Breaking the Code -- Chapter 23
Numb3rs/Foyle's War crossover, set in WWII
Characters: Don, Alan & Charlie Eppes, Colby Granger, Larry Fleinhardt, Christopher Foyle, Samantha Stewart, Paul Milner, Hilda Pierce
Rating: T for some violence and ethnic slurs
Beta: The one, the only, the amazing Digeediva!
Note: Some of my characters, good guys and bad guys, have attitudes that might be offensive to 21st century readers. I decided to let my characters' attitudes reflect their times rather than the sensibilities of readers in 2010. If you find this offensive, I sincerely apologize. Also, sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter to you. Real life interferes sometimes.
Sam pulled the car up alongside a massive red brick building. “Wow!” Don said. “Is this the police department?”
“It’s the town hall,” Milner said. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. Looks old, too.”
“It’s not that old,” Milner said. “It was built in the 1880’s.”
Don laughed. “In California, that would be old. Here, it’s almost brand new.”
As Don and Milner walked into the town hall, Don glanced back at Sam, standing next to the car. “Why does she always wait outside like that?”
“Hmm? Who, Sam? Mr. Foyle insists that Sam not be involved in our cases. She’s not actually a member of the police force, you see. She’s on loan from the Mechanized Transport Corps. She was sent to Hastings to be Mr. Foyle’s driver back when Mr. Foyle was first assigned here. You may have noticed he doesn’t drive. I don’t believe he ever learned,” Milner said, with a chuckle.
“It still seems weird. She does seem to a have knack for this kind of work. She’s definitely interested in it,” Don said, glancing back at Sam and giving her a little wave.
Milner led the way to the police department and introduced himself at the front desk. The desk sergeant led them to DCS Dalgleish’s office. “Sir, Sgt. Milner and Captain Eppes to see you.”
Dalgleish stood, “Thank you, Woodford. Would you give us a few minutes, please?” When the desk sergeant left, Dalgleish said, “Please, have a seat, gentlemen. Now, what can I do for you?
“Well, Sir, as I said earlier on the telephone, we had a few more questions for Mr. Baker. We believe he is a material witness in a case we are investigating, otherwise, we never would have involved your department in this,” Milner said, removing his hat and sitting.
“If I may ask, Captain, if this is a police matter, why are you here? Or more importantly, why is the United States Army involved with this? DCS Dalgleish’s eyebrow went up, questioningly.
Don glanced at Milner. Clearly they had to give some information to explain Don’s presence here. “Well, Sir, without going into many details, we think Mr. Baker may have some additional information with the murder of an American who had a coded message on their person. We believe this person may have been a spy.”
“A spy, you say? You don’t mind if I sit in on the interview, do you?”
“Not at all, Sir,” Milner said, “As I explained over the phone, this is an issue of national security, and is, of course, highly classified.”
“I understand. The sooner this bloody war is over, the better for all of us.” Dalgleish stood and went to the door. “Woodford? Would you bring Mr. Baker in now?”
Dalgleish returned to his chair. “Captain Eppes, how are you enjoying your stay in England?”
“It’s been interesting, to say the least,” Don said with a grin. “I’d love to come back here after the war and really see the country. What I’ve been able to see on this trip has been very impressive. Your town hall is a beautiful building.”
“It is,” Dalgleish agreed. “It’s a pleasure to work in such beautiful surroundings. My last assignment was in a rather seedy neighborhood in London. I was glad to put that behind me.”
The door opened, and Woodford reappeared with Simon Baker. Dalgleish stood. “Mr. Baker, thank you for your patience. Once again, I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“No problem,” Baker said, glancing nervously at Don and Milner.
“Woodford, thank you. That will be all.” Dalgleish said, signaling Woodford to close the door behind him. “Please, Mr. Baker, have a seat. This is Sgt. Milner and Captain Eppes.”
“We’ve met,” Baker said as he sat. “What’s this all about, then?”
“We’re sorry to disturb you again, but we had a few more questions in regards to the death of Sharon Levine,” Milner said. “Mr. Baker, what I’m about to tell you must be held in the strictest confidence.”
Baker’s brow furrowed. “Sure. Why not?”
“We have reason to believe Miss Levine was a Nazi spy.”
“Bloody ’ell!” Baker exclaimed. “That doesn’t make any sense. She was a Jewess, wasn’t she?”
