Hunting the Iron Wolf

-Part I – Insertion-

The dark waves lapped the rocky shale shores of France as the heavy rains drenched the coast and nearby village. There seemed to be complete darkness under the cloudy night sky, and the heavy rains added more to the dark ominous atmosphere. The shore was a clear fifty feet of shale rock before it sloped up to the bushes and sparse tree cover that topped the coastal ridge. France had been in German hands for nearly two years and the Nazi military had done quite a job on the once beautiful shore line. Large iron antitank spikes were drilled deep into the rocks, and barbed wire was strung in threatening coils everywhere. Patrolling the shores were the Wehrmacht, German soldiers who served as shore patrols. However, this dark night most of the soldiers did not walk their normal patrols, but rather hid under small overhangs or hastily erected tarps. They felt confident knowing their large dogs would give voice if anyone so much as set foot on the beach. The guards had their rifles causally slung over their shoulders or propped against rocks, and their flashlights turned off to conserve battery power. It was just another dreary French night for them, and they didn't intend to get anymore wet than they needed to. The only soldier not under the cover of some obliging overhang or other form of shelter was Hans Eldof, a twenty two year old soldier and veteran of many battles. He'd signed up for the Nazi army four years ago and thanks to his positive talent for killing and honed sense for danger he was quickly selected for several commando type missions against smaller neighboring countries. Hans however had one besetting sin, rebellion. He couldn't bring himself to a place of subjection and wouldn't follow orders if they crossed what he saw as needing to be done. His military carrier was dotted with brawls and squalls with senior officers and company commanders. He had consequently never risen above the rank of Sargent, and periodically dropped down to private bouncing back up every time he got the chance to demonstrate his prowess as a soldier. He had been dumped on this French shore patrol assignment after he had gotten in a fist fight with a lieutenant who had tried to tell him how to fire his machine pistol. His large green slicker that he wore in the poring rain was draped over him, loosely covering him and his Kar-98 bolt action rifle. He wore high black leather boots with buckles and straps, the boots he had pulled off a Swiss mountaineer when he had been doing recon runs in the alps. Into the boots was shoved the legs of his gray military pants on which he had his own hand painted camouflage pattern. He wore his jacket unbuttoned bearing his hairy chest and soaked neck. The cartridge belt that belonged on his waste was strapped over one shoulder and looped through the belt so that it stretch across his frame offering an easy grab if he got into fast shooting. The Kar rifle took five round clips, and Hans had shown many a man that he could empty his entire clip working the bolt like a devil in less than ten seconds flat, still putting the rounds in a tight grouping. Hans now stood quietly listing to the rain and feeling that something wasn't quite right. He had left his dog back at the barracks because he didn't like hauling it with him everywhere, and because dogs didn't like his dark nature. He wondered what it was about dogs that they could sense danger so much better than he could. He began to fidget and in full awareness that he was breaking the rules for a sentry, lit a cigarette. He didn't know it, but that casting off of authority was his undoing.

Jake Maxim opened his eyes and shifting over in his bunk looked at his watch. It said it was nearly twelve o'clock at night. He got up, and dropped his sock covered feet on the metal floor of the submarine. He was standing in the USS Marlin, a long range transport submarine that was commissioned to drop him off near the coast for his mission. He was a strong, rough, and loyal sort who didn't impress many people and didn't attract attention. It was this very reason that he joined the commando and infiltration wing of the US military operations. He stretched and then pulled a gray tee shirt over his muscled lithe shoulders. Running his scarred fingers through his short cut brown hair he shook his head trying to rid himself of the traces of sleep. His hazel eyes caught sight of a sliver chain in the blankets and he fished it out. It was a chain identical to the one his dog tags hung on, but this one bore a small sliver cross. He dropped it around his neck and down his shirt letting it rest over his heart. A tall steel gray haired man in a tan uniform stepped into the room and looked the five foot ten soldier over. “Captain, we're nearing the drop point.” Jake nodded and walked after the submarine commander following him into the map room. The commander took a map from it's cabinet and unrolled it, pinning it to a cork board in the navigational section of the map room. “This is your drop point here.” The commander placed his finger at a point just off the French coast. Jake nodded and the commander went on, “This is your landing spot here. You should expect some very limited resistance, but as long as you don't alert anyone you should be fine.” Again Jake nodded. “Once we drop you, we'll hit the bottom here, and surface the day after tomorrow. We will deploy a small raft with a four man team to the shore to pick you up at exactly twenty two hundred hours.” Jake nodded again and waited. The commander rolled the map up and after placing it in it's cabinet he turned to Jake. “Your gear is being packed in a small brief case and wrapped in a rubber protective bag. We'll surface for five minutes, drop you into the water, and go down. I assume you'll have no trouble in making it to shore?” Jake smiled and said, “Not with how close your putting me, it'll take me five minutes to gear up and I'll be ready for the drop.”

