Rescue

By Richard C. Sammis

The year is 1942. Charlie Scudder moves from the Navy to the Office of Strategic Services where Penny Conklin is then in training. They are both posted to the London Station. He soon finds himself on a night-time mission to occupied France in an unarmed Lysander SD. He will be tested by this war to the death in many ways.
Through a friendship he forges with an officer in the British Special Operations Executive, Charlie is introduced to the incongruous wartime life led by many of Britain’s most privileged citizens. Long work days, even covert operations, are followed by dinners at London restaurants and, on the weekends, recuperation at a family’s splendid country home.
RESCUE is a tale of war and love in the time of war. Blending fact with fiction, it tells two stories, one of ordinary people facing death and unspeakable loss rising to the occasion and the other of love found where there was once only sorrow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665740395

Richard C. Sammis

Richard C. Sammis was raised in Huntington, Long Island and graduated from Dartmouth College. He was a long time partner in the New York law firm, Willkie Farr and Gallagher LLP. He lives in Naples, Florida, with his wife, Sally. They have two children, Katie and Peter.

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PROLOGUE

Charlie Scudder enjoyed himself at Dartmouth College where he majored in German and lived in his beloved fraternity house. His four years were a blur: life at Psi Upsilon, pickup games on ice or turf, the occasional romantic flirtation and enough work to graduate in 1939 with distinction in his major and almost cum laude. Immediately thereafter, he was cajoled by Helmut Kohl, one of his German professors, to accompany the man on a trip to Munich. There he continued his language studies during the last peaceful summer of the Third Reich. In late August, he returned home and took a job in New York at the National City Bank which had been arranged by a family friend.

Not long after joining the bank, Charlie grew bored and restless. An unexpected phone call from a Commander in the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) triggered a process that ended with his commissioning as an Ensign in the United States Navy. Charlie was shocked to learn that Professor Kohl was also an officer in the ONI and had recommended him to the intelligence agency for his German language skills. Following initial training in Newport, Rhode Island, Charlie was assigned to the ONI and sent to Washington, DC.

During this period, Charlie began a romantic relationship with Penny Conklin, a childhood friend. She was an attractive young woman studying at Pembroke who was interested in her academics and the political causes of the day. Despite a few displays of sophomoric behavior by Charlie between college and the Navy, Penny saw promise and stuck by him.

Just as Charlie and Penny had reached a meaningful stage in their relationship, he was assigned to the Office of the Naval Attaché in Berlin where he would be the only American with any German language skills. Officially an analyst, he monitored German newspapers and official governmental documents. He also attended important diplomatic and public events.

In the first week of December, 1941, a German Jewish staff member at Charlie’s office, Frieda Pelle, enlisted his help with her family’s effort to flee Germany. Confronted by a life-or-death situation, he could not refuse. He led them on a harrowing journey from Berlin to Denmark.

Charlie later transferred from the Navy to the office of the Coordinator of Information (COI), which became the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) on June 13,1942. His future in the Navy had been compromised by his heroic but unauthorized action on behalf of the Pelle family. That behavior, however, made Charlie the kind of person the COI wanted.

CHAPTER 1

A single engine seaplane banked hard away from the steep slope of a tree-covered hill, leveled out and touched down on rippling lake water. Riding atop two long pontoons, it bounced off the surface several times until settling in like a duck. Ensign Charles Scudder, USNR, seconded to the COI, predecessor of the OSS, was being delivered to Camp X (Special Training School No.103). This was a secret location on the Canadian shore of Lake Ontario. It was created under the guidance of the Director of British Security Co-ordination (BSC), William Stephenson (Code name, Intrepid) for the purpose of training Allied agents. The facility was supervised by the BSC and operated by elements of the Canadian armed forces. It was early April 1942, by which time young COI agents were being included in the classes conducted at Camp X.

The plane came to a stop, revved its engine and turned toward a wooden dock several hundred yards away. When it was secured, Charlie grabbed his bags, hunched over and moved forward to exit the plane. He was still a young man of medium build and fit, although he struggled unsuccessfully to remove himself from the cockpit with grace. Upon reaching the dock, he regained his composure and stopped for a moment to take in the surroundings. Lacking a cap, his dirty blond hair started to flutter in the wind and he freed a hand which struggled in vain to organize it. Never one to flatter her children, his mother on one occasion had described him as not unattractive. Large, full evergreens towered over a collection of small cabins, more like huts really, that circled a scruffy grass clearing. Three people were then walking across the area, their heads bowed in earnest conversation. Apparently, they were on their way to a sizable wooden structure covered by a rusty, corrugated roof that dominated the site. Above the front door hung a sign that read, simply, HQ.

