by S C Brown
All eyes were fixed on the man. The man, slumped as he was, looked first at the beer and then up at all the faces looking at him, full in equal measures of awe, wonder and revulsion. The man moved his eyes to François in a silent gesture of thanks. Slowly, the man lifted his hands onto the table but was only able to lift the beer a little way off the table – his arms too weak to lift it further. The man dipped his head to sip at the head of the beer, stinging his cracked lips. The drinkers in the bar breathed out and, feeling less guilty, took a sip of their own. Everyone had noticed the black and purple lumps where this man’s wrists should have been. The man’s puffy, broken face was quite immobile. The hand grasping the glass was missing a fingernail, with just a black, congealed clot of blood replacing it.
It was one of the village elders who recognised him first. ‘Michel?’
Michel looked back.
Mouths whispered his name, almost in disbelief. A woman began to cry. Michel shrugged his shoulders a little and took another golden sip. Henri walked to the telephone.
* * *
Berner was annoyed. He knew he was a man trying hard not to look pensive and, despite himself, looking pensive nevertheless. He watched Eve carefully encrypt the message he had given her. He kept an eye on his watch and both Eve and Berner knew that 8 o’clock – transmission time - was approaching. Eve took her time, enjoying the moment, keeping Berner on tenterhooks.
When she had finished, she took her time to read through the message once again, before offering an increasingly impatient Berner the coded message in its neat rows of letters grouped in fives. Berner checked one in ten letters on the pad and was satisfied. Berner said ‘OK’ and nodded to Josef and Ursula, who escorted Eve up the single story wooden staircase and out onto the roof of the Hotel Majestic, where her radio sat waiting. The sentry, stamping his feet against the cold, was only too pleased to take the hour off and not tell his boss about it.
Eve, hunched behind a low wall as protection against the wind. She lifted the lid of the suitcase, set the radio crystals for today. Berner called out ‘7.59’ and Eve started up her radio. When Berner said ‘8’, Eve tapped out:
I AM STILL WATCHING THE TARGET. LEARNING NOTHING OF TARGETS INTENTIONS LIKE THIS. PREPARING TO MAKE SOCIAL PERHAPS DIRECT CONTACT.
Immediately, London replied: ‘UNDERSTOOD’.
Berner pocketed his notebook, the impatience of earlier turning to triumph. ‘You have done well. Now it’s time you had some dinner. My treat. We have lots to discuss.’
‘You know, it’s only the aerial that needs to be inside. I could have sent that message from inside.’
‘I know, I just wanted to get you back for making me wait too long for you to encrypt the message. I will give you a copy of my birth certificate, Eve. It’s not dated yesterday, I assure you.’
They shared the joke in good humour and went downstairs.
* * *
Lieutenant Schmidt felt the cold rain drip off his helmet and onto his greatcoat. He turned his head towards the footsteps approaching along the railway gravel.
‘If you’re worried about getting shot, Lieutenant, then I suggest not standing in the middle of the railway line!’
Ignoring the opening comment, Schmidt replied: ‘Colonel Brunswick, I am shocked. I would never expect to receive such high-ranking visitors on days like this. I thought Colonels were allergic to rain?’ Schmidt turned to look back up the line at the groups of Pioneers, laying down over the railway sleepers, patiently sticking long thin spikes into the ground at regular intervals. He continued: ‘We are prodding for mines. It’s going to take ages and with this rain, Sir, I would be very surprised if I will be able to start work on repairs today. I am assuming that’s what you’re here to find out?’
‘I am certainly interested in progress, of course. You can’t blame me for that, this is an important railway line. So this is going to be another slow job?’
Schmidt could not hide his irritation, his head still thumping from last night’s drinking. ‘Implying that the last job was slow as well, I take it?’ Schmidt looked away and sniffed indignantly.
‘I didn’t mean that. Don’t be so sensitive.’ Brunswick said lightly, enjoying the Lieutenant’s irritation.
