Legacy of Hate

by Christopher Nicole

  He had been studying her expression. ‘Is it that serious?’ ‘What I will tell you must be in the strictest confidence.' ‘Of course.’

  ‘So I cannot tell you here.’

  ‘Ah. Well, where then?’

  ‘Let’s finish dinner.’

  *

  They went upstairs, and when they reached her floor, he held her hand. ‘Do you know how eagerly I have waited for this moment?’

  ‘Let’s hope it stays that way.’ She unlocked the door and switched on the light.

  ‘Does Madeleine know about us?’

  i have no idea. Madeleine thinks I’m a whore, anyway.’ ‘Yet she came down here with you?’

  Joanna locked the door, kicked off her shoes. ‘You still don’t understand. I work for Oskar.’ She stepped out of her dress and watched him take off his tunic. ‘I am his tame troubleshooter as well as his main courier. Surely you understood that.’

  Franz, sitting down to take off his boots, looked up with a frown. ‘I know you carry out certain jobs for him. I know that you have his confidence.’

  ‘1 am also one of his overseas agents. I am a spy, Franz.’ ‘How can you be a spy?’

  ‘Because of the way I can enter and leave England at will, I carry information from him to his people in England, and bring theirs back to him. That situation no longer obtains, but I am still on his payroll. He sent me down here to keep an eye on Madeleine, to make sure she does not attempt to betray us.’

  ‘Then you are a traitor to your own people.’

  ‘I am now.’ She stood in front of him, naked. ‘Would you like to leave?’

  He gazed at her groin, then held her hips and brought her down to sit on his knee, and was struck by a thought. ‘Does Madeleine know all this?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And does Weber have any idea that you betrayed him in the matter of Liane de Gruchy?’

  ‘Good Lord, no. If he did he would skin me alive.’

  ‘You are probably right. Why did you do it?'

  Joanna took a deep breath. Her confidence was growing. ‘Liane and I were at finishing school together. We loved each other. In many ways, we still do. And then we shared that pretty grim experience at the time of the invasion. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d have gone nuts, or committed suicide or something. I couldn’t just shoot her.’

  ‘Especially as she had just shot Weber.’

  ‘Ah … yes. Are you going to tell him all of this?’

  ‘I prefer your skin where it is, and I like sharing a secret with you. And, as you say, you are no longer of use to Weber as a spy.’ He nuzzled her breasts. ‘I will have a word with him, about letting you go.’

  ‘Good morning, Roess,’ Weber said genially. ‘My God, what happened to you?’

  ‘I was attacked.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember, by some doxy you had on a train. You should pick your women more carefully. Has she been arrested yet?’

  ‘No.’ Roess pulled up a chair in front of the desk and sat down.

  ‘I hope you have not come all the way to Berlin to tell me that.’

  ‘I have come to tell you that I have positive proof that Liane de Gruchy is alive, well, and more active than ever.’

  Weber leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m afraid that woman seems to have hit you harder than you realized. Was it five weeks you spent in hospital? I think you need to return there for further treatment.’

  ‘I am not joking, Colonel Weber. I recently had reason to arrest a brothel-keeper named Constance Clement.’

  ‘I know Madame Constance. I have been to her house. What can she have done to upset the Reich? She only has German officers as her clients.’

  ‘I am aware of that. But there was an … incident there, just before Christmas, and, after investigation, I found it necessary to take her into custody.’

  ‘Now that is a shame. She was a fine-looking woman.’ ‘She is still a fine-looking woman. We did not harm her. Well, not so you’d notice. But she was very frightened, and she volunteered the information. She was recently joined by someone she called her sister. This was a strikingly good-looking woman who proved a great attraction in the house.

  Then she disappeared, immediately after the incident. Now Constance has confessed that she was not her sister at all, but Liane de Gruchy.’

  ‘And you believe her,’ Weber remarked contemptuously. ‘Yes. Because it is the truth. Apparently de Gruchy has been to Paris several times, and always stays at the brothel.’ ‘If that is true, Roess, Constance is an active traitor to the Reich and should be hanged. But I’m afraid it is obvious that this woman dreamed up this ridiculous story to get herself out of your clutches.’