The waves broke over the conning tower of the surfacing submarine and the hatch atop the steel cone opened. One man in a black rubber body suit, flippers, mask, and a smallish bag jumped from the hatch and dropped into the waves. The hatch was closed and then the tower sank back beneath the waves. Captain Jake Maxim was floating under the water with his snorkel just above the waves. He made sure he had suffered no loss in his jump, and then made for the shore taking a breath and swimming hard keeping his head just under the surface of the water. He was a no more than a dozen feet from shore when he saw the sentry in a flash of lighting. The man was tall, dark, and alone. Jake puzzled over that, no dog, no comrade, no light. Jake let himself drift into a small cluster of boulders that the waves washed in the retreating tide. Drawing his feet under himself he removed the Mask and flippers. The sentry seemed to know something wasn't right, and just stood there still and silent. Jake had long since learned to roll with the punches, and was undoing the flap on his water tight holster. From it he removed one of his favorite weapons for silent killing. It was a High Standard silenced pistol chambered for the .22 caliber round and with the new modifications to the slide it fired semi-automatic. Jake drew the pistol out, knowing the top had already been pulled back chambering the first of ten rounds and tried to find his target. He waited trying to see the guard in the dark, but it was impossible to locate him, let alone single out the man's head. Jake smiled as he heard the unmistakable scratch of a match against a match box. The flare lit up the guards face, and Jake identified the man's features as German. The cigarette tip glowed red and the match was put out as the guard smoked. Jake aimed just above and to the left of the cigarette ember and fired. The spat of the pistol was followed by the sound of the guard dropping to the shale. Jake stood quietly, and stalked over. Feeling in the dark Jake could tell he had hit his mark, putting the .22 caliber bullet in the right lobe of the brain which mean almost no blood, and instant death for the target. Jake stripped the slicker off the guard and took the rifle and cartridge belt. Jake noticed the Swiss made boots and took them after pealing back the leggings of his wet suit.

Wrapping himself in the slicker, and shouldering the rifle Jake grabbed and taking aim with a large rock smashed the guard's head. When someone found the body it would look like he had fallen, and the shore was notorious for scavengers so the slicker, rifle, boots, and gun belt wouldn't be missed. Jake made his way up the slope and weaved through the wire and iron tank obstacles. He reached the ridge and looked about, seeing plainly the small sheltered fires and clumps of guards. He made his way along the ridge until he came to the path he was to take. He had seen the area in fifteen dozen different maps and aerial photos of the area, and knew the place like the back of his hand. The other guards paid him no mind, seeing what they expected to see, a guard wrapped in a green slicker moving towards the town. Jake arrived at a small country road which was two parts mud with all the rain, and one part packed dirt. He walked along the side of the road meeting no one, and it wasn't long before he arrived at the address he had been given. The trees and hanging bushes lined the road on one side, and a small wire fence that separated the road from a wide open field, lined the other side. Between the line of trees and under the hanging bushes was a wooden gate on which a dark wood sign read, 1130 Orme rd. Jake clambered over the gate and followed the drive. It wound back away from the main road, and the trees and vines staid close on both sides. The small house was set behind a large yard of garden and grass, encircled with a small wicket fence that ran about the house. Jake walked around the back of the house, and located the barn which like he had been told was made of very thick and heavy wood. Jake pushed open the front door to the barn and looked inside. The barn was in spotless order, and a motor cycle sat in the horse stall. The cycle was spotlessly cleaned, and from the looks of it, brand new. On closer inspection, Jake identified it as a BMW R75 Gespann motorbike, probably one of the more common bikes owned by both the German military and the French civilians. Jake climbed the ladder to the loft where he found what would presumably be his room. It was an open room with a small table and lamp at one end and a bed and night stand at the other. Jake undressed and wrapped his rubber dry suit, flippers, snorkel, and mask in the slicker, pushing the bundle under his bed. He leaned the Kar against the small table, and strung the cartridge belt in place of the shoulder strap. Having organized his stuff, Jake laid his suit case on the bed and opened it. Inside was two knit shirts, another pare of dockers, two large bill rolls, a small toilet kit, and a large leather holster. He opened the holster and drew out the large Colt 1911 .45 caliber hand gun. The large slide action pistol was considered the hand cannon of the twentieth century and was indisputably the most accurate hand gun available. Jake cocked it and letting the hammer down, placed it under his pillow. He place the clothes along with one of the bill rolls in the suit case, and pushed the case under the bed along with the slicker bundle. Jake placed the cash, several