His calves tingled as the seawater evaporated, and he shivered, but he needed to wait until his feet dried before donning socks and shoes.
To the north, the dark mound of Mont Orgueil distorted the line where sky and land and sea intersected. Gerrit had seen the defenses built on the ancient castle, the powerful rangefinder, the large guns, the searchlights.
If the alarm sounded, the little boat wouldn’t be safe.
The oars slapped the water, and the boat rose and fell on the slight waves. Overhead, bands of clouds smudged the stars, and a faint glow formed to the east as the moon neared the horizon.
A moan from Charlie, and Gerrit leaned close. “Quiet.”
Another moan, this time in affirmation.
Gerrit scanned the shore behind him. A figure ran along the beach.
“Get down.” Gerrit motioned to Bernardus and Jack.
The men tucked in the oars and ducked low.
“What do you see?” Bernardus whispered.
Gerrit peeked over the gunwale. “A man.”
The cresting moon spilled revealing light on the man.
The silhouette was wrong. Delicate, shapely. Wearing a skirt. A woman—a woman carrying a square little bag—a medical bag?
Ivy? The woman ran to water’s edge, waving hard. Had she come to say goodbye?
“It’s Ivy.”
“What’s she doing?” Irritation grated in Bernardus’s voice. “She shouldn’t be here.”
No, she shouldn’t. She wouldn’t. Ivy would never risk their safety and her own for a romantic gesture.
Gerrit saw beyond what he saw. “She wants to join us, to escape.”
“Too late,” Bernardus said. “She knows the contact. She can come another night.”
Ivy waved her arm in a wide arc, tiny and distant. She did indeed know the contact. So why would she come now?
Gerrit swallowed hard. “She’d come only if it were vital. If her life depended on it.”
“We’re not going back for a girl.” Jack glowered at Gerrit. “The moon’s rising, the tide’s going out.”
“Gerrit,” Bernardus said in a soft tone. “We can’t go back. Our lives depend on it. Charlie’s life.”
Far back on shore in the growing moonlight, the woman he loved waved frantically.
Gerrit’s hand opened and flexed. How could he convince the others?
chapter
42
Fauvic
She was too late.
A cry built in Ivy’s lungs, and she swallowed it, absorbed it, so she wouldn’t endanger the men at sea.