Charlie walked off the dock and instinctively followed them. A cool breeze moved through the branches of the trees and brought a strong scent of pines to the lakeshore. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was then only partially visible above the western Canadian hilltops.

Scudder I presume, said a wiry, raw-boned Canadian from a western province in camo dress. He stood under the HQ sign, hands on hips, staring at the American. The thin mustache above his upper lip completed a martial air.

Yes, sir, said Charlie as he saluted the man, on whose shoulders he saw what he thought was a major’s insignia. Beyond that he couldn’t tell, except that the major was in good physical condition and at least outwardly friendly, having offered a much-weathered right hand in greeting. The left hand held a large manila folder, which was then extended to Charlie.

Welcome to Camp X. I’ll show you to your quarters. Your first session with the trainers will be in Hut 12 at 1800 hours (6:00 p.m.). It’s marked on the camp map in your package. You will want to dress for rugged circumstances out of doors at night. As the major talked, he led Charlie halfway around the clearing and past several of the huts. He continued to speak with the emphatic and unemotional tone of a career military man. He could have just as easily been discussing the two life and death options remaining to a group of trapped soldiers.

Ah, right then, here we are, said the Canadian, sounding almost surprised that he had found it. They stood before the door to Hut 8, an extremely humble and rustic bunkhouse built with raw wood planking. Inside Charlie saw two beds, two small lockers, two desks with lights and a lone wash basin on a small table. He passed by the major, who was holding the door open, and headed towards the unoccupied side of the room. A single light bulb hung overhead from a chain attached to the peak of the roof. An ancient wood burning stove stood in a far corner, ready to provide heat if needed on a cool northern night.

You will share these quarters with an Englishman named Granby, same rank as me. He’s an Oxford man, Baliol, I think. Quite the brain, took his degree in physics.

Thank you, sir said Charlie crisply.

Right, well then, I’ll leave you for now, responded the major.

Charlie looked at his watch. Five thirty, he said to himself. Just enough time to unpack, change and get to Hut 12. After a moment it dawned on him that no mention had been made of dinner. Well, perhaps we’ll eat after the session, he thought.

CHAPTER 2

Entering Hut 12, Charlie saw a sparsely populated room arranged for instruction. Several rows of chairs faced a table on a small raised platform at which the major and another officer sat. Two light bulbs hung from the rafters. Four young men and one woman had already found their seats. Charlie took a seat next to a man who was a few years older than he and turned out to be Granby.

Good evening. First, I would like to welcome Charles Scudder, our new American colleague. The major gestured to Charlie who half stood up and offered a slight wave. Now, for tonight’s exercise I will hand the meeting over to Lieutenant Gordon Calder.

A tall, dark-haired man of about thirty came out from behind the table. He was clean-shaven and dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant in an elite unit of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He spoke with certainty. Clearly, he had done this before. Tonight, you will go out in pairs. You will undertake a simple exercise in travel at night through the wilderness, focusing on map reading and the use of a compass. Each trainee has been assigned a more experienced partner. A truck will take a single team ten miles away from camp and drop it in an uninhabited area that is identified on your map. The only other location identified will be the camp. Streams and elevations will be marked. Your task is to return to camp as soon as possible. You will be blindfolded on the way to your drop point. One partner on each team has skills in this discipline and is expected to help the junior partner begin to learn them for himself or herself. We have purposely made no allowance for dinner. In the field, when your lives depend upon it, you will need to function at a high level while dealing with cold, fatigue and hunger.

Any questions? asked Calder with a stern look that did not encourage queries.

Charlie smiled to himself when Canadian’s inquiry was met by silence.

Calder continued. Right, now I will identify the teams.

Ten minutes later, Charlie and a Major Philip Granby were bouncing in the back of a pickup truck as it rumbled along a country road. The sun was still above the horizon in the western sky behind them as they headed east. Charlie thought of conversing with Granby but the road noise combined with the creaks and groans coming from the back of the truck could not be overcome. And besides, he was a major, a rank quite senior to ensign, Charlie’s last military rank. It would be best to let Granby speak first. After passing a long stretch of heavily wooded land, the driver pulled off the road and onto a dirt path that meandered across several hundred acres of open land. The track ended at a small footbridge spanning a creek now flooded with spring run-off from higher elevations.