“A coded message was found on her person,” Milner said, “It bears some similarities to Nazi messages government agencies have found.”
Baker shook his head. “I never would have suspected her. She said she was trying to document what the war has done to England. A spy? Are you sure?”
Milner shrugged. “It’s looking like a distinct possibility.” He drew a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “If you would, please tell me the dates and times of the encounters you had with Miss Levine.”
Baker glanced nervously at Don. “You don’t think I was involved in her spying, do you?”
“Not at all,” Don said, turning his cap in his hands. “We’re just asking your help as a loyal subject of his majesty.”
“Well,” Baker said slowly, “she never gave any sign that she was involved in anything shady. She just showed up at the newspaper office one day and asked Mr. Frampton if she might use the dark room. Said she would pay for all the supplies used and a little extra for the time she needed the darkroom.”
“When was that?”
“All this started back in January. I might be able to find the exact date when I get back to the office.”
Milner flipped through his notes. “Her roommate said they’ve only been in Hastings for a little over a week.” He looked up at Baker. “That’s quite a discrepancy.”
Baker shrugged. “Listen, I don’t know anything about her other travel arrangements, but I know she first showed up in January. It’s possible they were staying in a town that didn’t have a newspaper office. A lot of small papers around Hastings have gone out of business since the war began.”
“Did you keep any prints or negatives of the photographs she developed?”
“No. They weren’t really anything interesting. Razor wire on the beaches, bombed out buildings, bomb shelters. Everyday life in Hastings and surroundings at war.”
Don leaned forward. “Were they all pictures of Hastings?”
“You know they weren’t.” Baker narrowed his eyes. “I told you about the first lot. Are you trying to trip me up?”
Don smiled. “Sorry. No. You have to understand that the past few days have been a little hectic.” He absently rubbed his bruised mouth. “If I remember correctly, you said the first group was shots of London, the subway, stuff like that?”
“Subway? Yeah, the underground. Right. Touristy stuff. I’m sorry, but I didn’t really pay attention to the pictures.”
“More interested in the photographer?” Don said with a sly grin.
“Hell no!” Baker scoffed. “She was a Jew. I stick with my own kind, you know.”
Don’s smile faded. “Yeah, I know.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but caught himself. “So, who did Miss Levine stick with? Did you see her with anybody?”
Baker pondered. “Nah. I didn’t see her at all outside the darkroom. I have no idea who she hung out with. Why don’t you ask that roommate of hers?”
“We have, thank you,” Milner said. “Captain Eppes, do you have any other questions?”
“I think I’m set for now,” Don said.
Milner stood and leaned forward to shake Baker’s hand. “Mr. Baker, I am sorry for the inconvenience, and thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” Baker said grudgingly. “Though it was a bit embarrassing to be dragged in here by a uniformed officer.”
“Again, I apologize for any trouble we’ve put you through. It was poor communications on my part,” Milner said graciously. “Can we give you a ride? We have a car.”
“No thanks. My brother’s house isn’t that far away. And I need to get the stink of this place off me,” Baker said as he opened the door to leave.
Don stifled a grin. “Well, thank you anyway for your help.” He turned to the DCS. “Mr. Dalgleish, thank you.”
“Any time, Captain. Are you going straight back to Hastings, or do you have time to have a look around Eastbourne?”
“I’m afraid we need to get back. I would like to have a closer look at Beachy Head sometime, though.”
“I’m sure we can talk Sam into taking a little detour,” Milner said. “Thank you, Mr. Dalgleish.”
As they exited the town hall, Don said, “Listen, Paul, I’m going to catch up with Mr. Baker. Meet you at the car?”
“Of course. But why … ?”
“I just want to remind him that Uncle Sam would be grateful for any help he might offer.”
Milner shrugged. “I doubt he’ll be impressed.”
“Me too. But it’s worth a try.” Don jogged toward Baker. “Mr. Baker!”
Baker turned and scowled. “What the ‘ell do you want now?”
“I just wanted to make it clear to you that espionage is a very serious crime, especially in a time of war. If you can think of anything else in regards to Miss Levine’s activities, I’m sure my government, as well as yours, would be extremely grateful.”
Baker snorted. “Oh, I will let you know, if I remember anything else. As to grateful nations, we’ll just have to see who wins. Not really looking too good for us right now, is it, what with the Nazi’s... .”