Ignoring Brunswick’s taunt, Schmidt continued: ‘You will just have to tell the MBF that he will have to wait for his precious railway to be opened up again and, while you are at it, please advise him to not blame me but instead blame the ingenious, pedantic bastards who blew the railway up in the first place.’ Feeling better, Schmidt dipped his head back into the warmth of his greatcoat collar.
Brunswick took a conciliatory tone. ‘I am on your side, Lieutenant, I am on your side. So I will return to Paris later today to smooth things over with the MBF staff. Now,’ said Brunswick smiling, ‘what could we do in Paris to help you?’
Brunswick could have guessed that the Lieutenant’s response to that question was not likely to be polite.
Schmidt, returning to a sullen silence, watched the Pioneers crawl forward inch by sodden inch towards the crater where Schmidt’s newly repaired railway track used to be. ‘A reserve crane. That would help. This new attack should justify you getting another crane from somewhere into this sector in case the railway is attacked again, as we discussed yesterday. It’s bound to happen. That would be helpful, Sir.’ Brunswick felt the spite in the Lieutenant’s last sentence.
‘Then prioritise the railway traffic and start to stack it in defended locations so that as soon as I get the line open, the most important trains can run first. Protect the rolling stock from the eyes and the guns of the Allied air forces, otherwise they would have a field day destroying everything you have. Also, the long distance stuff - materiel from Germany and the south - re-route it around us to take off the pressure. Just don’t put it all on the roads.’
‘Why not?’
‘Roads are easier to block and harder to fix.’
‘That makes sense. Should we picket this place when you are finished to prevent another attack?’
Schmidt thought for a second before answering. ‘No, they will just spot you and leave you here to guard this piece of track whilst they go and attack somewhere else. One thing is almost certain, Sir, and that is that they will attack the railway again on the night I fix this. I just can’t say exactly where.’
Brunswick turned to face the Engineer Lieutenant. Brunswick had already worked out for himself everything that Schmidt had told him but the confirmation of when the next attack might come was useful. ‘That’s what I thought, too. Look, if I asked you to, could you slow the repair work down a little, extend it out by two or three days?’
‘Seriously? Just how unpopular do you want to make me, Colonel?’
‘It’s just that you could buy me the time I need to … put something in place that may help catch the people destroying your beautiful railway again.’
‘Don’t overdo it, Colonel, it’s only a railway.’ Schmidt smiled sardonically. ‘To answer your question, yes of course I could stretch this job out a while without looking like I am. But you need to protect me from every general in Western Europe who wants this fixed soonest. You have no idea how much stick we get from everyone who wants something moved on this blessed railway. You might be a Colonel but I am only a Lieutenant and that makes me easy to pick on and shout at.’
‘I know better than most just how you feel, my friend.’
Schmidt could not help but look surprised at that.
‘OK, Lieutenant, it’s a deal. I will arrange things back in Rouen and in Paris. I will take care of everything, using the authority of the MBF to get my way. That usually works, well on the Army anyway. Meanwhile, you … stretch this whole thing out a little, take your time and use any semi-realistic excuse in the book to justify it.
‘I will get a message to you saying something like ‘have the railway repaired by Wednesday’. Whatever day I specify in the message, that’s the night I want the railway to be opened up again. I will
be ready for anyone who wants to attack your railway that night. Don’t tell your men, just in case.’
Schmidt looked curiously at Brunswick. ‘I know better than to ask someone like you what tricks you have up your sleeve. So I will simply await your message and comply, Sir. Just one thing: don’t even dream of asking me to finish this before Wednesday.’
‘Done.’ Brunswick looked at his watch. ‘I will head back to Rouen and get underway.’
‘Right you are, Sir,’ said Schmidt cheerfully as Brunswick turned to leave.
‘It’s for the rain, not the bullets.’ Schmidt said after a short pause, still watching the Pioneers at work.
