A YOUNG SUCCUBUS NAMED DELICIA by Michel Poulin - HTML preview

CHAPTER 8 – THE COMMUNISTS JUMP IN

 

17:28 (Paris Time)

Saturday, July 19, 1941

Café-terrace on Boulevard Saint-Michel

6th Arrondissement, Paris

Occupied France

‘’But we have to do something, Paul! The Germans started to invade the Soviet Union nearly a month ago, yet we are still sitting around and doing nothing.’’ Paul Romanov signaled his friend to lower the volume of his voice while nervously looking around him at the other persons sitting at the café-terrace or walking by on the sidewalk.

‘’Shhh! Keep your voice down, Pierre! You want some collabo21 to hear you and signal us to the German secret police? I know perfectly well when the Germans invaded the Soviet Union and it riles me as much as it does you. We do have lots of communist sympathizers ready and willing to act, but the problem is that we have no weapons.’’

‘’Then, let’s steal some weapons from the Germans.’’ replied at once Pierre

Georges, a 21-year veteran member of the Parti Communiste Français22, or PCF. Paul shook his head at that.

‘’And you think that this will be easy? The Germans are already on edge and on their guard because of those fantastic stories of monstrous beasts attacking them at night. There is also this series of rumored acts of looting from German trains passing by Paris.’’

‘’You see?! Somebody is already doing something! It is high time that we do the same.’’

Paul Romanov gave his friend a skeptical look and was about to reply rather drily to him when a teenage girl of great beauty suddenly took one of the empty chairs of their table

21 Collabo: French short for ‘collaborator’.

22 Parti Communiste Français: French Communist Party. The French communists were among the most active and best organized groups in the French Résistance and most of them specialized in direct, violent actions against the Germans.

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and sat down. Paul eyed the newcomer with immediate suspicion, not pleased at all with this intrusion.

‘’Excuse me, miss, but I believe that we didn’t invite you at our table.’’

‘’A sad mistake indeed, mister.’’ replied the girl while making a spunky smile. Her smile then disappeared and she lowered her voice to a near whisper.

‘’You were right about your friend, Paul: he does speak quite loudly. I was able to hear him from my table, so I decided to come to see you with a proposal.’’

‘’A proposal? Wait! Not so fast, miss! First, who are you?’’ asked Paul, ready to leave quickly if things turned sour. Her answer came with a malicious smirk.

‘’Me? Most of my neighbors call me a traitor and a German-lover, simply because I bed German officers nearly every night. But how is a girl going to make German officers give up military secrets, if not by using the ‘pillow talk’ method?’’ Paul relaxed a bit on hearing those last words but stayed vigilant while detailing her: the girl’s beauty was actually stunning and she exuded sensuality in a way many great actresses would have been jealous of.

‘’So, you pretend to resist the Germans by bedding them and making them talk while jumping their bones. Is that it, miss?’’

‘’Correct, Paul. By the way, you may call me ‘Lilie’.’’

‘’Well, Lilie, you still crashed into a private conversation between me and my friend. Can you give me one reason why we shouldn’t simply get up and walk away right now?’’

Her response was to grab one unused napkin from their table and unfold it while looking and smiling at Paul. She then opened her large purse and slid the napkin inside it, rolling it around something that she then put on the table before pushing it towards Paul.

‘’I think that this should help convince you about my true intentions, Paul.’’ Nonchalantly covering the unknown object inside the napkin with one hand, Paul felt excitement rise in him when he recognized by touch the object. Cautiously raising a corner of the napkin, he visually confirmed what his sense of touch had told him: there was a pistol under the napkin! Paul looked up and gave a stunned look to the girl, who smiled at his reaction.

‘’I knew that you would be interested by this, Paul. Now, put discreetly this pistol in a pocket, then give me back this napkin: I have more for you.’’ Unsure if this was a gift from the sky or an entrapment operation by the Germans, Paul still hid quickly the weapon inside his vest, then gave the napkin back to the girl, who

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again put it inside her purse. This time, she passed to him two spare pistol magazines and a box of .38 ACP cartridges, which Paul also shoved inside his vest before eyeing her with intense curiosity.

