Free Enticing the Spymaster (War Girls) by Julie Rowe Page B

surrounding area and buildings. “Who are they searching for?”
    “I don’t know. It seems someone important is on the loose, but it isn’t us.”
    “Should we get back on the train?” She turned to look, but it was gone.
    “It’s better to avoid that officer. If he recognised either of us, we’d be the ones they’d be hunting. Come, let’s find somewhere to talk that’s not so crowded.”
    Scowling at him, she took his proffered arm and he led her past the ticket station and down a set of stairs. A public toilet—a squat stone building, its base crumbling with age—stood at the bottom of the steps. “I need to stop for a moment.”
    Michael nodded and she went inside. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. A shuffling sound drew her attention to the far corner.
    A man crouched there.
    She managed to stop herself from screaming by the barest of margins.
    The man didn’t move.
    She wasn’t sure he could. He appeared to be hurt, one arm tied to his torso with what looked like dirty bandages, and he was breathing far too fast for someone immobile. There was blood on his face and clothing, what she could see of it. He wore something odd around his legs. She took a step closer and realised she was looking at the puttees of a British uniform.
    She met his gaze. His eyes were wide and a sheen of sweat covered his face.
    He jerked back as male voices called out in German, asking who was inside.
    Jude motioned for the man to stay where he was and turned to block the doorway. “Hanz?” she called out as she stepped outside. “What is it?”
    Four German soldiers stood in front of Michael, who was partially blocking the entry.
    “Excuse us, madam, is there anyone else inside?”
    “No, no one. I was about to—I mean, do you need me to leave?”
    The soldier looked at Michael. “Have you seen anyone else nearby? We’re searching for a man in a British uniform.”
    “Only my wife and I. A British soldier? Here?”
    “A prisoner. He’s wounded and couldn’t have gotten far.”
    Michael shook his head. “I would have stopped a man in a British uniform. There are a lot of people in this area—perhaps he lost himself in the crowd.”
    “Shout if you come across him.”
    Michael gave the soldier a sharp nod and the group moved on.
    “Is it safe for me to go back inside, or will I be interrupted again, do you think?” Jude continued in German.
    “I think it’s fine, dear.”
    “Nevertheless, give me your overcoat to block the door.”
    He raised an eyebrow but handed her the coat without complaint. She took it and went back inside.
    The soldier hadn’t moved, though his facial expression had changed. Fear no longer dominated, confusion did.
    She held out the coat and mimed him standing and putting it on.
    He didn’t move.
    She crouched down as close to him as she dared and whispered in English. “You can’t stay here. The Germans will find you. My...husband and I can help you.”
    He pressed his lips together and shook his head.
    “We are your only chance, though I admit, it’s a slim one.”
    “Why should I trust you?”
    “I didn’t give you up a moment ago.”
    He bit his lower lip and stared at the floor.
    “Make your decision quickly. It’ll look strange if I’m in here for much longer.”
    “How can you help me?”
    “Hide you to start.”
    “I would rather die than fall into German hands again.”
    “Then it’s a good thing my hands aren’t German.” She extended one to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it.
    She got the coat around him but realised the puttees would give him away in seconds. She knelt and, using her small knife to cut the fabric, unwrapped them from his legs. She stood. His trousers were heavily wrinkled but less conspicuous than the puttees.
    “Follow me.”
    She walked out of the toilet and cleared her throat. “Darling,” she said in German. “Your brother fell again. Next time he wants to go drinking, perhaps you could keep