Winfred

56

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

One day, sometime near the beginning of March, Von Steubon entered the office, looking rather put out and frustrated. He was muttering something about the "mail not coming in today" and "expecting something important".

I did not have anything to say that would sooth his frustrations, so I simply sat quietly, as he entered his office and shut the door behind him.

A bit later, he came back out again, still frowning, and made his way over to stand before my desk.

"Ilsa," he said. "Would you be so kind as to go into town for me and fetch the letters from the post?"

I was surprised that he would ask that from me. After all, I had only come to be at the prison through being captured. Why would he trust me to get the mail?

"Aren't you...worried?"

He looked slightly annoyed. "Worried about what?" he said, questioningly.

"That I'll...run off."

He shook his head as if that were a stupid question. "Of course not. But if you don't hurry, you'll be too late and the post will be closed."

At his admonishment, I stood, taking the signed note he had given me to present to the postmaster, and left.

I took Pirot's bicycle into town. I did remember the way, even if my time at the prison had made it months since I last traveled the roads as a spy.

Riding the bicycle was quite pleasant, even though I was quite out of shape from being stuck inside so long. I enjoyed having the breeze in my face.

Once within the small French town, I quickly found the post office and went inside, handing the man behind the counter the note and receiving the letters just before the office closed.

Walking along the sidewalk, pushing the bicycle along beside me, I looked into the shop windows. Within the town, except for the Nazi soldiers seen occasionally within the crowds, it was almost possible to forget that we were in a war, that France was occupied, and that our futures were uncertain.

Once I got to the road that turned off towards the prison, I stopped, looking off down the continuing main road. It went off towards the sea, and the channel, and possible freedom.

I looked back down the smaller road leading to the prison, and sighed, giving the main road one last wistful glance before turning back to the place I knew I had to be for now.