This is it, announced the driver. Charlie and Granby jumped over the side of the bay and stretched their arms and legs. They waived halfheartedly as the truck disappeared. There was no response from the driver.

At their latitude, an evening in early April was cold enough to get one’s attention. Charlie cinched up his jacket and took a mental inventory of what he knew to be their possessions: two compasses, a map, two small flashlights, wooden matches, and two pocketknives.

Well Scudder, or shall I call you Charles?

Charlie, please. What about you?

Pip, short for Philip.

"Great. Say, ‘Pip’ is a literary name, isn’t it? Great Expectations, right?" asked Charlie.

Yes, that’s right. Charles Dickens was my great grandfather on my mother’s side, answered Pip.

Wow, exclaimed Charlie. Well, where to? he asked.

Right. First let’s see where we are. With that, Granby opened the map and began to rotate it in place. He was in most general ways physically similar to Charlie, although Granby was a few years older, more physically fit and on a faster path to balding than the American. The map showed elevations, natural elements such as streams and ponds, their current location and their destination, all within the context of the four points on a compass. He continued, Well, at least for this exercise we’re allowed to know where we started and where we’re going. We just have to navigate through rough country in the dark, trying to stay on a course we plot on the map.

Pulling a stubby pencil from his pants pocket, Granby sketched a line from their current location to their destination, Camp X. The path he outlined ran along the creek in a westerly direction and then veered south, crossing the creek and hewing to the lower elevations, to the extent possible.

Granby checked his watch and looked up. "Charlie, we have about forty-five minutes of sunlight, which, of course, will be diminishing as the time passes. So, for all practical purposes we’ll be walking in the dark. By my reckoning we can profitably proceed along this creek for about two miles. Then we need to cross it and head south through the woods for at least five more miles.

Just then Charlie started waving his hands around his head.

Ah yes, they have discovered us. You are being visited by the first wave of spring’s black flies. They will last until the end of June but after sundown they’ll be less of a problem. Unfortunately, though, that’s when the first wave of mosquitoes arrives.

Yeah, I know more about mosquitoes than black flies, although I think I can say I dislike both equally, Charlie grumbled.

CHAPTER 3

Scudder and Granby found themselves standing in the gathering darkness at a place where the creek widened substantially from the input of another stream. They had made good time up to then, unencumbered by the thick trees and heavy brush that lay on the other side of the water. Granby had elected not to take the straight path to Camp X, which would have required more trekking through forests and steep climbs along the way. Now they could postpone it no longer, they had to plunge into the woods with little sunlight remaining and no promise of moonlight until after midnight.

Now it’s time we head south. Not waiting for a response, Granby picked a spot in the creek where several stones broke the surface of the water at intervals a man might bridge with a single stride. Soon they were deep within the woods, Granby checking his compass frequently with a burst of light from his flashlight. The black flies, as predicted, had given way to mosquitoes, from which the hikers obtained relief only when a breeze made its way through the trees.

Charlie was glad to be following Granby, observing with admiration how he balanced the map and compass in his left hand while holding the flashlight in his right, all the while avoiding head-on collisions with obstacles in the forest. The trees were not so thick as to be impassable or require an axe or some other type of bladed instrument to clear the way, but they were numerous and troublesome. Although he was certainly no arborist, Charlie could recognize the birch, pine and maple trees and distinguish between the year-round needles of the evergreens and the spring growth of the deciduous trees.

Charlie, why don’t we switch places? said Pip. You come up here and take the map. I’ll use my compass from behind to double check our course.

Charlie was somewhat apprehensive. His only outdoor experiences were at Deer Hill Camp in New Hampshire where, having found himself lost in the woods frequently, he began to suspect that his instincts for survival in the wild were sub-optimal. He had followed nautical charts with the aid of a compass, but that was almost always on open water in daylight. Hiking through thick woods in the dark was a different matter, a tougher challenge. Okay, sure, he said with what he hoped sounded like confidence as he stepped over a downed tree and approached Granby. Silently Pip handed over the map and gestured for him to take the lead.

They hiked on in this order, Granby calling out slight course adjustments to Charlie. Occasionally he asked his younger partner to stop so that they could reestablish their bearings and determine the compass heading for the next segment of their journey. The sound of many insects had by now subsided and the occasional call of an evening bird became the sole music of the woods, save for the ponderous hooting of a rare snowy owl.

After a long climb up the steepest hill yet encountered, Granby suggested they take a short break to rest. Charlie spotted an open area with a few large, flat rocks. Reaching the rocks first, he surveyed the land ahead of them. I see a light in the distance. We should probably avoid that, I would think, he said. Pip agreed.

