A Secret Courage Read online

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.” Emma took a step back and folded her arms over her chest. “I was just stretching my legs and trying to clear my mind.”

  “Well, in that case I will walk with you. At least to the next office door.” He winked at her, and butterflies rose up in Emma’s stomach. The feeling surprised her.

  “Yes, to the next door would be fine.” She stepped back to make room for the large trash can he pulled. When they moved forward, Emma noticed a limp in his step.

  “My name is Berndt, by the way.” He glanced over at her. He must have noticed her gaze on his leg because he balled a fist and tapped against it. “And as for this limp, it came in the Great War. Got caught up in a shelling not long before the end.”

  “The Great War?” Emma cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t look old enough to have served.”

  “That’s kind of you, but my next birthday I’ll be forty, and I lied about my age when I went in. I always was large for my age. And now…” He chuckled. “Now I’m just slow.”

  They walked to the next door and paused. Emma wasn’t quite sure what to say. It was nearly midnight, and they were alone in a dim hall.

  He paused, peering down at her from under thick eyebrows. “I better get back to work, but first can I get your name?”

  She smiled up at him, realizing that she’d judged him wrong on their first meeting. Like the rest of them, Berndt was just doing his part. “I’m Emma.”

  He studied her uniform and questions filled his eyes. He no doubt wanted to know more about her work and her department, but that was something she couldn’t share. She couldn’t even talk to Vera about what they were working on. And with this new search for Hitler’s secret weapons, even most in her own department, like Georgette, didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

  “You’re new here, right?” she asked.

  “It’s been over a week, I believe, and I’m still getting to know everyone. And…” Berndt’s voice caught in his throat. “I’m very sorry that I seemed to be staring the other day. My wife, Ivanna…we met when I was in France. We were only married a few years when she drowned in an accident. You remind me of her in so many ways.”

  Berndt’s voice was tender, almost as if he were seeing another woman standing there instead of her. Emma’s heart ached for him. She didn’t know how she would feel if there was someone at Danesfield House who looked like her brother. What a hard reminder of loss. Even though she didn’t want to ever forget Samuel, it was easier for her—for her heart—if she forced him out of her mind while she was at work.

  Berndt pushed his trash bin through the open door, and Emma placed a hand on his sleeve. He paused and looked at her. “It was nice meeting you.” She smiled. “And I’m sorry to hear about your loss. It helps me, though, to remember that everyone has a story and has experienced some type of loss. So many times I hurry through my day just thinking of myself and my tasks.”

  Without waiting for a response, Emma turned and headed back to her department. She’d only gone ten steps when Berndt called out her name. “Emma, I was wondering. If you have time on tomorrow or on Sunday—”

  “I’m sorry,” she quickly interrupted. The peace of a moment before shattered as she realized that Berndt had more in mind than friendship. “I…I’m making plans with a friend. It’s something we’ve been looking forward to.”

  Berndt nodded, and she noted confusion mixed with sadness in his eyes. She also wondered what he saw in her gaze. Can he see I’m not telling the whole truth?

  Emma had been planning for days to write a note to Will. She’d finished the Agatha Christie novel, and it was as good an excuse as any to meet up to pass it off to him. She didn’t have plans yet, but she was looking forward to making them. That wasn’t a lie, was it?

  “I understand.” Berndt dismissed her with a nod. “Enjoy your day then.” Without another word he slipped into the next room to clean.

  SIXTEEN

  March 10, 1943

  The hint of spring was in the air as Will walked down the streets of Henley to Albert Ware’s small flat in the bottom floor of a two-story structure. An exterior stairway on the west side of the building led to the second floor. It was a Saturday, and he counted on Albert being home. Albert never ventured out much except for his strolls. No one thought anything of it to see the tall, studious-looking accountant walking all over town. No one would guess that Albert was watching them, recording them.

  Will had been to the cottage in Henley in the fall, but most of the time he and Albert communicated by coded letters, written between cousins about the mundane things of the war. Albert hadn’t discovered very many things that were urgent, but if the man thought his information needed to be handled in a timely manner, he’d leave a message at the bookstore and they’d meet.

  The gray clouds that threatened to cover the sun gave Will a foreboding feeling. Approaching Albert’s door, he stopped short. The firsts signs of something amiss were the decaying leaves littering the step in front of the door. There were no footprints or any sign anyone had used that door in a while. More than that, Albert hadn’t swept them away. He was a tidy man, with everything in his life organized and categorized in rows and columns, just as in his work. He would never have let leaves pile up like that. Never.

  Will approached the door and kicked some of the leaves to the side, inwardly chastising himself for not checking on Albert sooner. He knocked hard on the door, expecting no answer. Anger filled his chest with heat and tightness, and he balled his fists at his sides.

  Truth be told, Will’s mind had been other places. He’d been learning as much as he could about the work of photographic investigators in Danesfield House, which wasn’t an easy task considering the high security of their work. He’d also been thinking about Emma. He’d only just met her, but he looked forward to getting to know her better. But really there were no excuses.

