The Game of Treachery

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘And they got Joanna instead. What happened to her?’

  ‘I don’t know. As I told you, it was dark, and they were interested only in her, so I slipped away.’

  ‘And they did not follow you?’

  ‘They shouted, and one of them fired his gun. But there were only four of them, and all they really wanted to do was make sure your friend did not escape. I suppose they felt they could get who I was from her.’

  Amalie shivered. ‘Can you imagine Joanna in the hands of the Gestapo?’

  ‘I imagine she would tell them where they got off. But we must find out what has happened to her, and I must get in to see Mama and Papa. First thing, we must call James, put him in the picture, and find out what he wants done.’

  ‘Who is this James?’ Christine asked.

  ‘Our control. Pound One is his code name. What is yours?’

  ‘Ah … I am not ever supposed to divulge that.’

  Liane regarded her for some moments, then shrugged. ‘You are right. I was careless. But what are your plans?’

  ‘Well,’ Christine said, ‘Amalie tells me that there is sometimes a plane bringing in munitions. I would like to have it take me back to England.’

  ‘It would have to be arranged in advance.’

  ‘I know this. I wanted Amalie to call out for me, but she said she had to maintain radio silence until the men came home.’

  Liane rumpled her baby sister’s hair. ‘She is very disciplined. But things have changed. We’ll call London now.’

  ‘Nothing has changed,’ Moulin objected. ‘Our instructions were to maintain absolute radio silence until the raid on St Valery was completed and our people returned here. This has not yet happened. You will remember that James was very insistent upon us obeying his orders to the letter.’

  ‘The raid was more than a fortnight ago. And I am sorry to tell you that London believes James is dead.’

  Moulin and Amalie stared at her, ashen-faced.

  ‘I know,’ Liane said. ‘I am as devastated as you. It seems he took part in the raid and has not been heard of since. Now we must move on. Our men must be nearly back by now. We must find out the reason for my recall. I know the Gestapo were on my trail in Paris. But I do not think they would have found me. In any event, as London apparently knew the situation, they told me to get out. But Pound Two specifically told me to return here. There has to be a reason for that, and it may be urgent.’

  Moulin stroked his chin. ‘Perhaps you are right. Very good. Call them, Amalie.’

  They all went to the radio, waited while she turned it on. ‘It is dead. Shit!’

  ‘You have allowed the batteries to run down,’ Christine suggested.

  ‘Well, put in the spares,’ Liane said.

  ‘I have them here.’ Amalie opened the box, and stared at the empty space. ‘But … there were twelve of them.’

  ‘You are sure you haven’t used them all?’ Moulin asked.

  ‘Yes, I am sure. I have not needed to replace any. They were all here a fortnight ago. You remember, Monica. I showed them to you.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Christine said. ‘But then …’ She looked from face to face. ‘What can have happened to them?’

  ‘They have been stolen,’ Liane said.

  ‘Who would have done such a thing?’ Moulin asked. Liane turned to Etienne. ‘Two of those men out there are strange to me. Who are they?’

  ‘Monterre’s people. He brought in twenty recruits, oh, just over a month ago. Eighteen of them went off with Pierre to St Valery.’

  ‘Monterre’s people. You mean they are Communists. Who take their orders from Moscow.’

  ‘I suppose they do. But we’re all on the same side now.’ He grinned. ‘Marshal Stalin says so.’

  Liane looked at Moulin. ‘There is no one else.’

  ‘What can we do?’

  ‘We are not in a position to do anything at the moment. Except shoot them both.’

  ‘We cannot do that. We do not know they are guilty.’

  ‘And to do that would destroy the group,’ Etienne said. ‘When Monterre returns —’

  ‘Yes,’ Liane said, ‘when Monterre returns, hopefully he will have Pierre and Henri with him. Then we will be in a position to sort this out. And Henri will have the small radio. So whatever the reason for preventing us from calling out will be useless.’

  ‘But what can the reason be?’ Christine asked. ‘Surely these people have as much wish to defeat the Nazis as us?’

