Free Clash by Night by Doreen Owens Malek

diagrams. The Frenchmen pointed out the entrances and exits, the guard stations, the location of the furnaces and the office to Harris, whose mind began to churn and process the information. Among them, they had to devise a plan of entry and then determine where to place the explosives. Then they had to get out again and detonate the charge from a safe distance, all without being seen. It was quite a formidable task, and they had only begun it when Curel glanced at his watch and then caught Laura’s eye.
    “We should start leaving one by one,” Laura said to Harris. “The patrol will pass in half an hour and we all have to be gone by then.”  
    “Okay,” Harris said, straightening and reaching for his cigarettes.
    Laura saw him take out the pack and said, “You should be careful smoking in here, Captain.”  
    Harris hesitated, looking at her.  
    “It’s all right, go ahead,” she said, as Curel turned to go. “But be careful, the hay is highly combustible.”  
    “I guess it would be, I don’t know too much about farms,” Harris said, putting the cigarette between his lips. “I’m a city boy myself, from a town right outside Chicago. Ever been there?”
    Laura shook her head as Curel lifted his hand in farewell and made his departure. The Thibeau boys hovered near the door after him, waiting for their chance to leave. “Before I came here I rarely left Massachusetts,” she said.
    “Where in Massachusetts?”
    “Brookline, near Boston.”
    Harris nodded, lighting up. “I know it. Went there to pick up a date once, in college. Had a buddy at U Mass.”
    Alain watched the exchange between the two Americans with growing annoyance. He didn’t like the way they had been looking at one another during the meeting—or rather not looking, obviously trying not to show a betraying amount of interest. As they made small talk he examined Harris in a new light, considering the picture he must present to Thierry’s young widow. The marine was tall, clean limbed and strong, with that air of unshakable self-reliance that Alain knew from his own experience women found attractive. He was probably a coureur at home, a wolf. And an American, who would represent to Laura everything she missed. Alain was just about to break in when Langtot did it for him, talking to Laura.
    “He says that there was no report on the wireless about a plane last night, or a jumper,” Laura translated. “He has a friend with a secret hookup in the guard tower at Vitry and nothing was mentioned. Do you think that means the Germans didn’t spot you?”
    “I wouldn’t bet the mortgage on it,” Harris said quietly, staring down at his cigarette.  
    “ Comment ?” Langtot said, looking at Laura.
    “They wouldn’t advertise it if they knew I was here,” Harris explained. “I doubt you’d hear about it on the radio.” He eyed the farmer with a measuring gaze. “Can your friend get London on his wireless?” he asked.  
    Laura repeated this to the old man, who nodded and added something in French.
    “He can pick it up,” Laura said, “but he has to be very careful. It comes in every night at eight but it’s a capital offense if you’re caught listening to it.”
    Harris thought that over, making no comment.
    The Thibeau boys left, and Harris said to Laura, resuming their interrupted conversation, “I understand that you’re a teacher here. What do you teach?”
    “Well, I started out teaching English,” Laura said dryly, “but with our severely depleted staff these days I’m doing just about everything.” She surveyed him as he took another drag on his cigarette and added, “You’re young to be a captain.”
    “You’re young to be a widow,” he replied quietly.
    She could see that he wasn’t big on meaningless chitchat. “Young widows are plentiful in France these days, Captain.”
    “You hold a grudge, then,” he observed in the same soft, yet carrying, tone. His eyes were fixed on her face.
    “Everyone in