Hard eyes scrutinized her plain, brown peasant dress. "Is that the best you have to offer an officer of the Third Reich?"
"It's the best I've ever had and good enough for those who care for me."
She made her confession frankly as she assessed his austere features and closely cropped graying hair. She found not one ounce of emotion in him, except, perhaps, disdain.
"That will be remedied. I cannot have my mistress running around like some poor, bare-footed peasant."
Resentment rose in her chest, but she controlled her tone. "I am neither bare-foot nor poor. What would you have me wear?"
His eyes raked her form again. "Probably nothing you could get here. We'll send to Paris for appropriate clothes or perhaps you could wear the designer garments of the bourgeois patroness of your tiny…castle."
The very thought of remaking Madame's outfits to fit herself appalled her. The villagers would definitely not appreciate such a move on her part.
"You would lose face."
He looked at her strangely as if he didn't understand her French.
She explained it slowly. "With the villagers and probably your own men. How would that look to them, if you gave me hand-me- downs to wear?"
"You're probably right." He suddenly realized Chloe was still standing in the hallway. "Come in, fraulein." He stepped back from the door for Chloe to pass.
"Mademoiselle," said Chloe. His head jerked in her direction. "An unmarried, young lady in France is a mademoiselle."
His blue eyes, so like cold glass, became even colder. "Do not ever again attempt to correct me, fraulein. I will have your tongue cut out of your head."
He was positively loathsome, but she wasn't afraid. He was just some pompous toad who thought he could lord it over her and anyone else he thought inferior. "If you're trying to turn my head with those pretty words, you'd better try harder."
For a moment, Chloe thought his head might explode as his face turned a very unattractive shade of purple. Then he must have realized if he expected the least amount of cooperation from Chloe, he'd better change his tune as she suggested.
He moved closer and ran a finger down her cheek. "Pretty words will not work on you, my pet. You already hate me for killing your brother. You mustn't ever forget who's in control…who holds the fate of your pitiful town."
He held up his open hand and closed it into a fist as if he would crush her and her town as well. She wanted to leap forward and slash at his face with her bare fingernails. She hated him so, but she'd hide such thoughts until she could destroy him.
"I'm here, Monsieur Capitaine, what is it you want?"
"I think you know very well, but let's come to an understanding."
He towered over her imperiously. Not once had it occurred to him to allow her to sit. She stared at him mutely, and he continued.
"You will stay in the chateau and organize the tending of my troops. See they have fresh linens, water, and food. I don't care who does the work, as long as you trust them. Remember, it will be your head if anything goes wrong." He recited his litany as if she were one of his new recruits. "You are free to leave the chateau during the day, as long as you devise notes as to your whereabouts. If I have the slightest difficulty finding you at any time, you will lose all personal freedoms. You are never to leave the village proper."
"You've killed my brother, whose sole job was the care of the castle vineyards. My family will need my help..."
"Nein!" His sharp protest broke into her explanation. "I will not have you covered with dirt, looking like a peasant field hand. Pay someone to work the vineyards. I will pay you more than enough to solve this problem."
He was going to pay her? The thought had never entered her head. She would be a prostitute in every sense of the term. Well, she would take his money. He owed her family more than he could ever pay!
"There is one other thing. Fraulein, I would hardly call this small structure a castle. In Germany, it would hardly qualify as a chateau, but the records show that several works of art are missing from the gallery. I've been told you regularly cleaned for the Countess. Where are the treasures?"
"Do you really think Madame would tell me where she was taking her precious treasures?"
"Hmm. If matters arise that are beyond the range I mentioned, you will have to contact me personally. Is that understood?"
Chloe snapped her heels together and stood at attention. " Ja vol, mein Capitaine."
"Your pronunciation leaves much to be desired, fraulein. However, I accept your submission."
A knock at the door drew his attention away momentarily. His boots clicked on the stone floors as he strode across the room. "What is it? I gave express orders I was not to be disturbed."
The rest of the conversation was in German, so Chloe had no idea what interrupted them. When he turned back into the room, he locked the door, and Chloe's stomach twisted.
"Now that we've gotten acquainted, fraulein, I'd like for you to cleanse yourself. Go to the bathroom and disrobe."
Chloe walked in Madame's boudoir and saw a steaming bath in the ornate, claw-footed tub. She stepped behind the dressing screen to remove her clothes.
"Nein. I want to watch, fraulein."
A shudder ran up and down Chloe's spine, but she struggled to remain nonchalant as she stopped before him. "If I am to come to you with my problems, to whom will I be speaking?"
She removed her shoes and stockings.
"I am Colonel Karl Vott of the SD, and who are you, fraulein?"
"Chloe. And my brother's name was Jean-Claude, the one you murdered."
"Orders for the Gestapo require that we should assassinate 50- 100 citizens for the death of every German soldier. Because your town killed three officers, I should wipe out the entire population. In fact, there are not enough townspeople left to fulfill my directive of retaliation."
"You know those deaths were an accident. We have no Resistance here."
His hand waved as if that were immaterial. "There is resistance everywhere."
