David Healey - Winter Sniper

Now Ty was getting interested. He took a step closer to the farmer. “Target practice,” Ty said. “For deer hunting.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” the farmer said. He reached into a coat pocket. “Found this in the snow up there. Does this look to you like it come from a deer rifle?”

The farmer dumped a brass shell casing into Ty’s hand. If he hadn’t already seen one in Washington, he might not have known what it was. Sergeant Yancey had identified it as a spent round from a Mosin-Nagant sniper rifle.

“Mr. Langdon,” Ty said, trying to keep his voice calm, “are these two hands still out at your farm?”

“They were when I left.”

That was all Ty needed to hear. He got directions from the farmer, who also agreed to ride along. Mr. Langdon was nervous about the weather — he wanted to get back before the snow was too deep on the roads. He had his cows to look after.

Ty left the farmer with the concierge and rushed out to find Yancey and Kit Henderson. If they hurried, they just might make it out to the farm before the storm got bad.

He nearly ran into the lobby, then stopped cold. A woman stood near the front desk, the shoulders of her fur coat shimmering with snow. A young girl in a second-hand coat was struggling with a suitcase that clearly belonged to the woman at the front desk.

In profile, he almost didn’t recognize her. A stunning face wreathed in the snow-dusted fur, wisps of platinum blond hair breaking loose from beneath her hat, rose-colored lips. Beside him, the concierge had emerged from his office and stood transfixed. Then the woman looked at Ty and he found himself eye to eye with Eva Von Stahl, who broke out into a dazzling smile at seeing him.

“Eva, what on earth are you doing here?”

“How nice to see you, too.” There was a touch of indignation in Eva’s voice.

Ty stammered a reply. “What I mean is… I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Darling, if you looked any more surprised we would have to scoop you up with a shovel.”

Eva had not been sure of the welcome she would receive, arriving unannounced at White Sulphur Springs. But there was something to be said for the element of surprise. She was sure he would have told her not to come if she had asked permission first.

Now, standing here in the lobby of the Greenbrier Hotel, Ty’s face told her everything she needed to know. He looked like a boy who had just received a very wonderful present. She had come unexpectedly, but she was not unwelcome. Eva held out her hands, Ty took them, and she planted a kiss on his cheek.

The concierge stepped forward. It was clear that he recognized Eva, but he had the good manners not to point that out. Instead, he asked if she would be staying as a guest.

“Do you have a suite, something suitable for me and my servant?” Eva nodded almost imperceptibly at Petra, who hung back, a bag dangling from each hand, looking around wide-eyed at the Greenbrier’s elegant lobby.

The concierge looked flustered and the poor man stood wringing his hands together. Eva did not recall ever seeing a man doing that, except on a movie set. “I’m afraid that all our suites are occupied, Miss Von Stahl.” So he did know her, Eva thought. “However, we have some very nice rooms on the third floor. We have some more appropriate rooming arrangements for servants in the basement, if that’s acceptable.”

“Quite,” Eva said. She was beginning to like this man. It had been too long since she had been treated like a movie star.

The concierge nodded at a porter, who hurried over to take Eva’s luggage. Petra stood back as he put the suitcases onto a cart.

When he reached for the suitcase she was carrying, Eva moved her hand away. “I can manage,” she said.

A door behind the counter opened and two men stepped out. One looked like a desk clerk while the other was someone who clearly did not belong in the lobby of the Greenbrier. He wore a canvas coat and blue jeans with boots. Ty looked over his shoulder, and then at Eva.

“You really did catch me by surprise,” he said. “I was right in the middle of something.”

“Go ahead, darling.” Then she added with a purring voice that made Ty Walker the envy of every man within earshot, “I will see you tonight.”

So, Hess was gone.

Reluctantly, Zumwald left his warm blankets and pulled on his cold work clothes. Shivering, he crossed the room and saw that the bundle was missing from its hiding place on top of the rafter. That damn Hess just couldn’t leave well enough alone and let the war pass them by. Even so, Zumwald felt some admiration for the sniper. What must it be like to have such a strong sense of duty? Hess was like an unstoppable force. Hess was the right man for the job, a real soldier, while Zumwald reflected that he himself was more interested in saving his own skin, not in doing his duty for the Fatherland. Zumwald even felt a sense of disappointment in himself.

He walked outside to take a leak, noticing that the heavy gray dawn promised snow, and then returned to the barn to start his chores. The cows were already lining up to be milked. They huddled closer together than normal — probably the weather, Zumwald thought. Snow clouds hung thick as gauze and close to the horizon. There was no sign of the farmer, which was unusual.

Zumwald thought about what Hess had said about having only a day or two. That was like a head start, he supposed, before the Americans started turning the countryside upside down in their search for saboteurs and assassins. It would be hard for them to accept that one man alone was responsible.

So then, why wait? Zumwald considered the cows, standing about in the barnyard waiting for their turn in the stall, and then turned his back on them. He was packed in ten minutes, stuffing everything into a second-hand haversack he had bought in Washington. He put one strap over his shoulder and started down the farm lane. Behind him, he could hear the cows mooing insistently. That should have brought the farmer, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

He started down the shoulder of the macadam road. The sense of adventure he had felt in leaving Washington has deserted him. He trudged along for the next mile, cold biting at his cheeks. In the distance, he heard a vehicle going his way and turned to put out his thumb.

Scheiss!

Too late, he tried to put his hand down. But they had already seen him.

Outside in the cold, three Jeeps stood idling. Ty climbed behind the wheel of the lead vehicle. Kit Henderson sat in the passenger seat and the farmer was in back beside a soldier holding an M-1 rifle. The old man wasn’t under guard, not exactly, but Ty hadn’t wanted him going back to the farm and inadvertently tipping off the two farm hands. The two other Jeeps held soldiers that Ty had either rustled up from the convalescent ward of the hospital or else MPs reassigned from guard duty. Sergeant Crandall was at the wheel of the last Jeep.

Ty put his foot on the clutch. His heart was beating hard and Ty realized this was the closest he had ever come to going into combat. “Ready?”

“Hold on,” said Kit.

Kit licked his thumb, then reached over and used his thumb to wipe Ty’s cheek.

Ty recoiled from his friend. “What the hell was that for?”

“Lipstick.” Kit was grinning. “Hard to look tough when you’ve got a big red smacker on your face.”

Eva . “Now that I look presentable, let’s get going.”

A military truck rolled to a halt beside Zumwald, tires crunching on old snow and gravel. Several soldiers were in back, rifles propped between their knees.

“Need a ride, buddy?” one of the soldiers called.