‘Thank you. Drive on.’ They proceeded slowly over the cobbles. The village, and the harbour, looked somnolent in the July heat, although there were some naval personnel to be seen. ‘But no ships,’ Rachel complained.
‘What do you think those are?’ James inquired.
The tide was out, and the tiny harbour was virtually dry. There were several dinghies pulled up on the slip, and in the pool half a dozen fishing boats, either heeled on their sides or standing on legs. Two were fairly large, and even had a cabin. ‘They don’t look very seaworthy to me,’ Rachel observed.
The car stopped outside a building flying the White Ensign, and their door was opened by a member of the shore patrol. ‘Major Barron? The commander is expecting you.’ He opened the door for them, casting an appreciative glance at Rachel’s khaki-stocking-clad legs as she got out.
The house was a typical fisherman’s cottage except for the brass nameplates on the doors of what presumably had once been parlours and sitting rooms. The SP opened the door on the left. ‘Major Barron, and, ah …’
‘Sergeant Cartwright,’ James explained.
‘Major,’ said the man inside, wearing naval uniform with the appropriate three bars. He was not very tall, but heavily built with a protruding jaw. ‘And you, Sergeant.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Rachel followed James into the room, stood to attention.
‘At ease, Sergeant. And have a seat. And you, please, Major. Commander Lewis.’ James shook hands and sat down. Lewis returned behind his desk. ‘Welcome to Operation Windrush. I’m told your people need a month notice.’
‘I’m assuming they will have a fair distance to travel.’
Lewis nodded. ‘It’s still a security risk, revealing our plans so far in advance.’
‘These people are absolutely reliable. In any event, only their commanders have the use of our code. The rest will follow where they are led.’
Another nod. ‘Very good. We have had a couple of dummy runs, and they have been successful. That is, we have got right up to the French coast, and even put men ashore, and then taken them off again without a shot being fired. Obviously, when we go in in earnest, things won’t be quite so easy, but the exercise will be of great importance, not only in pricking the enemy, but in learning about what we might expect when we do the big one. However, as I am sure you will appreciate, operations such as this require spot-on timing, on every side. You must get this across to your people.’
‘I appreciate that. Have you got a schedule yet?’
‘It is still being worked out. You understand that it depends on the moon and the tides. At present we are thinking of the 7th of August. That gives your people five weeks to be in position. The night will be moonless, the tides at neaps. But you will understand that the date is subject to weather. If the wind is above force six we will have to postpone. Will your people be comfortable with that?’
‘They’ll have to be. But of course every day they have to be concealed in the neighbourhood is dangerous for them.’
‘I realize that, and we will do our damndest to keep to our schedule.’
‘I will need the place of entry so that they can start moving right away.’
‘St Valery-en-Caux. It’s where the Highland Division had to surrender last year, so it seems an appropriate place to return with violence. Your people should be in position no closer than five miles by midnight on the 6th. We will go in at zero four hundred, so their attack should begin at zero three thirty.’ He indicated the map on his desk. ‘Their target is this power station just outside the town. Knocking it out will be of great value in itself. Assuming we get ashore, we will rendezvous, but this is strictly a raid. We must be in, do as much damage as we can, and be out in an hour. Your people must do the same.’
‘To be chased right across France.’
‘I was informed that they will all be volunteers and that they can disappear into the population.’
‘Most of them. And they will all be volunteers, certainly. May I ask, what craft will we be using?’
‘You saw them in the harbour.’
‘Those?’ Rachel asked. ‘Sir?’
‘I know they don’t look like much, Sergeant. But while they may look decrepit from the outside, they’re very well equipped inside. Did I hear you use the word “we”, Major?’
‘I’ll be coming with you.’
‘Ah. I would have to get clearance. And I should warn you that this will be a high-risk operation. If Jerry gets one of those bits of wood in his sights, it’s curtains. They only have two-inch planking.’