hundred German Deutschmarks, in his coat pocket. He climbed down and dropped down the last three steps. It was then Jake realized that there was a wooden room beneath him. However, he did not bother to check it, it was time to greet his host. He walked through the rain, which was more a drizzle now and knocked on the front door. The house was two story, white plaster and stone, with brown wood trim. The door opened slowly, and from behind it a woman looked out suspiciously. Seeing Jake, she opened the door wide and ushered him in. Jake nodded and stepping in wiped his feet off on the welcome mat. She wasn't tall, but neither was she short. Her brow hair fell just below her shoulders, and he blue eyes studied Jake carefully. She was fare skinned, and didn't seem to communicate confidence in what she was doing, or trust in this American new comer. Jake smiled disarmingly and held out his hand, “Jake Maxim ma'am.” She took his hand hesitantly and replied, “Sabina Sabin, Captain?” Jake shrugged, “Don't mind the formalities Miss Sabin, you can call me Jake, Jacob, or what ever you want so long as it's not a title.” She smiled seeming to be more at ease, “Well then Jake, you may call me Sabina here, and in public, Miss Sabin.” Jake nodded and smiled, “Beautiful place you have here, I don't guess the Nazi's make it out here much?” She shook her head, “No they don't, the country side is a place they are afraid to go alone. They have been in place for almost two years, and still lone soldiers get assassinated all the time.” Jake nodded as she lead him into her sitting room. She looked at him seemingly puzzled, “Have you brought nothing with you?” Jake laughed aloud, “I brought a suit case, and I got a rifle and slicker on the beach, but I put them in the loft room.” She smiled, “Then your settled in?” Jake nodded. Smiling warmly and offering him a cup of coffee she said, “Then on behalf of France and myself, I welcome you here.” Jake took the cup and said, “Well I'm happy to be here on both accounts.”

-Part II – The Wolf's Country Side-

Jake awoke at seven in the morning, twisting onto the floor where he dropped into his morning exorcize, pushups. After ten minutes of that he stood, stretched and dressed. He had a lot to do that day, with the submarine surfacing the next day at ten o'clock, he had to have everything complete. Climbing down the ladder he greeted Sabina who was just coming out of the subterranean room, still in her night gown. “Good morning Sabina.” She smiled warmly, and slightly embarrassed that he had caught her in her night clothes replied, “Hello Jake, forgive my appearance, I had to check to make sure my mixture had completely dried.” Jake extended a had to help, and she took it, surprised at his strength as he drew her effortlessly up to the ground level. She smiled her thanks and Jake followed her into the house. “What exactly are you mixing down there?” Jake asked as Sabina quickly fixed breakfast. “Plastic Explosives, ammonium nitrates, anything that goes boom.” After a short silence she ask “So what exactly are you planning to do here?” Jake had sat down, and talked between bites. “There is a German Commander code named the Iron Wolf. He lives in the manor house just out of town, and he's my target.” Sabina smiled, “So your an American assassin.” Jake laughed. “That's one of the things I can do, and you? What are you?” Sabina shrugged, “A helpless patriot for France I guess.” Jake smiled reassuringly. “Not helpless anymore.” Quickly finishing breakfast, Jake returned to his room and placed the Colt in it's concealed holster at the small of his back. When Sabina came through the barn door, Jake was sitting on the motorbike getting it ready for use. Sabina had a small pack which she handed him, “It's your lunch, don't loose it. I should be in town later, and if I can help you let me know.” With a smiled and a nod Jake fired up the motorbike's powerful motor and sped out of the small barn, through the twisty path, through the wooden gate, and along the country road. The scenery was beautiful, characteristic of France after a heavy rain. The clear blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon and the green trees and bushes glistened with the water they had accumulated in the night rain. It was a short ten minute ride into town, and as Jake pulled near town, he realized that not a single German was to be found outside the town palisades. The palisades were to fences made of wire and long, sharp wooden stakes that surrounded the city, and on the roads that went in and out, small clumps of German guards stood checking everyone who came in or went out. Jake pulled up with a smile and a wave, and the guards paid him no mind. Pulling past the check point Jake took in the small town. The buildings were built three stories high in most cases, and extended over the cobble streets. The town center was an open air market which was filling with citizens selling their wares or strolling with one another. The town was small, but it was densely packed with loving citizens, and now with Nazi soldiers. Jake had no intention of stopping in town so he pulled through and after offering the check point guards a brief story drove out of the northern side of the town. It didn't take him long, only five minutes before Jake could see the manor house. It was set high on a hill over looking the surrounding country side and a stone fence ran the parameter. Jake drove past the high wrought iron gates and parked in a stand of woods