"Miss Hall, I have to ask you for a favor," the man before her said, adjusting the collar of his suit.
In her vast experience as a spy, Virginia Hall had never experienced anything like this.
"You are Friedrich Lehmann?" Hall asked, recognizing the face of the man before her. A face that terrified people into oblivion. Why the hell was the Chief of the SS, Friedrich Lehmann, standing before her, knowing her identity?
"Indeed, but judging from your look, you haven't received the latest intel. American intelligence is surely slow," Werner muttered, one of his colleagues laughing.
Hall raised an eyebrow, still trying to understand what Werner wanted from her.
Werner looked around before stepping closer.
"I wish to go to America. My intel will surely help you."
"What? Are you saying you have betrayed the German Empire?" Hall asked in disbelief.
Werner sighed.
"That I have." His gaze shifted toward the heavy coffers standing beside them."That I have..."
"I..." He paused. "Simply can't stand for this regime anymore, so you will have to get me to America."
"Just what?" Hall asked in disbelief, turning her head briefly before meeting Werner's eyes confidently.
"Come on, this is getting interesting," she murmured, gesturing for the group to follow her.
She walked with a cane, her wooden foot striking the ground evenly. They moved further into the side street before turning into a small alley.
Hall stopped before a dirty, old door, giving Werner one last skeptical look before shaking her head and knocking against the door in some kind of code.
After a long pause, something finally moved inside. A series of metallic sounds followed until the door was opened.
"Francis," Hall greeted the young man who had opened the door. He was of average height with very short brown hair, eyeing the newcomers with questioning eyes.
"Who a-" he began, when Werner lowered his head, his face directly before Francis'.
"You, I know you..." Francis began, but Werner didn't even acknowledge him and simply walked past, his three officers following, before Hall closed the door.
"Lehmann!" Francis shouted suddenly, pulling an American pistol from his brown leather jacket, but a hand stopped his movement midair.
"Wait, they say they are allies, Francis," Hall said, pushing the pistol down.
"The Chief of the SS says he is our ally? Have you gone mad, Virginia?" Francis shouted directly into her face.
"I have a feeling, Francis. Let us hear them out at least," Hall replied, giving him another nod before walking through the old abandoned room. It was large, with a small seating area in the farthest corner. Old sofas and chairs, but better than nothing.
"Take a seat, gentlemen, while I try to verify what you told me..." Hall gestured toward the sofas before disappearing into another room. Werner caught a glimpse of radio equipment through the gap before the door closed again.
"American hospitality..." Karl muttered, falling onto a nearby sofa.
"OH!" he roared as something sharp pierced him. He jumped up again, looking at the ring that had bored itself through the leather.
"Sorry for that, German," Francis said, a mocking smile forming on his lips, his hand still resting inside his coat pocket.
Karl pulled the ring free from the torn leather, turning it between his fingers with a frown.
"You people really know how to welcome guests," he muttered, tossing it onto the table.
Francis didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on Werner, sharp and untrusting.
Werner, however, seemed completely unfazed. He slowly removed his gloves, placing them neatly on the armrest before sitting down.
"You should relax," he said calmly. "If I intended harm, this place would already be surrounded."
Francis scoffed. "Bold words for someone standing in the middle of an American safehouse."
Werner's lips curled slightly. "Safe is a relative."
Silence followed.
Karl leaned back, carefully this time, while the a third officer remained standing near the wall, his eyes scanning the room with precision.
Francis exhaled sharply. "This is insane... Do you even realize who you are?"
"I do," Werner replied simply.
"And yet you walk in here, asking for asylum like some desperate defector?"
"Not desperate," Werner corrected, his gaze locking onto Francis. "Pragmatic."
Francis let out a dry laugh. "Pragmatic... Right. And what exactly do you think you can offer that's worth the risk of harboring you?"
Werner leaned forward slightly.
"Everything."
The word lingered in the air, heavy and deliberate.
"And we will take anything."
A voice suddenly came from the side as the door opened and Virginia stepped through it.
"He speaks the truth," she said, looking at Francis.
"There has been an order to hunt that man down, stemming from the highest levels of Germany. That is according to Alpha."
Werner raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Hunt?" Francis asked, panic creeping into his voice.
"What if you led them to this place?" he continued, glancing around nervously.
"That is indeed a possibility. I tried to contact higher authority, but I wasn't successful. It seems we have to act on our own. The most obvious move now is to get you somewhere where there is no German influence," Hall said, her brows furrowed.
"There is only one such place. Francis, get your things. And you..." She looked at the group of Germans.
"Be ready to depart."
Two hours later, the warehouse.
BAM!
An explosion blasted the old door open as Gestapo men rushed through the thick white smoke.
"Hands in the air!" they shouted, scanning the room frantically.
But there was no one.
After a few moments, they began searching the other rooms. One of the Gestapo men walked toward the door leading to the radio room. He reached out his hand when suddenly a voice cut through the air.
"Halt."
Heydrich stepped through the smoke, walking toward the door while carefully observing the room. He stopped in front of it, then slowly reached out and opened it.
Clack.
His pupils shrank for a brief moment before he tore the door open completely, his hand shooting forward, gripping tightly.
The Gestapo man froze in shock, staring at his superior, who now held a live hand grenade in his hand.
"Mhm, quiete vicious, these Americans," Heydrich muttered, straightening up again.
"Americans, sir?" the Gestapo man asked, not understanding how they had gone from hunting traitors to hunting spies. They had only followed the trail after someone reported seeing Werner and his group here.
Heydrich pointed at a bottle of American whiskey standing on one of the tables, then at the radio equipment.
"Most definitely. The traitor Friedrich Lehmann has made contact with American intelligence. That means he intends to hand over his information to them. The only question remaining is..." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Their destination."
The Gestapo men began searching the warehouse, moving through every room until one of them finally found something.
Heydrich stepped back into the radio room.
"These are Swiss francs?" one of the men asked, raising an eyebrow as he examined the small bundle of notes lying in a drawer.
Heydrich glanced at it briefly.
"Seems they have become careless. Inform the men at the airport and train station once more, but I doubt they would be that foolish." He turned sharply.
"They have surely taken the road. Move!"
Moments later, three German transport trucks thundered through the streets of Paris at full speed, taking corners recklessly before eventually leaving the dense city behind.
"Faster," Heydrich muttered, clenching his jaw.
He knew he was close.
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