  He should have reached out to Albert the first day of missed contact. Now he had no idea where he was. Even though Will had never considered Albert much of a threat, he now questioned if he’d been a fool in not expecting something like this. Could Albert have been a lion waiting to pounce? It was hard to imagine, but not impossible.

  Will knocked again, but still no answer.

  “Can I help you?”

  A woman’s voice surprised him. Will turned to see an older woman approaching, leaning heavily on a cane. Her brown hair was streaked with gray, and she wore black-rimmed glasses. She was thin, and her housedress and sweater hung on her frame. He guessed that before the war she had filled out that dress. Before the war people had enjoyed life, but as the gray clouds hid the sun, the hope was hidden as the German siege stretched behind and before them.

  “I’m just here looking for a friend, Albert Ware. I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, and I was just checking in.”

  “Knew Albert well, did you?” She looked at him suspiciously, paying special attention to the fine, tailored clothes of a Londoner. “He kept to himself, that one. Didn’t have many friends.”

  “We used to work together…before he moved to Henley,” Will explained.

  The woman readjusted her glasses to get a better look at Will’s face. “You’re an accountant then? You don’t look much like an accountant, do you?”

  Will stroked his chin and leaned in closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment, all right?” He chuckled, hoping to camouflage the worry in his eyes. “And your name is…?”

  “Millie. Mildred really, but everyone calls me Millie, don’t they.”

  “Millie, I can tell you are observant. And you are also correct. I’m not an accountant. I kept track of…of assignments and ledgers. Made sure the accountants in our firm stayed on the up and up and didn’t find themselves in trouble.”

  “Oh, an auditor then. Yes, my husband used to know a man who was an auditor. You can’t get anything by me, no, you blimey well can’t.”

  Will crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned
so his hip rested against the wall. “I would have guessed that, Millie. I really would have.”

  The woman’s face softened with that comment. “Oh, I’m sorry to say I have very bad news for you then. Very bad indeed. I wish you would have come by sooner. You see, Albert Ware died just a few weeks ago, he did. I’m sorry we didn’t know, or we would have got word to you, wouldn’t we.”

  Tension caused an ache on Will’s brow. “A few weeks ago?”

  “Two weeks…ten days maybe. It was his roommate who found him, wasn’t it?”

  Roommate? Tension tightened in Will’s gut. He forced himself to ease his jaw. To release his hand that had immediately balled into a fist. He focused on the woman, on her words, instead of letting his mind run away with him.

  “Yes, well, it was the roommate and Albert’s boss who’d come to check on him. Albert didn’t show up for work, you see. Never had missed work before, did he. And his boss, of course, knew something was wrong. They say he had a heart attack in his sleep and died just like that.” She tried to snap her fingers, without much effect.

  “And where did he work as an accountant?”

  “Albert didn’t tell you?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he did, but we were down at the Bird in Hand last time I came, and well, I had a broken heart and got quite snookered. I don’t remember much from our visit.”

  Millie reached out and touched Will’s arm. “A broken heart, really? It must have been one of those WAAF girls, wasn’t it? Strutting around in their uniforms, they do, thinking that in doing a man’s work, they don’t need men anymore.”

  “I see you are observant, Millie. No one ever said you weren’t paying attention.” Will stroked his chin and considered Albert. He’d been the perfect agent to watch, one who did his work without question. Yet why would he hide the fact that he had a roommate?

  Millie chuckled, switched her grip on the top of her walking cane to her other hand, and pointed down the road.

  “He worked over at the chalk mining place, but between you and me, they aren’t digging out chalk anymore, are they. Machine parts for airplanes, more than likely. But I’m sure being an auditor you knew that, what with your keen eye.”

  “Yes, of course. So is his roommate around? Maybe I can talk with him…”

  “Oh, his roommate moved out. The day of Albert’s funeral he packed up Albert’s things and gave them to charity. Then he packed up and moved out of town—I can’t remember where exactly—but from what someone said, Berndt wasn’t going far.”

  Berndt. Will noted the name.

  “I should like to talk to him. To share memories of our mutual friend. Especially since I’m living in Henley now and not in London.” He cleared his throat. “I’m doing a different type of job during the war.”

  “Oh, so you’re here? It’s a nice place, isn’t it? Not all the smog and commotion of London, that’s for certain. Not all the worry of German bombs shattering one’s world.” The woman looked at his left arm and the way he held it close to his chest. “Is your injury why you’re not fighting with all the men your age?”

  He smiled. The woman really was observant. “I was injured during the Blitz. With the infection, I didn’t think I would make it, but I’m glad to say I proved myself wrong.”

  He expected pity to fill the woman’s gaze, but instead noted relief.

  “It’s a blessing then,” she commented. “We’ve lost too many boys as it is, haven’t we? It’s almost as if those Germans feel they didn’t glean enough souls from the Great War, and now they’re going after our sons, they are.”

  “Yes, my mother is thankful too, but…” He glanced at his watch. “I really do need to get going. But maybe we can talk again? I’m especially interested in talking to Berndt if he’s still in town. Do you know the row of cottages on Graves Road? I live in the second one.”