Nothing remained now but her underclothes. It had helped to talk the entire time. It certainly had taken her mind off undressing before a man to concentrate instead on Jean-Claude. "So, Colonel, what is the SD and how does it operate in the Gestapo?"
Colonel Vott leaned against the tub while Chloe removed her final garments. "Sicherheitsdienst is the Security Service of the SS."
Chloe stood before the Colonel with nothing left to conceal. "And why are you here, Colonel?"
"To aid the local police in their hunt for traitors to the Reich. Enough questions. Bathe yourself."
He settled into Madame's boudoir chair while Chloe sponged off in the warm, scented water. She had hoped he would afford her a modicum of privacy while she bathed, but he intended to remain for every demeaning second. It further demonstrated his dominance over her, but someday that would change. She would see to that.
When he tired of her repeated sponging, he grabbed a towel and threw it at her. "Get out!"
She had run out of ways to stall. She wrapped the towel around her, but he took it and pushed her toward Madame's large four- poster bed. Everything he did was meant to show his dominance over her. There was no tenderness or understanding of her innocence.
Throughout the night, Chloe was repeatedly raped. She wasn't even allowed to cry in private. He meant to so demean her that she would lose all her spirit and defiance to him. She tried to think of anything other than what happened to her as Maman had suggested, but it was impossible. The Colonel had ways of forcing her to confront him. By morning, there were no tears…there were no thoughts at all.
When the door opened to admit her mother, Chloe stared into space with the sheet clutched to her chest. The Colonel had been absent from the room a long time, but Chloe hadn't moved from the bed.
Rachelle shut the door behind her and rushed to the bed. "Chloe, Chloe, my darling girl, what has he done to you?"
Chloe didn't respond. She couldn't.
> Her mother gently tugged the twisted sheet out of Chloe's hands and pulled it back, crying out when she saw the dark marks on Chloe's pale flesh. She kissed her daughter on the brow then ran to the tub and started the water.
"Come with Maman. We'll take a bath."
She urged Chloe out of the bed and pulled her to the tub. Tears streamed down her face as she sponged Chloe's battered body. She sang soft lullabies, wondering if she'd lost her daughter, too.
Chloe retreated into silence. She'd lost a lot more than her innocence. She'd lost her faith in her fellow man and every bit of confidence in herself. She'd lost any trust she might have placed in God.
She'd lost the will to live.
Chapter 6
Ferdinand and Antoinette allowed Jacob to sleep as long as he wished, almost two days, but they didn't remain idle. They managed to speak with a number of Resistance groups located in Lyon, some related to their own, some not.
Late in the afternoon of the second day, the persistent growling of Jacob's stomach awakened him. He opened his eyes and stumbled drunkenly into the bathroom to wash before heading downstairs to find someone. Antoinette stood at the wide porcelain kitchen sink, scrubbing greens and turnips.
"Bon jour, Jacques. I think it's been a while since you saw a bed."
"Mais oui. Thank you for the rest. How long was I out?"
"About eighteen hours. You know, you gave Ferdinand a dreadful scare."
"How so?"
"He woke in the middle of the night to get a drink of water, but he heard a German voice. It frightened him half to death. He thought the Gestapo had come for us. It was only you." She looked at him sideways. "Have you always talked in your sleep?"
"I don't know. I'll have to write my mother in England and ask her."
"Well, we all have stories to tell. But I think yours might be even more interesting than most, Jacques."
"It isn't." He glanced toward the kitchen window. A pale autumn light hit the countertops. "What's been going on?"
She handed him a plate of bread and cheese. "Ferdinand is in the vineyards with the other workers, but he has a meeting scheduled for you tonight. Are you up to a visit in town?"
"Of course. If we're going to accomplish something before this area is inundated by Gestapo, we should get busy."
"Do you really think they're about to invade the Unoccupied Zone in force?"
"Absolutely. Marshall Petain's offices in Vichy have tapped the telephone lines from the German front. The Nazis intend to dishonor the treaty. I just didn't realize it would be this soon."
Later that evening, Jacob, Ferdinand, and Antoinette visited the apartment of the Buisson sisters. Their antiques store also served as the front for the Resistance Social Services Food Warehouse.
Dressed in the remnants of their 19th century lives, these two petite, elderly ladies represented all that was great in France. Though delicate in body, they aided the Resistance any way they could, including the use of their business and apartment for rendezvous. It seemed the height of their lives when partisans or agents showed up to hash out new plots against the Occupation. Jacob gave them both a hearty hug then reunited with other leaders from the Lyon and Marseilles groups.
"Jacques, it's good to see you. We were sorry to hear about Groundhog and Jiroud."
Jacob took the hand held out to him, trying not to remember Jiroud's bullet-strewn body on the ground. "Thank you, Marcel. It's been difficult for all of us. I appreciate each of you coming out tonight."
He smiled around the room, giving a special wink of the eye to the Buisson sisters. It was difficult to believe that anyone there would betray the Resistance. It had to be one of the groups closer to the Occupied Zone.
"Now…what can you tell me? If the Gestapo is moving into the Vichy zone, we need to be prepared."
