TWENTY-SIX

October 1946

Nuremberg, Occupied Germany

    James turned his head as Flora opened the door. He lay on the bed, feet raised in a tangle of stirrups, weights, and pulleys. A white bandage wrapped his head.

    Flora winced as she looked at him. The doctors said that she had broken both of James’s ankles and one of his hips as she dragged him through the forest and back to the Jeep. That was on top of the head wounds he received from the Nazis.

    James smiled at her.

    “Did I wake you up?” she asked, still in the doorway.

    He shook his head. “Just waiting for the end of the line, ma’am. Soon we’ll be off.”

    She slumped against the door frame. So James was still busy playing conductor on the locomotive in his head. Archibald said he might never recover.

    Archibald-she’d been mentally referring to him that way since she drugged him and he told her how he felt.

    But Flora wasn’t here to examine her feelings for the overseer. She walked over to the bed. “James, do you know who I am?” she asked.

    He smiled. “Of course. You’re one of my special passengers. Where’s a nice girl like you going, anyway?”

    “I’m not your passenger, James.”

    He closed his eyes for a minute.

    Flora waited.

    Finally he asked, “Do you work here too?”

    “I do.”

    He nodded and opened his eyes. “Then what can I do for you, pretty lady?”

    She pulled out his research and plans which Archibald had given her. “Do you remember writing these?” she asked him.

    He took the papers, glanced at each of them, and shook his head. “It looks like my writing,” he said, “but it can’t be. I’ve never been to Germany in my life.” He handed the pages back. “Sorry, hon.”

    “James, you have to remember. I need your help!” Flora’s voice was sharp. The plans he had assembled shocked her, and she wanted a confirmation for what he had planned for her to do.

    He shrank back into his bed. “There’s no need to get mad at me, ma’am. You could file a complaint with the office-maybe they could help you.”

    She sighed and sat down in the chair next to him. “No, I’m sorry for getting upset. I’m just very lonely-I lost my friend last week, and I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

    He looked at her. “In these dark days of depression, many people have suffered big losses, and we all seem to get upset easily. But don’t worry, little lady-soon we’ll reach the end of the line. Mark my word-better days are coming!”

    She nodded. “I really hope you’re right.”

    She sat next to him for the next half hour and watched James as he alternated between examining his fingernails and looking out the window. Her fears dissipated, but the overwhelming sense of guilt for the pain she had caused him remained.

    She stood up and wiped her eyes. Enough time spent mourning what could have been. No matter how shocking, no matter how unsavory, she would do what James had planned and finish this mission. Hopefully it would begin to make up for the damage she had caused him.

    He glanced at her. “We’re almost at the station, hon. You only need to hold on for a little longer.”

    She smiled through a fresh set of tears. “Thank you, James. I’ll try.”