Legacy of Hate

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘There are two gentlemen here, Frau.’

  ‘Not more people from Switzerland?’

  ‘Ah … No, Frau. They are not from Switzerland.’

  ‘Then who are they?’ i think they are from the Gestapo, Frau.’

  Madeleine straightened, her heart pounding, but the colour in her cheeks could have been caused by bending over. What could have happened? Only her sisters knew anything of her involvement in that business last September. But of course, Joanna knew as well. Suppose Joanna’s double game had been found out, and she had been arrested? Joanna thought she was indestructible, but no one was indestructible if they fell into the hands of the Gestapo. If that had happened, she was about to fall into the hands of the Gestapo herself.

  She felt quite sick, and this apparently showed in her face, for Hilda asked, almost solicitously, ‘Are you all right, Frau?’ ‘Of course I am all right,’ Madeleine snapped. ‘Show the gentlemen in.’ Hilda hurried off and Madeleine went into the bedroom to straighten her dress and add some powder to her cheeks. Then she drew a deep breath and went into the drawing room. The two men stood together, looking embarrassed. Madeleine determined to seize the initiative. ‘You have news of my husband? He is hurt?’

  The men exchanged glances. ‘Why, no, Frau von Helsingen. We have no news of the colonel. We have come to ask you to accompany us.’

  ‘Accompany you where? Am I under arrest?’

  ‘No, no, Frau von Helsingen. We are asking for your help.’ ‘And what if I say that I do not wish to help you?’

  ‘I think for you to do that would be a very grave mistake, Frau.’

  Madeleine gazed at him. He was being entirely polite, but once they got her into their cells … ‘Will I be returning here?’ she asked.

  ‘Certainly, Frau.’

  Madeleine hesitated a last moment, then went into the hall and put on her mink; she could not believe they would beat up a woman who was wearing a mink coat. ‘Baby is asleep,’ she told the hovering Hilda. ‘I will be back in a little while, but listen out in case she cries.’

  The two men came into the elevator with her, carefully avoiding touching her or even brushing against her. ‘It is very cold on the street,’ the spokesman remarked, indicating his approval of her choice of garment.

  To her relief the black Mercedes had tinted windows, so that no one could possibly identify her, while those people around as she crossed the pavement carefully looked the other way, as was always best where the Gestapo was concerned. And a few minutes later they were at headquarters, where no one seemed to be the least bit interested in her.

  ‘It is just one flight of stairs,’ her escort said.

  At least she was going up instead of down, and a few moments later she was being shown into a spacious office, to be greeted by Oskar Weber, and, to her consternation, Joanna.

  ‘Frau von Helsingen.’ Weber came around his desk to take her hand. ‘It is very good of you to come.’

  ‘Did I have a choice?’ Madeleine glanced at Joanna. But Joanna surely could never betray her without betraying herself. Or could she?

  ‘You know Joanna, of course,' Weber said. ‘Did you also know that she works for me?’

  Madeleine decided that it was best to lie. ‘I did not know that.’

  ‘Well, now you do. But sit down, sit down.’ He held a chair for her. ‘We wish to discuss your sister.’

  Madeleine’s head jerked. ‘My sister is dead.’

  ‘I am speaking of your younger sister.’

  ‘I was told she too is dead.’

  ‘Sadly, she is still alive. I say sadly, because she has followed the example of your other sister and become a murderess. She has killed a senior German officer. You are sure you did not know of this?’

  Madeleine managed a frown. ‘Are you speaking of that man Kessler in Bordeaux?’

  ‘That is correct. You understand that this sort of behaviour is not something the Reich can accept, and the people who are going to suffer for her mad behaviour are her own. Her crazy act has already cost a hundred lives.’

  ‘A hundred … How can my sister’s murder of a German officer cost a hundred lives?’

  ‘A hundred hostages were taken, against her surrender. When she did not surrender, they were shot.’

  Madeleine looked at Joanna with her mouth open.

  ‘It is true,’ Joanna confirmed.

  ‘But that is mass murder!’

  ‘Caused by your sister,’ Weber pointed out.