‘’Where did you get this pistol, miss?’’

‘’One of my uncles was able to hide away a reserve of French Army weapons and ammunition after the Armistice. Yet, few volunteers have come forward to date to ask for any of them. On the other hand, your Communist Party has the reputation of acting decisively when it wants to, so I decided to approach you, now that the Germans are marching inside the U.S.S.R.’’

‘’You…you were following me around?’’ asked Paul, shocked. She then grinned devilishly to him.

‘’Yes, I was, but only since this morning: you were pretty loud around this neighborhood before the war as a local PCF member and activist, Paul. And if I wanted to denounce you to the Germans, you would have already been arrested…before I gave you this pistol.’’

Paul, who acted as a political officer in his local branch of the PCF in the 6th Arrondissement and who knew how to play hardball, still gulped hard as he stared at this extraordinarily beautiful girl: this Lilie appeared very serious indeed and was certainly quite gutsy. He thus decided to make a leap of faith and nodded his head.

‘’Very well, I believe you, Lilie. How many weapons does your uncle have that he could give us?’’

‘’Enough to arm over twenty men, along with plenty of ammunition and explosives. I hope that you do know people in your group who have experience in handling French Army weapons.’’

‘’We do have quite a few Army veterans in our ranks, Lilie. So, how do you want to arrange the delivery of these weapons? Can your uncle drop them inside a hide of our choosing?’’

She immediately shook her head at that.

‘’No! No direct contacts! That would be too dangerous. In fact, this will be the only time that we will meet face to face. What my uncle will do is to leave the weapons and ammunition destined for your group inside one of the subterranean chambers under this arrondissement and that are part of the network of sewers, subway lines, quarries and caves running under Paris. My uncle knows well that underground network and is able to move around it at will, out of sight of the Germans.’’

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Paul exchanged a quick glance with Pierre on hearing that: her story made eminent sense. In fact, the underground of Paris, while not as well known by tourists as its surface monuments and places, was a huge and complex network of tunnels, caves and excavations in which one could easily get lost if not with an experienced guide. It would indeed make a perfect place to hide things and move discreetly around.

‘’That sounds like a sensible plan, Lilie. When and where will we be able to collect those weapons?’’

In response, Mélanie took a folded sheet out of her purse and discreetly passed it to Paul, who took it and pocketed it.

‘’You will find a rough map drawn on that sheet of paper, along with precise directions. In three days, on Tuesday night, or later if you prefer, you will be able to go collect those weapons, ammunition and explosives. Access to the cache will be through the cellar of the old Collège des Bernardins, on Rue de Poissy.’’

‘’I know that old cellar: it dates back from the 13th Century and is fairly easy to access. If this goes well, could we hope for more weapons and ammunition in the future? How will we stay in contact with your uncle?’’

‘’You won’t! The less you know about him, the better for his security. I, however, will know where to find you, Paul. Well, time for me to go! Good luck with your projects!’’

Mélanie then got up and walked away, leaving the two communists to look at each other with wonderment.

‘’Well, I could call this a gift from Heaven, Paul.’’

‘’Or a German trap. We will put that location under surveillance, starting tomorrow, so that we could spot any hidden ambush force near that cellar. With luck, we will then get those weapons you were clamoring to get, Pierre.’’

23:45 (Paris Time)

Tuesday, July 22, 1941

Cellar of the old Collège des Bernardins

24 Rue de Poissy, 5th Arrondissement Paris

‘’My God! I didn’t know that this underground cellar was so big!’’ muttered Pierre Georges as he followed closely Paul Romanov, who held a flashlight in one hand and

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was walking slowly in the long, dark cellar. They and the four other men accompanying them had already passed by a twelfth pair of pillars in the medieval cellar, which would have been totally dark if not for the flashlights held by the communists, and Pierre still couldn’t see the end of the cellar.