next to the stone wall. Jake walked along the wall before finding a suitable tree that had a branch that extended far enough over the wall. Jake climbed up, and swung over the wall dropping down the other side. The inside was as much a beautiful wilderness as outside, and Jake could see he would have no trouble finding a tree with which to exit. As he prowled about he searched for the motor pool building, hoping to be able to identify the commander's vehicle. It took him five minutes of foot work to locate the building, and that early in the morning no one was about. Jake slipped in through a back door and saw three vehicles. One was a large transport truck, definitely not the commander's ride. The second was a shining black Mercedes with polished rims and dark, cleaned wheels. The third was a gray blue Auburn sedan with deep luxury seats. Jake swore under his breath as he looked at the two cars. Both definitely were the commander's cars, and he could use either at any time. Jake's strategy had been to plant a bomb in the car, and blow the commander with his consort to the Hell awaiting them. If there were two cars he might wire them both, but he doubted he had the supplies to do that. Secondly, the possibility of one of the two vehicles getting used by a junior officer and the ensuing explosion warning the commander that his other car might be rigged as well would shoot the whole plan to pieces. Jake would only have one shot at this and would need to plan it carefully. As Jake left the manor grounds the same way he had entered it, he began devising a plan. It was a long shot, but definitely was better than wiring both cars with bombs. Jake drove back to town, arriving that one of the main local taverns and entering it with his bundle, he quickly found Sabina. She was sitting on her own, and Jake greeted her with a smile. “How was your day?” He asked as he unwrapped the bread and cheese. She smiled and removed from her basket a bottle of wine from which she poured two blood red glasses of Mourvèdre. Jake and Sabina talked for over an hour as they sat drinking and eating, talking about anything and everything. When Jake glanced at his watch he swore in his head knowing he had lost an hour, but thinking about it, he probably made a good appearance to the citizens as a friendly citizen. Having finished their wine and meal they stood together and left. Jake wrapped his arm about her waste and pulling her close placed his lips next to her ear. “I need to make a car bomb.” She placed both arms around his neck in an embrace and pulling him close said, “Meet me in my basement in a half hour, I have what you'll need.” She let go, and stepping up to her bicycle making her way home. Jake climbed aboard his bike, smiled at the police officer near by, and motored past cycling Sabina to the small country house, waiting in the barn until she arrived. She lead him down into the subterranean room and lifted what looked like a lump of dough from it's wax paper wrapping. Jake lifted the explosive material from her hands and smiled, “I got it from here on out.” She nodded and said, “I'll leave you here with your work, once your done come in the house for some refreshments.” Jake nodded and began working. It took him only a half hour to craft his bomb, a small flat piece of wood to which was screwed a grenade wrapped in one of the more unstable types of plastique. The timing mechanism was a little more complicated. The grenade detonator was altered to go of with when a complete electrical circuit was made between two wires which would connect the detonator to the electrical current from a flash light battery. He strapped a wire to the face of a small kitchen clock, then fixed a wire to the hour hand. As the arm rotated the two wires came closer and closer, and when the two wires touched the circuit was made complete, the electrical current would set off the grenade, which set of the plastique, which would in turn explode throwing what ever was nearby as shrapnel. Jake then took a lump of white sculpting clay and spread it out, forming a sort of covering, or shell for the exposed part of the bomb. He carved out a small hole for the clock which would allow him to set the time on the bomb. He then removed the shell like covering and pressed pieces of star shaped metal pieces into the soft clay so that he entire shell was covered with chicks and bits of metal. In the subterranean room there was a small oven which Jake stoked to life with the wood pile. He baked the clay covering into a hard shell which he set to cool for five minutes while he washed his hands. When the shell had cooled, Jake placed it over the bomb and using two screws and a metal strap, fixed it over his bomb. The last line of business was the bottom of the bomb, and flipping it over he took several dozen screws, screwing them into the wood base. The bomb was complete, when the grenade went off it would set off the plastique, the explosion of the plastique would instantly shatter both the wood base and the clay covering sending bits and pieces of metal in every direction moving at incredible speeds. With the bomb finished Jake took it to his room and laid it in his brief case smiling at his ingenuity. With business completed Jake climbed down the ladder and walked to the house entering through the back door. Sabina was sitting at the table with bread, cheese, and a bottle of wine. In addition to that there was fruit and small pastries. Jake sat down and explained what he planned to do.