Charlie, you’ve done fine so far, keeping us on course. This hill we’re on is probably the one marked here, Pip said, leaning over Charlie’s shoulder and pointing to a spot on the map. Why don’t you take us down the hill and then I’ll assume the lead for the trek up and over the next one?

Nodding agreement and checking the compass, Charlie set off in the direction indicated on the map. Not more than a hundred yards down the hill, however, he was distracted by noises in a bush to his right. He stopped suddenly, suggesting more alarm than he would admit. When he turned towards the source of the noise, he found himself looking at several sets of small eyes staring up at him.

Raccoons, said Granby.

Yeah, I figured, muttered the Deer Hill camper over his shoulder, lying.

CHAPTER 4

Charlie led the way down the side of the hill through an almost impenetrable area of the forest. As he was frequently required to avoid the tangled branches of trees growing together, he regularly turned his flashlight on and off to check the map. Granby fell back, also forced to navigate around obstacles. Progress was slow and it was the better part of an hour before the slope of the land leveled off along a low ridge. Charlie realized that he could no longer locate the light they had seen earlier from their elevated resting spot. He wondered if it had been extinguished or they were now below the height needed to see it. Curious to get Granby’s reaction, he stopped to check the map and wait for him, his partner now fifty to sixty yards behind him.

When Charlie looked up from the illuminated map, his heart stopped. He stood face to face with a much larger man. He was of middle age, dressed in shabby clothing made from heavy weight cloth and very much in need of a shave. Charlie gasped involuntarily, stunned to find a stranger standing close to him in a remote forest this late at night; so close they almost touched. He struggled to control his emotions.

Where are you going? the man demanded in a gruff voice, speaking English with a French-Canadian accent.

Ah, actually I’m headed back to camp a few miles from here. Charlie was not sure what to say but he was certain of one thing, he was not about to explain to this character Camp X, who he and Pip were or what they were doing.

You come with me the man insisted as he grabbed Charlie’s arm in a massive left hand. He simultaneously revealed the pistol he had been holding in his right.

What? What the hell are you doing? Charlie turned, hoping to find that Pip had closed the gap between them. He saw nothing but vague images of trees in the foreground and total blackness beyond where he had expected to see Pip. With resistance impossible, he was soon being dragged through the woods in the direction they had been traveling. This course led them over the edge of the ridge and down a steep incline to a small clearing. There he could just make out two tents and a single human form. What light there was came from a fire now reduced to embers.

Where’d you find this guy Claude? Was he holding the light we saw? A slim, mustached, younger man spoke with the unequivocal confidence of the person in charge. He wore a leather jacket, dark trousers and fine leather shoes. A face mask fashioned from a handkerchief concealed his face below the eyes. Christ that’s all we need he groused, his voice muffled by the thin cloth.

He would have walked right into our camp. He says he was on his way somewhere a few miles from here, said Claude.

What the hell is going on? Charlie demanded, deciding to take the offensive, even though he wasn’t armed. Maybe the gun was an overreaction, he thought to himself. But when the thug was ordered by his boss to tie him to a tree at the outer ring of the campsite, Charlie knew he was in trouble. He now feared that he had stumbled into something that could not be exposed to the outside, legitimate world.

None of your god-damned business, barked the boss. Claude completed binding Charlie to the tree. The American trainee was by now genuinely alarmed at the quick downturn in events. He began to think about Pip, reasoning that he must have avoided the thug, perhaps after seeing the pistol, in order to be able to act freely. He then experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach; Pip didn’t have a gun. Why would he? After all, they were on a ten-mile, nighttime hike in the woods of rural Ontario. Who would have dreamed he would find himself tied to a tree, the captive of gun-bearing men?

What do you want me to do—? The thug stopped in mid-sentence as the leader stretched out his arm, palm up in a gesture of enforced silence.

Charlie followed the next events closely. Seemingly irritated at the thug’s apparent carelessness, the leader walked towards the smaller tent on the other side of the campsite and gestured for his accomplice to follow with as quick wave of his right arm. Charlie’s thoughts raced, What were these guys up to? He had only seen one of their faces, but he had heard both their voices and seen both their forms. This could get ugly" he thought.

Just then, Charlie was shocked to feel a hand cover his mouth.

It’s me, Pip, came a whisper from behind the tree. Don’t talk, it continued.