  ‘That we will find out when our men come back. Until then, we act entirely normal. And wait.’

  *

  ‘Good morning, sir.’ Major Lockridge stood to attention. ‘I mean, Pound. Sir.’

  ‘At ease, Major.’ The brigadier entered the office, nodded to Rachel, and then turned his attention to Joanna. ‘Causing pandemonium again, I see.’

  ‘Doing my job, sir.’

  ‘I see.’ As Lockridge was still standing beside the desk, the brigadier sat behind it. ‘Well, your information was unfortunately correct. Even more unfortunately, we received it too late. Where did you get it?’

  ‘From a German agent.’

  ‘One of these people you now claim to be working with?’

  ‘They claim that, sir. Was there anything of value in the letter I delivered?’

  ‘It was a blank sheet of paper.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘MI5 say not to panic. They estimate your new employers are testing you out. You are prepared to carry on?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘Understanding the dangers? This German agent who informed you that they were on to both the St Valery raid and the route, did he not know you were working for SIS?’

  ‘No, sir. She thought I was a journalist. As I am.’

  ‘She?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And where is she now?’

  ‘I imagine she has returned to Berlin.’

  ‘Hm. Now what about Pound Twelve?’

  ‘I managed to contact her, sir,’ Rachel said. ‘And instructed her to leave Paris and return to base as rapidly as possible.’

  ‘Why did you wish her to return to base?’

  ‘Because I understood that something had gone wrong there, and we have always considered Pound Twelve as the ultimate commander.’

  ‘I thought Pound Eleven was the commander of the group?’

  ‘He is in nominal command, sir, certainly. But …’

  ‘I know. James has more confidence in Pound Twelve. All right, Sergeant. You instructed Pound Twelve to go home. This was a fortnight ago. Presumably she is there by now. Has she called?’

  ‘Well, sir …’ Rachel looked at Joanna. ‘We don’t know that she has. She could have been picked up.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Gestapo claim to have her in custody,’ Joanna explained.

  ‘Do you believe them?’

  ‘I was allowed to speak with her on the telephone.’

  ‘Then that’s it. She will have compromised the entire route, and the group.’

  ‘That is not certain, sir.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Jonsson. There is no woman in the world, not even Liane de Gruchy, not even you, that could survive a Gestapo torture chamber without telling them everything they wish to know.’

  ‘I am sure you’re right, sir. But we don’t know for certain that Pound Twelve is in German hands.’

  ‘Jonsson, I cannot abide confused women. You just said she was.’

  ‘I said I was allowed — actually, I was invited — to speak with her. But …’ She told him of the trap she had laid into which the woman at the other end of the line had fallen. ‘Of course, she could have already been tortured into a state where she didn’t know what she was saying, but …’

  ‘Well, there is a simple way to find out. If she hasn’t been captured by the Gestapo, she will have obeyed orders and returned to the Massif Central. Call her up.’

  ‘This is what we wanted to do three days a
go, sir.’ Both women glanced at Lockridge, who had been looking increasingly agitated at being excluded from the conversation.

  ‘I was following the instructions left by my predecessor, sir, that absolute radio silence was to be maintained until the completion of Windrush.’

  ‘But that’s damn near three weeks ago. Sergeant, get JJX on the line. I wish to speak to Pound Eleven personally.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Rachel seated herself before the radio.

  ‘Don’t you mean Pound Twelve, sir?’ Joanna ventured. ‘No, I do not mean Pound Twelve. If I had meant Pound Twelve I would have said Pound Twelve. We are required to pull Pound Eleven out.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘It’s this fellow de Gaulle again. He’s fighting a running battle with our people to control what we are doing in France. Well, we won’t let him get his hands on any of our own people, of course, but when it comes to French nationals it is a tricky situation. Now he wants all what he calls his local commanders brought to London for a conference. Just like that, as if they could go to the nearest airport and catch a commercial flight. Unfortunately, the PM seems to feel that he needs to be humoured, where possible. And one of the people he specifically wishes to see is the erstwhile prefect of Chartres, so we have to inform Moulin of this and make arrangements to pick him up. For God’s sake, Sergeant, what are you doing?’

