“They have not disappeared into thin air,” Messner announced. “Once it is daylight, we will search for them.”
They camped out in the empty house, sleeping on the furniture and polishing off the brandy. The next morning Dietzel’s skill as a Jaeger eventually rewarded them with being able to find their quarry’s trail. They had been searching in larger and larger rings around the perimeter of the château, but so far had found nothing.
Where Bauer and his escort had gone was a mystery — until now.
“Over here!” Dietzel shouted.
The Jaeger stood by a stone springhouse with a low roof. Several sets of tracks in the snow led away from the springhouse, but none went toward it.
Messner confessed that he was mystified.
“A tunnel, Herr Hauptmann,” Dietzel explained. “There is a hatch inside the springhouse. The tunnel must lead to the château.”
“We searched that place high and low!”
Dietzel shrugged. “Old houses have their secrets. This one, at least, has been revealed to us.”
Impatiently, Messner called Gettinger over. He had also been searching the snow for some clue as to where their quarry had gone. Gettinger was limping a bit, having been wounded in the first attack on the château the previous day.
“There is no time to lose,” Messner said. “They must have given us the slip during the night, so they could have a head start of several hours.”
Dietzel smiled and gestured toward the tracks with the muzzle of his sniper rifle. Clearly he was enjoying himself. “Let the hunt begin,” he said.
Messner realized that for the Jaeger, perhaps this was simply a game. He was enjoying the thrill of the hunt. Messner himself had not lost sight of his desire for revenge. There might still be hope of catching up to Bauer.
Dietzel was studying the tracks. “It is interesting that they have added someone to their party,” he said. “The shoes are different. Smaller. I would say that these are the footprints of a woman.”
“What are they doing with a woman?” He realized that the house had not been unoccupied after all. At least it hadn’t been when the Americans arrived.
“Perhaps she is their guide,” Dietzel said, guessing the situation correctly. “No matter. We don’t need a guide. We can follow these tracks easily enough.”
“Good, because there is no time to lose. Let’s go!” Messner ordered, and started off at a trot, following the tracks as easily as he might follow the road signs down a highway.
Brock watched the Germans from a distance. By now he had come to realize that they very likely wanted the same thing — the German prisoner. Nothing else about their pursuit of the same group made sense.
He wasn’t sure why they wanted the German officer, but it clearly wasn’t to play tiddlywinks. The way that they had attacked the château with a vengeance made it clear that they weren’t all that interested in taking anyone alive — even one of their own.
If he was going to guess, it was that they also wanted the German officer dead.
This didn’t mean that he was willing to team up with the Germans. They were Krauts, after all. The enemy.
Unseen, they watched the Germans from the cover of the surrounding trees.
“Should we shoot them?” Vern wanted to know.
Brock thought about it. “No, let’s see what they turn up. Let them do the hard work, you know.”
Their patience was rewarded a short time later when they heard a shout from the woods. You didn’t need to speak German to understand the meaning of the tone. The Germans had found something, and they sounded excited about it.
“All right, let’s go check it out.”
First, they did a quick check of the château but found nothing of interest. Once some time had passed, they crept around and found the springhouse and tracks. They could see the footprints left by the escort patrol and the pursuing Germans.
All that they had to do now was follow the trail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“How much time do you think we’ve got before they catch up to us?” Vaccaro asked, his voice tight with urgency.
Good question, Cole thought. One that he didn’t have the answer to. What he did know was that every minute they could put between themselves and their pursuers could mean the difference between escape and death.
“I reckon we have a decent head start, and that’s all I can say,” Cole responded, glancing over his shoulder. “It really depends on how good of a tracker that German Jaeger is and how much luck we’ve got. I’ve got to say, I ain’t feelin’ all that lucky right now.”
“In that case, we better get a move on,” Vaccaro replied. Everyone in their group looked tired and worn out, their nerves on edge from their narrow escape through the tunnel, but they had no choice but to keep going. “Well, at least Madame Jouret sent that pretty daughter of hers along with us.”
Cole rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like she would ever have anything to do with us.”
Vaccaro chuckled. “Cheer up, hillbilly. If we survive this, I’ll buy you a drink. Or maybe two. We’ll deserve it.”
The journey through the tunnel, up the ladder, through the springhouse, and out into the woods had warmed them up, but now the cold of the forest settled into their bones. Their breath blew out in vaporous clouds, and their feet crunched through the snow that lay undisturbed under the thick evergreen branches overhead.
Cole knew the trouble with the snow was that it would make it easier for the German Jaeger to follow them. He’d been half-kidding when he mentioned luck to Vaccaro, and now he wasn’t so sure that their luck really hadn’t run out. As for the Americans who were also after them, that was simply a wild card.
Then again, maybe the Germans and Americans in pursuit would run into each other and fight it out while Cole and the rest made their getaway, but that was probably too much to hope for.
Lena said something urgent in French that Cole took to mean “Hurry up,” because Rupert looked back at them and waved them on. He swayed a bit as he walked, thrown off balance by his wounded arm, but to the British lieutenant’s credit, he did not complain. Cole thought that maybe the young officer was made of sterner stuff than he had given him credit for. Then again, maybe Rupert just didn’t want to look bad in front of Lena.
Cole never liked being told what to do, especially by this whippersnapper of a Belgian girl, but in this case he knew she was right. Every minute that passed meant that their pursuers might be getting closer.
“Come on,” he said to Vaccaro, then picked up the pace.
Cole had to admit that Lena really did seem to know her way through the forest, so that much was reassuring. There wasn’t actually a trail to speak of, although every now and then they followed a deer path before veering once more into the woods, but she seemed to be moving with confidence toward some destination she had in mind.
It was likely that she had been exploring these woods since she was a little girl. Also, the way she had handled that shotgun during the attack on the château had convinced him that Lena was an experienced hunter. As far as he could tell, they were in good hands.
Cole was right to worry about the Germans, who at that moment were not more than a couple of miles behind them and moving fast. Dietzel was on their trail, following the tracks easily through the forest.
“Schnell, schnell,” he said to Messner and Gettinger, looking impatiently behind him. It was clear that he didn’t think they were keeping up the pace.