  Will considered asking Albert’s old landlord to take him inside, but he knew it would do no good even if his things hadn’t been packed up and given away. Albert was meticulous. He would never leave papers or notes lying around.

  “I know exactly what you’re talking about. Nice little cottages, newly remodeled, they are.”

  “Wonderful, Millie. If you happen to learn where Berndt is, do you think you can come and tell me? Or send someone?”

  “I believe I can do that if I see him, but my guess is he’s gone. He seemed to show up and leave around the same time as Albert. If he is around, though, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Thank you.” And with that Will walked away, trying to keep his mind clear despite the worry that filled his brain. He considered the woman’s words. He seemed to show up and leave around the same time as Albert.

  What did that mean? Nothing good, that was for certain.

  When he’d gotten a good distance away, Will sat down on a bench near the Thames. The beautiful river rolled lazily by, as if ignorant that a war was taking place. Even though the air was still cold, he needed time and space to think. In his mind’s eye he imagined Albert’s dead body on his bed. He pictured two men exiting the flat, carrying a litter between them. Who was that roommate? Had he discovered Albert’s true identity?

  Will imagined the litter hanging low under the man’s weight, with a blanket covering him. He was sure no one had cried for the man. There was no one to cry. Albert had left his home and family six years prior to give himself to his country. His name would not be on any war memorial, but he’d given his life for Germany none the less.

  Will frowned, remembering the heated conversation they’d had the last time they’d met. Albert had been disheveled. His eyes filled with fire.

  “We are focusing too much attention on the planes and manufactured components! We count them, they build them, and then we try to shoot them out of the sky. What use is that? We need to go to the root. What about the reconnaissance planes? We need to stop those planes. Without them, the bombers won’t know where to target. It’ll turn the tide of the war. We can’t just sit here and watch our country be destroyed.”

  And it was those last words that troubled Will, for they were the words of action. The words a man would risk his life for. Had those words killed Albert in the end? Maybe finding Berndt would help him discover what had happened.

  Will returned to his cottage, eager to set to work on his new assignment. As much as he wanted to seek answers and discover the truth about what had happened to Albert, that wasn’t the priority. He had Medmenham to think about. Danesfield House. Emma.

  “RAF Medmenham is being targeted,” Claudius had said and Christopher had confirmed. Deep down, Will wondered if Albert had been involved in a plot before his death. He also wondered about this man named Berndt. Two men shared a dwelling. Did they share the same beliefs too?

  The cottage was still warm enough from last night’s fire, so instead of lighting a new fire Will decided to get to work. He slid off his jacket, and pain shot up his shoulder. He hadn’t regained complete use of it since that night during the Blitz. Still, that didn’t slow him down much when doing his job.

  Will moved to the dressing table bureau, gingerly pulled out clothes he’d unpacked the night before, and laid them on his bed. Paper had been used to line the bottom of the drawer, glued down in spots. Sliding a razor blade under the paper, he broke the hold and lifted the paper to retrieve the thin sheet hidden underneath. It was a map of a country village, torn out of an old book, left there by Claudius. It wasn’t a recent map, but Will knew little had changed in the village over the centuries. Leaving a map like this not only educated Will in the lay of the land but also reminded him that working in villages was different from in the city. Those who lived together day in and day out, year after year and decade after decade, were a fiercely loyal lot.

  He scanned the locations in Medmenham again. Each location was marked with its origin. Med stood for a medieval origin. R stood for the year it was rebuilt. He scanned the points of interest and buildings, attempting to understand the lay of the land.r />
  Brockmer Med: R. 1593. Cardinal Pole lived here

  Medmenham Abbey Med: R. 1590

  Dog and Badger 16th C.

  Post office 17th C.

  Manor house 1450 R. 1635

  Prehistoric earthworks

  Ancient highway

  There were more cottages and homes, most of ancient origin. And then, off in the distance, overlooking the village on one side and the Thames on the other, was what Will was looking for.

  Danesfield 1790 R. 1901.

  The once private residence had been given a new life.

  This newest manner of spying—photo reconnaissance—had settled in an ancient land. Will couldn’t forget that. If Danesfield House was truly being targeted, he’d do well to understand the story of the village and the land.

  Will returned the paper underneath the drawer lining and then put away his clothes. He’d just taken care of the last of them when there was a knock at the door. His eyes darted to the window, hoping to see who it was. From the angle, it was hard to see who stood there. Was it Millie? Did she have news? Was it this mysterious Berndt? Had Millie found Berndt and told him of the man inquiring about him? Or could it be Claudius? Will took a deep breath and strode to the thick wooden door. If it was Claudius, Will couldn’t be ruffled. He had to pretend that he suspected nothing—that he still completely trusted his friend.

  “Yes, who is it?” Will called, and then he opened the door. It wasn’t anyone he expected. Instead, a soldier—a uniformed American—stood there. A transport vehicle was parked behind him.

  “Oh, good! You’re here. I was hoping you would be. Jeepers, I thought Emma was crazy when she asked me to drop off a note. It seems you have a special delivery, friend.”

  SEVENTEEN