The Follower

The Follower

Jack Madison strode slowly down Avenue des Champs-Élysées, his Fedora pulled down to hide his face. His time was running out; he intuitively knew that he was being followed. Several groups wanted him dead: the Nazis, the French Resistance, and MI6. He ducked into an alley, then into a taverne. He ordered a beer. And as he sat quietly in a booth, he quickly made a “V,” then slid his hand over it to hide it. A slender dark-haired girl approached his booth: “Are you looking for company?” he replied, “Yes, and you will be lovely company.” She smiled and hooked her arm in his. Once outside, she hurried him to a safe house. Safely inside, she rapped twice in quick succession. The door creaked open; a small, white-haired woman stood. Her bony hand reached out and, with strength, pulled the girl and Jack inside promptly. “Marie, take him to the attic and hide him.” Marie did as the old woman told her. Marie quietly slid a panel and motioned Jack to step inside. Marie, her dark eyes gleaming, stated: “You must remain quiet during the day; I will bring you food and wine or beer.” She slid the panel closed and proceeded down the three flights of stairs. The bakery was on the first floor, where Marie worked during the day.

Marie heard the siren; she quickly ran up the stairs to the attic: “Jacques, the Gestapo...are...almost...here. Come with me; there is a safe house not far from here...we must hurry!

She didn’t ask any questions but hurried Jack along. They slipped out a small back door; the sunlight blinded Jack for a moment. Marie quietly motioned him into a small room: “This is the best we can do at the moment.” She grabbed some flour to make it look like she was on an errand for the bakery. Jack knew if he were captured, it meant certain death. They would no doubt torture him first; that worried him. He pulled out a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had taken it from a file in his office. The Gestapo only knew him as Johann Schmidt. A small town in Central Germany, Ohdruf was where he had stolen the plans for a bomb that could destroy Europe. He had to leave France and get those plans to General William Donovan.

Jack listened for footsteps on the creaking staircase into the attic. He had his “L” pill: the size of a pea, and if he were to be captured, he would then bite into it. He thought to himself: “Death is better than torture, with ultimately the same result: death.” Marie arrived early with dinner: “A member of the Maquis, Emile, wants to speak to you; he will be here within the hour.” Earlier that day, she’d been told that Emile had a plan to get Jack out of Paris quickly and efficiently.

Emile arrived at eight o’clock in the evening: “Hurry, Marie. I was followed; it is no doubt the Gestapo. I believe someone has tipped them off to this man’s location.” He turned to face Jack: “I brought an extra Luger and a Sten rifle; we must leave now!” They hurried down the back stairs and into the cold, foggy night. Emile led Jack out of Paris to a small Maquis camp: “I am going back; I can not leave Marie there at the bakery. You will be safe here.”

Emile pressed himself close to the building and recognized a black Mercedes-Benz. ‘Oh no, Helmuth Knoch, the leader of the Gestapo here in France. This is bad, really bad, especially if Marie breaks under torture. She knows way too much about the Maquis. I don’t want to kill her, but if I don’t? Knoch is very good at what he does, including torture and murder. Emile decided the best way was to return to camp and evacuate into the surrounding mountains. He remained hidden in the shadows. Marie attempted to flee out into the night; however, Knochen was prepared. A heavy-set Gestapo sergeant stopped her. Marie understood that if she were captured to use a “L” pill. She hid it in her mouth; the Gestapo did not notice.

Emile returned to camp: “Jacques, come with me. Men, we are moving the camp...Marie…he could not finish the sentence.” The men moved quickly; the closest mountains were the French Alps. They would be safe in the Alps, and if necessary, could cross into Switzerland.

Knoch was not a patient man, and Marie had valuable information, especially that the Maquis had safe houses in various houses. Marie was taken by force to 84 Avenue Foch, Knoch headquarters. She was Roughly tossed into a cold, dank cell. She waited in the cell for what came next. Knoch left her in the cell for two days, then sent for her. A burly German Sergeant propelled her out of her cell, pushing her down a green corridor toward the interrogation room. The door creaked open thrust into a wooden chair. The smell of sweat, urine, and feces nauseated Marie. Knoch was a small, angular man with a large ego. He climbed the ladder of Nazi success rung by rung.

Marie was quickly tied to the wooden chair: “Fraulein, you will tell me what I want to know.” Before Marie could answer, he slapped her across the face. She could feel the blood from her nose running out of one nostril. “Now, Fraulein, where is Emile Laquix?” Marie’s eyes were tearing: “I do not know who he is.” Knoch motioned to the burly sergeant. Marie bent over the chair, her blouse ripped from her back. The first crack of the black snake whip opened her flesh; she screamed in pain. Forty more lashes followed. She passed out; water was tossed in her face; Knoch asked again, “Where is Emile Laquix?” Marie was in shock: “I do not know.” Knoch sighed: “Since you do not know, you can spend your life at Ravensbrück. Marie knew about Ravensbrück and the women who were sent there.

Marie was frightened as she walked toward Ravensbrück after disembarking from the train that brought her there. Her head was shaved, and she was given a black-and-white striped uniform. She quickly made friends. Marie talked to Zilka Rabinovich more than the others. When Marie was sure she could trust Zilka and her circle of friends, she began to ask the question: “Is there a possibility of escape from here?”

April came and the dreaded ‘death march’ began. Zilka, Marie, and the other seven women waited for a place to flee to that placed them near the American lines.

Jack Madison’s concern that Emile did not know what information he had and why it was so important for him to get out of France. Jack approached him one snowy afternoon: “Emile, I have to get out of France.” Emile turned to face him: “I can not do that. I have a contact that can.” Jack was furious: “Emile, the OSS needs that information NOW!” Emile quietly said: “Jack, we must wait for some of the snow to clear, then we will take you over the border into Switzerland.”

Two days later, Emile arrived at camp: “Jack, today we leave for Switzerland.” Jack contacted his connection and flew to the United States. He hand-delivered the vital information to General William Donovan. “Jack,” General Donovan said as he extended his hand, “Thank you for the service you did. I am sending the information to Oppenheimer for the Manhattan Project.”