‘What?’ said Brunswick, turning back towards the Lieutenant.
‘The helmet. It keeps the rain off on days like this. That’s why I am wearing it. Nothing to do with snipers.’
Brunswick raised his eyebrows, not sure how to react to that before turning back towards Rouen.
* * *
Two men limped towards each other. One was Lieutenant Colonel Smithens in black tie, the other was the MI6 Foreman of Signals, ‘Billy’ Earle in a crumpled shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Both looked tense.
‘You have news?’ enquired Smithens.
‘I have but you won’t like it.’ Billy’s strong Geordie accent carried foreboding.
‘Go on.’
‘Not here, Sir, in the office, please.’ Both men moved into what was more cubicle than office. Billy closed the door behind him, looked to check that no one was outside the half-glazed door, and then passed Smithens a small note.
‘She broadcast at 2000 hours local, there’s no spelling mistake and no silly salutation. She’s either incompetent or in the nick.’
The room fell silent as Smithens read the message through again, twice. Smithens couldn’t quite believe what he was reading. Eventually, he asked, ‘What did you send back?’
‘All that could be said in the circumstances, Sir, I simply had the lads send ‘understood’’.
‘You did?’
‘Well, I struggled to think of anything else, if I’m honest. What do you want me to do, signal her again at the correct time to tell her to get back to doing things properly?’
Smithens sunk deep into thought. ‘No,’ he eventually replied, ‘don’t do that, please Billy, just in case. She’s a good girl, this one; leave it as it is and let’s see what she sends next time.’
‘I am not sure I like that. Foolishness like this can cause quite an unnecessary stir, I remember that from the guys in Holland, always getting it wrong they were.’
‘Billy, we are going to play it differently this time.’
Billy’s shoulders drooped a little. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Splendid lethargy, that’s what I want out of you, young Earle. Not normally a problem! You’re going to do nothing, understand?’
Billy smiled. ‘I rarely understand what you lot are up to, Sir, you know that. I just send the signals. If Colonel Smithens wants nothing done, then nothing it is.’
‘Good lad, that’s what I like to see. I will be back down when she’s next due to transmit. That said, if anything does come through from her, if she transmits at a random in a panic, have it brought to me priority, OK?’
‘No problem, Sir.’ Billy looked at Smithens’ evening attire. ‘Off anywhere nice this evening, are we?’
‘Not really. If you must know, Billy, I am having dinner with the Chief and the Deputy Chief.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh indeed, Billy, oh indeed. You see this message means I have to go and tell the Chief that the agent I have been running in France for a week is already in the hands of the Germans.’
‘I take it that that won’t go down too well, Sir?’
‘You have no idea, Billy.’ Smithens looked down at the note in his hands.
‘I will wish you luck with that, then, Sir.’ Billy opened the door. Smithens hobbled out, patting Billy on the shoulder thankfully and set off down the corridor.
* * *
Walter Berner thanked the corporal for the small piece of paper in his hand. On it was written Eve’s message, word for word: the corporal had listened to every tap of eve’s Morse key.
‘Your message was authentic, Eve, thank you.’
‘You were listening?’
‘Of course I was, or rather he was,’ Berner pointed to the corporal before politely asking the corporal to leave. The corporal could not hide his disappointment, hoping for a snippet of what was going on. Berner waited until the door was closed with the corporal on the other side of it.
‘I will have every message you send listened to, so please get used to it. Again, thank you for doing this.’
‘I didn’t really have a choice though, did I?’ asked Eve.
‘I disagree. You could have chosen not to work with me, as believe me, some agents have in the past. I don’t know where they are now. Anyway, I saw that look in your eye when you sort of agreed. I think you’re up to something and so I cannot trust you completely. I accept that’s mutual.’
A waiter arrived bearing two plates, setting them down in front of Eve then Berner, ladies first. It was a simple plate of steak and vegetables and Berner seemed very pleased with this.