‘You are asking my people in France to risk their lives. I intend to be there when they do it. I can join them on land, but that would mean taking something like a month off my other duties, and I’m not sure I’d get clearance for that. This way I shall be away for one night, right?’
‘Or forever,’ Rachel muttered.
‘As you say, Sergeant Cartwright,’ Lewis agreed. ‘But you’ll have your berth, if you really wish it, Major. Now, you’ll stay to lunch, of course.’
*
‘You are stark raving mad,’ Rachel declared when they regained the office. She had clearly been simmering all afternoon, but had managed to keep quiet while they were being entertained by the navy, or in the presence of the driver on the way home. ‘Do you really want to get killed?’
‘I don’t think any of Liane’s lot want to get killed either,’ he pointed out. ‘Or any of these Commandos. It’s a job of work.’
‘But it’s not your job of work. Your job is to be here, pulling strings. Not dangling out there at the end of one of them.’
‘I’m going as an observer. It is necessary, if I am to carry out my job efficiently, that I should know the conditions in which my people are operating.’ He took her in his arms. ‘It will only be for one night.’ She allowed herself to be kissed and then carried into the bedroom and laid on her back to be undressed. ‘I’ve always wanted to strip a woman in uniform,’ he said.
‘And I always knew you were kinky. As well as barmy. But then, I suppose that goes for all men. Oh, James,’ she sighed, ‘if you get your head blown off, I don’t know what I’d do.’
He caressed her breasts and slid his hand down to her pubes. ‘I think I am more likely to be drowned. And you would go to some other intelligence officer who would treat you much better than I do.’
‘I like the way you treat me best. Oh, James, James, James!’ She subsided, and lay still for some moments, panting, while he rolled off her and lay on his back as well. ‘I suppose the real reason you want to go is that you’ll be seeing Liane.’
‘Liane is in Paris.’ He got up. ‘Back to work. We have to encode a message for Moulin.’
*
Jean Moulin stood between Pierre and Henri to watch the men coming through the trees. ‘Monterre?’ he asked.
‘And friends,’ Pierre said.
‘We knew they were coming,’ Henri reminded him.
Moulin nodded. ‘But do we really wish them?’
‘There are twenty of them,’ Pierre pointed out. ‘That just about doubles our strength.’
‘It also doubles the number of people we have to feed and arm. And they will cause trouble. They always do.’
Pierre grinned. ‘You are prejudiced.’
‘Perhaps I am. I spent a great deal of time in Chartres combating the activities of these people.’
‘Well,’ Henri said, ‘I don’t see how we are going to get rid of them. So we may as well use them.’
‘As you say.’ Moulin went forward, his two aides to either side. Amalie watched from the entrance to the cave. ‘Welcome home, Monterre. I see you have been recruiting.’
‘These men are all volunteers, Monsieur Moulin. They wish to fight the Boches.’
Moulin surveyed the new recruits. They were mainly young, and they looked fit and tough. There could be no doubt that they would make good fighting men.
Pierre was thinking the same thing. ‘I think Jame
s would approve,’ he muttered. ‘Especially in view of what we have coming up.’
‘Yes. They will have to accept my discipline, Monterre.’
‘Of course, Monsieur Moulin. They have been commanded to do so.’
‘By Marshal Stalin?’
‘Of course, Monsieur Moulin.’
‘And will they continue to fight with us, and obey my orders, when Marshal Stalin and his government have been defeated and destroyed by the Nazis?’
‘Of course, Monsieur Moulin. But that is not going to happen, is it?’
‘That is a matter of opinion. Well, billet your people. I will speak with them later. Their training will commence tomorrow.’
They watched the men as Monterre spoke with them. ‘Do you think we should inform James?’ Pierre asked.
‘I do not think that is necessary,’ Moulin said. ‘Recruitment is our business. All he wants is to have sufficient men on the ground when he needs them.’
