A Noble Profession

by Pierre Boulle

  "I was still of two minds about it, but that evening I was struck by the way she kept watching him all the time, with a jealous, anxious eye, and by his reactions to this.”

  “I see,” said the doctor, rubbing his hands together.

  “So you told them . . .”

  “I assumed my most cloak-and-dagger manner, sir, and said: ‘From the moment you arrive in France, in fact, from this moment on, you have to behave at all times like a couple hopelessly in love. The war doesn’t mean a thing to you. Your one and only thought is for each other. This must be apparent in every gesture you make, in every word you utter.’ ”

  Dr. Fog gave his young colleague a look of surprise, tinged with admiration.

  “You told them that?”

  ‘‘Wasn’t I right? Didn’t they have to live the part completely?”

  “Absolutely. And they followed your instructions?”

  “To the letter, sir, with amazing success.”

  “You didn’t suggest they should share the same bed, did you?”

  “I didn’t go quite as far as that, sir,’’ said Austin.

  The two men looked at each other in silence, then Austin went on, with the curious animation that seized him whenever he spoke about Claire.

  “But I’m positive she would have raised no objection, sir. She is obsessed by one idea and nothing else, I’m certain. She would go to bed with the Loch Ness monster if it served the purpose she has in mind—she would even go to bed with him, perhaps, and with the same detachment she displayed during her parachute training.”

  “What about him?”

  “I didn’t bring up the question. All that matters is their outward behavior, and they’re both so conscientious about this that no one could ever suspect their true feelings. Their attitudes would deceive anyone who saw them. The sort of passionate interest she shows in him and which she betrays by endless furtive or piercing glances; the uneasy manner in which he, for his part, responds to this constant surveillance—all this had suddenly struck me, as I said before. It could

  easily be interpreted as a sign of being deeply in love. I think I’ve made the best use of their natural reactions, sir, as you advised me to do.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder if you’re not even craftier than I am, young man,” Dr. Fog said pensively. “I foresee a brilliant career for you.”

  “A strange couple, sir,” said Austin, who was still deeply moved by certain recollections. “I can imagine them now, alone together in the intimacy of that villa tucked away in the woods, both of them submerged in their own thoughts. . . ."

  "Not so fast, not so fast!" Dr. Fog protested. “What about the training jumps?"

  "Those all went off perfectly well. . . . I’ll go straight on now to the actual drop into France, sir, if

  you don’t mind. It was no different from the training jumps. It’s a curious fact—and the professionals all confirm this—but you never get used to the horror of it.”

  “The horror? Really?" Dr. Fog remarked in a completely detached tone of voice.

  "Unadulterated horror, sir. The fifth is just as bad as the first, and the hundredth as bad as the fiftieth, so they say. Whether you jump at three thousand feet or at ten thousand, over a flat plain or over a range of mountains, whether you’re greeted on landing with a cup of tea or with a burst from a machine gun, the agony’s always the same. But to come back to him . . . He was as white as a sheet, in England as well as over enemy territory, but he jumped all right.”

  "What about her?"

  "Absolutely indifferent. I wouldn't have believed it was possible. . . . But there’s something else I must tell you about him.

  "Before we took off, while we were waiting in the mess, I noticed he was turning paler and paler. All the color was gradually draining from his cheeks. Over the Channel, after the dispatcher had given us permission to smoke, I caught a glimpse of his face by the light of a match. I almost let out a scream. I don’t think any shroud has ever concealed a more ghastly sight. Yet in the dark there was nothing to betray the state he was in—or almost nothing. He even managed to utter a

  word or two now and then, and unless you were watching as closely as I was, you would never have noticed the effort it cost him—a superhuman effort, no doubt. Another thing I remember—and, at the time, I considered it heroic—in order to prove he was in complete command of himself and was capable of following my instructions under all circumstances, up there, in the aircraft, he made a point of keeping up his cover story. He treated Claire with great affection, showered her with attentions, and murmured words of encouragement that were quite unnecessary as far as she was concerned. Such an absolute discrepancy between his outward behavior and the death mask I had glimpsed . . . I could hardly believe my eyes, sir!”