-Part III – A car, gun, and prisoner-

Himmler Eberhardt was the second hand man to the General they called the Iron Wolf. The Iron Wolf himself, George Adler, admitted that with out Eberhardt he would have a hard time getting things done. It was in fact due to Himmler's work that Iron Wolf had the comfortable post that he did, and so when Himmler came to visit Adler, Adler was more than happy to let Himmler take a country ride in the Mercedes. Himmler and two other senior officers took the car out for a spin, and it was Sabina, set up with a radio watching the front gate, that told Jake someone had taken the car out, and was bound to return north bound on the country road. Thus Jake drove to the road where they would have to pass and prepared for his ambush. Jake pulled up the motorbike at a secluded area, far from any of the farms or other inhabitants. He revved the motor and left several deep, conspicuous tire marks on the road. With that completed, he then laid his bike down at the end of the marks which then looked like for all intents and purposes like there had been an accident. Jake waited until he heard the powerful motor of the Mercedes coming, then walked over to the bike and crouched next to it. The Mercedes pulled up and stopped, Jake's back to them. Jake heard the high pitched voice of Himmler inquiring in German what the problem was. Jake turned, the Colt 1911 in his left hand, and yelled, “I don't speak Nazi German!” He fired twice, the first round taking Himmler in the face, the second taking the first officer who was driving. The last man raised his hands above his head, and Jake stepped forward. “Name?” The German officer stuttered out a reply, “Fredrick Abend, General Fredrick Abend of Normandy defense... God don't kill me.” Jake grabbed the officers gun off his belt and placed the artillery Luger handgun in his pocket. Jake then grabbed the man's collar and forcefully dragged him from the vehicle dropping him face first in the dirt. Taking the man's belt Jake tied Abend's hands behind his back and using Himmler's belt tied his ankles. He then lifted the man and dumped him face first into the back seat before dragging the two dead and bleeding officers from the front seats. Jake used their jackets to soak up most of the blood on the seats and dumping their bodies in the ditch, lifted his motorbike onto the luggage rack at the back of the car. With everything he needed Jake drove the Mercedes taking back country roads the whole way back to the Sabin home. Parking the car in the barn, Jake unloaded the bike and refueled both the motorbike and the Mercedes from Sabina's stock pile of petrol. Last of all he deposited a tied and gagged Fredrick Abend on the cot in the subterranean room. Sabina was inside waiting, and when Jake came through the door she smiled with relief. “I was half afraid that something had gone wrong.” Jake smiled and gave her a hug saying, “American's don't make mistakes, because we don't plan.” She laughed and said, “Well I guess that's one way to look at it.” Jake nodded, “An American way.” The two enjoyed their dinner together until the clock chimed eleven and Jake stood. “We'll I have to go plant the bomb, I'll be back before too long.” Sabina grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Be careful, please.” Jake nodded smiling, “Always.” Jake took the pedal bicycle with his brief case on the little rack. As he pedaled his way to the manor house he smiled to himself. Heavens knew he loved a short simple mission, but he almost wished he could stay here for a few more days. The French countryside was growing on him, and he very much enjoyed Sabina's company. His thoughts drifted on as like a shadow he moved down the roads. It was a half hour ride to the manor house which was inside alight due to a party being thrown. Jake made it over the wall suit case and all, and made his way to the motor pool. He slipped in and began working the lock on the Auburn. It took him only a minute to get the door open, and only a few seconds to realize he was faced with a big problem. The back had a luxury bench, and the front had two seats. If he placed the bomb under one seat it might not send enough shrapnel to kill the others, and he had no idea where Adler would sit. Jake stood, undecided when a noise made up his mind. Someone opened the door and a man with a Machine Pistol stepped in. Jake pitched the bomb behind the back seats where it lodged between the window and the head rests. The act cost him his reaction time and he felt the cold steel barrel pressed against his neck. “Hands where I can see them you meddler!” Jake raised his hands and backed