by Susan Lewis
She turned her bicycle onto the cart track, keeping to the ridges made by a tractor. The others followed, and in single file they pedalled between the bushes until Claudine spotted the final landmark on the brow of the hill. She jumped off her bicycle and wheeled it over the grass, making the ascent to the barn with ease.
When they were all inside she said, ‘We’ll start taking the logs and bracken into the middle of the field. Armand, can you go and see if there’s any sign of the others? I presume they’ll be coming from the road over there, just beyond the copse.’
It wasn’t the first time Armand had been part of a reception committee, but he didn’t mind taking orders from Claudine. ‘Is it all right if I smoke a cigarette?’ he said.
‘Do you normally?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then carry on.’
Yves and Thomas were already filling their arms with firewood, and Claudine took off her bicycle basket and began to stuff it full of leaves. François’ thick leather gloves were hampering her, so despite the bitter cold she tugged them off and pushed them into the pocket of her black sheepskin jacket. She was wearing two pairs of knitted stockings beneath her jodphurs and fleece-lined boots, and the black woollen hat Armand had given her was pulled snugly down over her ears, covering her hair.
Just as they were leaving the barn to make their first trip across the field, Armand came back. ‘The others are arriving,’ he said quietly. ‘Lucien’s with them.’
And at that moment Lucien appeared from under the trees. He ran quickly towards them with three others in his wake; he greeted Claudine with a kiss, then they set about helping to build the bonfires.
By the time they heard the distant rumble of a truck, all the hard work had been accomplished and Claudine’s hands and face were tingling with the cold. ‘At last,’ Lucien muttered. ‘What kept him?’
‘But we don’t know if it is Jacques,’ Armand warned, and at once they all took cover, behind the bonfires or in the long grass at the edge of the copse.
It seemed an eternity before, with a crashing of gears, the truck finally came round the bend, and Claudine could feel the damp seeping through her clothes. ‘It’s him,’ Lucien said, as soon as it came into view, ‘tell him to leave it there in the lay-by.’ And not bothering to wait, he ran back to the bonfires.
As the truck came to a halt Claudine dashed over to it, told Jacques where to park, then took him and the four other men to the barn, where the bicycles they would need later were waiting. She recognized them all, but knew only their codes names.
‘Antoinette,’ one of them whispered, ‘this bicycle has a puncture.’
‘Oh no!’ Claudine groaned. ‘What are we going to do? Well, never mind, one of you will have to go back in the truck with Lucien and Jacques.’
Outside, the wind was picking up, clouds had scudded across the moon. Claudine was freezing, but there was so much adrenalin pumping through her veins that she hardly noticed.
It was just as they finished dousing the bonfires with fuel that Armand heard the drone of an aircraft. Everyone stopped to listen. At first Claudine heard nothing, then after a while she too heard the distant hum.
‘Quick!’ Lucien said, pulling matches from his pocket. ‘Get them alight!’
Within minutes the bonfires were ablaze, roaring like thunder and shooting sparks far into the sky. The whole party withdrew to the shelter of the trees to watch. Surely no one could fail to see the bonfires, Claudine thought fearfully; not the pilot, and not the Germans either.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lucien whispered, seeing her taut face in the firelight. ‘It’s always like this.’
At that moment Yves, unable to contain his excitement, yelled, ‘Look! There it is! The plane!’
And as they all turned their faces to the sky, the nose, then the wings, then the tail of a Whitley bomber emerged from a cloud to glide magnificently across the face of the moon. Claudine’s heart flooded with emotion. To think that something like this could happen as a result of a peculiar system of dots and dashes and cryptic wireless messages was so amazing as to be miraculous.
‘Here they come,’ Armand murmered – and tiny, barely distinguishable black shapes began to fall into the sky. A few minutes later the first parachute ballooned, then another and another.
‘C’est magnifique!’ Thomas exclaimed.
‘Shut up!’ Lucien hissed suddenly. ‘Listen!’ Then they all heard it, Jacques’ voice screaming, ‘Les Boches! Les Boches!’
