Cold Lonely Courage (Madeleine toche Series Book 2) by Soren Petrek Read Free Book Online Page A

suppose so. Nobody’s going to sink a Spanish ship, and I doubt I’ll be the only French person on board.”
    “There are always free French trying to get to England from Africa, Morocco mostly. Just stay in your cabin, but don’t hide in it,” Alize said.
    “You seem to know about these types of things.”
    “I fought in the war alongside Benat. When we lost, we went back into the mountains. But the Basques have been fighting the Spanish forever. The outcome of this war won’t change that. We want our own country.”
    “I like your husband. I’m sure he was a good fighter,” Madeleine said, leaning against a railing.
    “He’s a lion. As much as I push and tease him, after seeing him in battle I could never be with another man,” Alize said smiling. “But don’t tell him that.”
    “I know better,” Madeleine said laughing.
    “I knew you were a smart girl. Now let’s get that bag and get you situated.”

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    CHAPTER ELEVEN
    On the wharf a couple of hundred yards inland from the docks, Robert DuPont stood with four men in brilliant white military uniforms drinking a midmorning pint of beer. His slender silhouette and Gallic features set him apart from the others. The group stood well away from the entrance to a tavern frequented by locals and sailors alike.
    “Here’s to you, Charles, for springing us out of that horrid Spanish jail,” a slight, fair-haired young man in a Royal Air Force uniform said, raising his glass.
    “I couldn’t very well leave four British pilots and a heroic Frenchman in the hands of those weasels. You see, that’s my job as a top military attaché to the friendly Spanish government,” Charles White said sarcastically, giving a mock salute.
    “I’m grateful as well, Captain White. I wasn’t at all sure they were going to let me go,” DuPont said.
    “After getting the lads out of occupied France, it’s the least I could do.”
    “It’s my pleasure. We need as many British pilots in the air as possible and there are many others hidden throughout France waiting for their chance to get home,” DuPont said.
    “The Germans wanted you pretty badly. The representative from the German embassy had Gestapo written all over him,” White said.
    “They didn’t like it when I escaped from their prison.”
    “Or when you broke their guard’s neck with a table leg,” White said.
    “I’m sure that’s worth a price on my head,” DuPont said, lifting his glass to his lips.
    “Speaking of your status in France, Monsieur DuPont, I encourage you to check in with the boys at Baker Street when you get to London,” White said.
    DuPont glanced at the other men. They’d taken a few steps away and were excitedly talking among themselves and digging in their pockets for cigarettes. Lowering his voice, he stepped closer to White and said, “The Special Operations Executive you mentioned before, correct?”
    “Yes, the SOE, Churchill’s baby. I think you’ll fit right in. Ask for the ‘Dirty Tricks Department’. No offense, but that’s right up your alley.”
    “That’s a compliment, monsieur. I’ll do as you say, but first I must meet with General de Gaulle. He is our leader and I have to ask his permission.”
    “Of course, but what’s good for England is good for France.”
    “The SOE agents, are they as good as you say?” DuPont asked.
    “They’re the devil himself,” White answered. “Now let’s go back to the bar and get a proper drink,” he said, downing his glass.

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    CHAPTER TWELVE
    Madeleine stood in the middle of a crowd waiting on the dock next to the Valencia. The ship was medium sized for a passenger boat, the wear from years at sea showed on her hull, but the decks and railings glistened with new paint. The seasoned crew moved efficiently from one task to another as they readied to cast off. She’d chosen the modest Spanish passenger boat because the scheduled departure allowed her enough time to thank her Basque friends and to buy some desperately