. Beneath the wool fabric, a small wriggling bulge. He slid his hand inside, wrapped his fingers over its wings, and pulled out the bird.

Duchess pecked. She flexed her wiry legs.

Boar tightened his grip and noticed the Bakelite canister. Turning the pigeon over, he unclasped the tube from its leg. He bundled the bird inside the blanket, tying the ends to keep it from escaping.

He unscrewed the cap, slid out the note, and stared at the jumbled lettering. “Bollocks,” he muttered. As he was about to slip the note back into the canister, he noticed the Yank’s jacket hanging on the coatrack. He rummaged through the jacket and found the codebook tucked inside the breast pocket. Opening the cover, several notes fell out. He picked them up from the floor. As he read the messages, a much different variation from what the Yank had read to him, his skin turned hot.

Duchess squirmed. The blanket twitched.

Boar stepped to the blanket and placed his boot over the bulge. As he began to lower his foot, he stopped.

Despite the urge to crush the Yank’s pigeon, he sat down at the table and deciphered the message. An acidic bile burned behind his breastbone. He crumpled the paper, tossed it into the woodstove, and watched it ignite. Then he retrieved a pencil and paper. And using the codebook, he began to write.

CHAPTER 44 - AIRAINES, FRANCE

CHAPTER 44

AIRAINES, FRANCE

Ollie’s heart pounded as he turned onto the road heading away from the village. The cabin of the car, although empty, smelled of cheese and cured meats, as if Dietrich had been spending his time requisitioning food from starving villagers. Madeleine, Ollie realized, was not the only exploited person in Airaines.

He ground the gears, attempting to figure out the foreign stick shift. Where do I go? How far will I get? Fearing that the roads would be controlled by the Wehrmacht, he always hiked through the woods on his attempts to obtain intelligence on the airfield. Three miles down the road, he found that his assumptions were correct.

As Ollie rounded a curve, he saw a Wehrmacht soldier blocking the road with what looked like a wooden sawhorse. The soldier picked up his rifle.