‘’Well, according to the sketch that girl gave us, the weapons should be hidden behind the fifteenth pair of pillars, covered by a tarp.’’ replied Paul while slewing continuously his flashlight from left to right and back… Ah! I see that fifteenth pillar, at last!’’

Accelerating his pace a bit, Paul soon was able to point his flashlight past that pair of pillars and was nearly immediately rewarded.

‘’There is a big pile covered by a tarp behind the pillar! Pierre, help me take it off!’’

Once the tarp was thrown aside, Paul’s flashlight illuminated a pile of wooden crates and boxes of varying size and painted olive green, making the communist political officer grin with anticipation.

‘’Looks like that girl kept her promise. Let’s check what we have here, men!’’

Prying open the crates and boxes with the crowbar conveniently left on top of the pile, the communists were quickly left

ecstatic by what they found.

‘’Twelve pistols, six MAS Modèle 38 submachine guns, twelve Lebel 8mm rifles

and 120 grenades, plus enough ammunition for many operations… This is much better than my most optimistic expectations. Those grenades and pistols in particular will do us a lot of good. Alright, pocket the grenades and pistols, then we will split up the rifles and submachine guns among ourselves, along with the ammunition and spare magazines.’’

Soon, the six men were ready to leave the medieval cellar, heavily loaded with weapons and ammunition. Cautiously making their way out while checking for possible ambushes, the Frenchmen then split in pairs in order to be less conspicuous, as the German night curfew was in effect. As he stayed close to the walls of the buildings he walked by, Paul gave a big grin to his friend.

‘’Well, Pierre, now you have everything you need to do something about those Germans.’’

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‘’Damn right! I will just need to learn how to use and care for my new weapons first.’’ replied the happy militant.

07:37 (Paris Time)

Thursday, August 21, 1941

Subway station Barbès-Rochecouart

18th Arrondissement, Paris

The first draft of wind out of the subway tunnel announced the imminent arrival of a train at the underground station. Hiding his nervousness as best he could, Pierre Georges stepped closer to the edge of the quay, like the hundreds of other waiting commuters in the station. By doing so, he ended up directly behind a German officer who was also waiting for the train. Pierre didn’t know much about German military ranks and uniforms, but the amount of gold braid on this German’s vest told him that he would make a perfectly adequate target for his first ever direct resistance action. As the train entered the station, the conductor started applying the brakes to slow it down, making them screech loudly and adding to the noise already made by the wheels. Pierre then decided that this moment was just right for him.

Taking out from inside his vest a MAB Modèle D caliber 7.65mm pistol, he raised his armed hand

to just below the level of the left shoulder blade of

the German officer and pressed the muzzle of his

gun against the back of his victim, its barrel

angled so that the bullet would travel towards the

man’s heart, then pulled the trigger. The pistol’s detonation, its muzzle blast partly absorbed inside the German’s torso, barely registered above the noise of the train’s screeching brakes. The commuters immediately near Pierre heard the shot and jerked in surprise and fear, but most of the other commuters didn’t and piled inside the train once it had stopped and opened its doors, oblivious to the drama that had just happened. Pierre didn’t waste time to see who would react first to his action and quickly left the quay, pocketing his pistol and taking one of the many access tunnels connecting this quay with other quays in the station. He was long gone by the time that a French policeman alerted by a screaming woman showed up at the scene, only to find that the German officer was dead. Swearing to himself as he imagined the probable German

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reactions to this, the policeman ran to the nearest emergency telephone in the station and called for reinforcements, then returned to stand guard near the dead German officer. By that time, all the actual witnesses to the crime had left, on their way to other subway stations. Even the single cartridge brass casing left behind by Pierre was gone, accidentally kicked off the quay and onto the rails by a commuter in a hurry to leave the station. That left very little indeed to work with for the German police and counter-intelligence officers who arrived on the scene a bit over one hour later.