He was interrupted by the wail of a siren and the whine of diving aircraft. Don grabbed him and slammed him down onto the pavement. “Stay down!” After the plane had passed overhead, Don cautiously lifted his head and looked back at the Wolseley. Milner and Sam lay on their faces, hands linked over the backs of their necks, apparently uninjured. A loud explosion behind the town hall drew his attention, and he got to his knees. “Stay down,” he commanded Baker again. Two planes flew overhead, strafing the street as they passed. Don dropped to the ground again and waited until the sound of the engines had faded. “You okay?” he asked Baker as he helped him to his feet.
“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that …,” he looked around. “What did they hit?”
“I don’t know. Something over behind the town hall, I think.” Don started to walk back toward the car.
“Oh my God!” Baker yelled. “My brother lives over there.” He broke into a run.
Don glanced over his shoulder at Baker, then back at Sam and Milner, who were getting to their feet and brushing themselves off. “Paul! Sam! You okay?”
“Yeah!” Milner called. “You?”
“Yeah. I’m going to follow Baker. The bomb was near his brother’s house.”
Don ran toward the smoke. Baker had come to a halt in front of the burning ruins of a city block. “Tommy! Oh, God! Tommy!” he screamed. He tried to force his way past an elderly Home Guardsman.
Don grabbed Baker and pulled him away. “Stay back! You’ll be killed!”
Baker spun around to look Don straight in the eye. “My brother was in there! And his wife and baby.” He slowly turned back to look at the ruins. “Oh, God. What have I done?” He dropped to his knees, sobbing.
Don knelt beside him. “Maybe they weren’t home.”
“They were home all right. And if Dalgleish hadn’t busted me, I’d have been there too. I should have been with them. I should have been killed.” Baker buried his face in his hands.
Don, feeling somewhat embarrassed to intrude during this moment of profound loss, slowly stood and stepped away from Baker.
Sam quietly came up beside Don. “Are you all right?”
Don looked over and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “I’m fine. You?”
“Just a bit dusty, that’s all.”
Don nodded toward the burning rubble. “That’s his brother’s house. He thinks his brother and his family were in there.”
Sam gasped at the destruction, remembering the close call she’d had when the boarding house where she lived had been bombed. She walked over, knelt down next to him and rested her hand on Baker’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Baker.”
“What am I going to do?” Baker’s voice was muffled. “How am I going to tell Mum?”
“We’re going back to Hastings,” Sam said, “We could give you a ride if you’d like to go see her now.”
Baker lifted his head and stared at the remnants of the house. “I … I don’t know. I should stay here, just in case, shouldn’t I?”
“That makes sense,” Don said. “Is there anything we can help with?”
“No. Just … just leave me be.”
Don held out his hand to help Sam to her feet. “If you need anything at all, Mr. Baker, please call me. I’m at the White Feather.”
Baker nodded numbly. “Yeah. I just might do that.”
Milner had arrived, unnoticed, and stood, hat in hand, gazing sadly at the destruction. He sighed and put his hat back on. “Bloody awful business,” he muttered.
As they walked away, Sam glanced back at Baker. “Do you think we should leave him? I mean, he’s just lost his brother.”
“He wanted us to leave,” Don said. “Maybe he just wants to grieve in private.”
“Maybe. I just feel like we should be doing something.”
“Sam,” Milner said, “sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”
They walked in silence back to the Wolseley. “Oh, dear!” Sam exclaimed as she reached for the door. “How am I going to explain this to Mr. Foyle?” She ran her fingers over a row of bullet holes in the roof of the car.
“I’m sure he will have heard about the tip and run raid by the time we return,” Milner pulled open the passenger’s door and examined the interior of the car. “It’s a good thing we were beside the car and not in it.” Bullets had torn through the roof and into the seats.
Don whistled as he looked over Milner’s shoulder. “I’ve heard of tip and run raids, but this is the first time I’ve experienced one. It’s something I hope not to see again.”
“I don’t really understand why they do this,” Sam said, as she settled into the driver’s seat. “There aren’t any military bases here. Just civilians.”
Don slid into the passenger’s seat and closed the door. “They’re trying to terrorize the civilians and get them to put pressure on the government to surrender.”
Sam snorted. “The Nazis must be pretty stupid then. That’s never going to happen.”
“So,” Milner said from the back seat, “Don, are you still interested in seeing Beachy Head?”
“The planes are gone, so why not?”