  ‘I said I have proof. With your permission … ’ Weber shrugged. ‘First of all, there is the description of her, which ties in perfectly with other descriptions of her, and with that old photograph we have. Oh, her hair was dyed and her clothes shabby, but it all fits.’

  ‘You have seen this woman?’

  ‘Ah … no. But my deputy, that boy Marach, has.’

  ‘I am still waiting for some proof.’

  ‘The incident I mentioned was when a man broke into the brothel. This man was armed, and he shot his way through the reception room and up the stairs, and into the room where this woman was servicing a client. Without hesitation, she drew her client’s pistol from his holster and shot the intruder dead.’

  ‘You are saying that de Gruchy shoots her own people.’ ‘At the time it was supposed that he was after her client, who was a senior officer. She was regarded as quite a heroine by the other officers. But when the dead man was investigated, it turned out that his name was Hercule Coustace, and that he used to run the bar in Montmartre where de Gruchy hid when she was in Paris on a previous occasion. You may recall, Colonel, that when we raided that bar, de Gruchy and Coustace killed five of our people and escaped. You interrogated Coustace’s sister personally.’

  Weber stroked his chin. ‘I do remember. She was an exciting little thing. We sent her to a concentration camp. But nothing she told us connected Coustace’s murderous mistress with de Gruchy. Nor do I see the link now. This prostitute may well have been a woman who Coustace had fallen out with. These French people are very emotional. What do they call them on the Left Bank? Apaches, eh? So it is quite possible that he broke into the brothel to avenge himself, in which case she can be said to have shot him in self-defence. De Gruchy was shot by my personal aide. I am sorry, Roess, but you are trying to create a situation that doesn’t exist.’

  Roess all but snarled. ‘You refuse to believe me. Because you are infatuated with that American bitch.’

  Weber raised a finger. ‘Be careful, Johann. I placed you where you are, and I can place you somewhere else. You are a zealous officer and I respect you, but I am sure you are not entirely well at the moment. Go back to Paris and take it easy.’ Roess stood up. ‘And if I produce Liane de Gruchy?’ ‘What are you going to do, find out where she is buried and dig her up? I really am not very interested in exhumations. I think when a person dies or is killed, he or she should be left undisturbed.’

  ‘I am not a fool, Oskar. Why do you think I released Constance? It is because she is certain that Liane will return to Paris, return to the brothel. The moment she does that, Constance will inform me.’

  Weber sighed. ‘If you believe that will ever happen, Johann, then perhaps you are a fool.’

  ‘But if it does?’

  ‘Why, then, I will salute you, call you a genius. I may even reward you.’

  ‘Anything I wish?’

  ‘Within reason.’

  ‘If I deliver Liane de Gruchy, thereby proving to you that Joanna Jonsson lied to you about killing her — and about how many other things, we do not know — I wish the right to interrogate Jonsson myself. Twenty-four hours, and then I will hand her back to you for execution.’

  ‘Supposing that she is still alive to be executed. And this will be after you have already interrogated Liane de Gruchy
? Do you know, Johann, that if we lived in a normal, civilian-oriented world, as it will be again one day, you would be locked up, and probably executed yourself, as a sadistic sex maniac. However, I will agree to your request, on two conditions. One is that until you manage to unearth Liane de Gruchy, Fraulein Jonsson is not to be questioned or harassed in any way. The other is an order. You may hold both women for twenty-fours hours. Not a second longer. Then they must both be delivered to me, alive and, I suppose I can’t expect them to be well, but certainly in one piece.’

  Roess grinned. ‘And how would you describe yourself, Oskar?’

  i,’ Weber said, ‘am a dreamer.’

  ‘You are a fool to come here so often,’ Anatole said.

  ‘Are you not my oldest friend?’ Monterre asked. ‘My partner?’

  i do not like what I am doing. It is too dangerous. Do you not know that Monsieur Pierre is back, and reconstituting the Group?’

  Monterre frowned. ‘I did not know that. How long ago did he come?’

