Germany. Perhaps even a camp. Back into the pit.
‘Herr Freymann, I will let you know the minute I myself hear the decision. In the meantime we must proceed with the preparation for the new project. Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘I will do my best, Herr Freymann. I will try to persuade them to let you stay …’
‘Yes, thank you.’ He was sincere, Geissler, but there would be nothing he could do. David stood up and, nodding briefly, walked out. The escort was waiting. David led the way down to the entrance and into the van. They began the short drive back to Goulvent, Pescart et Cie.
The van deposited him at the door. He went up to his office and finished his day’s work. New component specifications, details of new testing equipment: work that could easily be done by someone less qualified. He would begin the business of handing over in the morning.
That night he slept badly for the first time in months. He dreamed he was back on a bare wooden bunk, crushed between two dying men. The Prominente came and made them get up and go to the quarry. It was still the middle of the night. The Prominente thought it was very funny, to make them get up in the night. Then they started beating people. David woke up.
For a while he couldn’t get back to sleep and then, when he was tired again, there was pain in his stomach. In the end he hardly slept at all.
The next morning he went to the office early and began working out how best to delegate his work load. Feverishly, he started making lists of jobs and responsibilities, grouping them under different names and departments.
There was a knock at the door. David glanced at the clock on the desk. It was still only seven. ‘Come in.’
It was Gallois. He took a seat. ‘Good morning.’
David said, ‘I’m glad you called in. I need to discuss this with you. It’s a list of jobs that will need to be taken over by you and others when I go.’
Gallois said, ‘You’re going?’
‘In all probability. Now, when this is typed, perhaps—’
‘Where will they send you?’
David put down his pencil and said shortly, ‘I don’t know. Probably back to where I came from.’
‘But you have done well … Surely they are pleased?’
David rubbed his eyes. He felt dreadfully tired. With effort he replied, ‘Ah, but you don’t understand the way they work. There are no rules, you see. You do badly, they send you back to a camp. You do well – the same thing happens. There are no rules.’
Gallois hesitated. ‘You’ll work on electronics, though. You’ll have a skilled job?’
David shrugged. ‘Perhaps. It’s not really important.’
‘Surely you want to work?’
‘What I want isn’t relevant. Anyway, I don’t care. Not any more.’
Later there was a meeting about the new project. The atmosphere in the room was claustrophobic, hot and smoky. David felt enormously irritated with everyone. They were so slow to grasp the basics and he had to explain the simplest things to them. He couldn’t believe how stupid they were. Someone – a junior technician – asked yet another idiotic question. David closed his eyes for a moment to stop himself from shouting, then he said between clenched teeth, ‘Can’t you understand anything? Why do you have to be so stupid? Are you trying to make things difficult? Really! It’s impossible to deal with you people …’
They were all staring at him and he realised he had been shouting after all.
A second later his stomach ulcer ruptured. The pain hit him like a sledgehammer. It was incredibly sharp, like a fire burning inside. As soon as it started he knew it was different from anything he’d felt before. He also knew that in a few more seconds it would be so bad that he would have to scream. But then the room started to blur and he felt very cold and everything began to slip away. He was grateful. It was nice to slip away.
Peace and beauty always. A hundred years at least. Whenever the fire came back they pressed the black thing on his face and he was floating again …
He wanted to sleep for ever. The sleep was gentle, like clouds, floating … Flowers, there were flowers. Then whiteness again, soft and gentle … He wanted to sleep for ever.
They wouldn’t let him. The Prominente were beating him, slapping his face. Someone was shouting at him. He moaned and tried to close his eyes again. But the voice was shouting again. It was a woman. She was speaking in French. ‘Come on! Wake up now! Come on!’
He felt the pain again and moaned, ‘No. No!’
Then they let him sleep again. He had won.
Someone slapped his face again. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? The pain was more persistent now. It wouldn’t let him sleep. He murmured, ‘The pain. Please, can I have something?’
A woman’s voice said, ‘Not yet. When you’re awake.’
He woke up only because the pain wouldn’t let him sleep. Then at last they gave him something. It didn’t help much. He discovered that nothing helped very much. The days blended into one another, he slept only when he was exhausted with the pain.
Then he woke up one day and realised that for once he had slept well. The pain was much less. He sat up and let them feed him with watery milk. He felt better. His only regret was having to face the world again.
Another day he woke up and found Gallois sitting beside the bed. The Frenchman smiled and said, ‘How are you?’
David said what was expected of him. ‘I’m all right.’
They exchanged more platitudes, then David was tired and the Frenchman left. As David fell asleep something nagged at his memory. He should have said something to the Frenchman, something important, but he couldn’t remember what …
The next day he remembered and groaned because it was too late and the Frenchman was no longer there.
But it wasn’t too late. Gallois returned. When he came into the room David stared at him in disbelief and, reaching out, grasped the Frenchman’s hands.
Gallois smiled and asked again, ‘How are you?’