“You know they come across the channel about fifty feet above the waves, use Beachy Head as a landmark, climb over it and swoop down on unsuspecting civilians along the coast,” Milner said. “But, as you said, they’ve gone for now, so we should be safe.”
Don laughed. “It sounds like you’re not too sure of that. I say let’s go. What are the odds that we’d be attacked twice in one day?”
Sam started the engine. “So are we going to Beachy Head or not?”
“I say yes,” Don said. “How about you, Paul?”
“As you say, what are the odds? Let’s go. The view is incredible from there, and it’s a clear enough day. Though I’m afraid they’ve rather limited access to the cliffs.”
“Understandable,” Don said. “With the TV antenna and the other installations there … ,” he paused. “That’s not really public knowledge.”
Sam giggled. “Don’t worry. Our lips are sealed. The antenna is pretty hard to miss anyway.”
As they drove through the town, Don said, “Pretty town. Kind of like Hastings. They both look like they were high class resorts at one time.”
“They were,” Milner said. “The nobility has holidayed down here for centuries. Of course, this area has seen better days.”
Sam stopped at an intersection. “Do you want to go to the top of Beachy Head, or the bottom?”
“You decide,” Don said.
“The top!” Sam said, turning right. “The bottom is probably blocked off with barricades and barbed wire anyway.”
A few minutes later, she pulled into a parking lot. “We’ll have to walk from here.”
A chain link fence topped with barbed wire blocked their path to the point, but they were able to approach the cliff edge to the east. A small wooden sign with a red triangle and the words “Danger! Cliff Edge” was the only warning that they were approaching a 570 foot drop. Don whistled as he warily approached the edge. “Whoa. Good thing it’s not foggy.”
Milner stayed a few feet back. “Sorry. My balance isn’t what it used to be.”
Sam took a deep breath and stepped up next to Don. “It is a beautiful view, though.” She pointed to the east. “That’s Eastbourne.” She noticed the smoke rising from the town center. “Poor Mr. Baker,” she said softly. “Look at all the buildings. I can’t believe out of all those houses, his brother’s house was the one that was hit.”
Don smiled sadly as he backed away from the edge. “When we get back to the White Feather, we’ll have to ask Charlie what the odds are.”
Milner grinned. “And we have to ask Larry where they came up with the name Beachy Head.”
Characters: Don, Alan & Charlie Eppes, Colby Granger, Larry Fleinhardt, Christopher Foyle, Samantha Stewart, Paul Milner, Hilda Pierce
Rating: T for some violence and ethnic slurs
Beta: The one, the only, the amazing Digeediva!
Note: Some of my characters, good guys and bad guys, have attitudes that might be offensive to 21st century readers. I decided to let my characters' attitudes reflect their times rather than the sensibilities of readers in 2010. If you find this offensive, I sincerely apologize. Also, sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter to you. Real life interferes sometimes.
Sam pulled the car up alongside a massive red brick building. “Wow!” Don said. “Is this the police department?”
“It’s the town hall,” Milner said. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. Looks old, too.”
“It’s not that old,” Milner said. “It was built in the 1880’s.”
Don laughed. “In California, that would be old. Here, it’s almost brand new.”
As Don and Milner walked into the town hall, Don glanced back at Sam, standing next to the car. “Why does she always wait outside like that?”
“Hmm? Who, Sam? Mr. Foyle insists that Sam not be involved in our cases. She’s not actually a member of the police force, you see. She’s on loan from the Mechanized Transport Corps. She was sent to Hastings to be Mr. Foyle’s driver back when Mr. Foyle was first assigned here. You may have noticed he doesn’t drive. I don’t believe he ever learned,” Milner said, with a chuckle.
“It still seems weird. She does seem to a have knack for this kind of work. She’s definitely interested in it,” Don said, glancing back at Sam and giving her a little wave.
Milner led the way to the police department and introduced himself at the front desk. The desk sergeant led them to DCS Dalgleish’s office. “Sir, Sgt. Milner and Captain Eppes to see you.”
Dalgleish stood, “Thank you, Woodford. Would you give us a few minutes, please?” When the desk sergeant left, Dalgleish said, “Please, have a seat, gentlemen. Now, what can I do for you?
“Well, Sir, as I said earlier on the telephone, we had a few more questions for Mr. Baker. We believe he is a material witness in a case we are investigating, otherwise, we never would have involved your department in this,” Milner said, removing his hat and sitting.
