As Ollie caressed Duchess, he thought of Susan. A wave of regret flooded his head. He reached into his jacket and removed the codebook. Taking out a piece of paper, he quickly coded a message, then slid it into the canister and sealed the cap. “I want you to rest with Madeleine. Then fly home and stay.”

Duchess lowered her head.

Ollie stepped to Madeleine. “She’s weak. Two-way pigeons are not supposed to have food and water at the second location, but she needs time to recover.”

“Come on, Yank,” Boar called from the wagon.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Madeleine said.

“I know you will.” As Ollie handed Duchess to Madeleine, the pigeon leapt. He reached, but it was too late. His fingers graced her tail. Her wings brushed his face. Helplessly, he watched the pigeon shoot over the wagon.

Duchess circled the cottage and slowly gained altitude.

“It’s my fault,” Madeleine said.

“No,” Ollie said. “If she wants to fly, there’s nothing we can do.”

“Will she come back?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He watched Duchess disappear over the trees, then stepped to Madeleine. He hugged her, then kissed her cheek.

“Adieu.” Madeleine wiped her eyes.

“I’ll never forget you.” Ollie climbed into the wagon, then slid into the hiding compartment. Boar wedged into the bunk above him. Ollie watched Lucien seal the panel, turning the compartment black, except for a small crack of light near his knee. The wagon rocked as Lucien took his seat. A snap of leather. The mules brayed. And the wagon rolled forward.

CHAPTER 48 - ROUEN, FRANCE

CHAPTER 48

ROUEN, FRANCE

It was no more than an hour before the wagon stopped. Without a breeze, the hidden compartment began to reek of manure and rotted potatoes. Guttural German dialect made Ollie’s hair stand on the back of his neck. Roadblock? Wehrmacht? The wagon shook as Lucien shifted in the seat above him.

Someone, Ollie presumed a soldier, said something that made his companions laugh. Ollie heard a hand gripping the side of the wagon several inches from his head. He held his breath. At any moment, he expected the Wehrmacht to notice that the dimensions of the wagon bed were slightly off, leading them to inspect the area beneath Lucien’s seat. Instead, the wagon jerked. The mules clopped at a slow pace. And they continued on their journey.

Ollie felt a large bump as the wagon rolled over a hole. He closed his eyes and listened to plodding hooves. Several minutes later, he was startled when the lieutenant spoke.

“My father’s army had good aim,” Boar muttered.

Ollie shifted. “What?”

“I understand a little German,” Boar whispered. “Keep quiet, Yank.”