David said, ‘Never mind. Please listen. I have something to ask you. Something important.’ He pulled himself up in the bed. ‘Monsieur Gallois, when we had our conversation some weeks ago, you said you could not help me. That’s as may be. But I’m sure you know of a way to get a small package to England. The information I told you about, it’s all in a small package. I wanted to go with it, before. But since it’s impossible now, then the information must go on its own.’
Gallois started to speak but David held up his hand. ‘No, please don’t bother with denials and so on. Whether or not you personally can find a way of getting this to its destination is irrelevant. Just come back, please, and tell me that you can get it to the right people! Please!’ He leant back against the pillows, exhausted.
Gallois said firmly, ‘I’ll find out.’
David patted his hands; he felt sure that the Frenchman would find a way. He fell asleep happy.
Kapitanleutnant Geissler came to see him next. ‘Well, are they taking care of you here? I am proud to say that we managed to bend the rules and get you put in here. It’s rather a good hospital. I trust you like it here?’
‘Oh yes. It’s very good. Very good.’
Geissler looked awkward. David guessed he did not like sickness. Eventually he said, ‘What I thought you might like to know is that you are to stay with us here in Brest. It’s all been decided. Of course, that’s as long as you manage to regain your fitness … You will, won’t you, Herr Freymann?’
David nodded, dumbfounded.
‘Good! Well, we look forward to seeing you back at your desk as soon as convenient then. In the meantime, I wish you good health!’
David stared at the door for a long time after Geissler had gone. He was to stay … after all. He frowned; he had been so sure, so certain that they would send him away. It was most confusing. Another reprieve. Life was nothing but a series of reprieves. He didn’t know what was worse: living in hope of life or in certainty of death.
He did
n’t feel glad, he didn’t feel angry. If anything he felt a little annoyed. It was the constant chopping and changing that got him down …
The next day a nurse came in, a nurse he hadn’t seen before. As she made a show of tucking in the bed clothes she started whispering to him. At first David didn’t understand what she was saying. Then, suddenly, he realised. The nurse was saying, ‘I have a message for you. Your friends will deliver both packages. They repeat: Both packages.’
He clasped his hands together and let the understanding slowly dawn on him. His prayers had been answered. He was to be allowed his small act of sabotage after all.
Chapter 21
THE BOOKSHOP WINDOWS looked blank and cold. Julie lowered her eyes and kept walking until she reached the shop door. She went straight in. A bell jangled loudly.
The proprietor was sitting behind the counter. He peered at her over his spectacles.
Julie said, ‘I’d like a copy of La Grande Chance, please.’
‘Is that by Maurik?’
‘No, Lefarge.’
The shopkeeper looked quickly around. ‘Follow me, I’ll see if I have it in the back.’ He led the way through some heavy curtains into the darkness of the store room behind. For a moment Julie couldn’t see anything, then she realised there was a figure standing before her. A voice said, ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘That’s all right.’
The figure came closer and Julie made out the features. It was the new man, Maurice. He had come from England with a wireless operator called Jacques.
Maurice led her towards the back of the storeroom. There was more light here. Maurice said, ‘The same as before, if you don’t mind. There are two of them.’ His voice was quiet, calm and authoritative. It was like his face: trustworthy. The moment he’d started reorganising the line Julie had known he’d be all right. He’d discarded many of the helpers and reduced their numbers to a small tight group. Most important, he was very very careful.
He indicated a door which led to a small box room. ‘The first’s waiting in here.’ He smiled. ‘All right?’
‘Oh yes!’ It was easy now, not like the first time.
Julie walked in, sat down and faced the young man who sat at the small table. He certainly looked American, with his round face and his extraordinary haircut.
She smiled briefly. ‘Where do you come from?’
‘I’m from Milwaukee, ma’am.’
Julie regarded the airman as if she knew precisely where Milwaukee was. ‘And which State is that in?’
‘Wisconsin, ma’am.’
Julie tried to remember where Wisconsin was. Somewhere on the Great Lakes, she thought. Mid-West, anyway. She said, ‘That’s near New York, isn’t it?’
The airman laughed drily. ‘Goodness me, no, ma’am! Don’t let nobody from Wisconsin hear you say that! Chicago – that’s the nearest big city. New York! Why that’s a thousand miles away.’ He laughed again.
This one was genuine, no doubt about that. But best to make sure. ‘You should be back in four weeks or so. Are you looking forward to that?’
The young man grinned. ‘You bet. Haven’t seen my family for over a year now.’
‘Yes, let me see, it’s late November now. You should be back in time for Thanksgiving then, shouldn’t you?’
The airman frowned. ‘Why, no, ma’am. We’ve just had Thanksgiving. Just four days ago!’ He shook his head. ‘No, no way I’ll get Thanksgiving with my family till next year, ma’am.’
Julie smiled. ‘No, of course not.’ She stood up. ‘You wait here. They’ll come and collect you in a moment.’
The airman nodded and sank back in his seat. Julie went back into the storeroom. Maurice came forward. She nodded and said, ‘That one’s all right, I’m certain.’