  “But he jumped all right?”

  “He jumped all right, but during the few seconds before the green light went on I thought he was going to collapse. I had had a bet with myself . . . because I, too, needed to think about something else. I couldn’t actually see his features, but their tautness created a sort of tension in the immediate atmosphere. Honestly, sir, the thundering of his heart seemed to be making

  the whole fuselage vibrate. I said something to him; he was incapable of answering me. That was all, sir. The dispatcher didn’t notice a thing. No one did, apart from me—and Claire as well, of course; because, like me, only more intently, she was observing those minute signs of fear in the dark. She was sitting there, leaning toward him. She was waiting, she was hoping, hoping wildly . . . Oh, sir, now I know, now I realize what she’s hoping for—but of course you know it perfectly well yourself!”

  Dr. Fog nodded without answering and asked him to go on.

  “When the green light came on and he heard the word ‘Go!’, for a fraction of a second, but no more than that, he hesitated. I felt his fate was sealed; at that instant I thought I had won my bet. And she, too, believed she had been right. That was all she was thinking of, sir! The horror of the drop meant nothing to her. I could almost hear the cry of triumph she was about to give but which never passed her lips—he had jumped. I’m convinced he sensed the violence of her feelings just as I did. She was leaning right over toward him and, in that confined space, a sort of magnetic field had developed that established a sort of telepathy between us. That's what launched him out of the aircraft, sir . . . Then we jumped out after him.”

  14

  Austin wanted to give a few details about their arrival: how they had successfully joined up together after landing in the dark, how they had reached the house safely, how the couple had moved into the villa, and how Gleicher had contacted them. He soon saw, however, that this was of no interest to Dr. Fog, who brought the conversation back to his fa- vorite subject—Arvers and his reactions in certain tricky situations.

  “I haven’t much to tell you, sir. But I happened by chance to witness a rather telling scene. I mean the incident with the drunken German soldier; it might have turned out badly. It has nothing to do with our mission and is of no interest except from the psychological point of view.”

  "You know that anything to do with the psychological aspect is meat and drink to me,” Dr. Fog said gruffly. “Come on, let’s hear about your drunken German soldier.”

  Austin embarked on his story without further ado.

  “It was shortly after they moved in. I had to get in touch with them one day and had arranged to meet them at Rennes, outside the big movie house there. What we usually did was to buy our tickets together so as to have adjoining seats. I turned up well ahead of time and decided to wait in the cafe next door. I had just sat down in the far corner when they came into the place together. They had also arrived early and had had the same idea. I didn’t announce my presence. I was

  hidden from them by a partition, but by leaning for- ward a little, I could see them without being seen myself.”

  Dr. Fog voiced his approval of this maneuver.

  “Splendid. It’s not often
you get a chance to observe people without their knowing it.”

  “I was able to see immediately that they were both following my instructions scrupulously, even in this place where they were unknown. To all outward appearances, they were a typical couple of young lovers. For a moment, sir, I was almost taken in by it myself. A strange thought suddenly came into my head. I began to wonder if they weren’t actually in earnest.”

  “Odder situations than that have been known to develop,” said Dr. Fog, “but as far as this particular pair is concerned, it would surprise me.”

  “It would surprise me too, sir. Anyway, this suspicion was soon dispelled.

  “Time went by. I was about to settle my bill and move on to our rendezvous ahead of them, when the German soldier came in. He was blind drunk and his arrival caused an uneasy stir in the cafe. He settled down at the counter facing them and ordered a drink, which the waiter reluctantly served him. Then he turned around toward the couple and began staring at them intently. His attitude was so insolent that the waiter stopped clearing up the glasses to look at him.

  “I postponed my departure and waited, anxious to see how Arvers would behave. He had become quite red in the face and was pretending, against all probability, not to notice the drunk’s attitude. He had turned his head in another direction and appeared to be deeply absorbed in the contemplation of a large clock.

  “When the soldier taunted him out loud, he again changed color and became almost as white as he had been in the airplane. Jerking his chin in Claire’s direction, the German then made an obscene remark in broken French. Arvers’ features contracted, though he still could not bring himself to turn around and face the fellow.”