  ‘She cannot possibly have known such a thing would happen.’

  ‘The fact that the hostages lives depended upon her surrender was well publicized. Now, it may be that she did not believe we would carry out our threat. In that case she has made a very serious misjudgement. But that does not exonerate her from the responsibility of causing those deaths.’

  ‘I cannot believe it,’ Madeleine muttered. ‘But … you think she should have given herself up, to be tortured and then publicly hanged?’

  ‘That is between her and her conscience. But the fact is that orders have already been issued to Colonel Hoeppner to take another hundred hostages, and shoot them too if Amalie does not surrender within the month.’

  Joanna turned her head sharply.

  ‘Franz Hoeppner would never do that,’ Madeleine declared. ‘Colonel Hoeppner is a soldier, Madeleine. Soldiers often receive orders they do not like. But they carry them out nonetheless.’

  Again Madeleine looked at Joanna. ‘You knew?’

  ‘No. But I knew it was a serious matter. Is a serious matter.’ ‘And what am I supposed to do about it?’

  ‘You can save the lives of a hundred innocent Frenchmen. Probably more.’

  ‘By betraying my own sister? Even if I knew where she is … ’

  ‘That, too, is a matter of conscience. Your conscience. You cannot shirk the facts. Amalie is guilty of murder. Were this peacetime, she would be arrested by the gendarmerie and guillotined. Now we are at war, and things are different. But the end result will be the same. Amalie will be caught, eventually. But every day she evades capture is going to cost the lives of Frenchmen. Your Frenchmen, Madeleine. Can you stand by and see that happen?’

  ‘There is nothing I can do.’

  ‘There are two things you can do. One is to give us some idea of where she might be hiding. We know it is not in Paulliac. We have taken the chateau and the grounds apart, and found nothing. But a place for her to be concealed for so long … We are sure it has to be some place she knows very well, and obviously she is being supported by someone — or several someones. Can you not think of such a place?’ Madeleine hesitated. ‘No.’

  Weber studied her. ‘You understand that if you deliberately withhold information that could lead to the arrest of an enemy of the Reich, you too could be classed as an enemy of the Reich. Even you, Frau von Helsingen.’

  ‘1 have already said, I do not know of any place my sister could be hiding.’

  ‘Very good. Then would you be willing to go to Bordeaux and make a personal appeal to Amalie to surrender?’

  ‘That would be to make myself utterly reviled by everyone.’ ‘My dear Madeleine, you are already personally reviled by everyone, at least in France, for marrying a German.’ Madeleine swallowed. ‘But I imagine that will change when they realize that you are trying to save their lives. And until it does, you will be under Franz Hoeppner’s personal protection. And Joanna’s, of course.’

  ‘Joanna’s?’

  ‘She will be coming with you, as your personal bodyguard.' Joanna gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And my daughter?' Madeleine asked. ‘Who is going to look after my daughter?’ ‘Your daughter will be cared for by the State, until your return.’

  Joanna gazed across the railway compartment at Madeleine. ‘Weber knows you were lying,’ she remarked.

  ‘Lying about what? I have not laid eyes on Amalie since the day of my wedding. And then she refused to attend the ceremony.’

  ‘But you know where she is h
iding. Where she has to be hiding. Because it must be a childhood haunt, and it must be somewhere close to the chateau, from where she can be sustained by those of your people who are still loyal. That is logical. And besides, you gave it away when you hesitated in response to his question.’

  ‘He accepted my reply.’

  ‘Oh, my dear Madeleine, you cannot go through life taking people at face value. Especially with a man like Oskar Weber. His whole life is a self-created charade. He holds secrets pertaining to almost every member of the government locked away in that brain of his or in his private files. I do not know if he ever intends to use them; he just enjoys the feeling of power it gives him.’

  ‘Are you saying he knows our secrets? You have told him?’

  ‘He does not know anything about you, although he would like to know everything. But he has his suspicions. He cannot believe you have so turned your back on your family, just as he does not believe your version of what happened at the chateau in September. But there is another factor. He wants you. He dreams of you. He used to dream of Liane. It is a mixture of class hatred, envy, and pure sexual desire. Do you know that he once actually had sex with Liane?’