‘Quick!’ Lucien yelled. ‘Run! Everyone run!’
He dashed towards the truck, but as Claudine made to follow, Armand caught her. ‘This way!’ he shouted. ‘Keep away from the road!’
Black figures were darting in every direction as the Résistants tried to escape. Before Claudine had time to argue, Armand was dragging her across the field, past the bonfires towards the open countyside. They were running into the wind and the ground was full of pot-holes, but every time she stumbled Armand pulled her up and forced her on. The cold night air burned in her lungs, and she thought of the agents, even now parachuting down from the sky, helpless and abandoned.
Suddenly it was as though the whole world had been lit up. Armand hesitated and both threw a quick glance over their shoulders, only to be dazzled by the headlights pursuing them.
‘Merde!’ Armand growled. Then, spotting a clump of bushes a few feet away, he pushed Claudine towards them.
She dived in, tearing her hands and face on the brambles. Armand gave her another quick shove, and she was through. He followed, hauled her to the ground and half-covered her with his body. They were in a ditch, thick with mud and rainwater. Claudine’s hat had vanished and her hair was trapped beneath Armand’s arm. The pain of it was excruciating, but she didn’t dare make a sound. The left side of her face was submerged in the icy water, all she could do was twist her neck just enough to be able to breathe, and hold herself there. She could feel Armand’s heart pounding against her shoulder, and tried to concentrate on counting the beats, but the pain was agonizing. Through the bushes she could see the bobbing headlights of the German jeep coming towards them. The roar of the engine grew to a peak and she could hear someone shouting above the din, telling them to come out.
‘Don’t move,’ Armand muttered.
With her eyes almost bursting from her head, Claudine watched the lights come straight at the bushes. This was it, they’d been caught, and God only knew what lay in store now …
‘I don’t believe it,’ she heard Armand gasp. ‘They’ve gone right past us.’
She lifted her head, and at last Armand shifted his weight onto his other arm, freeing her hair.
‘Look, they’re going … They think we’ve gone into the village,’ he said.
But the words were hardly out of his mouth before they saw that the jeep was turning round. It was heading back towards them.
‘Got your gun?’ Armand said, grabbing his own from his jacket. ‘Then use it!’
But before she could even get her hand to her pocket, the jeep suddenly sped towards them, veered off at the last minute and came to a halt. Then the world was plunged into darkness as the headlights were turned off. There was a deathly silence. Then, as Armand cocked the trigger of his gun, there was a deafening explosion that seemed to echo on for ever.
It was several seconds before either of them pulled their faces out of the water, then Claudine tried to get up.
‘What are you doing, for God’s sake?’ Armand hissed, snatching her back.
‘Armand, we don’t stand a chance. That was a machine-gun.’
‘We are waiting!’ a voice sang into the night.
‘We can’t give ourselves up, Claudine,’ Armand moaned, and she suddenly realized that he was shaking all over. But before she could speak there was another volley of machine-gun fire. The bullets splattered into the swamp behind them.
‘If we don’t go now, they’ll kill us with that thing,’ Claudine hissed.
‘I’d rather
that than be tortured,’ Armand responded, his voice twisted with fear.
‘Pull yourself together!’ she spat. ’You shouldn’t … Oh my God!’
Armand followed the direction of her gaze. Poised on the edge of the ditch, no more that three feet away, was a pair of gleaming black jack-boots.
Claudine started to look up, but before she had raised her head more than an inch Armand was dragged from on top of her. She started to roll over, going instinctively for the gun, but someone caught her by the hair and heaved her to her feet. She was on the point of slamming her foot into his shins when she became aware of the gun digging into her back.
‘Let go of my hair!’ she hissed.
The grip tightened for an instant, then the German threw her forward onto her knees. She turned to look at him, but he pressed the gun hard against her temple. There was a dull thud, and turning back she saw Armand stagger forward, groaning in agony. His assailant stood over him, the butt of his rifle still brandished. His uniform and status Claudine recognized only too well, it was the same as François’, but his face was unknown to her.