  ‘There’s no reply, sir.’

  ‘Damnation! What does that mean?’

  ‘That they’ve been wiped out,’ Lockridge suggested, and gulped as everyone looked at him as if he were a stain on the carpet.

  ‘Can that have happened?’ the brigadier asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Joanna said. ‘I believe a raid on the group headquarters was being planned, but I understood it was not to be until at least the middle of the month.’

  ‘It could just be a functional failure of their radio,’ Rachel pointed out.

  ‘But how do we know? How do we find out?’

  ‘Someone will have to go in,’ Rachel said.

  ‘You mean that fellow Brune?’

  ‘That would be difficult, sir. If they don’t know he’s coming, the guerillas will not light the landing strip. There is no way he can land in the dark, or fly over occupied France in daylight. It will have to be a drop.’

  ‘Blind?’

  ‘Well, sir, most of our agents are dropped blind.’

  ‘But if Jerry has got control of the group headquarters it would be a suicide mission.’

  ‘I don’t think Jerry, if he has succeeded in eliminating the group, will still be there, sir. That is Vichy territory, and any seek-and-destroy mission would have to be in and out as rapidly as possible. I would be happy to volunteer, sir. I have done parachute training.’

  ‘Have you? Hm.’

  ‘But if you did that,’ Lockridge objected, ‘even if the group is intact, if they have no radio you will be unable to contact us to arrange a pick-up.’

  ‘I will take a radio with me, sir.’ Rachel might have been addressing a small boy.

  ‘Yes,’ the brigadier said, ‘that does seem to be the best option. I don’t like sending you out on a job like this, Sergeant, but …’

  ‘With respect, sir,’ Joanna said, ‘I will make the drop.’

  ‘You?’ Rachel demanded. ‘Have you ever jumped?’

  ‘I did parachute training at Ashley Hall. The point is that I know these people. I know the de Gruchys and I know Monsieur Moulin. And they know me. They wouldn’t have a clue who you are.’

  ‘That’s a good point,’ the brigadier said. Rachel glared at him. ‘But what about this MI5 thing? They’ll want you to take this fellow Burton’s reply back to Germany.’

  ‘I will be back in forty-eight hours, sir.’

  ‘Hm. Yes, I suppose you will be. Very good, Jonsson. I’ll set it up.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Joanna said, and smiled at the furious Rachel.

  *

  ‘Henri! Oh, Henri!’ Amalie ran through the trees to greet her husband.

  Liane and Christine followed more slowly. They had become friends over the past couple of days. Liane was conditioned to being suspicious of all strangers, and thus her initial reaction to encountering the Englishwoman had been hostile. But she had not been able to fault her, certainly in her knowledge of England, and of English manners and mores. She had not, of course, been to a top girls school like the de Gruchys, and admitted to having been born and brought up in Surrey, which explained her totally unaccented English. In addition, the part she was playing in the encampment, her willingness to undertake the most menial of tasks, and her fervent anti-Nazism contributed to her acceptance, while that she knew weapons and their use could not be doubted. As for her refusal to divulge any aspect of her control or her activities, that was entirely reasonable; she had no reason to trust the guerillas more than she needed to.

  Only her claim that she had been sent to contact Albert de Gruchy, and that he had been a British agent before the war, jarred. But even here, as she had thought from the moment of their first meeting, Liane had to admit that she had not known her parents as well as she should have.

  Yet she was very happy to have the men back again, and not only to sort out the business of the stolen batteries. There was also the fact that she had to get in to Paulliac, less to see her mother and father — although she certainly wished to do that — than to confirm the financial arrangements she had instituted before the next audit.

  The question was how was it to be done. She was not sure she could manage it on her own, and she had gained a strong impression that Monica regarded her mission as a failure and wanted only to get back to England; it was even possible that her nerves had gone, which was not unlikely if she had been tortured by the Gestapo. Thus the return of Pierre became ever more important.