  ‘Oh, a month now. You were here the night he returned.’ ‘You did not tell me. What about his sister?’

  ‘He brought her here to be flown to England.’

  ‘Which sister?’

  ‘The wanted one. Amalie.’

  ‘And you did not tell me that, either?’

  ‘Well, by the time I understood what was happening, you had gone. Why did you leave so quickly?’ i do not trust that American woman.’

  ‘Well … ’ Anatole grinned. ‘She does not trust you, either.’ ‘So what was her business?’

  i have told you. Both to bring Monsieur Pierre out of Bordeaux, and to get his sister to safety.’

  Monterre stroked his stubbly chin. ‘And you say he is recruiting? How many people has he got?’

  ‘Twenty or more. Jules has rejoined. There is no news of Etienne.’

  Etienne is dead, Monterre thought. But he did not say so. He was as unsure of Anatole’s politics as anyone. He knew that the baker worked for the British because of the retainer he received, and because there was just a chance that they could still win the war. He also knew that Anatole gave him information about the Resistance, at least in this part of the country, just as he had betrayed the woman Cartwright — on the strict understanding that he was not involved — because it was more likely that the Germans were going to win, and he wanted to win in either eventuality. ‘So where is Pierre now?’ he asked.

  ‘That is what I am saying. He is in Limoges, and he comes here regularly to use the radio. If he finds you here … ’

  ‘I will volunteer to rejoin. It will be ideal.’

  ‘You fool! He will shoot you on sight. Don’t you understand? He knows all about you. That woman you betrayed to the Germans, Rachel Cartwright, escaped and got back to England.’

  ‘What are you saying? She escaped the Gestapo? How could she possibly have done that?’

  ‘I do not know. The business was hushed up, as you may imagine.’

  ‘But you know of it.’

  ‘Well, they told me of it, when they came in February.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘I have told you,’ Anatole said, with some impatience. ‘Pierre and Madeleine, Amalie and Joanna.’

  ‘Who is this Madeleine?’

  ‘Madeleine de Gruchy, that was. Amalie’s sister. She is Madeleine von Helsingen now, the wife of a German officer. She lives in Berlin.’

  ‘And she was here, in Vichy, with her sister. Holy Jesus Christ! They are a nest of vipers.'

  ‘Or patriots, according to your point of view. But as I say, they certainly know all about you.'

  ‘Jonsson saw me here, and did nothing. She did not even say anything.’

  ‘But she sent you out of the room while she spoke to London. You knew she was going to find out about you. Isn’t that why you left so suddenly? I think you had better accept that they have your number. As for when Liane gets back … ’

  ‘She has been here too?’

  ‘You know she has. Then she went off to Dieppe … ’

  ‘Why Dieppe?’

  ‘I have no idea. It is something very hush-hush.’

  ‘Dieppe,’ Monterre said, thoughtfully. ‘Yes. I can see that it would be. Very good, Anatole. You have been most helpful, as always. I will take your advice and leave before anyone knows I am here.’

  He left the room, and Anatole wiped sweat from his brow.

  Franz Hoeppner stared in utter consternation at the report that had been placed on his desk. His initial reaction was disbelief that such a thing could have happened. His second was relief that St Nazaire was not his responsibility. But it was close enough. He raised his head to look at Major Holzbach, his second-in-command. ‘There is no doubt about this?’

  ‘None, Herr Colonel. It was a bold stroke. But we gave them more than they bargained for. One ship sunk, over a thousand men killed, many taken prisoner … ’

  Franz was studying the report again. ‘This indicates that the destroyer was sunk deliberately, rammed against the docks after being stuffed full of explosives. And equally, that the dry dock was destroyed. That was obviously what they meant to do. I think you must give them credit for a successful operation. And our people do not seem to have known what was going to happen.’

  ‘No, sir. There will have to be an inquiry.’

  ‘Which, thank God, should not involve us. Thank you, Major. This will have to be kept quiet until a general release from Berlin.’

  ‘As you say, sir. Heil Hitler!’ Holzbach saluted, and was replaced by Eva.

