Read Chapter 18: The Prisoner

The engineer’s hands were tied behind his back, but his eyes moved with the quick, calculating focus of a man who had memorized every bolt and wire of the bridge. Jack pressed him down against the mossy bank of the shallow stream where they’d dragged the three prisoners, out of sight of the road. The driver and the young guard sat slumped against a dead oak, blindfolded and shivering. The engineer—Corporal Weiss, he’d finally given his name—knelt apart from them, watching Jack’s face.

Henri stood over Weiss with the barrel of his captured MP40 pressed against the man’s temple. “He is lying. All Germans lie. Let me finish him and we move faster.”

“He’s still breathing, so he’s still useful,” Jack said. He crouched in front of Weiss, ignoring the hot throb in his shoulder. The wound had reopened during the ambush. Blood darkened the bandage Claire had helped him tie. “You said the detonator is on the far side. Walk me through it.”

Weiss swallowed. His voice came out thin but steady. “The main charge is wired to a T-handle junction box on the north bank, inside the maintenance shed. But the primary detonator—the one that will fire the whole network—is on the south side, in a concrete bunker recessed into the abutment. It cannot be reached from the north without crossing the span. And crossing the span is impossible while the guard rotation is active.”

“You drew the schematic.” Claire’s voice came from behind Jack. She had moved closer, her carbine low but ready. “Show us.”

Weiss shifted his bound wrists. “I can’t draw like this.”

Jack looked at Henri. “Cut his hands free. Keep the gun on him.”

Henri’s jaw tightened. “Jack—“

“He’s the only one who knows the wiring. We need him alive and cooperative. Cut him.”

Henri swore under his breath but produced a knife and sawed through the cords at Weiss’s wrists. The engineer rubbed his raw skin, then took the offered stub of pencil and the back of a ration wrapper from Jack. He drew quickly, sure lines forming the bridge’s profile, the abutments, the bunker’s position. He marked the shed on the north side with an X.

“Here,” Weiss said, tapping the bunker. “Inside, a removable panel. Behind it is the detonator unit—a modified clockwork timer, linked to the main charges by a single trunk line. The line runs under the roadway deck, armored conduit. If you sever the trunk line, the detonator can’t fire the main charges. But you have to get to the bunker to do it.”

Henri spat. “So we need to cross the bridge to save it from being blown. While the Germans who want to blow it watch from the bridge. This is madness.”

“Not crossing,” Weiss said quickly. “They have a work detail—engineers, laborers—who move between the banks every morning. They service the bunker’s ventilation and check the wiring. The guard rotation is thin at dawn, just before first light. They expect a three-man inspection crew today. If you had uniforms… if you walked in as that crew, you could reach the bunker before the guards fully rotate.”

Jack stared at the schematic. The plan was insane. It was also the only one that didn’t require a frontal assault against a prepared position with half a dozen men and a wounded sergeant.

“Why should we trust you?” Claire asked. Her voice was cold. “You’d sell us to your officers the moment we’re inside.”

Weiss looked down at his hands. “My wife is in Stuttgart. I have two children. I am a technician, not a soldier. I was told this posting would be quiet—maintenance work. Then they brought in the extra explosives and told me to wire the bridge for demolition. They said if the invasion came, I would push the handle and walk away. But I know what happens to bridges like this. I know what happens to the men who push the handle when there are still people on the far side.” He looked up. “I saw the list. The prisoners they’re keeping on the south bank. They’re going to wire them into the bridge—human shields, so your bombers won’t strike.”

Henri went very still. “Human shields?”

Weiss nodded. “There’s a holding pen near the bunker. Thirty or forty men, forced laborers. Some are French. Some are from the camps.”

Henri’s knuckles went white on the MP40. “Émile,” he said. “He is there.”

Jack saw the shift in Henri’s eyes—the impulse toward violence hardening into something more deliberate. He put a hand on Henri’s arm. “Easy. This just changed the math, not the goal.”