  But these were only some of the men. ‘Henri!’ she embraced him, and then looked past him at the six scarecrows who were with him. ‘Monterre! Where is Pierre? And the others?’

  ‘We do not know. Monica!’ He hugged Christine.

  ‘You know her?’ Liane was surprised.

  ‘I brought her in.’

  ‘I hadn’t realized that. But when you say you don’t know where Pierre is …’

  ‘There has been a catastrophe.’

  ‘Pierre is dead?’ Her voice was high.

  ‘I don’t know. He was alive when last I saw him. But he would stay. And he was in a mood of despair …’

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Up at the camp,’ Henri said.

  Amalie and Christine prepared food and served wine to the exhausted men, and while they ate Henri and Monterre told them what had happened. ‘Oh, my God, God, God!’ Christine moaned. ‘Who could have done such a thing?’

  ‘Who indeed,’ Moulin agreed. ‘It can only have been a Nazi agent in England.’

  ‘Or an English traitor,’ Monterre said savagely.

  ‘But to betray so many men,’ Christine said.

  ‘I do not think the traitor was in England,’ Liane said. They all looked at her. ‘You say the raid took place on the night of the 7th/8th of August,’ she said. ‘At six o’clock that morning I was called from London by Pound Two, who told me I had been betrayed and to get out of Paris and return here because there was a crisis here. The point I am making is that the only people in the world, outside of this camp, who knew both that there was going to be a raid and that I was going to Paris is Pound Control. I refuse to believe that James would betray his own people, and certainly that he would betray me, much less sign his own death warrant: he was on the St Valery raid.’

  ‘James? James is dead?’ Amalie was horrified.

  ‘Pound thinks so.’

  ‘But what about Pound Two?’ Henri asked. ‘You say she called you. Do you know her as well as you knew James?’

  ‘I have never met her, but I know that James had the highest confidence in her. But again, my point is, why should she betray our plans and then call me to warn me? That doe
sn’t make sense.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Henri asked.

  ‘That the traitor is, or was, right here.’ She looked at Monterre.

  ‘You are accusing me?’

  ‘How well do you know your people?’

  ‘Well enough to trust them absolutely.’

  ‘Do you know that someone has stolen all the spare batteries for our radio? We have been waiting for you to come back, Henri, so that we can call out and find out what is going on.’

  ‘My radio is out,’ Henri said. ‘We were escaping a German patrol and I fell down a culvert. It was smashed.’

  ‘Shit!’ Christine said. ‘What a fuck-up.’

  ‘It is a serious situation,’ Moulin agreed. ‘But let us concentrate on discovering this traitor. It has to be someone who knew our plans, and who was able to leave the camp and get in touch with the Germans.’ He also looked at Monterre.

  ‘We travelled in groups of four,’ Monterre said angrily. ‘Always in sight of one another. Are you accusing four of my people? Why don’t you accuse Pierre, or Jules? Or both? They stayed behind when we withdrew. They said it was to see if they could help any British survivors. But it could have been to join their German friends.’

  Before anyone could move, Liane had opened her shoulder bag, drawn her pistol, and presented it to Monterre’s head. ‘Retract that statement or die,’ she said.

  ‘I retract, I retract,’ Monterre gabbled. ‘I was just exploring every possibility.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Christine said. ‘That woman!’

  ‘What woman?’ Henri asked.

  ‘The woman Joanna?’ Christine looked at Amalie. ‘Joanna? You can’t be serious.’

  ‘She was captured by the Germans …’

  Liane had lowered the pistol. Now she looked at it, as if considering using it again. ‘You are accusing Joanna of betraying us?’

  ‘I am not saying she betrayed us. But she knew about both the raid and what you were doing in Paris.’

  ‘How?’

  Christine looked at Amalie. ‘I told her,’Amalie said miserably. ‘I mean, Joanna … I couldn’t believe …’

  ‘Neither can I,’ Liane said grimly.

  ‘I know she is your friend,’ Christine said. ‘But she was captured by the Gestapo, and she was in possession of the knowledge that was betrayed. Who knows what they did to her.’