V for Vengeance

by Dennis Wheatley

  When they had gone she stood for a few moments looking down at the broad, stocky figure which now occupied the bed upon which her dear Georges had lain in death only three nights before. There was nothing particularly handsome about the Russian’s face, but even in sleep it had a tremendous rugged strength and determination.

  As Madeleine stared at him she was suddenly conscious of a new thought. This man was Gregory’s trusted friend. Even from the very little which she had heard them say to each other, she had learned that the two of them were inveterate enemies of the Germans. Kuporovitch had told her himself that morning when they had had drinks together in the Rue Royale that he would stick at nothing to kill any Nazi.

  For the first time since Georges’ death Madeleine smiled naturally. In this helpless, unconscious figure that lay motionless as a corpse beneath the sheets she knew that at last she had found an ally. He was now as weak as an infant and the flame of life in him still burned very low, but she would nurse him back to health and strength to aid her in her vengeance. She was alone no more.

  3

  The Man Who Should Have Died

  She was with Kuporovitch again the following morning when he opened his eyes, but as she bent over him there was no trace of recognition in them. The first glimmerings of consciousness had only returned to the injured man for a short time on the previous afternoon, and it would be some days at least before he would be able to attempt to speak or lift a finger for himself. The main thing was that he should get as much sleep as possible and never be disturbed unnecessarily. French medicine places more importance upon rest than the passion for washing patients which is a great feature of English nursing; so Madeleine made no attempt now to lather her patient with soap and water, but, fetching some broth which she had already heated on the stove, she poured a few spoonfuls of it between his almost colourless lips, and he soon dropped off to sleep again. The only thing she could not manage was to move her heavy patient, when necessary, alone; but Pierre willingly agreed to come in and help her with this night and morning.

  Madame Lavallière’s reactions on being told about their unexpected guest had been extremely mixed. With a selfishness which was to some extent pardonable in a cripple she habitually regarded all problems as they affected herself. At first she rather resented the intrusion, as her financial resources were very limited and the future so uncertain. There was no guarantee that the French Government would now be able to continue paying the pensions of people like herself in German-occupied France, and if Madeleine was tied to the apartment for a considerable period nursing the Russian she would be unable to undertake any paid work which might offer outside. However, when Madeleine pointed out that she still had the six thousand francs which Gregory had left her for the Russian’s burial and that this money could now be used for his keep, Madame Lavallière began to take a better view of the matter and to consider the advantages which might accrue to herself from it. As long as the Russian was unable to care for himself Madeleine would be prevented from taking other work, which meant that she would have her daughter’s companionship. Then, once the Russian was convalescent she would also have his company, and that, in view of the loneliness she had suffered for many months, was a pleasant change to which to look forward.

  Kuporovitch had been brought to the apartment on the Monday evening, and the week that followed seemed to drag by, while all France waited in miserable suspense to hear the result of the armistice negotiations. On the Tuesday Hitler and Mussolini met at Munich to agree on the terms. On the Wednesday the French plenipotentiaries left Bordeaux. On the Friday the terms were presented to them at Compiègne. With his usual love of the dramatic and as a shrewd move to enable the German people fully to savour their revenge, Hitler had decreed that the French should accept the terms in the same railway coach in which Marshal Foch, Haig, Wemyss and the other Allied plenipotentiaries had sat on that grey morning of November the 11th, 1918. General Huntziger and the other Frenchmen appointed by Bordeaux took the seats which had been occupied by the defeated Germans; von Keitel then read the preamble to the terms.

  That occupied less than half an hour. When it was done Hitler abruptly got up and contemptuously left the carriage, followed by all the rest of his Staff, except General von Keitel. There were to be no concessions and no arguments. The French must swallow the terms whole, or the conqueror would occupy the rest of France. As he stalked from the clearing the German engineers were already defacing and destroying the French memorials to their honoured dead of the last war. That night the French plenipotentiaries telephoned the terms to Bordeaux. On the Saturday they were accepted.

  Much doubt still existed as to what attitude would be adopted by the overseas territories of the French Empire, and many rumours were rife. On the Sunday General Mittel-hauser, who was commanding in Syria, declared his intention of continuing hostilities. In Morocco, Senegal, the Cameroons and Jibuti various Generals stated that they meant to fight on with Britain.

  On the Tuesday combined forces of the British Navy, Army and Air Force made raids along the French Channel coast; on the Wednesday the British Government declared the blockade extended to France, and at the end of the week they officially recognised General de Gaulle as the leader of all Free Frenchmen. There no longer seemed any doubt that the British were fully behind Churchill and meant to fight to the last ditch; but on the 30th a portion of the armistice terms were disclosed by the announcement that the Germans had completed their occupation of the whole of the northern and western seaboard of France right down to the Spanish frontier. So ended for France the tragic month of June.

  Rumours of continued resistance in various parts of the French Empire were still rife, but it was apparent now that the prestige of Pétain, Weygand and Admiral Darlan was having its effect. They had taken the line that unity was all-important, as the only way in which the mother-country could be saved from being completely ravaged was by full compliance with the armistice terms; and these stipulated that the French Forces throughout the whole Empire should lay down their arms. Numerous appeals were made to this effect in broadcasts by the French leaders, and the German-controlled Paris radio lost no opportunity of hammering home the point.

