‘Of course, Herr Colonel. But if it turns out to be correct, I assume I will also be allowed the credit.’
*
‘Monsieur de Gruchy?’ the concierge commented. ‘Well, his rooms are on the third floor. But he is not there.’
‘Not there?’ Roess looked at his watch. ‘Where would he be, at four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon?’
‘I do not know, monsieur. He left at dawn this morning. Said he was going for a holiday in the country.’
‘Shit,’ Roess commented. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
‘Monsieur,’ the concierge protested. ‘I do not permit such language in my house.’
‘You will be lucky if I do not burn your house down,’ Roess told her.
‘He will not get far, Herr Captain,’ Sergeant Klein said soothingly.
‘You think so? Thanks to that swine Helsingen he has travel documents allowing him unlimited access to anywhere in the south of France, including Vichy. And he has a twelve-hour start. He could be halfway to the border by now. Ah well, put out a general alarm and a description of him. And at least we will have the pleasure of tearing his apartment to pieces.’
‘Well?’ Rachel demanded. ‘You’re still in uniform, here?’
‘I am wearing uniform, here,’ James said, ‘because here is no longer an intelligence headquarters, but simply a love nest which is about to go out of existence.’
‘Oh, good Lord!’ She sat down with a thump. ‘But that’s not fair.’
‘Life isn’t always, or even often, a very fair business. But from the brigadier’s point of view, it is entirely fair. I was allowed the use of an aircraft for one night; I kept it for ten. I was sent to deliver some goods to a guerilla band; I had no orders to take command of the band, thus endangering the lives of myself and my pilot, and the aircraft of course, not to mention, far more importantly, the risk of my being captured and revealing under torture the very existence of Special Operations, which, so far as we are aware, is unknown to the enemy.’
‘Fiddlesticks! You’d never give away any classified information, even under torture.’
‘According to the brigadier, everyone does, and he probably knows more about it than we do.’
‘I think you deserve a medal. That was a tremendous thing you did.’
‘You know, I think the old buzzard agrees with you. He actually shook my hand. But the fact is, as he sees it, as a Special Operations officer I’m a bust. He’s never forgiven me for that Jonsson foul-up, or for the fact that we’ve lost all track of her. And now this business... As he put it, spying, and even more, spy-mastering, is a business of secrecy, caution, and behind-the-scenes activity, not dashing into action with all guns blazing, as it were.’
‘But from what you’ve told me, if you hadn’t taken command the business would have been a disaster.’
‘I think he accepts that. But it would have been their disaster, not ours. The fact that we actually had a triumph he regards as a stroke of luck that will hardly be repeated. So he doesn’t want to risk a repeat. So... it’s back to the regiment for me, and back to the ATS pool for you.’
‘Shit! Bugger it! I was so enjoying it. And just as we had something going. Will we be able to see each other?’
‘Perhaps. From time to time. You’ll soon forget me.’
‘Like hell. Oh...’ She swung round when there was a knock on the door.
‘Excuse me, Mr Sterling,’ Mrs Hotchkin said. ‘There’s a lady to see you. She has the password.’
‘How in the name of God... a lady?’
‘Only in a manner of speaking,’ Joanna said.
*
‘Are you out of your mind?’ James asked. ‘Coming here?’
‘I thought you’d be glad to see me.’
‘Do we know this person, sir?’ Rachel asked.
‘Her name is Jonsson.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Rachel dashed to the desk, opened a drawer, and took out her Webley service revolver.
‘Oh, my!’ Mrs Hotchkin cried.
‘There’s nothing to worry about, Mrs Hotchkin,’ James said. ‘I’ll explain it later. Thank you.’
Mrs Hotchkin obviously wanted to stay, but she reluctantly closed the door behind herself.
‘And please don’t shoot her immediately, Sergeant,’ James suggested. ‘I’m sure she has a lot to tell us first.’
‘That little girl is a sergeant?’ Joanna asked.
‘And a trained markswoman,’ James said. ‘But she won’t shoot until I tell her to. Now, sit down.’