  ‘That is absurd! And obscene!’

  ‘Obscene, perhaps. But not absurd. You obviously do not know that when she visits Paris, Liane stays at a brothel operated by an old friend of hers.’

  ‘You are saying that my sister is friendly with a brothel-keeper, and that she stays at her house? Now I know you are lying.’

  ‘How well do you know Liane?’ Madeleine bit her lip. ‘I know her better than anyone,’ Joanna said. ‘I know all of her secrets. So you may believe that on one occasion last year, Weber was in Paris and visited the brothel, and, being given — because of his rank and position — his pick of the girls, he naturally chose the most beautiful of them: Liane. Was that not amusing? Liane finds it so.’

  ‘And Weber knew who she was?’

  ‘Not then. He found out afterwards, when it was too late; she was already dead, as far as he knows. And do you know what is the worst thing for him? Because he had been drinking when he went to the brothel, and because, for all her looks, he thought she was only a whore, he can remember very little of what they did together.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this? You work for him. And you are his mistress.’

  ‘I carry out both of those functions as part of my job.’ Joanna had a strong temptation to tell her that she actually worked for James Barron. But that would have been an unforgivable breach of security, and she had sufficient bridges to mend if she could ever regain England. ‘I am telling you this because he has now transferred his hatred, and his lust, to you.’

  ‘If he were ever to lay a finger on me … ’

  ‘You have powerful friends — or at least, your husband does. Weber is well aware of this. But suppose your Freddie were to stop a bullet in Russia?’

  Madeleine stared at her, all the colour draining from her cheeks.

  ‘And he is already laying the groundwork for your arrest, whether anything happens to Freddie or not. He has persuaded Himmler that you do know where Amalie can be found. So now, you see, he has you across a barrel. Which is where he would like to have you in the flesh. He is a cautious man, and he is proceeding cautiously. He knows that the final judgement will have to be passed by Hitler himself. Thus he is giving you enough rope to hang yourself, and the only way you can avoid hanging yourself is to hang Amalie. Either way, it will be a great triumph for him.’

  ‘While you gloat,’ Madeleine said bitterly. 'And once 1 thought you were my friend.’

  ‘I am your friend. And as you know, I work for the British Government. They require me to play a double game. But I believe I know a way in which both Amalie, and the people who are to be shot if she does not surrender, may be saved. To do that you will have to trust me absolutely. Are you prepared to do that?’

  Chapter Eight

  The Lovers

  ‘Herr Colonel!’ Captain Marach stood to attention. ‘It is good to have you back, sir. But … ’ He peered at his superior. ‘Are you all right?’

  Roess hung his cap on the hook behind the door. His head was still shaved, but instead of a bandage he now wore a strip of thick plaster. ‘They tell me that I am.’

  ‘But after all this time … ’

  Roess sat behind his desk. ‘Five weeks and three days, Hermann. Most of which I have spent in hospital. It seems that I did not take the wound I received seriously enough. Hence the collapse. But, as I say, I have been pronounced fit.’ ‘That is excellent news, sir. Excellent. And the investigation?’

  ‘There is no trace of Amalie Burstein anywhere in Gascony. It is my belief that she is dead, lying unburied and unnoticed in a ditch somewhere. I have reported this to Berlin, but they will not accept it. Well, they can find another investigator. I have work to do here. I wish you to arrest Constance Clement.' ‘Sir?’

  ‘Do not make silly remarks. I wish the whore arrested, now. I wish to see her standing in front of me in one hour’s time.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ Marach hurried from the room, and Roess lit a cigarette. There would be no interference in his enjoyment of the next few hours.

  As always Constance presented a confident front, even if, as it was the middle of the afternoon, she had had to dress in a hurry. ‘Why Colonel,’ she said, ‘I did not know you were back. What have you done with Jeanne? And … ’ Like Marach earlier, she peered at his head. ‘What has happened to you?’

  ‘I have been hit on the head, Constance,’ Roess said pleasantly. ‘I have really been quite ill.’

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry. But … is Jeanne all right?’