*
Amalie was in charge of the camp radio and the code book. When she was finished taking down the Morse message she decoded it and took the sheet to Moulin and her brother in their makeshift office at the mouth of the cave. The prefect stroked his chin. ‘Berkeley Square. That completes the message. St Valery. That is a considerable distance.’
‘And in five weeks,’ Pierre said. ‘But that is sufficient time, if we move in ones and twos.’
‘You also have to get back,’ Moulin pointed out.
‘We’ll make it. Some of us, at any rate.’
‘I will come,’ Amalie said.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Your place is here.’
‘Because I am a woman? Or because I am your sister?’
‘Because you are our radio operator.’
‘But you will require Henri to go.’
‘I will take only volunteers. But Henri will wish to volunteer. Where is he, anyway?’
‘He went into town with Etienne. He should be back by now.’ She went outside, looked down the hillside, and saw her husband coming up, accompanied by several men, all talking excitedly, and … a woman? Amalie squinted at the black hair floating in the breeze. The woman wore a dress, which even at a distance Amalie could see was torn in several places. She had no shoes, and limped; indeed her whole movements were indicative of pain. As she approached, Amalie could see a steel band on each wrist. ‘Henri?’ she called. ‘Who is that?’
He came closer. ‘A British agent.’
‘A what?’ Pierre hurried out of the cave, followed more slowly by Moulin. ‘An agent? That is impossible.’ He stared at Christine. ‘What is your name?’
‘Monica Round.’ Her voice was low.
‘And you say you were sent by the British? We were not informed of this.’
‘I was not sent to you. Please … I am in such pain. May I sit down?’
‘You are wounded?’ Moulin was solicitous.
Christine shook her head. ‘I have been walking barefoot for two days. And I have been beaten. I spent four days in the hands of the Gestapo.’ She held up her wrists. ‘Do you think someone could take these off?’
‘And you escaped? That is impossible,’ Pierre repeated.
‘Let her sit down,’ Moulin said. ‘Etienne, fetch a file. Amalie, some wine.’
Amalie poured a cup of wine and gave it to Christine, who gulped it. ‘Tell us what happened.’
‘I was put ashore on the beach, from a British submarine. My instructions were to make contact with certain people in the Bordeaux area, but I had only been ashore for just over a day when I was arrested by the Gestapo. I think I was betrayed, but I do not know by whom. I think it must have been someone in England.’
Moulin and Pierre exchanged glances, while Amalie poured some more wine. This time Christine sipped. Etienne knelt beside her and started sawing away at the handcuffs. ‘Go on,’ Moulin invited.
‘I was taken to Gestapo headquarters in Bordeaux, and questioned. It was terrible. I fainted several times, but they revived me by throwing water on me.’
‘What did they do to you?’ Moulin asked.
‘They stripped me naked and placed me on an iron frame, spread-eagled and tied at wrist and ankle, and then they flogged me. The room was crowded with men. Even the commander of the Bordeaux district came to watch. They laughed at me and abused me in between strokes of the whip. I screamed, and as I said, I fainted more than once.’ She raised her head and looked around their faces. ‘But I did not tell them anything. I swear it.’
The first cuff parted, and she rubbed where it had been. Etienne began work on the second. ‘What happened after your interrogation?’ Moulin asked.
‘When they realized they were not going to get anything out of me, they decided to send me to Paris. There were four of us, three Gestapo agents and I, in a command car. For some reason they took a circuitous route out of Bordeaux, but a few kilometres north of the city the car skidded. There had been rain and the surface was slippery. Anyway, it went right off the road and rolled over. I was thrown clear, and so were two of the Germans, but they were unconscious. Maybe they were dead. I do not know. Anyway, I crawled away. But I knew I could no longer continue with my mission, so I went to the border. I got across at night. I found a rock and managed to break the chain for the cuffs, but I was starving, and when I came to a farm I asked the farmer to help me. He said he could not, but he knew people who might. So he hid me, and then he brought this man to me.’ She gazed at Henri, and again rubbed her wrists as Etienne removed the second cuff.