Marcel leaned forward. "I have information on the timetable of German trains. We think we should attack in sixty locations, all on the same day. It will paralyze them for some time if all the rail lines are impassable."
"I agree. Have you put together enough teams?
Marcel nodded. "We saved a spot for you, Lion."
"I'm honored. Blowing the railway is one of my favorite pastimes."
The group laughed quietly together. They so rarely found anything to laugh about. Jacob enjoyed watching the lines of weariness relieved if only for a moment.
"There's something else, Jacques." Genevieve spread dainty hands on her lap and gazed up at him expectantly.
"Yes, Genenvieve?"
"We have a contact in the State Electrical Company, Ernest Mercier. He recently approached the Resistance in London. His family is under constant persecution from the Gestapo because of his Jewish wife, a niece of Captain Dreyfus."
"The legendary Captain Dreyfus?"
Genevieve nodded. "Mercier has supplied information on the physical layout of the entire country's electrical system."
"What has Marie-Madeleine decided to do with this information?"
"We're to blow up the power plant at Chalon-sur-Saone. It sends eighty percent of its electrical output to Germany. However, the plan would work best if we coordinate another group to blow the canal locks at Le Chateau de Cachet. Can you help?"
Jacob stared at her for several seconds, his mind racing with the possibilities for success and failure. A dangerous undertaking, but a power plant that gave more electricity to Germany than it did to its own people…it begged to be blown up.
"What can you tell me about Cachet?"
Genevieve jerked her head at Gilbert, a tall, brawny man who rarely spoke but always managed to find anything they needed for a raid.
He cleared his throat. "Cachet is a very small town with no official police and one Prefect. We made initial contact with him at the beginning of the war. He seemed receptive to the idea of supplying the Resistance with information, but we never placed an agent there."
"Is there a French police or German presence in Cachet?"
"There is now. It's not good. An advance Gestapo team, posing as French police was accidentally killed in a roadblock set out by men from the village. The Prefect is asking for the Resistance to discreetly enter the area in case they need help."
"Well, Resistance, what do you say? By now, this town is at the mercy of the Gestapo, if they haven't already killed everyone."
A voluminous discussion broke out amongst the members, and Jacob listened thoughtfully to the proposals of each group. They offered precise information and attention to detail for a variety of options. But what attracted him most was the opportunity to go up against the Gestapo in the town of Cachet.
"It's quite possible you'll need someone who speaks fluent German in Cachet. I'm the only one who qualifies."
Antoinette plucked at his sleeve. "You know what they'll do to you if they find a Jew masquerading as Gestapo. You don't look very Jewish, except for your dark hair and eyes. Thank goodness your nose is small."
"Oui, thank goodness." Jacob hid a smile. "There aren't many dark-haired officers in the Gestapo, but there are a few. Do we have a uniform available for my masquerade?"
They glanced around their small group with questioning eyes, but it was the sisters Buisson who came to the rescue.
They blinked at each other several times before giving tiny, twittering laughs. With a voice like a musical whisper, one sister offered their booty. "We don't know if it's what you're looking for, but we have a uniform that we umm…forgot to return to a German soldier."
Jacob didn't see how anything the old dears had procured could possibly be of assistance, but he humored them anyway. "Yes, Mademoiselle Bouisson? And how could you forget to return an officer's uniform to him?"
"When they made it this far during the war of occupation, an officer entered our antiques store with an eye to remove everything of value. We offered him tea." She tittered for several seconds in obvious merriment, so her sister had to take over.
"We did offer him tea, but we didn't intend that he should d
rink it. We poured it all over him. As it was extremely hot, he was obliged to remove his clothing. The least we could do was offer to wash it for him. He accepted, but the next day the entire unit moved out, leaving the uniform here."
Jacob laughed loudly with the others. He could picture the little old ladies and their faultless routine of bungling senility. No one would ever imagine they had minds like a steel trap.
"I would like very much to see this uniform, Mademoiselles Bouisson."
The younger of the two dabbed at her eyes with a lavender handkerchief. "My, my, of course, Jacques. Come with me."
Jacob disappeared for a moment then came back wearing a young officer's uniform.
"Well? What do you think?"
The group members stared at him until one of the Bouissons spoke. "You don't eat much, do you?"
His emaciated form didn't quite fill out the clothes, but he thought it would do.
Antoinette shook her head. "It needs altering."
"We can take up the shirt…the pants, too."
The sisters waited expectantly.
"Just what I need. I can hide the long legs inside the black boots. Let's get our plans ironed out to the last detail. I have no intention of becoming fodder for the Gestapo."
Because they had to wait for a parachute drop from London, almost a month passed before their plans could be put into action. It was disappointing, but they hadn't a chance of success without the additional supplies. It also became much more difficult to communicate with London. The clandestine Gestapo trucks had increased their snooping into the Unoccupied Zone.
Day after day, Jacob waited for the BBC announcement that would tell them the date and time of the drop. Because they expected to knock down the walls of the chateau, their mission had been named "Jericho."
Late in October, they received a message. Throughout the day, the radio broadcast from the BBC indicated a go, but they wouldn't know for sure until the 9:30 evening broadcast.
All Things New Page 7