out of the car. Several more men stepped in, grabbing him and tying his hands behind his back and roughly dragging him from the building. They were house servants who were all armed with Machine Pistols. Jake was dragged to the front patio where they forced him to his knees. One of the servants dressed in a tuxedo stepped into the room who's large double glass doors opened onto the patio. The servant called for Adler who had been dancing, and who now stepped out onto the porch with several of his guests. Adler was at least six foot five inches of strong, healthy, and handsome body. His shoulders were broad, his hands were large, but not too big, and his body bespoke a healthy diet and lots of exorcize. The term Iron Wolf seemed to fit him perfectly, his iron gray hair, his square handsome jaw, and his gray wolf like eyes. He was holding a tall blond's hand in such a way that indicated respect and reservation, as well as a mature type of affection. All in all Jake wondered at why men like this, men with character and principle, stood behind the Nazi cause. The guard explained that they had caught Jake looking in “Herr' Commander's car” and that they hadn't had any trouble. Adler nodded thoughtfully, “Have you searched him?” The two men holding Jake began to skiff him, and located the handgun but nothing else. “Just a gun Herr' Commander.” Adler shrugged, “Everyone carries a gun at such times.” The servants looked at one another and shrugged as well. Adler let go of his woman's hand and stepped forward. “What were you doing in my car?” Jake looked nervously around as if he had been caught tipping cows and said, “I've not seen such a fine car, and have been out to see it and feel the seats many times. Each time I feel I must come back.” Adler's eye brows lifted, and he said, “You mean you've done this several times?” Jake looked at the ground as if feeling guilty and ashamed. Adler smiled, “I too love cars, and I have just lost a driver to a highway murder, do you drive.” Jake lit up as if he had just caught on to Adler's idea. “Oh yes commander!” Adler smiled, then you have a new job, come back tomorrow and you may begin your service as a driver. The armed servants had untied Jake and Jake stood rubbing his wrists. Adler smiled like a father to a naughty sun, “But you needn't be carrying this-” He took the Colt from the servant “Around with... you...” His voice trailed off as his inspected the fire arm. “Where did you get this?” Jake realized that if he didn't think fast the game would be up. “I found it outside the wall as I was coming in.” Adler nodded, “Indeed, and ah, you found the concealed holster as well?” Jake swore in his mind, but decided to try one last wild gamble. “No sir, that holster belongs to this gun.” Jake lifted the artillery Luger from his pocket which the servants had missed. Adler seemed disposed to believe Jake, and took the Luger from the servant who, as soon as Jake had produced it, had snatched it. “I believe you, but I must verify. See one of my close friends and coworkers was shot to death by a gun such as this, and there isn't more than one in this part of France.” Adler turned to the servant in the tuxedo and said, “Take him to the local jail and make sure he is comfortable. I will resolve this matter tomorrow.” The servants took Jake by the arms and lead him to the truck which they pulled out of the motor pool building. It was a long ride, but Jake made small talk with the servants about women, wine, and war. The servants now in a good mood explained to the guards at the police station about the situation that had arisen, and how this man was to be taken good care of because he was going to be, “Herr' Adler's esteemed driver.” Jake was put in a clean cell room and given all the comforts of home including wine, bread, cheese, cards and the company of the officers who joined him in his cell in a game of cards. After a while Jake asked, “Would it be possible to talk with my girlfriend?” The police officer nodded, “We have a telephone, absolutely.” Jake smiled, “She makes a very good meal, might she come here?” The three officers looked at each other and smiling agreed that this woman would be most welcome. One of the officers lead Jake to the telephone, which Jake began to use before he realized he didn't have her number. The other officer was listening, so Jake picked up the mouth piece and rung the operator, “Can you get me 1130 Orme road?” The operator asked for a moment and then connected them. Sabina's voice came in on the other end and when she heard Jake's voice she sounded just as Jake hoped she would, worried sick and concerned. “Jake? Where are you? Did