A man who had been watching them from an office door approached them and asked what they were doing. Roland told him they were there to check the floor supports in the cellar as some cracks had been reported and they were looking for the way down to check that the floor was properly supported. The man looked alarmed and told them to take the next corridor to the right and then the second door on the left and they would be right there.
They thanked him and got his name, Monsieur Le Blanc, and flattered him he must be someone important. To which he told them he was actually only a clerk in the works department.
They found the door and went down into the cellars. Cluttered didn’t even begin to describe them as it looked as if every piece of defunct furniture had been dumped down there since the revolution.
They scrambled their way to the end shifting furniture to make a path and found a fairly new wall.
“This is right at the base of the west wing” observed Matai in a whisper “and look the mortar is really soft. They didn’t use enough lime”
Marty took a knife and scraped a little away and whispered back “They are lucky that it doesn’t fall down on its own, this mortar is really bad. But that will make it easy for us”
They made their way out of the cellar, brushed each other down as they had collected a fair amount of dust and cobwebs and found their way back to the entryway. It was amazing! Nobody took any notice of workmen. They all seemed to assume they were supposed to be there.
Back at the guest house they finalized their plans. Marty, Wilson and Matai were to take on the rescue while Roland prepared the escape route and diversions. They would enter L’Hotel de Ville tomorrow afternoon and get into position so they could hit the police HQ in the middle of the night.
They slept in the next morning and made sure they had a good lunch as they didn’t know when they would get to eat next. Around mid-afternoon, when the clerks and staff of the L’Hotel de Ville would be just getting back from lunch and be at their least attentive, they walked in through the main entrance. They sauntered through the building to the cellar entrance, entered and Marty locked the door behind them.
They settled down to wait. They heard the footsteps of the staff walking the corridors above them as they left for the evening and they waited a bit more.
Marty had found an instrument that midwives used to listen to babies heartbeats inside their mothers in a shop in the town. It was a wooden trumpet like device with a small bell at one end and a bigger bell at the other. You stuck the big bell against what you wanted to listen to and your ear against the smaller. He held it against the wall and could hear movement on the other side. They waited.
After he had heard nothing for around an hour they started carefully removing the mortar around one of the bricks. Lucky we decided on stonemasons as a disguise, thought Marty, as they had all the tools they needed. The brick was soon slid out. After that they soon made a hole big enough for even Wilson to crawl through. They were lucky, they had made the hole in the centre of the wall and it came out into the central corridor of the cells.
They pulled neckerchiefs up over their noses to hide their faces and crawled through. They had a small shuttered lanthorn with a reflector that shone a beam of light forward and they moved from cell to cell looking in on the inmates. Most were men and some were in far better condition than others. Some were asleep others just lay in their cots staring at the ceiling, some were crying.
They soon found a cell with a young woman in, she looked to be fast asleep. Marty quickly picked the lock and entered. He gently shook her shoulder and when her eyes opened he put his hand over her mouth to stifle a scream if she made one.
“I am a friend” he whispered in French “Which bird sings the sweetest?” he removed his hand so she could reply.
“The Linnet” she replied
“We are here to get you out” he told her “come with us”.
He helped her to her feet and passed her to Wilson who led her down the corridor. She was obviously weak and needed to lean on him for support.
As Marty went down the corridor he unlocked each of the cells in turn and called the occupants to come with him. Those that could walk he led to the hole in the wall and sent them through. He then crawled through after them.
He checked his watch it was 2 am, they were on time.
They took the time to replace the bricks, it wouldn’t fool anybody for long but it might buy them a little more time.
He led the group up the stairs to the door into the west wing. He had them wait and went on alone to check if there was anybody around. It was empty so he called them out and took them to the main entrance.
The exit was the most tricky part as there was only one door and that opened into the square. To leave the square they had to get past the secret police headquarters. He would have liked to have used the same trick they had in Calais and left by a back window, but they were all barred and to remove the bars would make far too much noise.
Timing was now vital. They waited behind the doors while Marty unlocked them. He waited glancing frequently at his watch. 3 am came - and went. He looked at Matai who shrugged. Then there was a loud explosion followed shortly after by the pop of musket rounds. Marty opened the door and glanced outside.
“NOW” he said and pushed the door open and beckoned the group through. After the last was out he closed and locked it and hurried after them. They made their way up the east side of the square keeping close to the wall. The sky on the other side of the building was lit up by a fire that cast a dark shadow where they crept along. Shouting started and he could see men leaving the police headquarters and running along the Rue Delambre towards the fire.
Marty was counting in his head and when he reached one hundred and twenty there was another explosion also to the east. Matai split off and walked over to the entrance of the police headquarters where one man was stood looking at the fire. Matai seemed to make a gesture and the man folded down to the ground. He was quickly dragged onto the shadows.
Marty turned to the group and said “You are free, get away as fast as you can, find people you can trust and hide. Now GO!”
