by Susan Lewis
‘Well, of course he …’ The words dried on her lips as she remembered Freddy.
‘Precisely,’ François said. ‘I’m afraid Monique has a way of reading things into a situation that simply aren’t there. But that’s no excuse for the way he allowed her to believe he was a free man. He is notorious for his conquests, and my sister, I’m sorry to say, is easy prey.’
The dance ended then, and François led her to a shadowy corner of the garden. As they passed through the crowd Claudine couldn’t help noticing the way heads turned – it was rare to see François and Claudine de Lorvoire together in public. Strangely, even after the way he had behaved, she felt a thrill at the interest they provoked, but then she snatched her hand from his as her body threatened once again to betray her.
‘This won’t be easy for you, Claudine,’ he said, when they were away from the crowd. ‘I know Monique will take it hard, but I think your approach will be far gentler than mine, which is why I’ve asked you to break it to her.’
‘Your consideration for your sister does you credit,’ she said tartly. ‘Will you show your mistress the same consideration when you ask her why she introduced Monique to Kalinowski in the first place?’
‘My mistress is not as guilty as you might think,’ he answered, quite unperturbed. ‘Monique happened to be at Élise’s apartment when Kalinowski arrived. She made all the running, I gather, and sadly Élise could do little to stop her.’
François knew that his discussing – and defending – his mistress in such a matter-of-fact way was incensing Claudine beyond words. Looking down at her, he saw the way her breasts were heaving with indignation, the way her eyes were flashing in the darkness, saw the moistness of her soft, sensuous mouth. He put a hand on her shoulder and started to caress her.
She shrugged him off. ‘Are you touching me while your mind is on Élise, François?’ she sneered.
He laughed. ‘Touché. But I was thinking that maybe I will come to your bed tonight after all, if only to remind you how repulsive you find me.’
‘I don’t need reminding!’ she spat, and turning on her heel she stalked imperiously back into the crowd.
*
The following night François’ impassive black eyes were watching Élise as she entertained Max Helber. As always when she entertained his guests, nothing was too much trouble, and he was amused to see German dishes being served one after the other. She was, he thought, putting up a remarkably good performance of feigning a first encounter with Helber.
He glanced at his watch, then set his glass back on the table and rose to his feet. It was time now for Élise to disappear, as he had confidential matters to discuss with the German. Knowing how she would enjoy being seen with the man whose current success with the economy was likely to make him the next Prime Minister of France, he had arranged for her to join Paul Reynaud’s opera party. Reynaud’s mistress would be there too, and knowing how much Élise disliked Madame des Portes, François was almost sorry he wouldn’t be there to see the fireworks.
Élise was still listening raptly to Helber’s flowery opinions on French literature as François walked over to the fireplace and rang for the maid. ‘Fetch madame’s cloak,’ he said, when she came in.
Immediately Élise looked up, and he could see her irritation at being dismissed so unceremoniously. Ignoring it, he poured a cognac for Helber and himself.
‘François, may I have a word?’ Élise purred through her teeth.
‘Certainly, ma chére, if it won’t take long.’
‘It won’t,’ she snapped, and he followed her through into the bedroom.
‘Well?’ he enquired, closing the door behind him.
‘I wish to know if you will be here when I return?’ she said testily.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t propose to give you a reason.’
The pain she felt at his words showed in her eyes, but her tone was brittle rather than peevish as she said, ‘You haven’t made love to me since you returned from Lorvoire, François – over three months ago. What’s happened? Have I done something …?’
‘Élise,’ he interrupted smoothly, ‘surely you don’t need reminding that you tried to kill my son.’
‘But I thought we had put that behind us! When we were in Germany …’
‘Are you really so stupid as to think I could forget something like that?’
‘No, of course not. But …’
‘But what, Élise?’
She had known his coldness so often in the past, but lately it had begun to frighten her. ‘I would never do anything to hurt him now!’ she cried ‘I swear to you, François. Upon my mother’s grave I swear it!’
He seemed amused by that. ‘Wouldn’t you, Élise?’ he said. ‘Then tell me, who is having him – and my wife – watched?’
‘You’ve asked me that before, and the answer is still the same. I don’t know, François. Truthfully, I don’t know.’
‘Is it the man who raped you?’
She gasped at the deliberate brutality. Then suddenly he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face very close to his. ‘Don’t bother to lie, Élise,’ he said. ‘Just tell me who he’s working for.’
‘I don’t know! I don’t know who he is, he just came here and …’
He smiled grimly at her hesitation. ‘Does he have any connection with von Liebermann?’ he asked.
He knew about her contact with von Liebermann! Again she shrank from him, and he tightened his grip on her hair as he saw she was about to deny the association. ‘I am fully aware of your links with the Abwehr, Élise, so just answer my question.’
‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘Yes, he has!’
He let her go. ‘Thank you. That was all I wanted to know. However, you have succeeded in confirming something else I have long suspected.’
‘What?’ she asked, dreading the answer.
‘That you are unable to keep your mouth shut when subjected to what our friend Liebermann calls coercion.’