Even though it was faced with a nearly insoluble murder case, the German High Command in Paris was not long in reacting to it: three French civilians taken as hostages were executed by firing squad the next morning, with the news published in all the local newspapers in order to pass a firm message to the French population. Mélanie sighed with frustration when she read the morning newspaper the day after the execution: was it truly worth it to kill Germans as an act of resistance, if that act automatically condemned to death French civilian hostages? On the other hand, doing nothing was about as bad in her mind. Thinking about this dilemma for long minutes, she finally decided that indirect magical attacks were still the best method for her to pursue.

07:11 (Paris Time)

Sunday, August 24, 1941

Dining room of the Hotel Prince de Galles

Avenue George-V, 8th Arrondissement, Paris

Being a relatively junior level officer compared to the swarm of senior staff officers lodged like him in the luxurious Hotel Prince de Galles, situated near the famous Arc de Triomphe, Michel Koenig took place at a table relegated to a far corner of the big dining room, where junior officers were expected to sit. Even though it was a Sunday and most German officers in Paris would be off and relaxing today, Michel felt far from relaxed and certainly wouldn’t be off work today. The assassination of a Kriegsmarine senior officer at the Barbès-Rochecouart subway station was proving to be a near insoluble case for him, but his superiors still insisted that he kept working at it. His conspicuous lack of success in the two preceding cases he had been given, the looting of German supply trains and the attacks against the Gestapo offices, was starting to

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badly taint his reputation as a criminal investigator. If this continued, he could very well be sent off to something a lot less nice than Paris, something like the Russian Front.

Michel was about to give his order to the waiter who had just approached his table when a concert of ferocious and very loud barks made him nearly jump out of his chair. His eyes then bulged when he saw the four big, sinister-looking dark hounds who were now in the middle of the dining room, with each one charging a separate table where senior officers were eating or drinking coffee.

Those senior officers, frozen in their seats by terror

on seeing those hellish apparitions, never had a

chance to run away before the hounds fell on them,

their big mouths wide open and showing long

canines. The French waiter beside Michel let drop

the coffee pot he had in his hands at that sight

before running away, screaming with terror. On his

part, Michel needed a good two seconds before

getting over the shock from seeing the beasts and then react. That was long enough for four of the senior German officers to be horribly mauled by the beasts. One of the hounds then added to the terror among the diners by blowing a wide cone of flames from its nostrils, all the while biting off the head of a German. The flames hit two other officers, putting their uniforms on fire and transforming them into screaming human torches. A second beast was breathing fire when Michel managed to grab his pistol and draw it out of its belt holster. He however quickly realized that he could not fire from that distance without risking to hit one of the German officers being mauled. A hound then turned its head long enough for Michel to see its eyes: they were glowing a fiery red! Severely shaken by that, Michel wondered for a moment about what to do. If he wanted to shoot his pistol without hitting a fellow officer, then he would have to get much closer to the beasts. However, that meant coming within range of their hellish flame breath. Taking a decision, Michel knocked over his round table with a good foot kick, then grabbed it by two of its wooden legs and lifted it. With the table now held like a shield, Michel charged one of the beasts while yelling as loud as he could to attract its attention and thus give a chance to the officer being attacked by it to run away. His desperate tactic actually worked, deciding the beast into switching target. That however also got him a cone of flame, which thankfully hit the table he was carrying instead of him. The

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thick wood of the table’s top dispersed the flames but Michel still felt the scorching heat from them around his legs. He continued his charge until his table top smashed into the beast, throwing it on the ground. Now having a clean shot from point blank range, Michel emptied his Luger P08 pistol in the creature. The beast howled with pain and rage but, despite being hit by all eight bullets from Michel’s Luger, still got up on its four legs and attempted to bite him. Holding firmly to the table that was its sole defense, he pushed back as hard as he could, sending the beast down on the carpet for the second time. His pistol was however empty and he just couldn’t afford to take the few seconds needed to reload it, so he instead smashed his table on top of the hound and stood on top of it, pinning it down and also covering its flame-spewing nostrils. While holding with his weight the table on top of the beast, Michel was finally able to reload his pistol with a fresh clip. Seeing that another of the hounds was now staring at him and preparing to charge him, Michel did his best to forget the debilitating fear he felt right now and carefully aimed his pistol. His first shot hit the beast in one of its fiery red eyes, making it howl in agony while contorting wildly. Michel’s second shot went inside its mouth, penetrating deep inside its cranium. Mortally wounded, the hound fell on its side and started thrashing on the carpet while spewing an ultimate fire cone that put fire to a set of nearby drapes. Michel was about to shoot another time when the beast vanished into thin air. The hound stuck under his table also vanished at the same time, sending the table and Michel down brutally by two feet. Having a hard time to believe that he was still alive, Michel looked slowly around him, embracing the scene of mayhem, carnage and spreading flames that the dining room had become. All four beasts were now gone, vanished! Getting up on his feet and holstering back his pistol, he shouted in French at the nearest waiter he saw.