  ‘Has she not told you?’

  ‘She has not come back. I have been so worried. But then I thought, she is with Colonel Roess, she will be all right.’ ‘Close the door, Marach,’ Roess said. ‘And remember that every word you hear from this moment is confidential.’

  ‘Yes, Herr Colonel.’ Marach closed the door.

  ‘Now tell me,’ Roess said, ‘how is you father, Constance?’ ‘Ah … I expect he is dead.’

  ‘You have not heard?’

  ‘Well, as we told you, he and I have not spoken in years. You mean he is dead? Is that what Jeanne is doing? Tidying up the estate?’

  ‘Suppose I ask you, did your father ever exist?’

  Alarm bells started to ring in Constance’s ears, but she kept her face expressionless. ‘I do not know what you mean.’ ‘Your father does not exist. Not that father, anyway. Just as you have no family in Limoges. And you have no sister at all.’ Constance was lost for words. She could only stare at him. ‘The bitch who pretended to be your sister gave me this.’ He touched the plaster on his head. ‘Now tell me who she was.’

  Constance licked her lips. ‘I do not know.’

  ‘Very good. Marach, take this other bitch downstairs and prepare her for interrogation.’ Marach’s hand closed on Constance’s shoulder.

  ‘No, wait!’ Desperately she tried to think while waves of terror threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I am telling the truth. She appeared suddenly and asked for work. Well, she is a knock-out. You know that. So I gave her a place.’

  ‘And pretended she was your sister. Downstairs, Marach.’ ‘Up, madame,’ Marach said, tightening his grip on Constance’s shoulder.

  She gasped and stood up. ‘What is going to happen to me?’ ‘Why, you are going to suffer. And amuse me.’

  If only they would give her time to think. She had to come up with some acceptable answers. But there was no time. Marach was marching her through the door and snapping his fingers at the secretary. She immediately pressed some kind of buzzer on her desk, and by the time they reached the outer door they had been joined by four men. Marach now released her arm and she was seized by two of the men to carry her forward. When she tripped and lost her footing, one of her high-heeled shoes coming off, they simply continued. She had not regained her balance by the time they reached the stairs, and so they went down with h
er toes bumping so that her other shoe came off. Then she was in a cellar, lit by a single un-shaded electric light bulb, but filled with unpleasant-looking instruments, and unpleasant odours, too.

  Think, God damn you, she told herself. Think like Liane. Act like Liane. Do what Liane would do. Liane had made the instant decision that Hercule’s death was necessary to save the Route. Only the Route mattered. And she was now capable of running it. She had been doing so for the last several months. She simply could not allow herself to be tortured, when she might well reveal its existence — there were three British airmen hiding in her attic at that very moment.

  Yet the Gestapo had to be given something, or they would torture her. Were the circumstances reversed, Liane would sacrifice her without hesitation. And what difference would it make? Liane was already on the run. So she would never again be able to use Constance’s house as a base. But that would be safer for everyone, and Liane, with her brains and her beauty, would soon find another Paris home.

  Roess had followed them down. ‘Strip the bitch,’ he commanded.

  ‘No!’ Constance gasped. ‘Wait. The woman who pretended to be my sister was Liane de Gruchy.'

  The men, surrounding Constance to begin taking off her clothes, checked to look at their commander. There was no Gestapo agent in France who did not know the name Liane de Gruchy.

  ‘What did you say?’ Roess asked, his voice low. ‘You are a lying bitch. I am going to cut off your breasts, slice by slice.’

  ‘It is the truth!’ Constance shouted. ‘I swear it on my mother’s grave.’

  Roess stood immediately in front of her. ‘Liane de Gruchy is dead. She was killed in the battle in the Massif Central.’ ‘She was not killed. She was not even wounded.’

  ‘Her body was seen by … ’ He checked himself, frowning. ‘By her accomplice, who claimed to have shot her.’

  ‘And you know the name of this accomplice, no doubt.’ ‘She would never tell me that. But she said it was someone very important.’

  ‘Someone very important,’ Roess mused. ‘So, you have been sheltering Liane de Gruchy in your brothel?’