“If I may ask, Captain, if this is a police matter, why are you here? Or more importantly, why is the United States Army involved with this? DCS Dalgleish’s eyebrow went up, questioningly.
Don glanced at Milner. Clearly they had to give some information to explain Don’s presence here. “Well, Sir, without going into many details, we think Mr. Baker may have some additional information with the murder of an American who had a coded message on their person. We believe this person may have been a spy.”
“A spy, you say? You don’t mind if I sit in on the interview, do you?”
“Not at all, Sir,” Milner said, “As I explained over the phone, this is an issue of national security, and is, of course, highly classified.”
“I understand. The sooner this bloody war is over, the better for all of us.” Dalgleish stood and went to the door. “Woodford? Would you bring Mr. Baker in now?”
Dalgleish returned to his chair. “Captain Eppes, how are you enjoying your stay in England?”
“It’s been interesting, to say the least,” Don said with a grin. “I’d love to come back here after the war and really see the country. What I’ve been able to see on this trip has been very impressive. Your town hall is a beautiful building.”
“It is,” Dalgleish agreed. “It’s a pleasure to work in such beautiful surroundings. My last assignment was in a rather seedy neighborhood in London. I was glad to put that behind me.”
The door opened, and Woodford reappeared with Simon Baker. Dalgleish stood. “Mr. Baker, thank you for your patience. Once again, I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“No problem,” Baker said, glancing nervously at Don and Milner.
“Woodford, thank you. That will be all.” Dalgleish said, signaling Woodford to close the door behind him. “Please, Mr. Baker, have a seat. This is Sgt. Milner and Captain Eppes.”
“We’ve met,” Baker said as he sat. “What’s this all about, then?”
“We’re sorry to disturb you again, but we had a few more questions in regards to the death of Sharon Levine,” Milner said. “Mr. Baker, what I’m about to tell you must be held in the strictest confidence.”
Baker’s brow furrowed. “Sure. Why not?”
“We have reason to believe Miss Levine was a Nazi spy.”
“Bloody ’ell!” Baker exclaimed. “That doesn’t make any sense. She was a Jewess, wasn’t she?”
“A coded message was found on her person,” Milner said, “It bears some similarities to Nazi messages government agencies have found.”
Baker shook his head. “I never would have suspected her. She said she was trying to document what the war has done to England. A spy? Are you sure?”
Milner shrugged. “It’s looking like a distinct possibility.” He drew a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “If you would, please tell me the dates and times of the encounters you had with Miss Levine.”
Baker glanced nervously at Don. “You don’t think I was involved in her spying, do you?”
“Not at all,” Don said, turning his cap in his hands. “We’re just asking your help as a loyal subject of his majesty.”
“Well,” Baker said slowly, “she never gave any sign that she was involved in anything shady. She just showed up at the newspaper office one day and asked Mr. Frampton if she might use the dark room. Said she would pay for all the supplies used and a little extra for the time she needed the darkroom.”
“When was that?”
“All this started back in January. I might be able to find the exact date when I get back to the office.”
Milner flipped through his notes. “Her roommate said they’ve only been in Hastings for a little over a week.” He looked up at Baker. “That’s quite a discrepancy.”
Baker shrugged. “Listen, I don’t know anything about her other travel arrangements, but I know she first showed up in January. It’s possible they were staying in a town that didn’t have a newspaper office. A lot of small papers around Hastings have gone out of business since the war began.”
“Did you keep any prints or negatives of the photographs she developed?”
“No. They weren’t really anything interesting. Razor wire on the beaches, bombed out buildings, bomb shelters. Everyday life in Hastings and surroundings at war.”
Don leaned forward. “Were they all pictures of Hastings?”
“You know they weren’t.” Baker narrowed his eyes. “I told you about the first lot. Are you trying to trip me up?”
Don smiled. “Sorry. No. You have to understand that the past few days have been a little hectic.” He absently rubbed his bruised mouth. “If I remember correctly, you said the first group was shots of London, the subway, stuff like that?”
“Subway? Yeah, the underground. Right. Touristy stuff. I’m sorry, but I didn’t really pay attention to the pictures.”
“More interested in the photographer?” Don said with a sly grin.
“Hell no!” Baker scoffed. “She was a Jew. I stick with my own kind, you know.”
Don’s smile faded. “Yeah, I know.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but caught himself. “So, who did Miss Levine stick with? Did you see her with anybody?”