something go wrong?” Jake stopped her before she said too much, “No baby, everything is okay, I was looking at the car and I was taken by the servants and Herr' Adler decided to give me a job, but had to make sure I'm not a killer so he sent me to the local jail where I'm now and this officer-” Jake stopped and asked to guard loudly so Sabina knew their conversation was being overheard, “What's your name?” The guard smiled and said, “Alan Furstenwerth.” Jake nodded, “Baby, Alan is letting me call you and I wanted to let you know what had happen, and ask if you could bring something special her for me and the three other officers here. Their good fellows and appreciate a good dessert.” Sabina must have caught on because she responded in kind, “Oh heavens be thanked your okay! I'll bring something they will all like.” Jake said a few more sentimental words that convinced the officer next to him that this woman was truly Jake's girlfriend. Hanging up he turned to the guards and said, “She's bringing food for all!” The men cheered, and without worry, all four of them sat at the main table, the cell room forgotten. It took Sabina ten minutes to get there with a large basket in hand. It was all Jake could do not to laugh when he saw Sabina. She had stuffed something under her dress so as to appear pregnant and smiled in a faint way. Jake greeted her with a quick kiss and asked, “Are you alright dear?” She smiled and leaned against him, “I need to use the toilet.” The officers who were hungrily eying the basket pointed to the bathroom door. Jake nodded with gratitude and said, “Go ahead with out us, we'll join in just a moment.” Helping a stumbling Sabina to the bathroom Jake closed the door behind them and smiled. Sabina wrapped her arms around Jake in an embrace and said, “I thought it was over when I heard you were caught by the police.” Jake shrugged and smiled, “With you and me working together, the Germans don't have much of a chance.” Sabina let go of Jake and pulled the bag and stuffing out from under her dress. Jake opened the bag and removed three handguns, two of which were semiautomatic nine millimeter Italian Beretta slide action pistols. The third was a short barreled Luger, and all three handguns had silencer's attached. Jake handed Sabina the Luger and taking a Beretta in each hand stepped from the bathroom. All three officers were eating and drinking, paying no mind to Jake as he stepped up. Jake leveled the silenced pistols at the two closest men and fired twice at one, and with the other put the second round in the chest of the third. The two closest men went down with out a sound bullets in their heads, and the third went down with a gurgle, the bullet having pieced his left lung. Jake slipped the two pistols in his belt and stepped to the gun rack on the wall. He grabbed two of the Machine Pistols, and filled the bag Sabina had brought with clips of ammunition. Jake looked outside into the street and saw Sabina had taken the Mercedes. “We need to get back to the house and take all we can.” Sabina smiled and stepping out got in the driver seat. Jake sat down and found that Sabina must have stripped the house of anything she wanted or needed. Even Jake's bundle was in the back seat of the car, sitting atop a worried looking Fredrick Abend. “You amaze me Sabina, lets get out of here.” Sabina took the Mercedes at high speeds out of the two, past the sleeping check points, and into the countryside. They drove for roughly a half hour before Sabina pulled off the main dirt road and bumped along a path that wound through dense woods. She pulled up at a clearing and stopped, turning the engine off. “Now what Mr. Maxim?” She asked. Jake ran his fingers through his hair trying to think. “Well, the bomb isn't going to go off, because I didn't have the time to set it. And Adler has to leave tomorrow for Berlin, which means that I'll not get a day time shot at it.” Sabina sighed. “So your plan of stealing this car so he would have to use the other one won't work, because now the bomb won't go off.” Jake nodded, then stopped himself. “Unless I could set the bomb off my self.” Sabina grabbed his arm, “Your not getting close to that again, I'm not loosing you again.” Jake smiled and patted her hand, “I'm not going to get anywhere near the car itself, I don't think I'll even need to touch the car.” Sabina looked at Jake in suspicion and asked, “What did you have in mind?” Jake reached back and grabbed the Kar-98 rifle and patted it. She shook her head, “The window's are bullet proof, it won't penetrate” Jake smiled, “That's the beauty of unstable plastique, you only have to get close.”

