Escape From Paris Read Online Free

with a puckered scar. But it was healed.
    He swallowed. “They’re taking me to the Citadel Thursday.”
    The day after tomorrow.
    Linda had passed the Citadel, a massive stone prison five miles back toward Paris. She had stopped there this morning and tried to gain entry to give packages to the prisoners of war being held there. The German sentry refused her admittance. She had shown him the permit, signed by the district commander that granted her access to prisons and hospitals to deliver food packages.
    â€œNo one enters here without a special pass, Mademoiselle,” and she was turned away.
    The Citadel was the first stop on the way to prisoner of war camps in Germany. Already, even in mid-August, there were frightful stories being whispered across France about prisoner of war camps in Germany.
    Linda stared at the English soldier’s drawn face. He was about her age. “All right,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll help you.”
    She left him in the shadow of the mimosa tree and circled slowly around the courtyard and went into the East Wing. She didn’t think anyone had noticed their talk. After all, she had stopped and talked to so many. That was why she was here. But fear was a hard lump in her chest. She hurried into another ward. She gave away the rest of her boxes and it was time to leave.
    In the Commandant’s office, the same indifferent sergeant checked her out. She pushed through the main doors and welcomed the heat, the smell of dust and new mown hay and, faintly, lilac. She walked quickly around the side of the hospital to the little car. Swiftly, she looked around. The hospital rose three stories. She stared at the masses of windows with a kind of horror. If anyone looked down when he came . . .
    Jerkily, she bent and opened the trunk. It took only a minute or so to take out the empty cartons which had held packets delivered at other stops this morning. She put the cartons in the little back seat then returned to the trunk to push the lid down but, very carefully, not shut it.
    She took her place in the driver’s seat and waited. She wanted to look over her shoulder toward the kitchen, but she was afraid. Instead she opened her purse and lifted out her cigarette case. She put the cigarette in her mouth and raised her lighter. Her hand was shaking so hard that she couldn’t snap the lighter. Calm down, Linda, she warned herself, calm down.
    If he didn’t hurry, they were going to be caught. That sergeant would walk down the road in a little while to see why she was taking so long. Why didn’t the Englishman hurry? Why had she said she would take him? Why had she been such a fool? If the soldiers searched the car at the gate . . . Linda shivered uncontrollably although the late August heat baked the little car, making the leather so hot that her blouse and skirt clung wetly to her. Still she shivered.
    She tried again to light the cigarette. The lighter clicked. The pinpoint of flame wavered but she held it to the cigarette, drew deeply. Dear God, why didn’t he come?
    Her hand reached out, touched the key in the ignition. All she had to do was turn the motor on, put the car in gear and be on her way. She would stop at the gate and show her papers and she wouldn’t have to be afraid. The Red Cross pennant on the windshield was her protection.
    The pennant wouldn’t protect her if they found an English soldier hidden in the trunk.
    She turned the key in the ignition. Why should she take such a frightful chance?
    The kitchen door squeaked. He dashed across the road, lifted up the trunk lid, rolled inside and pulled it shut after him.
    White faced, Linda stubbed out the cigarette. She hunched over the wheel, waiting for a shout, for soldiers to rush toward her.
    A wasp buzzed near the window. Far away a dog barked.
    Her throat dry, sweat streaming down her face, Linda turned the key and pushed on the accelerator. She backed and turned until the