Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

the girl was safe when they seemed to leave her alone the night of the funeral. For all they knew, Florence’s bloodhound nature might lead them back to the house she’d sensed her in earlier, the house potentially off the Nazis’ radar. This was why Hilaire could not afford to be fired – she was going to need every franc if a waif was coming home to join the wolf.

There was no food at all in the new apartment Patience and Marcella now occupied. It was lovely, a decorated show home, but not quite ready for occupants. The Love Phantom showed up after his shift at work (with mask firmly in place upon entering), and it was only when he looked for a snack that he realised they’d gone hungry.

“I am so sorry about that,” he said after checking the last empty cupboard. He was in a much better mood it seemed, which suited Patience. She’d apologised to him when he came in, and he’d told her not to be daft. “I’ll go out and get something. Some of the guys are coming over. Does she know about Scrambler and Hector?”

“I wasn’t sure how much I could tell her,” Marcella replied.

“Tell her what they are, keep to aliases. Sorry, Patience, I know that doesn’t seem fair when we know your name. I won’t be telling them your name.”

“It’s fine, I have no complaints, I’m grateful for everything.” Patience could not stress this enough. She’d been so petrified of the Gestapo that she’d taken this leap of faith, which was almost as scary. She hadn’t known who or what the spirit was leading her to, her fear such that that she’d not dared go in Marcella’s flat initially, stating most of her business at the door with an eye on escape. She couldn’t quite feel safe yet because of the Gestapo, but her saviours helped her calm down tremendously. Additional visitors... no, it would be okay, she trusted their judgement and wasn’t going to stress too much about it.

“You’ve been brought up very well, I’m impressed. Not sure I’d be grateful for being kept starved. I’ll see what I can pick up. Any requests?”

“He can get under the counter stuff too, rations be damned,” Marcella said with a smile.

“Anything will be fine,” Patience said.

“Marcella?”

“You know my tastes. I should have been gone by now, mind. I’m not going to make work tonight unless you can give me a lift.”

“The meeting’s more important. I’ll have a look out for phones on my travels.”

Marcella filled Patience in on who would be coming round while the Love Phantom went foraging for food. Scrambler was another paranormally gifted individual. Like the Love Phantom – and Patience’s father too – his power did not have an off switch. It was a disruptive ‘gift’, all machinery kaput upon coming into contact with him. Radios, cinema projectors, watches, engines – all operated ineffectively, if at all, within his radius. It was a wide radius too, Scrambler an effective saboteur without even having to touch anything.

Hector’s name was picked as being less obvious than Trojan. He had no powers but was in a position of power within the hated Vichy government. The information he possessed was priceless. He came round first, commenting to Marcella that she’d moved up in the world. It was the wrong thing to say to her, but she took it well, diplomatic enough in his company not to reveal her true feelings about the move. Sixty something, he eyed Patience suspiciously and did not say much. Scrambler filled the void when he showed up. He was impressed with the place too. “Fuck me, I’ll bet he’s had a good few whores here.” He looked at the veranda and said to Hector, “You could get head stood there looking down at the river, and nobody would be able to tell.”

“You must get terrible head. Patience, this is Scrambler,” Marcella said. Scrambler looked to be around 30, olive-skinned (possibly from a Mediterranean background?), his closely shaved head having a layer of black stubble. He seemed very intense in his stare, not hostile, just very focused and present.

“Patience? What’s the thinking behind that?” he boomed.

“It’s not an alias. I’ve just accidentally given her name away,” Marcella said, rolling her eyes at herself. She hadn’t introduced her to Hector when he came round and had revealed it to both now.

“No you haven’t. Patience Condeh is a wanted woman,” Hector said. “Running away like you did means you can’t go back until this is over.”

“Shouldn’t be long, right?” Scrambler said. “What’d you do?”

Patience was spared answering that by the Love Phantom’s return. He had one bulging bag of food and two bottles of wine, Pinot and Beaujolais. Scrambler bounced over to meet him and repeated his comments about the Love Phantom using the pad as an orgy den. The Love Phantom spoke to the group, “Drinks all round? I’ll wash the glasses out first. I think they’re going to need it.”

“I can’t stay long,” Hector said. “They’ve asked us for 87 names. We may get to pick our undesirables.”

The Love Phantom processed this information, replying, “How much time have we got? Can you stall them?”

“I’m not in charge of that. I might see the names and that’ll be it.”

The Love Phantom explained for Patience and Scrambler’s benefit, “They want to keep our officials onside. They’ll need their help when the Allies come. That’s why the reprisals haven’t come yet, why this story has been buried. That’s worse, in a way, than them picking names to execute. They’re forcing complicity.”

“Nothing new there,” Hector said.

“Remember what I said,” Marcella said to the Love Phantom.

The Love Phantom voiced this to the others. “The top Nazis are going the Vichy route. They don’t want to provoke an uprising right now, which makes sense. They’re taking too long for the average German soldier. They want payback for their friends, and as they’re not seeing anything the official route, they may take matters into their own