Brett Battles - Shadow of Betrayal

“Yes.”

That had been enough to start her on her night journey.

Marion steadied herself and took another look at the person who was standing on the other side of the door. With calmer eyes, she realized the shape was too small to be one of the soldiers. It had to be one of the children from upstairs. The form shifted against the wall, turning toward the back and allowing the light from outside to play across the child’s face.

Dominique. Of course.

Marion pulled the curtain open a little more, then whispered, “Dominique. C’est moi. Mademoiselle Dupuis.”

Dominique didn’t even jump. “I heard you come in,” she said in French. “Frau Roslyn sent me to wait for you.”

Marion leaned her head through the opening. “Where is she?”

“With the soldiers.” Dominique pointed above them. “You stay. I will get her.”

“I should come with you.”

The girl shook her head several times. “No. She doesn’t want them to see you. Wait. It will only take me a minute.”

The girl turned and ran off before Marion could say anything more. Not sure what else to do, Marion pulled her head back into the kitchen and let the drape close over the opening. She tried not to think of anything, but her mind wouldn’t let that happen.

Iris. Why would they want her?

The girl had been left at Roslyn’s Place only a week before. Not a baby, but no more than four or five. Iris couldn’t tell anyone how old she was. It wasn’t just that she didn’t know; she had no concept of age and probably never would. She’d been born with Down syndrome and would forever need the help of others to survive. What tears had been on the girl’s cheeks when they found her soon disappeared in smiles and laughter as Frau Roslyn and the other children welcomed her into their family.

Marion could hear someone enter the dining room. She gripped the Taser tightly in her hand, ready in case the new arrival was not a friend. But when the curtain was pulled aside, Marion relaxed. It was Roslyn.

The old Swiss lady was short and thin with a wrinkled face and white hair that stopped just above her shoulders. And while her appearance did nothing to hide the fact that she’d seen more years than most, she exuded an inner strength, a confidence that made the toughest of men pause before deciding to take her on.

“Come with me,” Roslyn said.

Without another word, the old woman went back into the dining room. Marion followed.

“How long have they been here?” Marion whispered once she caught up to her.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“They haven’t found her, then?”

“No,” Roslyn said. “But they know she was here. Someone must have told them. They say they won’t leave until they find her.”

They crossed the dining room toward the hallway that led to the office at the front of the building. Marion was about to ask another question, but Frau Roslyn held up her hand, stopping her.

“You must be quiet,” the woman said. “They will hear you. And if they hear you …”

She didn’t have to finish the thought. They both knew what would happen.

As they entered the short hallway, Frau Roslyn paused. There was light at the far end where the small building lobby was located. Above them, Marion could hear the movement of several heavy sets of feet. There were also the muffled cries and voices of children unsure why they had been woken in the middle of the night.

Frau Roslyn took several quiet steps forward, passing the door on the left that led to her office, and another on the right to the makeshift first aid station. Again, Marion followed.

They stopped a couple feet shy of the end of the hallway. If anyone had walked by, the light from the lobby would have been more than enough to expose Marion’s presence.

Frau Roslyn leaned to her right, looking into the lobby. The angle would give her a view of the front door. When she straightened and turned around, she whispered almost too low for Marion to hear, “Two soldiers, but they’re still outside. Come on. We don’t have much time.”

She pushed past Marion and opened the door to her office. Unlike the back entrance, the hinges on this door were well oiled and made no sound. Frau Roslyn motioned Marion inside, then she closed the door, easing the latch into place.

“The soldiers,” Marion said, “they won’t hurt the children, will they?”

The woman shook her head. “Jan is up there.”

Jan was Roslyn’s cousin. A large Swiss-German man who had the benefit of being a former member of the Swiss government, something Roslyn would have made sure the soldiers knew.

“Where’s Iris?” Marion asked.

Roslyn put a finger to her mouth, then turned and edged her way around the large metal desk that seemed to take up half the room. She reached up and made sure the curtains across the window on the back wall were fully closed. Then, instead of sitting down in the old wooden chair, she continued past the desk to the sidewall. Like the rest of the room, the wall was painted off-white. On it were hung several framed pictures of Frau Roslyn with children who had at one time or another lived in the orphanage. They all seemed to be smiling and happy and content.

The old woman moved one of the pictures to the side and touched a spot on the wall. There was a faint click, then the wall eased open an inch. Roslyn reached around the edge of the opening and pulled the wall out like a door.

Marion’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Come, come,” the old woman said.

Marion hesitated a moment longer, then moved around the desk and joined Frau Roslyn.

Since the hidden door swung out into the office, Marion had not been able to see what was inside until the door was all the way open. The space it revealed wasn’t large, maybe a meter deep at best, and only as wide as the opening. It was made even more cramped by the fact that it wasn’t empty.

