CHAPTER VIII
DR. MENDEL
SOME hours later we reached Laon and I left the train and walked out of the station without any further difficulty.
I had arrived at last, but as I stood outside the station watching a long column of German transport moving past there was no rejoicing or satisfaction in my heart for I knew that the real difficulties were only starting now.
Somewhere in this city or at the nearby aerodrome of Laon Athies was the man we had come to kill—that was, unless he had already left for Germany in which case we had failed at the outset. I smiled grimly; the only hope of success that I could see lay in the damned impudence of our project and its seeming impossibility. Occasionally—just occasionally—enterprises of this nature do come off by very reason of their sheer impudence.
It is fortunate that we cannot read the future. Had I realised all that was to happen before we left this place I believe I would have given up there and then. I don't think I would have had the guts to go through with it.
I walked up the hill from the station into the old town and after one or two discreet enquiries came at length to Avenue Neuilly, which was a small road of residential houses leading from a quiet tree-lined square.
I reached Number 23 and walked past the house in order to have a good look. It wore a deserted air and the windows at the front were closed and shuttered. I wondered if the doctor had left the town before the Germans arrived. My position would be distinctly awkward then; no hiding place and no rendezvous with Carnac.
I walked back towards the house again and looked round carefully. There was nobody in sight, and I slipped quickly into the doorway and knocked vigorously.
For a minute there was no response and I thought the house was empty, but then footsteps approached the door, there was the rattle of a bolt being slid back and the door opened.
I saw in front of me a man perhaps fifty years old, tall and sparely built, with a pale face, grey hair and a straggling grey moustache. His eyes were evidently very short-sighted for he wore a pair of thick glasses which seemed to flash and reflect the light whenever he moved. At first you would have said he was rather a nondescript specimen with his round shoulders and untidy moustache until you examined his mouth and jaw which were hard, determined and in striking contrast to the rest of his somewhat fragile appearance. His dark suit was well cut and his linen was immaculate, particularly so by French provincial standards.
He peered at me closely through his glasses and said, “Yes? What do you want?”
“Dr. Mendel?” I asked.
He nodded. “I am Dr. Mendel. Do you wish to see me?”
“If you please.”
He opened the door and motioned me inside. The interior of the house was simply and tastefully furnished, and the soft pile of the blue Aubusson carpet beneath my feet seemed a veritable luxury after the hard pavements of the town. On a small table at the foot of the stairs stood a very beautiful alabaster bowl filled with flowers. The doctor must have had a good practice, I thought.
Mendel shut the door and turned to me.
“What can I do for you?” he said. “I should tell you that since the occupation of Laon by the Germans I have been confined to my house by order of the Town Kommendantur because of my Jewish blood, and I think perhaps it would be best for you to see another doctor if you need attention.”
“I have a pain in my back,” I said slowly. He gave no sign of recognising the signal, but glanced me up and down, stroking his moustache reflectively and then asked suddenly, “How long have you felt this pain?”
“Since May 18th,” I said promptly.
“I see, I see,” he said. “And what is your name?”
“Pierre de Buissy.”
The doctor looked at me again. “It is perhaps a coincidence,” he said, “but a soldier came to see me today with the same trouble as yourself.”
My heart leapt. Carnac must have arrived too. I could have shouted with relief and excitement.
“Was his name Prouvy?” I asked eagerly.
Mendel smiled for the first time since we met. “I think he is a friend of yours?” he said. “Come and see him. He was worried about you.”
He led the way upstairs, opened a door and I walked in. Sitting at a table having a meal was Carnac. He bounded up, seized my hand and shook it warmly.
“Hallo, mon ami!” he cried. “So you have arrived at last! I was getting rather worried about you. I thought the Boche had caught you when I saw those searchlights. You must have had a difficult time.”
“It wasn't very easy,” I said. “It’s a long story anyway. And you—how did you get on?”
“Oh, no trouble at all. I hid my parachute and lay in a ditch till dawn and then started to walk to Amiens. On the road I was stopped once by a Boche patrol, but I soon satisfied them I was a poor starving poilu and they let me past. It was really very easy.”
He laughed and shrugged his shoulders and then continued, “I arrived here this morning and came straight to see M. Mendel hoping that you would have arrived also, but you never came and all day I have been getting more worried. At any rate, we are together now which is a good thing.”