Baker pondered. “Nah. I didn’t see her at all outside the darkroom. I have no idea who she hung out with. Why don’t you ask that roommate of hers?”
“We have, thank you,” Milner said. “Captain Eppes, do you have any other questions?”
“I think I’m set for now,” Don said.
Milner stood and leaned forward to shake Baker’s hand. “Mr. Baker, I am sorry for the inconvenience, and thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” Baker said grudgingly. “Though it was a bit embarrassing to be dragged in here by a uniformed officer.”
“Again, I apologize for any trouble we’ve put you through. It was poor communications on my part,” Milner said graciously. “Can we give you a ride? We have a car.”
“No thanks. My brother’s house isn’t that far away. And I need to get the stink of this place off me,” Baker said as he opened the door to leave.
Don stifled a grin. “Well, thank you anyway for your help.” He turned to the DCS. “Mr. Dalgleish, thank you.”
“Any time, Captain. Are you going straight back to Hastings, or do you have time to have a look around Eastbourne?”
“I’m afraid we need to get back. I would like to have a closer look at Beachy Head sometime, though.”
“I’m sure we can talk Sam into taking a little detour,” Milner said. “Thank you, Mr. Dalgleish.”
As they exited the town hall, Don said, “Listen, Paul, I’m going to catch up with Mr. Baker. Meet you at the car?”
“Of course. But why … ?”
“I just want to remind him that Uncle Sam would be grateful for any help he might offer.”
Milner shrugged. “I doubt he’ll be impressed.”
“Me too. But it’s worth a try.” Don jogged toward Baker. “Mr. Baker!”
Baker turned and scowled. “What the ‘ell do you want now?”
“I just wanted to make it clear to you that espionage is a very serious crime, especially in a time of war. If you can think of anything else in regards to Miss Levine’s activities, I’m sure my government, as well as yours, would be extremely grateful.”
Baker snorted. “Oh, I will let you know, if I remember anything else. As to grateful nations, we’ll just have to see who wins. Not really looking too good for us right now, is it, what with the Nazi’s... .”
He was interrupted by the wail of a siren and the whine of diving aircraft. Don grabbed him and slammed him down onto the pavement. “Stay down!” After the plane had passed overhead, Don cautiously lifted his head and looked back at the Wolseley. Milner and Sam lay on their faces, hands linked over the backs of their necks, apparently uninjured. A loud explosion behind the town hall drew his attention, and he got to his knees. “Stay down,” he commanded Baker again. Two planes flew overhead, strafing the street as they passed. Don dropped to the ground again and waited until the sound of the engines had faded. “You okay?” he asked Baker as he helped him to his feet.
“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that …,” he looked around. “What did they hit?”
“I don’t know. Something over behind the town hall, I think.” Don started to walk back toward the car.
“Oh my God!” Baker yelled. “My brother lives over there.” He broke into a run.
Don glanced over his shoulder at Baker, then back at Sam and Milner, who were getting to their feet and brushing themselves off. “Paul! Sam! You okay?”
“Yeah!” Milner called. “You?”
“Yeah. I’m going to follow Baker. The bomb was near his brother’s house.”
Don ran toward the smoke. Baker had come to a halt in front of the burning ruins of a city block. “Tommy! Oh, God! Tommy!” he screamed. He tried to force his way past an elderly Home Guardsman.
Don grabbed Baker and pulled him away. “Stay back! You’ll be killed!”
Baker spun around to look Don straight in the eye. “My brother was in there! And his wife and baby.” He slowly turned back to look at the ruins. “Oh, God. What have I done?” He dropped to his knees, sobbing.
Don knelt beside him. “Maybe they weren’t home.”
“They were home all right. And if Dalgleish hadn’t busted me, I’d have been there too. I should have been with them. I should have been killed.” Baker buried his face in his hands.
Don, feeling somewhat embarrassed to intrude during this moment of profound loss, slowly stood and stepped away from Baker.
Sam quietly came up beside Don. “Are you all right?”
Don looked over and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “I’m fine. You?”
“Just a bit dusty, that’s all.”
Don nodded toward the burning rubble. “That’s his brother’s house. He thinks his brother and his family were in there.”
Sam gasped at the destruction, remembering the close call she’d had when the boarding house where she lived had been bombed. She walked over, knelt down next to him and rested her hand on Baker’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Baker.”
