OP-DEC: Operation Deceit

Chapter 21

Claire watched the French countryside slip past the window. The war's destruction materialized here and there, but her untrained eyes saw nothing worse than the usual decay of old cities. Bored with the sight, Claire pushed back against the seat, clutching a purse on her lap. She felt considerably better to be out of the evening gown she'd worn for nearly two weeks, and to be clean again, but it would have been far better to be free instead. She sighed with resignation, trying to focus on the blessings she had.

"Your friends mentioned you're a war hero," Aunt said, breaking the silence.

Across from Claire, Father pressed as far away from Aunt as possible. He clutched a leather strap affixed to the roof panel, as if to hoist himself away. The loop was strained, unused to such anxious attentions. Father met Claire's gaze with a vague appearance of annoyance and fatigue. Uneased by his depthless gaze, Claire switched to her aunt.

The woman smiled good-naturedly at Carsten, awaiting his response. Her words were meant to brighten the drizzly mood and bring a bit of fun at the expense of their guardian.

"It is nothing," Carsten replied. "I assure you."

Carsten kept his face pressed to the window, refusing to face them.

"Why don't you tell us what you did and we'll be the judge," Aunt pressed.

"Let me guess-your unit made a raid on a little Polish village and tortured the women and children for information. The information saved thousands of German soldiers' lives as you took over a once autonomous country?" Claire said sarcastically.

"Not quite, Fräulein," Carsten replied, pinning her with his eyes that were more amused than irritated. "It happened in Spain well before Poland. My men were trapped on a reconnaissance mission. No reinforcements were coming and I got them out with few casualties." He pinned his eyes on the countryside, provoked. "As you can see, all I did was my job."

"Why would Hitler's police want you because you only did your job?" Aunt asked. "There must be more to it than that, or you wouldn't have been drafted."

"Frau O'Shea," Carsten drawled, rolling his eyes to her.

Claire touched her hand to her mouth to stifle her chuckle. Carsten's vexation at her aunt's questions was terribly amusing.

"Please remember that you are my prisoners until we arrive in Berlin. Once I make my report, they will know you were never to accompany Herr Healey. Then they will determine what kind of threat you and your niece are to the project. I do not think my secrets will help you change that," he said.

Aunt was made speechless. She folded her hands in her lap and buttoned her lip at the reproach. Claire squeezed her purse, aggravated by the tone he took with Aunt. As if the reality of the situation wasn't enough, his words iced their moods. She returned her gaze to the window.

"I warned you they would be tiresome," Claire's father said.

"It is of little matter," Carsten mumbled in a tired voice. "I've faced far worse."

"It's all talk, from what I've seen," Claire mumbled. Through the car window, she saw the ruins of a building loom in the distance.

"What is it that you impossible women want to know? We have at least five hours before we reach Orléans. I can start with my childhood and bring you up to date if you would like."

"You should hold your tongue, Reiniger," Claire's father advised. He measured Claire threateningly. "Let them sit-stew-think about what will be done with them."