Maurice looked pleased. ‘Good.’ He said over his shoulder, ‘Get that one back into the cellar, Henri, and bring up the other one. Don’t let them talk to each other.’
Julie leant against a bookshelf to wait. This was the third time they’d asked her to come to the bookshop. The first time had been difficult: she hadn’t known what to ask and she’d found herself going through two generations of the Americans’ family histories before she struck on the idea of asking questions about Thanksgiving. Now she could do an interview in as little as five minutes.
Stool-pigeons. Mouchards. She was pretty sure she hadn’t let any through yet. God forbid.
She watched Maurice as he leant back against a bookshelf and lit a cigarette. He was about forty, stocky, and she was pretty sure he was a Belgian – but one didn’t ask. After the fiasco of the previous winter no-one asked anything any more.
He ran the line with a firm hand. No unnecessary contact, no unnecessary knowledge. That’s why everyone trusted him.
Maurice came up to her. ‘The other one’s in there now. He’s the one we’re concerned about. He turned up near Rennes, saying he’d walked all the way from the north somewhere. That’s a hell of a long walk without any help … Also he looks very nervous. We checked him out with London, of course. Everything all right there, but …!’ He shrugged.
Julie nodded and went back into the box room.
The airman jumped when she came into the room: he was nervous all right. Julie took a good look at him. He was blond, blue-eyed and pale-skinned. He looked miserable. Julie began with the usual questions: name, rank, serial number, aircraft, squadron, where stationed. These facts had already been checked, but she asked the questions again so that she could watch him and listen to his voice.
There was a strange inflection in his voice: not quite an accent, more a hint of one.
She asked, ‘Where are you from?’
‘Omaha.’
‘Have your family always lived there?’
‘No.’
He was not very forthcoming. Julie tried again. ‘Where did they come from originally?’
‘Europe.’
‘Where exactly?’
There was a silence. The boy narrowed his lips. Julie thought: Oh dear, this one’s going to be difficult. On a hunch she asked, ‘Was it from Germany?’
The young man was looking upset. ‘Back to that again! You’re going to be like the rest.’
‘What do you mean?’ Julie asked softly.
‘They—’ He was unable to speak and shook his head. Finally he said, ‘They – hate me! They call me a Hun! And now I suppose you’re going to accuse me of being a German spy!’
‘Your family were German?’
He nodded slowly. ‘But I’m an American! I’m as American as any of them! I suppose they’ve been telling you different?’
‘No. No, they haven’t. Really. But your name – Smith?’
‘My family’s name was Schmidt. They went to America a long, long time ago! We changed our name – oh, fifteen years ago.’
‘That must have been about the time you went to school.’ He didn’t look much more than twenty.
He nodded.
‘Where did you go to school?’
She took him through everything she could think of. School, summer camps, baseball, football, the movies he had seen, the girls he had known – not many, she guessed correctly – even the house his family lived in. She had no idea if his answers were right. She only knew that his eyes were honest and he never stopped to search for an answer and, when he spoke of home, his face lit up.
She asked him about his journey from Northern France. He had walked, he said, because he felt safer that way. He thought the local people might not be friendly so he’d avoided them and stolen food as he went along. He described the places he’d been to, how he’d narrowly escaped a patrol and had to hide in a tree. It all sounded plausible, Julie decided. She couldn’t imagine anyone making up such a long and involved story.
Finally she said, ‘Well, if everything goes smoothly you should be home soon – in about a month. That’ll get you home at the end of December, won’t it?’
He smiled and it transformed his face. ‘Yes! Wil
l it really be that soon?’
That makes a change, Julie thought. Most of them complained because they weren’t being airlifted back in the morning. She said, ‘If all goes well.’ Then she smiled. ‘But you might just miss Thanksgiving, I’m afraid.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t care – just so long as I can see my folks.’
Julie thought: Blast, he hasn’t risen to it. I’ll have to keep going.
Suddenly the young man said, ‘Hey! But we’ve just had Thanksgiving!’
‘Of course!’ Julie laughed. ‘How silly of me.’
When she came out Maurice and the others were standing among the dusty book shelves, waiting for her expectantly. She said, ‘I think he’s genuine. But I can’t guarantee it.’ She hated giving them a woolly answer, but there was one awful possibility she could not rule out: his background might be everything he said it was, but he might have chosen to move back to Germany just before the war. He might be a superb liar. She said, ‘He certainly lived in America as a child but whether or not he chose to stay there I cannot say. His family were German.’
Maurice touched her shoulder. ‘Good enough. He stays with the others, then. But we keep an eye on him.’ He turned to Julie. ‘Thank you for your help. It’s just what we need.’
Julie flushed with pleasure. ‘I’m just sorry I couldn’t be more certain—’
‘No, no! Better to have doubts than pretend to be sure. Thank you again. We’ve kept you long enough. You should go now. Take care.’
Julie put her hand on his arm. ‘One thing – you will call on me, won’t you, for beach duty, when the boat comes?’
Maurice looked at her thoughtfully. ‘If you wish. It would certainly be useful to have you there. But – it means more risk, you know that?’
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