‘On your feet!’ he barked at Armand. Then nodding to the officer standing behind Claudine, he said, ‘Check her for weapons, then bring her to the car.’
It was only then, as she glanced about her, that Claudine realized they were completely surrounded. Where so many Germans had come from she couldn’t imagine, but as they were jostled about in the jeep on their way back to the road, she could be in no doubt that the whole time they had been building the bonfires and waiting for the aircraft, they had been watched. And once the parachutes had started to come down, when it was too late to stop them, the Germans had struck. And the size and accuracy of their operation could only mean that someone had told them about the drop long before tonight.
They were driven to a lorry which was waiting out on the road beside the crucifix. Shivering and soaked to the skin, Claudine was shoved inside. She fell against the step as she got in, and a hand reached out of the darkness to help her. When she looked up, she saw to her dismay, that it belonged to Thomas.
‘Is Armand with you?’ he whispered.
‘Yes.’
‘Then no one’s got away.’
‘Not even Lucien?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘He’s here. He’s unconscious.’ And looking down beside Thomas, Claudine could just make out Lucien, lying pale and still on the floor.
A few minutes later the rear flap of the lorry was snapped into place, and they started to roll down the hill.
It was then that Claudine experienced the first stabbings of real terror. Immediately she thought of François. Which was she more afraid of, she wondered: what François would do to her when he found out, or what the Gestapo would do when they questioned her? A silly grin spread across her face. It was such a preposterous thought that it made her giggle, and the German officer sitting beside her threw her a nasty look. She tried to stifle it, but without success, and this time the officer told her to shut up. But by now the entire lorry was filled with the sound of her screaming, brittle laughter, and it was evident to everyone on board that she was on the edge of hysteria.
A sharp crack on her skull brought her reeling back to reality. As the blood trickled down her face she suddenly remembered what torture had done to François’ body, and dimly she wondered if she would be able to tolerate the pain that lay in store for her.
– 31 –
BY THE TIME dawn broke Céline had to admit to herself at last that something had gone terribly wrong. She had waited throughout the night for Claudine to return, but in vain, and when she cycled down to Liliane’s cottage an hour after daybreak, her worst fears were confirmed. Gustave was there, trying to comfort the old lady. He was able to tell Céline everything.
And now Céline had not only to break the news of Claudine’s and Lucien’s arrest to Solange, she had to get word somehow to François. But she didn’t know where he was staying, all she knew was that he was somewhere in Vichy. And even if she did manage to find him, what could he actually do? Claudine, Lucien, Armand – they had all been caught redhanded.
It was not until she was cycling back up the drive to the château that she suddenly thought of Beavis. Her heart gave a leap, and immediately she turned her bicycle round and started back to the village. Gustave would know how to get a message to London, and if she could somehow make contact with Beavis, then maybe – just maybe – he could find a way of getting to Lorvoire. Céline didn’t stop to think of the difficulties involved, nor of how Beavis would be putting his own life at risk if he did come; all she knew was that in order to rescue Claudine and the others François was going to need all the help he could get.
‘Ah, Max, there you are,’ von Liebermann said, as Helber walked into the General’s room at the Hôtel Louis XV in Vichy. ‘Did you make contact with Blomberg?’
‘Yes, General. My brother-in-law informs me that everything went according to plan. De Lorvoire’s wife and her Resistance group are all in custody.’
‘Good,’ von Liebermann said, eyeing his reflection critically in the mirror. Satisfied, he removed his cap, smoothed down his hair and turned back to his desk. ‘Did you manage to discover who was behind the killing in the forest?’
‘It was Halunke, as we suspected.’
‘Do we need to concern ourselves with it?’
‘I think not.’
Von Liebermann nodded, then looked down at the document lying on his desk. It was an order he had received from Herr Himmler, dated 9th April 1941. The instruction was brief and to the point: François de Lorvoire was to be shot.