They ran, or staggered away as best as they could and he immediately put them out of his mind as he turned to Linnet. He could see she was barely holding on so he asked Wilson to carry her. Matai re-joined them.
“Let’s go” Marty said
A third explosion to the South and they made their way northwest towards the river. They moved as fast as they could and stayed in the shadows, stopping frequently when they saw anybody. They reached the river and followed the bank to the west until they came upon a low quay. They found a boat marked with a neckerchief tied around its mooring rope that was big enough to carry all of them. They boarded and waited.
Less than ten minutes later ,Du Demaine appeared and jumped in after untying the rope. “That was fun” he said with a laugh.
“Yes a real thrill!” said Marty “Make way”
They ran out the oars and moved the boat out into the middle of the stream and then just let it drift with the current which was quite gentle at around two knots. The dawn saw them well out of town and they rowed the boat along at a fair speed .
Marty realized that he had to decide whether to continue on the river or go across country. Linnet was in poor shape. She had been beaten quite severely in the prison if the bruises on her arms and legs, that he could see, were anything to go by. That made up his mind, they would stay on the river as long as they could.
They got almost as far as Abbeville when they heard from a local that there was a barrage across the river ahead that had been put there by the Police who were searching for people who had escaped from Amiens prison.
“That was bloody quick” said Wilson “must have killed a couple of horses to get that set up so soon.”
They went to the south bank. That wasn’t ideal as they had arranged to be picked up in Le Crotoy which was on the north. But they would figure that out once pas
t Abbeville.
The reason he had chosen Wilson became clear once they got on shore. He picked up Linnet as if she weighed nothing and cradled her in his massive arms. She smiled up at him and they could see tears in his eyes. “Come on then” he said in a gruff voice “let’s get a move on”
They covered a few miles before dark and found a barn to sleep in. They had packed rations in the boat so they had the makings of a cold supper and there was fresh water in a well. But, they had to be careful because they could see the farmer was in the house close by and they didn’t want anyone sounding an alarm or running to the police.
They left at false dawn and headed west with the emerging sun at their backs. Wilson carrying Linnet refused any help. Matai scouted ahead.
Then they heard the sound they dreaded. Dogs.
Matai came back to them and said “There are six flics ahead and they have a couple of tracking dogs with them”.
Marty thought and visualised the map in his mind. They needed to get to the crossing at Gouy which was about 5 miles beyond Aberville to get over to the north bank and then it was another 10 miles to get to Le Crotoy. What they really needed, he thought, was a horse and cart or a carriage but if wishes were horses no one would ever have to walk, he thought.
He got Matai to take him up to where the police were waiting and from the cover of a nearby copse up wind of them he could see them starting to set up a picnic for their lunch. They scouted for a way around them towards the river and found that the ground dropped away and was marshy. Not ideal but it may cover their scent.
They returned to the others and guided them down to the lower ground, but it was soon apparent that they were going nowhere fast as the ground was so soft they were knee deep before they knew it. They were forced to head back up the hill towards the police and just as they got clear of the mud the sound of baying hunting dogs could be heard getting closer.
They were running out of choices. If they stopped and fought they would give away their position but then again if they ran they probably wouldn’t get far either. Then an idea came to him.
“Any of you guys good with dogs?”
“I had some before the revolution” said Matai “we used to hunt in the mountains with them”.
“Ok” said Marty “this is what we will do . . . . .”
Two of the policemen were being dragged along by the dogs who were having a great time and very enthusiastically tracking the smell of the prison that still clung to Linette. The other four were following along as best as they could but they weren’t fit and were blowing with the exertion.
The dogs veered towards a copse of trees and led them through a gate in a high hedge. The dogs went through dragging their handlers behind them. Then the two fittest and last of all the two fattest who, as they passed through the gate, looked like they had run into a clothesline as their upper bodies stopped dead and their legs shot forward from under them. They landed heavily and two masked figures descended on them delivering swift blows to the head.
The second pair were so intent on keeping up with the dog handlers and their rampant wards that they didn’t see the two masked men catching them up. They didn’t even feel the impact of the black jacks expertly applied behind their ears.
The dog handlers were hanging on for grim death as the dogs charged into the copse where they suddenly started circling a tree. They policemen looked up and could see a girl with very nice legs sitting on a branch not far up.
“Hey men, we have one here in a tree” called one without taking his eyes of her. When there was no reply he laughed and said “Ha those fat idiots are probably down to crawling after us by now”. He turned as he heard a noise behind him and froze as he found himself looking at the chest of the biggest man he had ever seen. He saw the fist coming but remembered nothing after it hit him squarely between the eyes. His friend never saw the broken branch that hit him on the head.
Matai was dressed in one of the dog handlers uniforms and was feeding the dogs bits of salami he’d found in the pockets making them friends for life. The rest of them were finishing dressing in the police uniforms that they had stripped from the now conscious but tied up policemen. Marty stepped over to one of them and asked
“Which town are you from?” The man refused to answer.