“The math is the same,” Henri said. “We destroy the bridge or we save it? If that bunker has a timer wired to the charges, and the Germans have prisoners sitting on top of the detonator, we can’t blow the bridge without killing them. And we can’t leave it standing because the Germans will blow it when your bombers come.”

“The bombers aren’t coming for that bridge,” Jack said. “Command told us the main force is moving inland. If we don’t stop this from being detonated, the Germans will fire it themselves and walk away. We’re not blowing the bridge, Henri. We’re saving it—for our side to use.”

Claire crouched beside them, studying the drawing. “If this engineer is telling the truth, we can cut the trunk line from inside the bunker, disable the detonator, and then hold the bridge until your army arrives.” She looked at Weiss. “You’ll walk us in. You’ll wear your uniform, show your pass, and speak for us. If you try to warn anyone, you die first. Do you understand?”

Weiss nodded. “I’ll do it. But I need your word—when this is over, you’ll let me go. No prison camp. I’ll find my way back to Stuttgart after the war.”

Jack looked at Henri. Henri’s expression was unreadable. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Henri said, “You will walk us in. You will stand beside us when we cut the wires. And if Émile is alive in that pen, you will point him out to us. If you do all that, I will let you live.”

Weiss swallowed again, then nodded.

Jack pulled Henri aside, lowering his voice so the engineer couldn’t hear. “We don’t have uniforms for three men. We have two guards’ uniforms from the truck—one driver’s, one guard’s. That’s only two. We need three, and we need the engineer in his own.”

“Then one of us stays behind,” Henri said.

Jack’s shoulder throbbed. “I’m the one with a bullet wound. I’ll be the third man.”

Henri shook his head. “You can’t walk a work detail with that arm. You can’t climb.”

“I don’t have to climb,” Jack said. “The bunker’s at ground level. I can hold a rifle and look mean.”

“You’re bleeding through the bandage. You’ll pass out before we reach the bridge.”

Claire stepped between them. “I’ll go as the third man. They won’t look close at a laborer’s face in the dark. I know the ground, I know the riverbank, and I can move fast. Jack, you stay with the prisoners and guard our exit.”

Jack wanted to argue. He hated the thought of sending Henri and Claire in without him. But his arm was nearly useless, and the pain was starting to gray the edges of his vision. He’d be a liability, not an asset.

“If you’re not back by dawn,” he said, “I’m coming through that bridge with the truck’s explosives strapped to my chest. Understood?”

Henri met his gaze. “Understood.”

Claire pulled the driver’s uniform from the bundle. It was wet with the driver’s sweat, but she shook it out and began stripping the dead man’s webbing. “We’ll need the engineer’s pass, his vehicle assignment chit, and the guard’s radio codes. Get them from him before we move.”

Jack turned to Weiss. The engineer was watching them—watching Claire pull on the dead German’s tunic. There was a glint in his eye that Jack didn’t trust. He walked over and crouched in front of him.

“One more thing,” Jack said, low. “You’re scared of something besides us. I saw it on your driver’s face after the ambush. What is it?”

Weiss hesitated. His eyes flicked toward the bridge, invisible in the dark. “They’ve wired the bridge twice,” he said. “The main detonator in the bunker—that’s the one I know. But there’s another charge, buried deeper, set on a trigger I didn’t design. The SS brought in a special team two days ago. They didn’t tell anyone what they were wiring. They didn’t use the standard plans. If you cut the trunk line to my detonator, it won’t stop the secondary charge. It’s booby-trapped. The moment someone tries to disarm the bunker, the whole bridge goes.”

Jack felt the cold settle in his stomach. “Then you don’t know the full schematic. You told us you did.”

Weiss shook his head. “I told you what I knew. But the SS team—they’re still there. Their leader is a man named Obersturmbannführer Kessler. He’s the one who brought the extra explosives. He’s the one who brought the prisoners. And he’s not planning to blow the bridge when your army arrives.” Weiss’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s planning to blow it when your army is crossing it.”