‘’YOU! CALL FOR AMBULANCES! ALSO, TELL YOUR COMRADES TO COME DOUSE THOSE FLAMES BEFORE THE WHOLE HOTEL BURNS DOWNS!’’

‘’UH, YES MONSIEUR!’’

Returning his attention to the officers around him, Michel tried to judge if any of them could still use help in the form of first aid. Sadly, there were now enough wounded, many of them severely hurt, to keep him busy for a long while…if the flames would not soon force him to run out. He thus elected to go help first the nearest wounded man, a Luftwaffe colonel whose left leg was badly mauled and bled profusely. First ripping wide open the left leg of the wounded officer’s breeches, Michel next used a table cloth to

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make a rudimentary bandage. The Luftwaffe colonel winced with pain when Michel tightened the bandage, but he did not scream and gave a grateful look to him.

‘’You acted quite bravely, Hauptmann. If not for you, me and many others would now be dead.’’

‘’I just did my duty, Herr Oberst.’’

‘’Maybe, but you did it in exemplary fashion. May I have your name and unit?’’

‘’Hauptmann Michel Koenig, of the Feldgendarmerie, Herr Oberst.’’ The colonel then looked at where the beast pinned down by Michel had been.

‘’This…all this, was impossible! How could those beasts disappear like this? And where did they come from? They were no ordinary dogs!’’

‘’No, they certainly weren’t, Herr Oberst. The important thing now is that they are gone.’’

‘’What if they come back? I heard stories about some terrifying beasts attacking the Gestapo offices some months ago. Is Paris cursed for us?’’ That last sentence struck Michel, who paused to think about it.

‘’Paris, cursed? Then, somebody needs to do the cursing, a somebody that could well be able to play the ghost at our expense.’’

‘’Play the ghost at our expense? What are you talking about, Hauptmann Koenig?’’

‘’I am talking about the way someone who is very elusive has been stealing from our supply trains for months now. Anyone able to conjure such monstrosities as what we faced here this morning could probably go around at will, unseen by us.’’ The colonel thought about his words for a moment before nodding his head. By then, an army of hotel employees were frantically extinguishing the fires with buckets of water and one fire hose.

‘’I now remember about the thefts from the two trains requisitioned by General-Feldmarschal Göring. They were strongly guarded, yet someone was able to steal from them without being seen. Mein Gott, who could be able to do all this?’’

‘’Someone extremely dangerous, Herr Oberst.’’ replied Michel, feeling dread. His chances of catching whoever caused those murderous apparitions were about nil, while he doubted that this attack would be the last such incident. He then thought about the possible response of the German High Command to this latest attack. Its response to the murder of a Kriegsmarine officer in the Paris subway had infuriated the Führer, who had deemed it way too timid and who had then ordered that each dead German would

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result in the execution of a hundred French hostages. Looking around at the bodies littering the dining lounge of the hotel, Michel felt sick to his stomach at the thought of

what was going to follow23.

08:23 (Paris Time)

Wednesday, August 27, 1941

Kitchen of the ‘Mille et Une Nuits’ Cabaret

Marie Laurent felt both sadness and discouragement as she stopped reading the morning newspaper. Putting the paper down on the large kitchen table, she looked up at Mélanie, who had just entered the kitchen.