One of the older boys was inside. He was maybe thirteen or fourteen. Marion had seen him many times before but couldn’t remember his name. In his arms he held another child. A girl, much younger than he was. Her head rested against his chest and her eyes were closed in sleep.

It was Iris. There was no mistaking her.

The old woman held her hands out, and the boy gave her the child.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“She slept the whole time, Frau Roslyn.” The boy smiled. “She was very good. Are they gone?”

Before Roslyn could answer, the loud pounding of feet came from the stairs near the front of the building.

“Madame Krueger? Madame Krueger?” a voice called from the direction of the footsteps. Male, deep. One of the soldiers, using Roslyn’s surname.

Roslyn looked back at the boy. He was still in the tiny space behind the secret door. “Out,” she said. “Quickly!”

The boy stepped out into the office.

“Madame Krueger?” the voice was closer.

“Take her,” Roslyn said as she held Iris out to Marion. “Get inside. You have to hide.”

“What?” Marion said.

“There’s no time,” the old woman said. “Please. Take her.”

Marion instinctively pulled the child into her arms, careful to point the end of the stunner away from the girl’s back.

“Now get in,” Roslyn said.

“I don’t think I’ll fit.”

“They’ll take her if you don’t.”

Marion nodded as she realized there was no choice. She stepped past the woman and the boy into the small space in the wall.

“I’ll let you out when they’re gone,” Roslyn said.

“What if she wakes?” Marion asked.

“I gave her something to help her sleep. You’ll be fine.”

Before Marion could say anything else, the secret door closed, entombing her and Iris in the wall. The seal was a good one. There was absolutely no light. Marion could never remember being anyplace so completely dark. For a moment she allowed the fear to shake through her like a deep chill. But then she heard the office door fly open, and she froze.

“What are you doing?” It was the same voice that yelled from the stairs, muffled by the closed secret door, but still distinct.

“One of the boys was missing,” Roslyn said, her voice calm and unhurried. “I came to look for him.”

“What were you doing down here?” the soldier asked.

“I… I got scared,” the boy who had been taking care of Iris said. “I was hiding.”

There was the sound of movement, then the scrape of metal along the floor. The desk, perhaps, being pushed back or out of the way.

“Please, no,” the boy yelled out.

“You want to be scared?” the soldier said.

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hid. I wasn’t thinking.”

Silence for a moment.

“And you were alone here?”

“What?” the boy said. “Yes. Alone.”

“Please,” Roslyn said. “The boy is young. He saw his parents killed in the middle of the night, so naturally he gets scared sometimes.”

“We’ve all seen people killed in the night,” the soldier said. But Roslyn’s words must have gotten to him. The harsh tone in his voice was gone. “Next time, you don’t hide, you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said.

“Go upstairs with the others.”

Again movement. Feet, not as loud as the soldier’s, moving out of the room.

“Come with me,” the soldier said.

“Where?” Roslyn asked.

“I’m the one who asks the questions.”

“Of course.”

There was the sound of several feet walking out of the office, and then there was silence.

Marion waited, hoping that the sleeping child in her arms would remain that way.

What could the soldiers want with her? Her difference from the other children should have made her less desirable for the soldiers rather than more. Her kind was seldom wanted. Not just here in Côte d’Ivoire, but in most countries throughout the world. Yet this wasn’t the first time the soldiers had come looking for a child like her.

The darkness made it impossible for Marion to know what time it was. She began counting off minutes in an effort to remain calm. But after a while she lost her place and gave up. Where was Roslyn?

Finally, she heard footsteps enter the office. It sounded like more than one person, but she couldn’t tell for sure. She tried to angle the stunner so it pointed toward the door just in case.

The steps seemed to stop near the desk. She thought she heard someone whisper, but she wasn’t sure. Then the steps came forward again, stopping less than a foot away from her on the other side of the wall.

She brushed the button on the stunner with her thumb, checking its position so she’d be ready.

Something scraped along the wall. A picture being moved.

Then there was the click again. Only it was louder inside the hidden room.

The door popped open an inch and light seeped in.

The sudden change caused Iris to move, her head rocking against Marion’s chest.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Marion whispered, trying to coax the child back to sleep.

Marion could see the tips of several fingers grabbing the edge of the door. Iris twisted again, this time lifting her head up, her eyes opening at the same moment the door did.

Marion held the child tightly with one arm while the other was occupied with the Taser, ready to ram it into the first piece of skin she saw.

Outside, blocking the light, was a dark form. Large, like one of the soldiers. Without even realizing it, she pushed down with her thumb, activating the weapon in her hand. Only nothing happened. There was no arc of electricity, or even a vibration that would tell her the device was on.