Charlie felt the rope that was binding him move as Pip sawed at it with his knife. Soon it dropped away and Charlie turned to see him making the universal sign for quiet. Pip didn’t wait and immediately waived for Charlie to follow him into the woods.

It was now past midnight and Granby led the way by the modest light of a quarter moon. Stay close, very close, and don’t use your light. Those guys may follow us when they discover you’ve escaped. Pip was almost running now, having reached the ridge on which they had been traveling when Charlie met the thug. He kept the pace up and didn’t speak again until he suddenly veered off the path.

CHAPTER 5

Why are we stopping here? asked Charlie as Pip led him into a small clearing. A mature maple tree stood out from the forest rim that defined the area.

Pip responded, If we assume that the thug is chasing us, we have two options. First, we can try to out run him and take the risk that we fail. Given that he has the only gun, I don’t like what might come next. Second, we can take the initiative, set a trap for him. If he’s not following us, we will just have wasted some time and if he is, working together we should be able to disarm him.

What if they are both following us? asked Charlie.

Didn’t you see the leader’s clothing? He wasn’t the type and he wouldn’t get very far in those fancy shoes he was wearing. Moreover, there was something or someone in the other tent that I don’t think he would have casually abandoned.

Okay, that’s probably correct. So, what do you want to do? Charlie guessed that Pip had figured it out correctly but was beginning to worry that time was running short.

Right, we want to build a fire in this clearing under the large overhanging branch of that big maple tree. Then you take your jacket off and we’ll erect a structure with sticks to hold it up in front of the fire, its back facing where the path is closest to the clearing. We want it to look as if you’re sitting there. Finally, you hide in the bushes on the edge of the clearing opposite the maple tree. I’ll climb up the tree and wait on the branch.

Soon they had gathered enough leaves and dry wood to start a decent fire. Once the flames were truly consuming the wood, they finished dressing the stick skeleton, as planned. They paused to admire the effect which, seen from behind, was more convincing than Charlie had hoped. Snapping out of their reverie, Charlie gave Pip a boost up the tree and darted into the bushes while his leader inched his way out on the designated branch.

As they settled into their positions, Pip whispered to Charlie, We may have to improvise. Be ready to attract his attention if he’s looking in my direction. And if I get a hold of him, you will need to help me disarm him. I only want to use my knife as a last resort.

And then, they waited. Charlie wondered how, like a lemur, Pip could remain so quiet and still be on the branch. But then, Charlie was unaware that he had been an active Special Operations Executive agent since its creation by Prime Minister Churchill in July 1940.

CHAPTER 6

The campfire had burned for almost twenty minutes and was now more embers than flame. Worrisome questions passed through Charlie’s mind. What if the thug had somehow missed the fire? Would he be farther down the trail and would they come upon him later, with no warning, if he doubled back? And how much longer could they, should they, wait? These queries were suddenly either answered or rendered moot.

Their pursuer was Claude and he had come alone. He was moving with deliberation from the path towards the clearing, drawn to the unusual sight of a campfire burning at this very late, or very early, hour. With his right arm stretched out in front of him, gun in hand, he walked hunched over towards the jacket. It really did appear to be worn by a person seated on a log facing the fire. Charlie was hidden in bushes from which he could see the thug approaching the scene. He could not see Pip well enough to communicate with him, even by silent, visual signals. As the thug drew near the jacket, Charlie realized that he was turning his head left to right, and up and down. He was sure to look at the tree, perhaps the branch, where Pip was hiding.

Deciding not to wait, Charlie jumped up from his hiding place, simultaneously yelling and waving to attract the stalker’s attention. Immediately the man pulled himself back and scanned the bushes in search of the spectral banshee that had so startled him. At that moment Pip swung out of the tree, holding onto the branch with two hands. Landing heavily on his right leg, he momentarily stumbled but regained his balance without falling and dived at the back of the thug. As Pip brought the man down, they fell toward the fire and tumbled over the log and the jacket. By now Charlie had joined the fray and was struggling to wrest control of the gun from Claude, pushing his arm out towards the hot embers of the fire until he released it with a loud scream. Once Charlie had the gun in his hand, Pip rolled over on his back with their captive’s arms securely pinned in his. Charlie worked the slide to chamber a round and pointed the weapon directly at the thug’s now wide-open, uncomprehending eyes.

CHAPTER 7

Check to see how many rounds there are, will you? Pip asked Charlie.

Five, Charlie answered after a quick study of the weapon. What are you thinking, he continued, keeping his eyes and the barrel of the gun on their captive.

