Kat's Rats by Michael Beals

Author:Michael Beals [Beals, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-24T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Casablanca showdown

D-Day- 4 hours

Headlights lanced out of the blacked-out airfield, bathing the little six-seat plane in blinding white light the second their engine cut off. Kat clutched a grenade in each fist while squinting out the window.

“That was fast. Looks like we’re surrounded.”

Trufflefoot unsnapped his seatbelt and stretched. “By local police or soldiers?”

“By twenty armed men! Does it matter what uniform they’re sporting?” Dore kicked open the side door and hugged his machine pistol tight. Trufflefoot clapped his back and gave him a gentle nudge out of the way.

“Indeed it does. French troops greeting us means my proposal was accepted. Or at least the local Command staff deigned to grant us an audience. Constables mean the SS got to them first.”

Trufflefoot lunged past Dore and marched to the closest lights. A lone Officer in a khaki uniform stepped forward and blocked the lights. He fiddled with his pistol belt for a second, before snapping off a salute and tilting his Kepi cap at the car. Trufflefoot flashed a thumbs-up at the plane. He kept grinning as everyone filed out, and the French troops collected their weapons.

“It’s all right — routine security. For once, things are going our way. Who’s hungry? Anyone up for a late dinner?”

The Vichy Officer turned up his nose. “Only you. That was the deal.”

Kat kept her hands up and batted her most charming smile. “What about his translator? The old man’s French is terrible.”

“Fine. Better than negotiating in English, like a damn barbarian. We’ll need to stop somewhere and let you wash up. Or maybe you need a hospital?” He pried his eyes off the dirty, bleeding girl in tattered Khaki dungarees.

“But the rest of your people will wait in the cars outside, under heavy guard.”

“Hostages?” Trufflefoot stopped with his outstretched hand on the sedan’s backdoor. “Haven’t we proven you can trust us?”

“As the Germans say, trust is good. Control is better.” The Frenchman snapped the door open for him. “After you, sir.”

“I thought I was dealing with civilized gentlemen. Guardians of the Third Republic and all that crap.” Trufflefoot straightened his spine and glared up at the snarling Vichy man.

“What you’re dealing with is high treason. Doesn’t sit well with the army. You might have found some allies on the staff, but just as many Officers fear your countrymen as much as the Germans. Just ask the survivors of the Mers-el-Kébir airstrike, the value of an Englishman’s word. 1,300 dead at the hands of our supposed ally…”

A baleful air raid siren wailed throughout the field, drowning him out. The first shell from the high-altitude bombers cracked open over their heads before anyone could move a muscle.

Trufflefoot caught one of a million paper leaflets raining down and snorted. One side was printed in Arabic and the other in French. Both featured a smiling Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He folded the flyer and tapped inside the Vichy man’s breast pocket.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.