Marty drew his knife and set the point just under his eye.
“Which - town?”
“Cambron” he replied in absolute terror.
“Thank you” Marty said with a smile that froze the blood and replaced the gag. Then said
“OK men, let’s move. We need to get to St Valery as soon as possible.” It was an obvious deception but anything was worth a try.
Wilson had retrieved Linnet from the tree and carried her again. He was not in uniform as none of them would fit him. Instead he played the role of prisoner. Matai had the dogs trotting along happily beside him and Marty and Roland strolled along behind them.
They avoided entering the town of Cambron by circling it to the south and headed to Gouy. When they got there they entered a tiny Hamlet of half a dozen houses. They found a farm and banged on the door. The farmer answered and looked terrified when he saw policemen outside. Roland stepped forward and asked
“Are you a friend of the revolution?”
The farmer nodded fearful of what was to come.
“Do you have a cart?”
The farmer nodded
“Do you have a horse?”
He nodded again.
“The revolution will buy them off you”
He looked surprised so did Marty who mouthed “Buy??” Roland ignored him and continued.
“We have heard you are a good son of the revolution so we will not punish you by commandeering your horse and cart without compensation”
He held up a half Louis and the farmer nodded and took it.
“Please be so kind as to harness the horse for us while we eat” he concluded.
The farmer hurried off.
“Are you crazy?” hissed Marty once he was out of earshot
“Buy the cart?”
Roland smiled and said
“You never know we might start a trend”
Marty rolled his eyes to the sky and said “Why me?”
From then on the trip was much easier. The horse plodded along at a fast walking pace and they soon got to the bridge over the river, crossed it and turned onto the road to Le Crotoy. Any checkpoints just waved them through as they assumed they were transporting prisoners. No one thought to ask for their papers, they were police after all. Marty figured the dogs helped as well. They looked as mean as hell even if they were as soft as butter.
They arrived in Crotoy and made their way to a safe house that the smugglers had told them to go to on their return. It was a relief to get out of the police uniforms as they weren’t particularly clean and smelt of sweat and garlic, but they didn’t throw them away as they might come in useful at a later date.
The Ariadne was due the next day at the first high tide so all they could do was wait. Marty checked his weapons, unloaded, cleaned and re-loaded his pistols with fresh charges. He cleaned his knives and sharpened them. Then all he could do was sit and wait.
He got really fidgety and hungry so decided to go to the market and buy some fresh food. He grabbed Roland and they sauntered down to the market square. They spotted at least 2 secret police loitering around and they figured there would be more. But they carried on as if they belonged just making sure they didn’t stand out in any way. Marty even asked one policeman what was going on as they just got back from fishing. His unique talent in mimicking dialects paying dividends. They got told there had been gaol break from Amiens and they were on the lookout for escaped prisoners. Marty asked if they were dangerous and said if he spotted anybody strange he would be sure to report it.
They knew they were safe from betrayal in Crotoy as it was run by the smugglers and they were known as friends who were under protection. Nobody would cross the smugglers as
their justice was swift and almost always terminal.
After a tasty and sustaining fish stew cooked by Roland, with the help of a recovering Linnet, they settled down to sleep, only to be woken by a quiet knock on the door. Marty cracked it open to see Gaston, one of the smugglers. He let him in.
“Martin, we must move you immediately. The secret police are conducting a house to house search and will get to this house in less than an hour”
Marty quickly woke the rest of them and they were ready to leave in minutes.
“Where will you take us?” Marty asked
“Somewhere they will never look” he answered with a wink.
They crept down the street and entered the graveyard. Gaston led them confidently to a large mausoleum which he circled until they came to a stone door. He felt along one edge and pushed. To everyone’s surprise there was a metallic click and a door silently swung open. Marty would have loved to examine the entrance mechanism in detail but it was too dark and anyway Gaston hurried them all inside and shut the door. The darkness was profound. In fact Marty had never experienced such total darkness before. There was the scrape of a flint and a flare as some tinder caught and then a lantern glowed to life. Marty could see that they were in a square room with several tombs in a row down one side.
“The mausoleum of the local Lord and Magistrate” Gascon said as he handed the lantern to Wilson and searched the floor. After a few seconds he bent down and inserted a metal bar with a right angled piece about 1 inch long at one end and a T-bar at the other into a hole, turned it 90 degrees and pulled.
A trapdoor opened revealing a flight of stairs. Gascon took back the lantern and led them down. The air got cooler and damper as they descended and they heard a thump behind them that they guessed was the trapdoor closing on its own. The bottom of the stairs opened up into a large cavern stacked with everything from wine and brandy to bales of silk and tobacco.
The Special Operations Flotilla: The Dorset Boy Book 2 Page 9