Joanna sat in the straight chair by the radio desk. ‘Why all this hostility? I thought we were on the same side.’
‘We were, until you absconded from a top secret establishment.’
‘Oh, sure. And then you put out a shoot-on-sight order to all your people. Pierre told me all about it.’
‘You have seen Pierre de Gruchy?’
‘We spent a night together. It wasn’t a lot of fun, although the wine helped. How else do you think I got your password? Or this address?’
‘He gave you my password? And made no attempt to... ah... deal with you?’
‘Well, he tried. But I talked him out of it.’ She grinned. ‘That Captain Lennox sure knows her stuff when it comes to knocking people about.’
‘My God! Well, I’m sorry to say that I am going to have to place you under arrest. And kindly do not attempt any strong-arm tactics here. I have received the same training, and I am bigger than you. Besides, as you may have noticed, Sergeant Cartwright is just itching to shoot you.’
‘Look, I didn’t come here to fight you guys. I came to help you win the war.’
‘I imagine we can do that without your assistance.’
‘Yeah? Tell me this: when do you reckon Hitler is going to come across the Channel?’
‘He’s welcome to try.’
‘But would it make you happy to know that he’s not coming? I mean, at all. He’s issued orders for what he calls an “indefinite postponement”. But it’s off for good.’
‘I assume you didn’t notice the bomb damage on your way in.’
‘Oh, he means to keep up the pressure, for the next six months or so, but he’s no longer that interested. He believes you guys are beat, but just won’t lie down. Now he reckons it’s time to settle up with Russia.’
‘What did you say?’
‘The first week of May next year, the Wehrmacht is going to march on Moscow.’
‘Hitler told you this personally, did he?’
‘I’ve never met the guy. But he sure told his staff to draw up the plans, just over a week ago. And one of his staff officers is a guy called von Helsingen. You heard of him?’
James frowned. ‘He’s not the fellow who married Madeleine de Gruchy?’
‘You got it. Your own original lady love. And Freddie confided in his wife.’
‘Who confided in you? Why would she do that? According to Liane, she’s become a Nazi herself.’
‘You’ve seen Liane?’
‘I have spent a week with her, recently.’
‘Just like that? Shit! You were with her when that train went up?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fuck the shitting cows! I wish I’d been there. How is she?’
‘She’s fine. You haven’t answered my question.’
‘Well, the fact is that, what with Liane blowing up the Germans, and her parents being arrested, and Amalie drowning herself, and Pierre on the run, Madeleine is starting to feel like a lump of shit. She just wanted to do something. So she told me what Helsingen had told her.’ She looked at Rachel. ‘That has got to be an absolute secret. If it ever came out, she’d be for the high jump.’
James also looked at Rachel, who waggled her eyebrows. ‘You don’t reckon what she told me is worth knowing?’ Joanna asked. ‘I know you don’t go much for Stalin. Neither do I. But surely it’s better to have him with you than against you, and if you tipped him off about the German plans, he’d have to be grateful.’
‘Why should I do that? Why should I risk my life coming here? I told you, I know you guys are out to get me. So I took the risk because I thought I had some pretty important information.’
‘Or you worked out that supplying us with some important info, true or not, could get us off your back.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. Okay, I didn’t like your training methods. I didn’t like that Colonel Marsham, and I didn’t like any of my roommates. So I fucked off. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to work for you guys. And if you let me loose to rub shoulders with Madeleine, who knows what else I can do for you?’
Again James looked at Rachel.
‘I think we could give it a whirl, sir,’ Rachel said. ‘At least put it to the brigadier. If there’s anything in it, it might even get us our jobs back.’
‘And mine,’ Joanna said enthusiastically.
After they had seen the brigadier, James took them both out to dinner.
‘Do you think he’ll go for it?’ Joanna asked.
‘If he wasn’t going to, he would not have reinstated me,’ James said. ‘Or given me permission to continue employing you. As to whether the War Cabinet will go for it, or Stalin will believe it if they do, that’s another matter.’
‘If they don’t, they need their heads examined. The champagne’s on me.’ She raised her glass, and smiled at Rachel. ‘Here’s to the three of us. Onwards and upwards.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Rachel said.