  Madeleine’s only contacts in those days were Pierre, the doctor’s visits to Kuporovitch and her brief calls at the local shops. The few people with whom she talked all sympathised with the plight in which the British found themselves, but held the view that France must look after herself. Then on July the 4th there came the, to them, astounding news that the British Fleet had attacked the French Fleet at Oran, sinking or putting out of action a number of France’s largest warships and killing or wounding many hundreds of French sailors.

  An immediate revulsion of feeling against Britain set in. Even before that many people had sought to explain away the defeat of the French Armies by the failure of the British to break through from the north and rejoin the main French Forces on the Somme. To cover their own shortcomings the French politicians and military commentators had suggested in many newspaper articles that the British had virtually run away from the enemy and that their evacuation from Dunkirk had been much more hasty than it need have been. Now, with the news of the bombardment of their Fleet, which they regarded as an act of the most vile treachery, French opinion almost universally swung away from their ex-Ally. The German propagandists were able to make splendid new capital out of the affair for their old argument that the British had never cared a rap about France but used her only as a catspaw. Even Madeleine could not understand this apparently unprovoked attack, as the German radio was now jamming the B.B.C. broadcasts, so she was unable to hear the British explanation as to why they had been compelled to take such drastic action.

  On the 4th of July the Pétain Government broke off diplomatic relations with Britain, a move which had the full support of the now embittered Parisians; and their anti-British feeling was still further aggravated a few days later when the news came through that their latest battleship, the
Richelieu, the pride of the French Navy, had been torpedoed and put out of action at Dakar.

  It was now three weeks since Kuporovitch had been brought to the Lavallières’ apartment. At first he had lain almost comatose for days on end, but gradually a little strength had begun to flow back into him. He still had to lie full-length, but for the past week he had been able to talk a little and was fully conscious of all that was going on around him.

  It was not until July the 11th, the day upon which President Lebrun resigned, thus formally bringing an end to the Third Republic, and, having formed a new Government of twelve Ministers, Marshal Pétain assumed the powers of a Dictator, that the Russian had rallied enough strength to ask what had happened to him. Madeleine told him about his accident, then gave him a brief account of the events that had followed and of how France was now out of the war. He made no comment, as he still had some difficulty in talking clearly, but she could see from the expression in his quick eyes that he understood all she said.

  In the early stages he had experienced little pain, but as he began to recover he was afflicted with the most agonising headaches, and the only thing that seemed to bring him some relief was for Madeleine to sit on the edge of his bed and hold one of his hands in hers. She knew that in that way some people have the power of taking pain from others, but she experienced no suffering as a result of it herself and simply assumed that from the clasp of her hand he was able to draw a certain fortitude which enabled him the better to endure the dull, throbbing ache which so often tormented him.

  Pierre continued to come in and help her when she had to move him, and one day towards the end of July he came upon them unexpectedly, while she was sitting on the edge of the Russian’s bed, holding his hand.

  The young artist said nothing at the time, but afterwards, when he and Madeleine were together in the sitting-room, he suddenly burst out:

  ‘You—you haven’t fallen in love with this fellow, have you?’

  ‘Good gracious, no!’ she laughed. ‘Whatever makes you think I might have done that?’

  ‘Well, you were sitting on his bed just now, holding his hand!’

  ‘My dear Pierre, there’s nothing in that. He says that it helps him bear the pain when he has these appalling headaches, so I often do it.’

  ‘That’s not his reason. It’s because he’s in love with you!’ Pierre exclaimed truculently.

  ‘What nonsense! You’re imagining things!’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not! Anyone could tell that who saw you together. He never takes his eyes off your face whenever you’re in his room. If you take my tip you’ll watch your step now that he’s getting a bit stronger and stop this hand-holding, or the next thing that’ll happen is he’ll be trying to kiss you.’

  Madeleine had never even thought of Stefan Kuporovitch in that way before. Georges’ death was still much too near for her as yet to feel the least interested in any man; even Pierre’s tentative compliments and admiring glances during these weeks had passed her by almost unnoticed. But now that he made this definite allegation she suddenly became conscious that she had known it all along. Ever since Kuporovitch had been strong enough to take a renewed interest in life he had shown all the symptoms which she recognised from past patients who had fallen for her.

  She did not know if she were glad or sorry. If it were likely to complicate their relations it would be a bore, and she knew that he was in his late forties, so of an older generation. For her part, even if Georges had not been constantly in her thoughts still, there could be nothing between the Russian and herself. On the other hand, like any healthy girl, Madeleine liked admiration, and in these dark days when so many of her friends had disappeared it was comforting to think that she had a normally strong and capable man like Stefan upon whom to lean. Pierre, she knew, was eager enough to give her his affection, but she had never had much confidence in him as a support in times of stress, and she knew only too well that if the war continued many unpleasant situations might have to be faced in the grim weeks that lay ahead. However, she had no intention of disclosing her thoughts to Pierre; so she said:

  ‘Mon ami, you’re letting your imagination run away with you, and I’m in no need of advice. I’ve had plenty of experience in handling patients who would like to become amorous, but in this case I’m sure there will be no need for me to employ it. What is more, it is none of your business if I hold the poor fellow’s hand or not.’