It was now March 23rd 1942, almost a year later, and still von Liebermann had not carried out the order. Of course, Herr Himmler knew he hadn’t; when von Liebermann pleaded for execution to be delayed, Himmler had been pleased to indulge the General in his whim. Von Liebermann badly wanted to see the game with Halunke played out to the end. It amused him. It intrigued him. It also gave him a feeling of inordinate power to be in control of two men whose intellect, cunning and physical strength were superior even to his own.
However, things had not gone well for von Liebermann in Russia, and now Himmler had seen fit to withdraw his indulgence and had reinstigated the order of execution on de Lorvoire. It was to be carried out in any way von Liebermann desired – but it was to be carried out.
‘So,’ he sighed, turning his pale eyes back to Helber who had quietly taken a seat in front of his desk, ‘things have gone well for Halunke these past few days. He deserves it. Thanks to him, our colleagues in Touraine have not only closed down an escape-line but have made over forty arrests. And now they have made twelve more, including de Lorvoire’s vigneron, de Lorvoire’s brother and de Lorvoire’s wife.’ He chuckled. ‘Quite a coup. When will the shooting take place?’
‘Within the week.’
Von Liebermann grunted. Then shifting his bulk a little more comfortably in the chair, he said, ‘I am of the opinion that things are a little unevenly balanced. I think it is time we gave de Lorvoire his share of our help. We know, from the treasures stored beneath his château, that the orders we have given him during this visit to Vichy will be utterly abhorrent to him, but he has agreed to carry them out. I wonder if he will. I also wonder if he will find a way round them. He has a brilliant mind, most enviable, but most dangerous. But I would never have put him down for a Jew-lover. You must warn your brother-in-law to keep a very close eye on him. As Monsieur Laval said at our meeting yesterday, it is high time this nation was cleansed of the Jews, and we don’t want any of them escaping, do we?
‘Now, back to Halunke. You may inform him that he now has a free hand to do as he wishes. But at the same time I am going to give you, Max, the pleasure of revealing his identity to de Lorvoire. You may do it in any way you wish,’ he continued as Helber’s cheeks turned pink with pleasure, ‘but be on your guard at all times. I’m sure you won’t have forgotten what de Lorvoire has threatened to do to you … But yo
u must tell him soon. He leaves for Lorvoire in three days, tell him before he goes. Then take yourself off to the Hôtel Boule d’Or in Chinon. I will join you there as soon as I am able. I have no intention of missing the final confrontation.’
The throbbing in Claudine’s head had not let up since she’d arrived. Added to it now was the appalling ache in her limbs brought on by the fact that she still wore the same clothes she had been captured in. She was filthier than a street urchin. Her hair was caked with mud, her face and hands smeared with blood from the wound on her temple, and her left eye was badly bruised and swollen.
She had been incarcerated in this cell for two days now – though with its rough stone walls and stench of decay it was more like a dungeon. Through its single barred window, so high that she couldn’t reach it even by standing on the bed, she occasionally heard the sound of marching jack-boots.
She had spent most of the time lying on the iron bed, her arms clasped about her body in an effort to keep warm, trying to summon all her resources for the interrogation to come. During the night, howls of agony had reverberated through the cells. When she realized that they were Lucien’s, her terror, and her blinding hatred of Armand, had made her vomit again and again until there was nothing left in her body.
What an actor he was, she thought now. He had even gone as far as faking cowardice the night they were arrested, when he had orchestrated the arrest himself! He had revealed his true self only once, with that look of raw hatred, of pure savagery, that had come over his face that day in the forest. Then, she had known beyond doubt that he was Halunke; her hackles had risen like a cat’s in the presence of evil. But great actor that he was, he had never given himself away until that day. And perhaps his best performance of all had been at dawn this morning, when he cried out as if under an extremity of torture. Even so, his cries had not had the same chillingly authentic ring as Lucien’s. Lucien’s screams could even now, hours after they had ceased, send a shiver of terror down her spine.