‘Your favourite?’ Eve asked.
‘Not really but something in the Netherlands I was deprived of. The rationing there is severe and even Germans struggle to get a decent meal there sometimes. As for the locals…’
‘They go hungry.’
‘They do. But I am sitting here now with you and this dinner is my way of saying thank you for sending that message.’
‘No other female company to take to dinner then?’ asked Eve.
Berner seemed to freeze for a moment. ‘No.’ Eve watched Berner’s countenance change for a moment and just then, she thought she had had a rare glimpse of the real Walter Berner, and one of his weaknesses.
Berner seemed to regain his composure and reached for the wine bottle.
‘One glass would not do any harm,’ smiled Eve.
Berner chewed on the steak in silence. ‘I need you out of here.’
Eve froze. ‘What?’
‘I mean it. You need to leave.’
‘What’s the matter with you? I ask you one question about female company and now you’re throwing me out?’ Eve sat back in her chair. ‘You’re being a bit sensitive aren’t you? What are you, some kind of pansy? Plenty of them in this game, it’s true to say.’
Berner looked at her, his distaste all too clear to see. He slowly put down the wine bottle.
‘My wife died. As did my daughter.’
Eve’s eyes widened, guiltily.
‘Childbirth is a dangerous game.’
Eve watched sadness fall on Berner like a black blanket.
‘I see.’ Eve really was at a loss as to what to say next. His sadness seemed to make him less vulnerable, less assailable. For the first time, Berner’s age and experience eclipsed Eve. Eve was surprised to feel sympathy for her German captor.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all she could think of to say.
Berner nodded gracefully. ‘Apology accepted.’ Berner returned to pouring wine.
‘Allow me to explain myself. I am going to need you to be back out on the streets of Paris if your contacts here in the city are not going to get suspicious of your absence. So, as I was saying, I need to get you out of here and return to living as if you were a functioning British agent once again, just as if nothing happened here. Then you can work for me without incurring the suspicions of your friends in the Resistance in Paris or London.’
‘You’re going to let me go?’
‘Sort of. I want you operating as you were before you were arrested, make it look like everything is normal. You and I can work out a way of explaining your ‘short break’. We can create an alibi for you that will stick. You can then, as I say, carry on as if nothing has happened. We will meet at pre-arranged times and communicate through dead-letter boxes, just
as London taught you to. Any deviation from the plan and it’s a one-way trip to the SS for you.’
Eve ate in silence, sipping her wine as she thought.
‘I will be like a lamb to the slaughter if you let me out of here,’ she said after a while. ‘The French will know that I have been away, who knows who might have seen me frog marched into here the other day. They’ll shoot me just as quickly as the Gestapo would.’
‘I don’t see it that way.’
‘How else do you want me to see it? Are you suggesting we pretend that I just vanished? The Resistance will be suspicious, of course they will be. Wouldn’t you?’
‘I very much doubt that. Trust me, no one saw you get arrested and brought into here. The café staff won’t talk – I’ve had them scared senseless. Everyone who has anything to do with you and the apartment you lived in has carried on exactly as normal, I have had all of them watched. They have done nothing to come looking for you, there has been no unusual radio traffic, so I doubt if they have done anything about you. As I said, they rarely care for agents that go missing.’
‘I was going to scrap watching you from the café that morning,’ said Eve after a while. ‘It was a silly thing to do and quite predictable. I let that Frenchman set a pattern. I was in the act of over-ruling him when you appeared.’
‘So how would you have kept me under observation then?’
‘I was going to use a contact of mine. Go to parties where all the German brass go and see if I could locate people close to you.’
‘I don’t go to parties around here, Eve, surely you learned that much in the time you were here?’
Berner was chewing something over.
‘This contact of yours. Reliable?’
‘You can’t recruit her!’
‘I have no intention of recruiting Lotti. Is she reliable?’
Eve could not help but looked surprised at how Berner even knew about Lotti.