-Part IV – Getting close and getting out-

Jake and Sabina sat in the Mercedes waiting. The stretch of dirt road next to their little hiding place was empty and quiet. Jake sat in the passenger seat with a Machine Pistol in his hand, and the Kar-98 rifle on the floor board next to him. Sabina was in the drivers seat drumming her fingers and waiting. The only other person present was Fredrick Abend who was sitting very still and trying not to be a burden. They had been in the car since Jake's escape from the jail house. The local Wehrmacht forces had assaulted Sabina's house and all but destroyed it looking for them. And there would soon be fugitive posters for Sabina all over France giving dire threats to any who was aiding or abetting her. Jake knew he was going to have to either take her back with him, or go on foot to Switzerland with her. He didn't foresee any problem with taking her on the submarine, but all would be clear when they reached the beach and the extraction raft arrived. While Jake and Sabina were waiting, Alder toyed with the Colt 1911 as he walked to his Auburn waiting in the court yard of his manor. He disliked driving to Berlin because it didn't seem to bring any benefit. He was also upset after getting the report that the man he had sent to the local jail had escaped with the help of a local girl. That girl would die, that he was sure, and he would have the American hunted down if it cost him his life. The driver of the car started the Auburn's motor, and the front seat passenger cocked his Machine Pistol. Adler sat down in the back and continued toying with the gun as they began to pull out of his drive towards Berlin. They were driving for several minutes, Adler stewing over the recent event when he heard the sound of distant popping. Adler looked up trying to identify the sound when the bullets began thudding into his car. He sank down against the car's cushioned back seat, trying to stay away from the window. Behind the Auburn was the Mercedes. Sabina was at the wheel, and Jake was leaning out of the Mercedes passenger window with a Machine pistol in his hand. Jake sprayed the rear door and window of the Auburn not penetrating but frosting the view. The driver was shocked that the Mercedes was suddenly on their tail and he began to weave to try and avoid the hail of gun fire while he pressed the accelerator to the floor. Sabina kept the Mercedes, which was at least twice as fast as the large Auburn, a modest distance from the car and kept Jake as still as possible. Jake aimed for the rear window trying to frost it into an opaque state. He quickly accomplished that mission and then trained his automatic fire at eliminating the rear view mirrors. It took Jake just ten seconds to trim them off. With no idea what was going on behind them the Auburn sped at crazy speeds trying in vane to out run the pursuing car. Jake traded the Machine pistol for the Kar rifle and working the bolt, sighted in on the window where he guess the bomb was located. Sabina seeing the weapon exchange slowed down considerably to allow for some cushion. Jake squeezed off the first shot and nothing happened, working the bolt again, Jake fired once more. George Adler was pressed up against the rear seat as close as he could be, trying to avoid the gun fire which concentrated on the rear window. When the second rifle bullet impacted the window, it did not penetrate, but did smash into the window with all the impact and force of a jackhammer. The wood base of the bomb was directly next to the window, and the screws transferred the shock and force to the grenade. The grenade's half disassembled trigger system went off, detonating the plastique and throwing shrapnel through the seat upholstery, which then ripped through Adler's unprotected body. The shrapnel dealt death to all in the vehicle, and the plastique's explosion lifted the rear end of the Auburn off the road throwing it forward in a heap of flaming, twisting, metal. Sabina pressed the break hard to the floor, slowing to a controlled slide which left them fifty feet from the burning heap of metal and car parts. Jake stepped from the Mercedes and trotted over to the car wreck and identified his target's burning, bleeding, dead body. He also found his Colt 1911 miraculously unharmed except for the blackened steel was smudged with smoke and one of the wood grips had been nicked from the shrapnel, but nothing noticeable. Lifting his gun from the wreck Jake stepped back and walked back to the Mercedes. Sabina looked at Jake with question and Jake smiled. “We got him, got him for good.”

The beach was dark with the night time sky and aside from two dead beach guards who had been in the way of the extraction plan the night was perfect. Jake sat next to Sabina on the star lit beach and sighed. “Well this war is one step closer to being done.” Sabina smiled and said, “Is that how you operate? In small steps?” Jake nodded, “I have to, that's all an Agent can do.” Sabina took his arm in hers and leaned against him saying. “I can't go back there you know.” Jake nodded, “I know, the wounded officer at the jail got your address, and your house is probably already been half destroyed.” Sabina nodded with a sadness in her eyes. “I loved that house, it was all I had.” Jake smiled, and patting her hand said, “How about making a home instead of having a house?” She smiled and nodded, “That sounds about right.” The waves brought a small black rubber raft with four men paddling as hard as they could. The raft beached and Jake stood up, walking to the lieutenant in charge and explained he had two additional passengers. The lieutenant looked puzzled, “I see only the woman, who else?” Jake walked over to a clump of rocks and pulled an unconscious Fredrick Abend up and dragged the man to the lieutenant. “I think this guys knows something about Normandy's defenses.” The lieutenant looked at him and shrugged, “Fine with me, let's just get out of here.” Jake waved to Sabina who got up and climbed after Jake into the raft. The raft pushed off and floating free the four Navy men paddled to the submarine's conning tower. Jake and the lieutenant helped Sabina down the hatch and the lieutenant followed with his men. Jake got half way into the conning tower and looked back at the shore of France. It was a beautiful land, and if Jake's hunch was right, Jake would be back soon with more work to do.