She turned away, too confused for the moment to see where all this might lead. She expected him to leave the room, but then he came behind her, and holding her by the shoulders he pulled her back against him. ‘So you see, ma chérie, why I have told you nothing these past months. What you do not know you cannot tell.’ She drew in her breath sharply as his hand slipped inside her dress. ‘Now all you have to do, Élise, is decide whether your allegiance is to me, or to the Nazis.’
‘It is to you, François! It has always been to you.’
‘But when I join with them, your conscience will not be troubled? You will come with me?’
‘Yes! I’ve told you before …’ She gasped as his fingers closed over her nipple, and she wanted him so desperately that she could think of nothing else.
‘Do you want to make love, Élise?’ he murmured in her ear.
‘Yes, oh yes,’ she moaned, turning in his arms.
He looked down at her, and when he saw the lust in her eyes an ugly sneer curled across his lips. ‘Then as a professional whore you should have no trouble in finding someone to satisfy you,’ he said, and letting her go, he turned and walked out of the room.
‘I have all the information you require,’ François told Max Helber moments after Élise had left them.
Helber’s wide eyes gleamed, then looking about the room, he said, ‘We are alone?’
‘The maid has left too,’ François confirmed.
‘Then begin.’
François sipped his cognac, relaxing back into his chair. He eyed the German for some time, inuring himself to the revulsion he felt for that smooth, fleshy face with its half-timid, half-greedy smile. He had never understood how one man could be attracted to another, and that he should find himself the object of such perverse fantasy disgusted him like nothing else. But these were Helber’s terms for tendering his invaluable morsels of intelligence, and François had no choice but to accept them.
When finally he spoke, his voice had a
rich, mellifluous tone guaranteed to make Helber squirm in his chair. ‘I have in my possession,’ he began, ‘a series of maps indicating all factories in Great Britain involved in the manufacture of munitions.’
‘And France?’ Helber said, uncrossing his legs.
‘Not yet.’
‘But you will be able to supply them?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Good.’ Helber considered for a moment. ‘And now perhaps you would like to tell me where you have been these past weeks?’
‘Certainly. But before I do I want some information from you.’
A lascivious light leapt into Helber’s eyes as it always did when his turn came to impart intelligence. ‘So soon?’ he said, running the tip of his pink tongue over his lips. ‘Then of course I shall oblige. What would you like to know?’
François watched as the loathsome man set down his glass and started to unbutton his fly. ‘I want to know who von Liebermann has employed to watch my family.’
Helber showed no surprise. His plump lips parted in a smile and his girlish fingers pulled his penis from his trousers. ‘Does it matter who it is?’ he said, resting his hands on the arms of the chair.
‘Yes.’
‘But why? You must surely be aware that it is in all of our interests to know where you are at all times. Your safety is of the utmost concern to the General.’
François let that pass. ‘I want to know the name of the man snooping about Lorvoire,’ he said.
‘I fail to see why his name should be important. He is there merely to ensure that you do not act in the interests of anyone but The Reich.’
‘Have you any reason to believe I have ever done otherwise?’
‘Plenty, my friend,’ Helber laughed, only just managing to resist the urge to start stroking himself. ‘You act in your own interests, we know that, we accept it. But there is a war approaching, a time when each and every man must declare his fealty to one side or the other.’
François’ jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. ‘This man, he has a personal vendetta against me, does he not?’
This time Helber allowed his surprise to show. ‘What makes you ask such a question?’
‘Because it is your style to ferret out these people. They are easier to control when their motives are personal.’
Hearing the turbulent note in the Wine Supplier’s voice, Helber could restrain himself no longer, and almost groaned aloud as his fingers circled his penis. ‘How is that so?’
‘You simply offer to assist them in their revenge in exchange for a little something you need to know. Then, once you have the man – or woman – working for you, you threaten to inform their victim of their identity if they don’t continue to do so. It’s an old trick, Helber, but a good one. So, who is he?’
‘I cannot tell you that, my friend.’
François lowered his gaze to Helber’s hands and held it there for some time before looking back to the fleshy, womanish face. ‘Then tell me if he means any harm to my family,’ he said.
Helber was beginning to pant. ‘I believe he does, yes,’ he answered.
Now he was getting somewhere. Dropping his eyes again to Helber’s erection, François, said, ‘Why don’t you join me on the sofa, Max?’
For one dreadful moment he thought Helber was going to ejaculate on the spot, but he managed to contain himself and settled beside François on the sofa. François said, ‘You understand what I am offering for this information, Max?’
Helber nodded, but for the moment, with François’ powerful body so temptingly close, he was unable to speak.
‘Tell me what I want to know, Max,’ François coaxed.
Still Helber was unable to speak as François’ hand waited to take his penis. ‘Is he German?’ François said.
Helber shook his head.
‘French?’
Helber nodded.
‘His name, Max,’ François said, fighting the nausea as he took the man’s penis in his hand.
Helber’s breath wheezed from his lungs and he started to grunt.
‘His name,’ François encouraged, starting to move his hand.
Helber’s lips were trembling, and a high-pitched sound was coming from the back of his throat. François lowered his hand to the man’s testicles and Helber started to splutter.