‘’Mélanie, you better have a look at the front page of the morning paper.’’ Marie’s tone of voice alarmed at once Mélanie, who then walked around the table in order to read the front page of the newspaper. The teenager’s face hardened after a quick read and she swore to herself.

‘’By all the fires of Hell! Six hundred French civilian hostages executed?! Those damn Germans will have to pay for this one fine day.’’

‘’And then they would execute a few hundreds more hostages, Mélanie? Those hostages were innocent people and I am sure that the Germans have many hundreds more in jail, ready to be marched in front of a firing squad. Attacks on German soldiers, by whatever means, will only cost more innocent lives, while they won’t do anything to help liberate France, Mélanie.’’

‘’So, we are all supposed to sit down and do nothing, like sheep, while the Germans loot and brutalize France, Mother?’’

While understanding Mélanie’s reaction, Marie could only lower her head in discouragement.

‘’It seems so, Mélanie. Any violent attack by French people, or even by unexplained apparitions, will only cause the mass deaths of innocent people.’’ Refusing to simply accept this, Mélanie thought over the problem for a moment. Marie suddenly saw a grin appear on her face, while her eyes lit up like under a revelation.

‘’…Attacks by French people or by apparitions…of course!’’

23 During the German occupation of France, an estimated 30,000 French civilian hostages were shot by the Germans as retaliation for acts of resistance.

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She then ran out of the kitchen, not giving a chance for Marie to ask what she had just thought.

10:09 (London Time) / 11:09 (Paris Time)

Empire Military Surplus and Collectibles store

Sloane Street, Belgravia District

London, England

 

The old First World War veteran who owned and ran the military surplus and collectibles store on Sloane Street, in the Belgravia District near the Buckingham Palace, watched with some surprise as a tall teenage girl entered his small but well packed shop. The great majority of his customers were normally men with graying hair, with maybe a few younger men thrown in the mix. The shop owner let the girl wander a bit around the store, looking at the various pieces of military uniforms, field kits and even a few rifles and revolvers on display, before asking her politely a question as she was getting close to his service counter.

‘’May I help you with something, miss?’’

The girl, a teenager of nearly impossible beauty with sparkling blue-green eyes and long silky black hair, gave him a warm smile that nearly melted the shop owner. She then spoke in excellent English with no discernible accent, British or otherwise.

‘’Yes, you may, my good man! To make a long story short, one of my uncles fervently wishes that he could join the army and help defend England. Unfortunately, he has a medical condition which prevented him from being accepted as a recruit and he has already been refused for enrolment…three times. This deeply disappointed and depressed my uncle, who still wishes that he could defend his own country home. When he told me about his broken dreams of serving in the Army, an idea came to me to at least make him feel like he is doing his part. What I want is to find and purchase for his birthday a used military uniform and field kit and, if possible, a rifle and ammunition, so that he could dress as a soldier and stand guard at his country house. He may not actually fight, but it would make him so happy to at least feel useful in this war.’’

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The girl’s story attracted instant sympathy in the heart of the shop owner: he could understand perfectly well the wishes of that uncle to serve and defend his home despite his medical handicap. Why deny a harmless fantasy to such a patriotic and willing man?

‘’I believe that I have here everything needed to kit your uncle out, miss, including weapons and ammunition. What size is your uncle?’’

‘’Uh, he is about the same height as me but is not very strongly built: he is a bit of a sickly man after all.’’

‘’Very well, miss! If you will follow me around, I will show you what could fit your uncle.’’

‘’Thank you very much, sir. You are very kind indeed.’’

Going first to the clothing racks on which various types of used uniforms, both current and old, were suspended, the shop owner selected a pair of khaki wool battledress uniforms, then checked their size against the girl’s height.

‘’Hum! I guess that both of those

battledress uniforms could fit your uncle,

but one of them is a bit larger at the

waist.’’

‘’In that case, I will buy both of

them, in case one turns out to be too

tight-fitting. What about boots, gaiters,

berets, web gear and field kit?’’

