The Stolen Years. Fiona Hood-Stewart

butt tip into the mud, and the sentry tramped off. With a sigh of relief, Gavin slipped outside and walked purposefully toward the ward, realizing he had no idea what rank he held. Two soldiers passed and saluted respectfully. He returned the salute, struck by the humor of it. This was easier than he’d thought. The other uniforms in the hut had set his mind working. As he walked quietly through the silent ward toward the curtain separating the officers from the men, he came to a sudden decision. Reaching Miles’s bed, he clamped a hand quickly over his mouth. Miles’s eyes darted open in horrified surprise.

      “Don’t worry, it’s me,” Gavin whispered. “Just don’t squeal, that’s all.” He removed his hand and continued in an urgent whisper. “I think there may be a chance for us to escape, if we’re very quick.”

      “How?” Miles asked, blinking sleepily at Gavin’s uniform. “Where on earth did you get that?”

      “A couple of hundred yards to the left, outside the ward, there’s a laundry hut full of ’em. It may be our only chance. Annelise will help. She’s in there now,” he continued urgently, ignoring Miles’s raised eyebrow and amused admiration. “If anyone comes around, remember to address her as Schwester. Can you speak any German?”

      “Not a bloody word.”

      “Damn.” Gavin glanced over his shoulder and ducked when he saw Franz, lying in the next bed, move. He was too late, though. Franz pulled himself up.

      “How the hell did you get that?” he asked, gazing at Gavin. Gavin turned quickly, gesturing for silence as Franz slipped from his bed.

      Gavin and Miles eyed him warily. He could save them or sign their death warrants. As though sensing their doubt, he whispered urgently, “You can count me in. I’ve had enough of this bloody mess, too.”

      “Okay. Then let’s get the hell out while we can. Franz, you’ve got your uniform. Better get it on.”

      Franz returned to his bed and silently retrieved his belongings from beneath it, while Miles and Gavin made their way to the entrance of the ward, making sure no one was awake. “Make a run for it, Miles,” he said when they reached the door.

      Franz joined them. “Wait. We’d better stick together. If anyone speaks to us I can talk to them and explain we’re taking Miles for questioning. Just look haughty, Gavin. You’re a high-ranking officer.”

      “He’s right,” Gavin whispered. “Let’s go. First hut to your left across the stretch.”

      The air was raw as they marched smartly toward the hut, the only sign of life a thin spiral of smoke from the kitchen chimney. Gavin breathed hard. There was still the risk that Annelise might have called someone. But his gut told him no, and silently they slipped inside the rickety wooden hut.

      Annelise stood inside still, her eyes widening as she recognized Franz. “Was machen sie?” she whispered, horrified. “Why are you here? What is happening?” As her voice rose, Gavin clamped his hand over her mouth, then soothed her. “It’s all right. Franz, you explain.”

      “We can’t.” His tone was cold and emphatic.

      “Why the hell not?”

      “We can’t risk it.”

      “Okay, we’ll think about that in a minute.” Gavin pointed impatiently to the baskets. “You’d better change too, Franz. They’ll be on the lookout for you. As soon as the new nurse comes on, she’ll wonder where we all went.”

      Miles was already climbing into a uniform, and Franz joined him, searching quickly through the piles.

      “What about her?” Miles asked Gavin, looking doubtfully at Annelise as he buttoned his shirt.

      “She’ll have to come with us. If they find her, they’ll kill her,” he replied, peering through the slats and missing the look the other two exchanged. “Do you know the layout of this place, Franz?” he asked.

      “Not really. But Annelise probably does.” He turned and questioned her quickly in German. “Good. She knows where the Officers’ Mess is. We must get hold of a car. You’re a Haupt Kommandant, Gavin, so you can requisition whatever you like,” he added with a touch of humor.

      “If we head toward the British lines we’ll be shot at,” Miles mused as he straightened his jacket.

      “The Swiss border’s probably the best bet,” Gavin agreed, dropping a quick kiss on Annelise’s forehead.

      “No. Too risky,” Franz countered. “But perhaps we can reach a place my parents own in the Black Forest, not far from here.”

      “We can think of that later. For now, let’s just get out of here. Franz, explain to Annelise while I see if the coast is clear.” Gavin turned her around and kissed her again. “It’s okay,” he reassured her, pointing to Franz. “He will tell you what to do.” She nodded fearfully and he smiled at her. Then, going to the door, he edged it open just a fraction. It was raining and would get worse, if the dark gray clouds forming overhead were any indication. He glanced back. “This is it. Good luck!”

      Gavin strode firmly ahead, the others following. Together they marched purposefully across the muddied road toward the main section of the barracks, Franz and Gavin in the lead and Miles and Annelise following slightly behind. They headed directly to where she had told them the cars were kept.

      “Okay, this is it. It’s up to Franz now,” Gavin said, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as they approached the building, a large whitewashed farmhouse with a stable attached. “You stay here with Annelise, Miles. Franz and I’ll go inside. Look as if you’re flirting. Give her a cigarette.”

      Miles nodded silently and took the cigarette from Gavin, offering one to Annelise. As he held her trembling fingers to light it, Miles exchanged a quick look with Franz before the two men left.

      “Show authority, but don’t speak, even if they address you,” Franz whispered to Gavin as they marched up the stairs to the building.

      It was barely light as they entered the office. A subordinate stood up from behind a desk, sleepily saluting. Franz took command, ordered a car—the best possible vehicle. It was to be handed over to the Haupt Kommandant immediately.

      “But the orders, sir?” The young man hesitated.

      “What orders, you idiot,” Franz barked. “Can’t you hear me, Dumkopf? These are your orders.”

      Excusing himself profusely, the young corporal blushingly preceded them out of the house and ran to crank up the car. Gavin stood by nervously. Franz opened the back door ceremoniously for Gavin, then got in next to him. Tension was rife as two soldiers passed, eyeing them curiously, but they continued on their way after a prompt salute.

      “Where the hell are Miles and Annelise?” Gavin hissed anxiously as the seconds ticked. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Miles climbed behind the wheel.

      “Where’s Annelise?” Gavin asked, frowning and twisting his neck to see where she might be. Miles didn’t answer. Instead, he started the car and began to drive, picking up speed as they moved toward the entrance.

      “Don’t look at the sentries. Just look straight ahead,” Franz murmured. But the guards merely saluted smartly and the car passed unimpeded. The three men breathed a little easier.

      “Where is Annelise? Why didn’t she come?” Gavin shouted once they were on the road. “We can’t just leave her there, for Christ’s sake. What happened, Miles?”

      “I killed her. I’m sorry, Gavin, but I had to. She was too much of a liability. She could have blown the whole operation.”

      “You what?” The blood drained from his face.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “You bastard. How could you?” Helpless anger seethed through Gavin. Franz held him back as he lunged at Miles across the car seat.

      “Control