‘That is true,’ Henri said. ‘I was in the village with Etienne, and this man told us there was a woman concealed in his barn. So we went with him, and when she told us she was a British agent, we brought her here.’
‘Just like that,’ Pierre said. ‘You revealed our location to a complete stranger.’
‘But if she is a British agent …’
‘Do you have any proof that she is telling the truth?’
‘Well, what about the handcuffs?’
‘That is proof?’
‘Do you have any identification, mademoiselle?’ Moulin asked.
‘The Germans took all of my papers when they searched me. That search …’
Amalie squeezed her hand. ‘I have been searched by the Gestapo. It was the most horrifying experience of my life.’
‘Then you understand. It was terrible.’
‘If you are working for the British,’ Henri said, speaking English, ‘then presumably you speak English.’
‘Of course I do,’ Christine said, in English, and smiled. ‘I am English.’
Henri looked at Pierre. ‘That proves nothing,’ Pierre said. ‘You speak English, Henri, and you have never even been there.’
‘Her accent is very good.’
‘So no doubt she has studied at a university there. It is all too pat.’
‘What are we to do with her?’ Moulin asked.
‘We have absolutely no proof that anything she tells us is true,’ Pierre said.
‘Would you like to see the marks on my body?’ Christine asked, angrily.
‘There are marks on your body?’
‘Where I was whipped. I am scarred for life.’
‘Do you expect us to believe that?’
‘I will show you.’
‘No,’ Moulin said. ‘You cannot undress before these men. Go with Amalie and let her inspect you.’ Amalie was still holding her hand.
‘Are they going to kill me?’ Christine asked as she followed Amalie into a recess of the cave.
‘Not if you are telling the truth. I am sorry my brother is so suspicious. But you understand that if the Germans were to find out exactly where we are they could wipe us out.’
‘Even in Vichy?’
‘I should think they would obtain permission easily enough. Did you know that they have forced the government to start rounding up Jews?’
‘I did not know that. But that man who came to my help —’
‘My husband. Yes, h
e is a Jew. But they cannot reach him while he is with us. Here we will be private.’
The light was very dim. Christine took off her dress, and then what remained of her petticoat. She wore no knickers. ‘The Germans took them away from me,’ she explained.
‘I know,’ Amalie said. ‘They did that to me too.’
‘You were captured by the Gestapo?’
‘Yes.’ Amalie peered at Christine’s back. Although she reckoned they were several days old, the weals were still very visible, one or two quite deep and showing signs of festering. ‘These are terrible. But I have some medication to put on them. You are a very brave woman.’
‘Did the Germans flog you as well?’
‘No.’
‘You escaped them?’
‘No. I was rescued.’
‘That must have been very exciting. Please tell me about it.’
‘Some other time. It is a long story.’
‘They called you Amalie.’
‘It is a common name. I will go and fetch something for your back. And a pair of my knickers.’
She rejoined the men. ‘Well?’ Pierre asked.
‘Her back is torn to ribbons.’
‘Then I shall apologize.’
‘We will have to find something to do with her,’ Henri said.
‘We must first of all find out what her mission was,’ Moulin said.
‘Why is she skulking back there?’ Pierre asked. ‘Tell her to come here and we will see if we can help her complete her mission.’
‘She is staying back there because she has no clothes on. I will put some salve on her back; then she will dress and rejoin us.’ Amalie drew a bowl of water from the vat outside the cave, collected the first aid box, and returned to where Christine sat on the floor of the cave. ‘My brother sends his apologies for distrusting you. Now he wants to help you to complete your mission.’
‘I told him, I told you all, my mission cannot be successful now, with the Gestapo hunting for me.’
‘Nonetheless, we may be able to help you. Lie on your stomach.’ Christine obeyed, and Amalie knelt beside her. She first of all cleaned the open wounds as best she could. ‘This will hurt,’ she warned.
‘If it makes me well again, it will be worth it.’
The Game of Treachery Page 8