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is gone from France. Your mother and I will manage. I doubt anyone will do anything more than ask a few questions once they discover the officer’s body. The men he was with are shipping out, another lucky break. They’ll be long gone before he’s missed. You’ll be safe in England. I’ll explain it all to your mother. Eventually, she’ll understand.”
    With those words he turned and limped away, the sound of his sacrifice for France thudding dully against the wooden dock, as she watched him get smaller and then disappear around a corner.
    Madeleine went forward and quietly cried. The enormity of everything that had happened hit her at once. She was leaving behind everything she held dear for the emptiness of the unknown. Her mind raced as she clutched the hem of her skirt to her mouth and sobbed deeply into it. She searched her mind for the strength that had brought her this far, found an edge of it, and clung to it desperately. She knew her disappearance would do little to cast suspicion on her parents. Young people were being displaced constantly, many going to stay with family in other regions or being directed by their occupiers to relocate for work. Her rapist’s crime had been done in secret as was his death.
    Madeleine regretted leaving her homeland in the dark with only her worried father to see her off. She drew comfort from the gentle rocking of the boat as it slipped from its moorings and Jacques guided it out of the port. She let the motion of the boat calm her as she placed her trust and safety in the embrace of the sea.

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    CHAPTER NINE
    Madeleine woke as the first rays of the morning sun peeked through the window of the cabin. She vaguely remembered Jacques waking her on deck and guiding her into the creaking, fish-scented interior of the small trawler, where she fell onto a narrow berth built into the boat’s bulkhead. The cabin wasn’t designed for comfort and was piled deep with fishing nets and gear in various stages of repair.
    She swung her feet over the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands as she remembered the sound of the gunshot when she killed Hirschman. It’s done, she thought. There’s no going back now. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and felt the weight of the pistol. Although she was safe on the boat, it was comforting to have it with her.
    Following the smell of coffee, Madeleine made her way towards the steps leading up to the pilothouse. Jacques stood at the wheel, glancing over his shoulder as she reached the top of the stairs.
    “Good morning, Madeleine. Glad to see you got some sleep,” Jacques said.
    “That coffee smells good.”
    “It’s over there,” Jacques said, gesturing to an iron stove tucked into the corner of the cabin.
    Madeleine found a cup and poured some of the pitch black brew into it. “You must have been in the restaurant business once, Jacques. You could stand a spoon in this.”
    “It keeps me awake,” Jacques said, his weathered face breaking into a smile.
    Madeleine smiled back and the two of them remained quiet, drinking their coffee as the sun rose behind them.
    “How long until we reach Port-Vendres?” Madeleine said, breaking the silence.
    “A few more hours. We’ll meet my nephew there and he’ll take you in a bigger boat down to Gibraltar. His home port is Saint-Jean-de-Luz, on the Atlantic. He and his crew fish the Mediterranean coast this time of year and then head home towards the end of the season.”
    “Are you from Saint-Jean-de-Luz?”
    “No, most of the family is from around Guernica.”
    “Will they be willing to help me? Isn’t Gibraltar out of their way?”
    “They fish for cod and hake and they go wherever the fish go. They’ll probably run you down there and fish on the way back. When I tell them you killed a Nazi SS officer, they’ll want to throw you a party,” Jacques said.
    “I remember the Basque fought against the fascists, and Franco came down hard on them,” Madeleine