‘There’s another, more important toast,’ James said. ‘The de Gruchys.’
‘Shit, yes,’ Joanna agreed. ‘They sure are one fucked-up family. Those poor old people, Pierre, Liane... Boy, I’d give a lot to be with her right now.’
‘Maybe that could be arranged,’ Rachel suggested.
‘Of them all,’ James said, ‘I feel sorriest for Amalie.’
‘Amalie?’ Joanna asked. ‘At least she can’t suffer anymore. She’s dead.’
‘Amalie is alive, and with Liane.’
‘You joke.’
‘I saw her, only a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Well, fuck me. But that’s great news. So why are you more sorry for her than any of the others?’
‘You don’t reckon it’s rough to lose your husband, to all intents and purposes within five minutes of getting married to him?’
‘Yeah. I guess that’s grim.’
‘And then... Do you know what the Gestapo did to her? Not once, but twice.’
‘Tell me.’
‘It’s not dinner-party conversation. The fact is that she’s suffered like hell, and I don’t see what she has to look forward to. So, here’s to Amalie. May she find happiness, one day.’
*
Liane and Amalie lay together on the slopes of the hill and watched the plane circling above them. It was several thousand feet up, and obviously could not make out the two figures nestling in the long grass. But it was keeping an eye on things. The search might have been called off, but the Vichy government understood that another guerilla exploit might well bring a savage Nazi response.
‘Are you sorry you did not go with him?’ Amalie asked.
‘I would have liked to go with him,’ Liane said. ‘And that is the first time I have thought that about any man. But I would not have been happy. I can only be happy here, fighting for France.’
‘But will you ever see him again?’
‘Oh, yes. I feel it in my bones. And in my heart.’
Amalie sighed, and Liane squeezed her hand. ‘But you, my sweetest angel - ’
‘Listen!’ Amalie said.
‘Liane!’ a voice was calling from lower down the hill. ‘Liane! Your brother is here!’
‘Pierre!’ Both women scrambled to their feet. Liane led the way down the hill. ‘Oh, Pierre! Thank God you got here. But...’ She stopped running as the three men approached. Etienne, Pierre, and... The third man was smaller than the others, and wore a thick black beard. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘Henri?’ Amalie asked. ‘ Henri!’ she shrieked, and resumed running into his arms.
Pierre came forward to embrace Liane. ‘But how?’ she asked.
‘It is a long story. It seems he could not get back to Dieppe as he intended: the Germans got there first. So then he found his way across France into Vichy. He knew that to re-enter the occupied territory would be to commit suicide, and he had learned what happened to his parents; he thought that Amalie had also been deported to Germany. So he got himself a job as a street cleaner, and, well, like so many of our people, just waited for something to turn up. I was what turned up. I was asked by some people who gave me shelter which regiment I had served with, and when I told them the Motorized Cavalry, they mentioned that there was a Jewish man in the next village who had also served in that regiment. I could not believe my ears. Nor could he his eyes, I am sure.’
Liane decided not to comment on the dangers of so willingly confiding the events of his past to complete strangers; he seemed to have got away with it. ‘And so you brought him here.’
‘When he heard what I told him about you and Amalie being in the mountains, he was desperate to come. Do you think I did the wrong thing?’
‘Of course not. Look at them. Amalie is smiling. Do you know that this is the first time Amalie has smiled since the night before her wedding? I am so happy for them.’
‘But what is going to become of them? Of us?’
Liane held his hand as they walked towards the encampment. ‘With the help of our friends, of James, we’re going to go on fighting. Until we win.’
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About the Author
Alan Savage is one of many pseudonyms for author Christopher Nicole, who was born in 1930 in the West Indies. He currently resides in the Channel Islands with his wife, Diana, who is also a novelist.
He has written over 200 fiction and non-fiction books since 1957, including the best-selling, five-volume Caribee series. He primarily writes historical novels and specialises in series and sagas. Nicole has won international acclaim for his work under several other pseudonyms, including Max Marlow and Andrew York.
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