The Secret Road Home by Robert Wise

Author:Robert Wise
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B&H Publishing Group
Published: 2006-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Brussels city terminal accommodated trains coming and going on sundry tracks that halted behind the entry gates. Far overhead open glass ventilators on the roof allowed smoke and steam to escape into the sky. Madame Brusselman paused to read the note before herding her charges through the turnstile and down the sidewalk toward train 105. She dropped the card in the trash. Just as they reached the coach, four men in civilian clothes appeared out of nowhere, blocking the entrance to the car.

“Checking papers,” the short, squatty man said with a German accent. “Present identification.” The other men stood by him with their arms crossed over their chests, gawking menacingly.

Ann forced a smile and pulled out the papers for her and the children. The agent looked carefully and gestured for her to move on.

Hank Holt handed his photo ID without saying a word. Once more the agent studied the form and his face before gesturing for Hank to walk on past.

Jack Martin took a deep breath and stepped forward as casually as possible.

“Papers!” the agent snapped.

“Ya,” Jack answered in German.

The agent looked at him curiously. “Bestimmung?”

“Paris.” Jack held out the ticket.

“Humph!” the agent nodded and looked hard at his face. “Weitergehen.”

Jack smiled and forced himself to walk forward as naturally as possible but he couldn’t help hobbling. When he reached for the handrail to board, Jack looked back. The agent kept watching him. With a supreme effort, he forced himself up the step. He could feel the tender skin on his shins cracking. For a moment the pain felt like an electric shock but he kept moving up the steps into the coach.

The rest of the party stood at the top, watching him with fear in their eyes. As soon as he reached the last step, the Brusselman children led the way to their seats. The car was only partially filled, giving them ample space.

Jack dropped on the seat and grabbed his knees. “I’m bleeding,” he whispered to Hank. “But I don’t think it’s going to be a big problem.”

“What do you want me to do?” Hank said.

“Just keep an eye on my pants to make sure the blood stops before I leave an identifiable stain.”

Hank nodded and looked out the window apprehensively to see if the agents were still watching. They were.

“What do you think happened?” Jack groaned.

Ann shook her head. “Don’t know. Just don’t know. Harold Assink whispered in my ear that we shouldn’t worry.” After a few seconds, Ann said, “Those men were Gestapo watching who boarded the train. You got by but they studied your faces far too carefully.”

Jack closed his eyes for a minute. “That was cutting it close.”

“Too close,” Hank said.

“I have my instructions,” Ann said. “We will go all the way to Paris. For the moment you can relax.”

For several minutes no one spoke. A few more people boarded the train. The sound of the conductor yelling for everyone to board immediately echoed from the outside. Reverend Harold Assink entered from the back and sat down a few seats behind them.

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