  ‘Monterre is here, Herr Colonel.’

  Monterre, Franz thought. Should he have known of it? Only if the de Gruchy Group had been involved. But as far as he knew, the de Gruchy Group no longer existed. ‘Well, Monterre,’ he said. ‘Where have you been, these last few weeks?’

  Monterre hesitated in the doorway. ‘I have been gathering information, Herr Colonel.’

  ‘Well, let us hope that some of it may be useful.’

  ‘I would use the word sensational, Herr Colonel.’

  ‘I am sure you would. Are you sure that what you are going to tell me has not already happened?’

  ‘Herr Colonel?’ He was clearly bewildered.

  ‘Then tell me what it is. You may sit down.’

  Monterre sank into the chair before the desk. ‘One hardly knows where to begin.’

  ‘The beginning is normally useful.’

  ‘Ah, but is there a beginning? Will there be an end?’ ‘Monterre, you do not have the intellectual capacity to be a philosopher, and I do not have the time to listen to drivel. Either get on with it or get out.’

  ‘Very good, sir. Amalie de Gruchy is in Vichy. With her brother, Pierre.’

  Franz frowned. ‘You are certain of this? You have seen them?’

  ‘I have not seen them myself. But my source is absolutely reliable. Pierre is reconstituting the de Gruchy Group.’

  ‘And how are they supposed to have reached Vichy? Every border crossing is on the lookout for them. For Amalie, certainly.’

  Monterre drew a deep breath. ‘They were taken across the border, sir, in a car driven by Joanna Jonsson and Madeleine von Helsingen.’

  Franz gazed at him with a look of such venom that Monterre shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘Get out,’ Franz said. ‘Get out, and do not let me see your face again, you unutterable little rat.’

  T am telling you the truth, Herr Colonel. Have I not always told you the truth in the past? You did not believe me when I told you that Liane de Gruchy had survived the battle in the cave. That was claimed by this same Jonsson. She is a traitor, sir.’

  ‘If you ever make a statement like that again, Monterre. I will have you shot. Now 1 have told you to get out. Do you want to be thrown into the street?’

  Monterre scrambled to his feet and backed to the door. ‘Would you not like to know where Liane is now, sir? She is on her way back from Dieppe, where she has been carrying out a secret mission for the British. Dieppe
, Herr Colonel. Dieppe. A seaport just across the Channel from England. Why do you suppose she was there?’

  ‘Eva!’ Franz called. ‘Summon some people and have this cur thrown out. He is not to be admitted to these premises again.’

  Monterre ran from the room.

  Eva closed the door, and Franz gazed at it for several moments. He was conscious of several different emotions at the same time. Anger and outrage, certainly, but directed against whom? Despair and a sick feeling in his stomach, equally certainly. For the first time in his life, he had fallen in love. He had already informed OKW that he needed some leave, and he intended to go to Berlin the following month. There he would see Weber and inform him that he intended to marry Joanna.

  Monterre had not lied about the survival of Liane de Gruchy. Why should he be lying now? Besides, it all fitted so terribly well. It had been Madeleine who had invited him to dinner at the chateau on that fateful September night. She had been shocked, horrified, by the sudden appearance of her sister, by his being taken prisoner, and when found the next morning she had been tied to her bed, apparently as much a victim of her nefarious family as himself. Madeleine, his best friend’s wife, but a de Gruchy to her backbone.

  It had been Joanna who had claimed that Liane was dead, shot by herself. It had been Joanna, Oskar Weber’s right-hand woman, who had taken charge of the British agent Cartwright, and so mysteriously allowed her to escape. Weber had accepted her explanation, but then Weber had also accepted Joanna’s version of what had happened in the cave, and regarded her as utterly trustworthy. It had been Joanna who had come down to Bordeaux as Madeleine’s minder, just as it had obviously been Madeleine who had known exactly where to go to find her brother and sister, and with Joanna’s help spirit them across the border to safety. And it had been Joanna who had shared that horrifying ordeal with Liane at the beginning of the war, when not only had the women been raped, but her brother had also been killed.