“What am I going to do?” Baker’s voice was muffled. “How am I going to tell Mum?”
“We’re going back to Hastings,” Sam said, “We could give you a ride if you’d like to go see her now.”
Baker lifted his head and stared at the remnants of the house. “I … I don’t know. I should stay here, just in case, shouldn’t I?”
“That makes sense,” Don said. “Is there anything we can help with?”
“No. Just … just leave me be.”
Don held out his hand to help Sam to her feet. “If you need anything at all, Mr. Baker, please call me. I’m at the White Feather.”
Baker nodded numbly. “Yeah. I just might do that.”
Milner had arrived, unnoticed, and stood, hat in hand, gazing sadly at the destruction. He sighed and put his hat back on. “Bloody awful business,” he muttered.
As they walked away, Sam glanced back at Baker. “Do you think we should leave him? I mean, he’s just lost his brother.”
“He wanted us to leave,” Don said. “Maybe he just wants to grieve in private.”
“Maybe. I just feel like we should be doing something.”
“Sam,” Milner said, “sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”
They walked in silence back to the Wolseley. “Oh, dear!” Sam exclaimed as she reached for the door. “How am I going to explain this to Mr. Foyle?” She ran her fingers over a row of bullet holes in the roof of the car.
“I’m sure he will have heard about the tip and run raid by the time we return,” Milner pulled open the passenger’s door and examined the interior of the car. “It’s a good thing we were beside the car and not in it.” Bullets had torn through the roof and into the seats.
Don whistled as he looked over Milner’s shoulder. “I’ve heard of tip and run raids, but this is the first time I’ve experienced one. It’s something I hope not to see again.”
“I don’t really understand why they do this,” Sam said, as she settled into the driver’s seat. “There aren’t any military bases here. Just civilians.”
Don slid into the passenger’s seat and closed the door. “They’re trying to terrorize the civilians and get them to put pressure on the government to surrender.”
Sam snorted. “The Nazis must be pretty stupid then. That’s never going to happen.”
“So,” Milner said from the back seat, “Don, are you still interested in seeing Beachy Head?”
“The planes are gone, so why not?”
“You know they come across the channel about fifty feet above the waves, use Beachy Head as a landmark, climb over it and swoop down on unsuspecting civilians along the coast,” Milner said. “But, as you said, they’ve gone for now, so we should be safe.”
Don laughed. “It sounds like you’re not too sure of that. I say let’s go. What are the odds that we’d be attacked twice in one day?”
Sam started the engine. “So are we going to Beachy Head or not?”
“I say yes,” Don said. “How about you, Paul?”
“As you say, what are the odds? Let’s go. The view is incredible from there, and it’s a clear enough day. Though I’m afraid they’ve rather limited access to the cliffs.”
“Understandable,” Don said. “With the TV antenna and the other installations there … ,” he paused. “That’s not really public knowledge.”
Sam giggled. “Don’t worry. Our lips are sealed. The antenna is pretty hard to miss anyway.”
As they drove through the town, Don said, “Pretty town. Kind of like Hastings. They both look like they were high class resorts at one time.”
“They were,” Milner said. “The nobility has holidayed down here for centuries. Of course, this area has seen better days.”
Sam stopped at an intersection. “Do you want to go to the top of Beachy Head, or the bottom?”
“You decide,” Don said.
“The top!” Sam said, turning right. “The bottom is probably blocked off with barricades and barbed wire anyway.”
A few minutes later, she pulled into a parking lot. “We’ll have to walk from here.”
A chain link fence topped with barbed wire blocked their path to the point, but they were able to approach the cliff edge to the east. A small wooden sign with a red triangle and the words “Danger! Cliff Edge” was the only warning that they were approaching a 570 foot drop. Don whistled as he warily approached the edge. “Whoa. Good thing it’s not foggy.”
Milner stayed a few feet back. “Sorry. My balance isn’t what it used to be.”
Sam took a deep breath and stepped up next to Don. “It is a beautiful view, though.” She pointed to the east. “That’s Eastbourne.” She noticed the smoke rising from the town center. “Poor Mr. Baker,” she said softly. “Look at all the buildings. I can’t believe out of all those houses, his brother’s house was the one that was hit.”
Don smiled sadly as he backed away from the edge. “When we get back to the White Feather, we’ll have to ask Charlie what the odds are.”
Milner grinned. “And we have to ask Larry where they came up with the name Beachy Head.”