‘’This way, please!’’

Going to wall shelves containing a wide

assortment of boots and other various military gear, the owner helped the teenager pick the equivalent of two full military field kits, along with berets, a steel helmet, boots and one khaki overcoat. Next, the man showed the girl a rifle rack that was locked, plus a glass counter in which a number of handguns and knives were on display.

‘’The Lee Enfield rifles you see here are old models dating from the Great War, but they are still perfectly serviceable and deadly. In fact, the Lee Enfield rifle has changed very little in the past decades.’’

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Taking one of the rifles from the wall rack, the owner opened the bolt action, so that the girl could see that its chamber and short magazine were empty, then handed her the rifle and showed her the various parts of interest.

‘’This is a Lee Enfield Mark III rifle, which was mass-produced during the Great War. It is clip-fed and

its magazine can hold

up to ten .303 rounds.

The safety is here, at

the back of the bolt. A

good marksman could shoot down an enemy from 800 yards with this baby.’’ That made the girl smile to the shop owner.

‘’Oh, I’m sure that my uncle won’t need to fire from that far if German paratroopers or spies attempt to attack his house, mister. This should be perfect for my uncle.’’

Seeing a good opportunity to make some really good business today, the owner next guided her to the display case full of handguns.

‘’If you wish for your uncle to have something more practical than a rifle at very short range, then I have a choice of revolvers and

semi-automatic pistols that would be perfect for home

defense. I have a number of Webley Mk VI .455 caliber revolvers, along with some Belgian FN-made

pistols and a number of old German pistols captured

as trophies during the Great War.’’

‘’I believe that a revolver will be safer and easier to use by my uncle than a pistol, sir. I will take that Webley revolver. Do you have a proper holster for it that could be clipped to the web gear I selected?’’

‘’Of course, miss! Let me get one for you.’’

Returning a minute later to the handgun display counter with the requested holster, the shop owner found the girl examining with interest his wide collection of military badges, rank insignias and unit patches, displayed in a long glass counter.

‘’Sir, I would like to buy an assortment of various badges, insignias and unit patches, so that my uncle could choose how to personalize his uniform. However, I personally don’t know anything about the proper arrangement of such patches and

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insignias on uniforms. Would you mind give me a few tips on where to fix them once I choose a few sets of patches?’’

‘’I will be happy to help you with that, miss. Let’s see what I have in terms of complete sets of patches, insignias and badges… Hum, I could make your uncle look like a lieutenant of the Royal Marines, a lance corporal of the Royal Fusiliers or a Canadian sergeant from the Royal 22nd Regiment.’’ That list seemed to please much the girl, who grinned to the shop owner.

‘’Perfect! I will take all three sets! Can you do for me a quick sketch on where each patch goes?’’

‘’I will do even better, miss: I will give you a small army pocket book detailing the regulations concerning the proper placement of patches and insignias on battledress uniforms, then will review with you its main points.’’

‘’Excellent! Once that is done, my last need will be for as much .303 and .455 caliber ammunition as you can spare.’’

‘’Uh, will you be able to carry all that stuff by yourself, miss?’’ asked the shop owner, eyeing the slender, sensual body of the teenager. The girl fixed him with resolute eyes as she answered him.

‘’I am stronger than I appear, sir. Don’t worry about me. I will simply stuff everything into two used army kit bags for easier transportation.’’

‘’As you wish, miss!’’

After getting the uniform regulations book for the girl and explaining the main rules to her, the shop owner went in the back of his shop and filled a steel ammunition container with boxes of .303 caliber rifle rounds and of .455 caliber revolver rounds, then brought the heavy container to his front service counter.

‘’Here you are, miss: 700 rounds of .303 rifle ammunition, plus 250 rounds of .455 caliber revolver ammunition. Your uncle will have enough to shoot down quite a few German paratroopers.’’

‘’I hope so, sir!’’ replied Mélanie, smiling widely while taking out of her purse a thick pile of British banknotes.

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