Cole wished that was the case but decided that there was something familiar about the three figures. “Or maybe it’s the guys who attacked us back at the château,” he said.
Cole’s grip on his rifle tightened instinctively. His suspicions were soon confirmed as the soldiers drew near enough for their features to become discernible — it was Brock and his cronies.
They hadn’t yet aimed their weapons at Cole’s group, so Cole kept his own rifle pointed toward the ground — for now. He eyed Brock warily.
“Well, well, looks like we’ve caught up with you,” Brock announced, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Seems you’re not as quick on your feet as you thought.”
Cole finally got a closer look at the man and realized he was imposing — a real brute. Taking him down in a fistfight would be a challenge, but that was where guns came into play; they leveled the playing field. “I reckon you did catch up to us,” Cole mused. “Not so bad.”
Brock’s gaze shifted from one face to the next, his confusion apparent as he noticed the German officer was no longer among them. “I hope you’ve done the smart thing,” he said. “Maybe you went ahead and shot that damn German.”
“We sure did,” Cole replied smoothly, the lie rolling off his tongue. “Got tired of dragging his carcass through these woods. Who’s going to know the difference, right?”
Brock stared at him, suddenly skeptical. “I’ve got to say, you don’t seem like the type,” he countered. “Back at the château, you were fighting tooth and nail to protect his sorry Kraut ass. What did you really do with him?”
Before Cole could respond, Lena blurted out, “What happened to my mother? Is she all right?”
Brock’s face was hard to read. “Tell you what, little girl. You tell us what you did with the German, and I’ll tell you about your mother.”
Rupert made a gesture to stop her, but it was too late — Lena was already spilling the beans. “The German ran into the woods,” she confessed. “We were just about to go after him.”
Brock smiled with satisfaction. “That sounds more like it,” he said. “He ought to be easy enough to find. Just follow the tracks. Why don’t you let us go ahead and follow him and finish him off? We’ll save everybody a lot of trouble.”
As Brock started toward the woods, Cole raised his rifle, holding it at hip level. At this distance, there was no way he could miss. Simultaneously, Vaccaro and Rupert raised their weapons, pointing them at Brock’s men.
Lena began darting toward the woods but was brought up short when Brock fired a burst into the ground ahead of her. “Not so fast, little girl.”
Lena froze.
Cole had held his fire, seeing that Brock was firing only a warning burst. Still, the man was only a finger flick away from getting a bullet.
Lieutenant Rupert now had his carbine trained on Brock, the expression on his face making it clear that he was struggling not to shoot the man.
“Easy there, Lieutenant,” Cole said, not taking his eyes off Brock. He had decided that there were too many guns pointing at too many people for this to have a good outcome.
Slowly Brock turned his submachine gun and aimed it directly at Cole. “I guess we have a situation here,” Brock stated into the ringing silence that followed the burst of fire, his voice steady.
In the cover offered by the woods, Obersturmbannführer Bauer grappled with his decision to seize the documents and flee. His sense of honor was at war with itself; he had surrendered willingly and fought alongside the Americans, who had reciprocated with trust, leaving him unbound and armed. Yet, in the throes of war, how far did that trust go? His duty as a German officer gnawed at him, compelling him to secure the vital plans and maps to prevent them from falling into American hands. To Bauer, allegiance to the Reich outweighed any debt to the Americans.
Suddenly the crack of gunfire pierced the silence around him, then ceased. The firing had come from the direction of the road, where he had left the others behind. Bauer’s heart raced. Should he continue his escape, or had something gone awry on the road?
Compelled by an inexplicable urge, he sighed and turned back, retracing his steps. He realized that he hadn’t gotten very far. He was sure that the hillbilly sniper would have caught up to him in no time at all. His revolver would not have been much use against a sniper rifle. He chided himself for making his escape attempt purely on impulse.
Reaching the road, Bauer peered through the dense foliage, taken aback by the sight of a small band of American soldiers in a standoff with Cole’s squad, weapons drawn. The gunshots made sense now, although it didn’t appear that anyone had been shot — yet.
“What on earth is happening?” he murmured, curiosity winning out over caution. With another sigh, this one of resignation, he stepped onto the road, his sudden emergence startling the Americans. They hesitated, unsure where to direct their aim — except for Cole and Brock, whose weapons remained steadfastly trained on each other.