  He shrugged. ‘Oh, well, don’t be offended. I wouldn’t even have mentioned the matter except that I’m so fond of you and don’t want to see you bothered. I am frightfully fond of you—you know that, Madeleine, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ She laughed lightly, laying a hand upon his arm. ‘You’ve been a splendid friend to me, and I’m sure that you know that I’m fond of you.’

  He caught her hand and an eager glance came into his dark eyes. ‘D’you really mean that, Madeleine?’

  She withdrew her hand quickly. ‘Certainly I do; but please, Pierre, don’t put any wrong construction on what I said. I’ve nothing to give to any man except friendship, now.’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t mind waiting. Later, perhaps, you’ll feel differently. Look here, now that Kuporovitch is better, what about coming out for a little dinner and to do a cinema this evening?’

  It was over six weeks since she had been out of the house at night, and she hesitated for a moment. ‘Ought we to, with the Germans here?’

  ‘Why not? They’re behaving quite decently; there have been awfully few cases of their interfering with anybody.’

  ‘I know, but I didn’t mean that. Somehow it doesn’t seem quite right to go to places of amusement during the occupation.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. There’s no point in cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face, and, after all, they may be here for months yet. It would be silly to coop ourselves up indefinitely.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Madeleine agreed after a moment. ‘All right then. I’d like to come. Will you come across for me about seven o’clock?’

  That evening he took her to Emil’s in the Rue Ventadour just off the Avenue de l’Opéra. It was not one of the famous places patronised in normal times by the wealthier visitors to Paris, but one of those really excellent French restaurants in which Paris abounds, having its own specialities and a good solid clientèle of middle-class French people, to whom good eating is almost a religion.

  The cooking now suffered somewhat from the shortage of butter and lack of cream, which was beginning to be generally felt in Paris; but as yet there was still no appreciable shortage of food or wine. Prices, however, had advanced considerably, and Madeleine was horribly shocked when she saw the size of Pierre’s bill, as she knew that he was not rich. With a little grimace she told him that she would not have had so many dishes if she had realised how expensive everything was.

  Smiling across at her, he replied that he did not mind a bit, because it was such a pleasure to take her out and see her enjoying herself again. Then he went on to explain why it was that prices had risen so steeply.

  The Army of Occupation was under the strictest discipline, and there had been no cases of looting at all. They paid for everything they wanted, but, in actual fact, the whole of Occupied France was being looted systematically and with diabolical cunning. The Germans had now pinned the franc to the mark at the rate of twenty francs to one mark, and all the French shopkeepers, hotel proprietors, etc., were compelled by law to accept the German soldiers’ marks in payment for goods or services. The pre-war rate had been about six francs to the mark, so the new valuation meant that the Germans were able to buy anything that they wanted at less than a third of its proper price, and, of course, in most instances this was far below what the unfortunate French traders had originally paid for their goods wholesale.

  To make matters worse, now that France was bearing the cost of the Army of Occupation, Hitler had decreed that his troops should receive a special occupation-bonus which had the e
ffect of more than tripling their pay. In consequence, all the German soldiers had money to burn and were forcing their worthless paper right, left and centre upon their wretched victims in exchange for goods, which they either consumed in gigantic quantities or sent off in huge parcels to their relatives in Germany. Never before had such an ingenious and devilish system been devised for despoiling and bankrupting the people of a conquered nation.

  In self-defence the French had been forced to raise their prices wherever possible, hence the size of Pierre’s bill. But the Germans were already getting wise to this, and new measures were being taken to institute price-control, so that this systematic beggaring of a nation with its own money, demanded on the excuse of maintaining an Army of Occupation, might go on unhindered.

  As Madeleine listened she positively seethed with rage. There were several parties of Germans in the restaurant. They were all drinking champagne and guzzling down a succession of rich dishes. Previously she had been careful to keep her glance averted from them, but now she stared with ill-concealed hatred at the nearest group of soldiers, and if looks could have killed the food they were eating would have choked them. Seeing her fury, Pierre hurried her out into the street; but she had not recovered her equanimity until they reached the Auber Palace in the Boulevard des Italiens, where they meant to see the latest René Clair.

  The film was a good one, but the show was spoilt for Madeleine and many others in the audience by the news-reels that followed, as these, of course, were now selected by order of the German censors. Marshal Goering, who had recently paid a visit to Paris, was shown entering the Hôtel Grillon, which had been taken over as the German Headquarters; and later laying a wreath on the grave of the Unknown Soldier at the Arc de Triomphe. As he had come to Paris largely for the purpose of initiating the new campaign for a rapprochement with the French, the fat Marshal was saluting and smiling most genially at everyone. The ceremony seemed to Madeleine a horrible piece of hypocrisy, although, like most people, she quite wrongly credited Goering with a greater respect than his fellow-gangsters for the brave soldiers of the last war. But the thing that made her squirm was another reel in which Laval and a number of other French politicians were shown openly fraternising with a number of German officers.