“And what do we do next?”
“We must find a safe place to hide. I don't think we are very safe in this house as M. Mendel is already under observation by the Boche.” He turned to the doctor. “Perhaps it would be better if we left you, monsieur, and tried to find somewhere else to hide.”
Mendel thought for a moment. “No,” he said at length, “I think you may be safe for the moment because they haven't searched the house or shown in any way that they suspect me. If they should come then you must hide in the place I showed you this morning, behind the water tank in the roof.” He paused and then went on, “Will your business here take you long, M. Prouvy?”
“That depends,” said Carnac slowly. “We don't know our plans yet. They may take a long time or they may be carried out very quickly. We shall see. At any rate, Monsieur, if you think it is safe here we shall be very grateful for your help.”
“Please remain,” said Mendel, “I think you will be safe for the present.”
I noticed the way in which Carnac had evaded the doctor's question and gathered that he was not prepared to reveal our plans. I followed his lead obediently. We had agreed before leaving London that I was in charge during the flight from England, but that once on French soil he would take charge of operations. This is the only sensible way of working when quick decisions are necessary and there is no chance to discuss the problems; somebody must give orders and obviously in France his knowledge and qualifications far exceed mine.
Carnac turned to me.
“You must be very hungry, Pierre,” he said. “We must get you something to eat.”
Mendel jumped up full of apologies. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “Please sit down and I'll get you a meal. It is very rude of me not to think of that—I am afraid that my mind has been a little vague recently with all this trouble. My servants have left but I can offer you an omelette and a bottle of Beaune.”
“That sounds marvellous,” I said. “I haven't eaten anything since breakfast.”
Mendel left the room and I heard his footsteps descending the stairs on the way to the kitchen.
Carnac waited till he had gone and then turned to me and said in a low, urgent voice, “Now we can talk. You notice that I didn't tell the doctor our reason for coming to Laon and I haven't even told him our real names because he is already being watched and I think they may arrest him soon. If they believe that he knows anything useful they'll beat him till he reveals it. I know their methods and they aren't pleasant. However loyal the doctor is he might break down under torture and then the Boche will be on his guard. Also, the doctor is too optimistic about this house being safe for us. We are in great danger here.”
“I quite agree, but can we find anywhere safer?”
“We must try,” said Carnac. He looked at his watch. “It’s after seven o'clock now. We
shall have to stay here tonight and take the risk because the Boche has imposed a curfew at ten o'clock and we mustn't be in the streets then.”
“Very well,” I replied. “And now, what about this man Passy? How are we going to start looking for him? I feel that any day he may be sent off to Germany.”
“It is difficult,” said Carnac thoughtfully. “We have just one clue as a starting point—the remark of that Luftwaffe N.C.O. you shot down that he remembered seeing Passy one evening in the café des Deux Frères with some officers. Perhaps if he's still in Laon he may go there again. I think our only course is to watch that place.”
There was a long silence. I stared at the table and tried to puzzle out some way of finding this man but the more I thought about it, the stiffer it seemed. It was rather like the old problem of looking for a needle in a haystack, except that in this case there was a large man in German uniform patrolling ceaselessly round the haystack ready to shoot at sight, and we had to find the needle in the next few minutes or admit defeat.
Matters would have been so much easier had there been ample time at our disposal, but as it was we were up against an inexorable time factor. Already a precious week had elapsed since the crew of the Heinkel had seen Passy at the aerodrome and we had not even commenced the search yet. He might have left already or he might be going in the next day or so. Time, time, time—that was what we were up against.
“I can't see any other way,” I said at length. “Obviously we can't get into the aerodrome at Laon Athies and in any case I doubt very much if we'd find him there. Probably he is living somewhere in the town and all we can do is to watch the cafés or anywhere else he's likely to visit. I suppose we'd better go along and have a look at the Deux Frères.”
“Good,” said Carnac. “We’ll go as soon as you've had your meal. And now, suppose you tell me how you managed to get here. You must have had a difficult time.”
“Too true,” I replied with feeling. I started the story of my adventures but before I finished we heard Mendel's footsteps along the passage outside and Carnac seized my wrist. When the doctor entered the room with a tray of food, Carnac was giving me a graphic description of the great tank battle at Rethel during the German advance.
Pursuit of Passy Page 20