Pip paused for a moment, appearing to drift in contemplation. He soon responded. I’m thinking that we have nothing with which to immobilize this guy. We can’t just shoot him; we’re not murderers. We could take him back to the base with us, but that would leave whatever or whoever is in the second tent with Claude’s accomplice. If they are kidnappers, they have already shown a willingness to risk their own lives and, quite possibly, take an innocent life. If the thug doesn’t return to his camp, the leader may correctly assume that he is now in danger. That might cause him to eliminate any hostage and flee. If we try to rescue a possible hostage and the thug does not cooperate, we might very well lose control of things. Therefore, I see only one course of action. Since we cannot leave a hostage to his or her fate, we must try to convince our friend here that his best option is to cooperate with us and trust that he will be given leniency in return.

Brilliant, said Charlie. I wish you luck getting through to this guy.

Right, it might be a challenge, responded Pip.

And even if he agrees, how do we know we can trust him to keep his word? asked Charlie.

Well, we don’t. But if he proves unworthy of our trust, that’s when I shoot him. Charlie believed that Pip was entirely serious. Charlie had once killed a man when he genuinely believed he had no alternative and an innocent life was at stake. He saw the equivalency here and felt sure that Pip would not hesitate when the time came.

Pip faced their captive while Charlie kept the gun trained on the man’s chest. Claude’s expression had not changed. Anger, a thirst for vengeance and a small note of resignation were mixed together in his otherwise blank face. Pip explained that his life, in the near term, could take one of three paths; which one would be up to him. He could refuse to cooperate and they would take him back to civilization where he would either be sent to jail or executed. He could refuse to cooperate and they might have to shoot him to save the kidnap victim, should there be one, and themselves. Or he could actually cooperate and might be given leniency by the authorities when Pip and Charlie testified on his behalf, which Pip promised they would do.

It was not clear to Charlie that the thug understood his options. He showed no obvious comprehension. But then even unintelligent and uneducated criminals often know all about at least one thing, which path inexorably leads to incarceration and possible execution and which does not. In a low, almost inaudible voice the thug eventually said, "d’accord," (agree).

Pip growled at the man, Agree what?

I cooperate, he responded in a louder voice and in English.

For emphasis Pip repeated a key point. "We will kill you if you do not cooperate, understand? Comprenez vous?"

"Yes, oui," the thug grunted.

Pip turned to Charlie. Well, I believe we have a fully enforceable contract here.

I’m no lawyer, said Charlie, but wasn’t this plain coercion?

Nonsense, said Pip smiling. I believe it’s called an exchange of promises. He cooperates and we won’t kill him.

CHAPTER 8

Major Granby took charge. I’ll lead the way and you follow behind with Claude between us. When I reach the outer perimeter of the camp, I’ll raise my arm. That will be your signal to push him up to me and to come forward yourself. At this point we should be silent, no talking. I’ll take the gun and him while you circle around counter clockwise to the other side of the camp and get behind the two tents. Try to determine if there is a hostage anywhere and if the accomplice has left the camp. Then make yourself visible. If the first answer is yes, raise your right hand. If the second answer is yes, raise your left hand. If either answer is no, make your way back to me. After that we will have to play it by ear. I intend to make our colleague here read the situation for me. I will make it clear that if he double crosses us, he’ll go first.

Good idea, hopefully that certainty will keep him honest, responded Charlie.

Pip then summarized the plan for the thug, emphasizing the guaranteed result should he reconsider his pledge. In both English and French, he asked if the man understood. Claude answered in the affirmative and Pip started off towards the camp.

As planned, Pip reached the outer edge of the campsite and raised his right arm, waiving it forward. Charlie and the thug closed up the gap in a matter of seconds. Charlie then peeled off and circled around to the other side of the campsite. Pip waited for Charlie to reach the tents and then moved towards the now cold, extinguished fire, making the thug walk in front of him so that he could feel the barrel of the gun in his back.

Behind the first of the tents, Charlie got down on his belly and crawled to the back edge of the canvas. He pulled up a few inches of it, looked under and then gently put it back down. He repeated the process with the other tent and then slowly stood up, raising both hands as he did. He pointed to the second tent, the one where he saw a hostage.

The thug whispered to Pip. He often leaves the camp. The girl is in that tent, locked up, indicating the tent to which Charlie had pointed. This was the first time that the thug had confirmed the existence of a hostage.

Pip raised his right arm, palm out, which Charlie understood to mean stop, wait for instructions. He kept the gun on the thug and