‘His name!’ François roared, and he clenched his fist so viciously that Helber screamed, and François leapt to his feet as the semen spurted over his hand and onto his shoulder. Snatching a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his fingers, and saw Helber’s eyes roll back in their sockets in the dying throes of his ecstasy. Christ, he should have known that wouldn’t work with a creep like Helber. The man was a Goddamned masochist.
He went to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands under scalding water. By the time he returned, Helber had regained his composure and was sipping another cognac. François never failed to be surprised by Helber’s lack of shame for his disgraceful behaviour; somehow it made the man more intolerable than ever.
‘So,’ Helber said cheerfully, ‘you were going to tell me where you have been these past weeks.’
François’ hard eyes contemplated him for several minutes before he walked across the room and settled against the edge of the table. He was weighing up in his mind the little information Helber had ceded. He knew only that the man watching him and his family was French, and that his motives for doing so were personal. It didn’t narrow the field greatly, but he would get Erich von Pappen onto it and see what he came up with. He could start with Villiers, the man Claudine had mentioned. In the meantime, he knew exactly what it was going to take to persuade von Liebermann to keep the man at bay.
‘I have been in Moscow,’ he answered.
Helber was immediately interested, but tried not to show it. ‘Tell me more,’ he said casually.
‘As you are aware, Britain and France have opened negotiations with the Kremlin in order to strengthen their guarantee to Poland. Marshal Voroshilov, the principal Soviet negotiator, informed them that his government has a complete plan, with figures, for co-operation.’
‘The details?’
‘They have, ready to put into the field, one hundred and twenty infantry divisions and sixteen cavalry divisions; five thousand heavy and medium cannon, and approximately ten thousand armoured vehicles.’
Helber nodded. ‘Impressive. How did the Poles react?’
François raised his eyebrows. Helber might be a disgusting man but he wasn’t a stupid one. ‘Colonel Beck’s government has refused to allow the Red Army into Poland under any circumstances. To quote Marshal Smigly-Rydz, “With the Germans we risk losing our liberty, but with the Russians we would lose our souls.”’
‘A shrewd man, Marshal Smigly-Rydz,’ Helber commented. ‘And what chance, in your opinion, do the Allies stand of changing the minds of the Polish government?’
‘In my opinion, little or none. However, talks are still taking place.’
Helber got up and helped himself to yet another cognac. ‘I take it you have a full report on what you discovered, both in England and Russia? And you can give me the charts you mentioned earlier?’
François nodded. ‘They will be handed to you when you cross the border back into Germany. Someone will telephone you tomorrow, to tell you which station they have been left at.’
‘Good. Good.’ Helber appeared extremely happy. ‘General von Liebermann will be most grateful to you, my friend. Now, is there any further information you require from me? Free of charge,’ he added, catching François’ eye.
‘You won’t have come empty-handed,’ François answered, ‘so I’ll take what you’ve got – for what it’s worth.’
Helber opened his case and pulled out the documents Brüning and Grundhausen had sent by courier the week before. ‘I think you will find them interesting,’ he said.
François took the papers and put them on the table. ‘One thing before you go, Helber,’ he said. ‘Having now committed myself t
o the Nazi cause, I expect von Liebermann to keep control of this Frenchman.’
‘Oh, he will, my friend, have no fear of that. As long as you continue to prove your loyalty to the Fatherland, your family will be safe. Incidentally, I am intrigued to know: how does it feel to be a traitor to your own country?’
‘I imagine as good as it felt when I squeezed your balls.’
Helber left soon after, not entirely sure he understood François’ answer. But the dull ache between his legs not only reminded him that the Wine Supplier’s fingers had, for the first time, been there, it also increased his determination to see the man’s total surrender one of these days. And the way things were developing, he might not have long to wait.
Twenty minutes later, as François followed Helber out into the street, Halunke slithered down behind the steering wheel of his car and watched the dark figure of his nemesis get into his Citröen and drive off into the night. As he disappeared from view, Halunke’s fingers tightened on the rossignol he would use later to pick the locks of La Pascale’s apartment. She was small compensation for his patience when the great prize of de Lorvoire’s wife still remained so elusive; but for now she was as far as von Liebermann would allow him to go, and tonight she would bear the full brunt of his frustration.
– 19 –
THEY HAD BEEN back at Lorvoire for over a week now – and it was as if the excitement of early July had never been. Already, on the journey from Paris back to Touraine, they had felt the change: war, for so long a remote possibilty, had become a real and imminent threat, and the countryside had an eerie, almost end-of-the-world feel about it. As the hot summer days passed, a hush seemed to settle all over France, a terrible, portentous gloom. On the surface people went about their normal business, but there was an undercurrent of horror and disbelief. Few dared to voice it, but everyone knew that France had neither the spirit nor the strength to defend herself – even Lucien, who had arrived unexpectedly in Paris for three days, had been unable to kindle a spark of hope.
Within an hour of arriving at the château Claudine had sent Magaly to find Armand, telling him to meet her at the farmhouse. Their reunion was as passionate as their parting had been, but Claudine sensed almost immediately that something in him had changed.