  “A profoundly interesting test,” Dr. Fog observed.

  “I’ve always wondered how he would react in a hand-to-hand fight. His file doesn’t give the slightest indication on that point.”

  “There’s something still more curious to come, sir. It was when I looked at Claire that I had a real surprise.

  “Her behavior was extraordinary. Instead of remaining aloof, as she usually was and as any woman might have, she gave a quick sidelong smile that was a direct invitation to the brute’s advances. There was no mistaking it. Each glance of hers was an encouragement for him to persist in his taunts. She even made a gesture of contempt in her companion’s direction, shrugging her shoulders and looking the drunkard straight in the eyes. The waiter, who couldn’t help noticing her behavior, showed his indignation by clattering the glasses together.

  “Arvers, whose head was turned in the opposite direction, could not maintain that position indefinitely. He turned around toward her just as the soldier, incited by her gestures, was making a direct obscene proposal to her. Arvers happened to be saying something to her at that very instant. He broke off in the middle of the sentence and I could guess what the gist of it was. He was alluding to our meeting and was telling her, with feigned indifference, that it was time for them to be moving if they didn’t want to be late. I haven’t forgotten a single detail of the scene, sir. He stopped short, his voice died away as his gaze fell on the girl, whose smile, originally aimed at the German, changed its tar- get as well as its meaning. It was at him her smile was now directed, taunting, full of scorn. Then his face became even whiter and I distinctly saw his leg begin to tremble.

  “She looked at him like this for several seconds, then she herself said something. Her voice betrayed utter contempt as well as intense satisfaction. ... I don’t know if I’m making myself clear, sir.’’

  “Nothing could be clearer,” said the doctor. “I can see the whole thing as though I were there myself.”

  “It was the outcome that surprised me,” Austin went on. “There again I lost a bet with myself. . . . Anyway, she said something in reply to his remark.

  “ ‘You’re right, darling,’ she said . . . Did I tell you she always called him ‘darling’? Oh, I can just see them there by themselves in the villa. Ours is a dirty job, sir, there’s no getting away from it!"

  "You realize that," said the doctor, "just when you’re beginning to have a passion for this job. So she said to him: ‘You’re right, darling . ."

  "She said it with withering contempt, underscoring each word. ‘You’re right, darling, we must be leaving. It’s high time we got out of here.’ And she rose to her feet.

  " ‘Just a moment,’ Arvers exclaimed suddenly.

  "I gave a start. His voice, which had altered abruptly, seemed to belong to someone else and I stupidly peered around the room. No, it was certainly he, but his attitude had undergone a complete change. Only a moment before, he had been little more than a dummy; now he had an air of authority. I also observed—I think I’m beginning to be quite a good observer, sir—I also observed that the nervous tremor in his leg had stopped. His gestures were deliberate, but somehow stiff and mechanical. . . . An automaton, that’s it—an automaton obeying an impulse, an external will. The shock of the girl's scorn had caused this metamorphosis.

  " ‘Just a moment, darling,’ he said, motioning her to sit down again.

  "He stepped around the table, walked straight across to the soldier, who was watching him with a smirk, stopped in front of him, and gave him a hard slap in the face. Then he went back to her, and there was a glint of triumph in his eyes. Meanwhile she lowered her head and looked extremely disappointed. After that . . . after that, sir, he seemed to collapse, inert and defenseless in the face of his adversary, incapable, I felt, of retaliating in any way had he been attacked. The trembling in his leg had started up again. I held my breath.”

  “A dramatic moment, I should imagine,” said Dr. Fog.

  “The tension was dispelled, luckily, by the attitude of the very man responsible for it. The soldier looked disconcerted and shaken for a moment, then burst into a loud guffaw. He was too drunk to fight back. He murmured ‘friend/ then turned his back and went on with his drink.

  “ ‘We can leave now, darling,’ Arvers said with a tremor in his voice over which he had no control. He was at the end of his rope. She got up to join him. I watched them move off arm in arm, while the waiter gave him an obsequious bow.”

  “So on the whole you’re pleased with your team?” Dr. Fog asked.

  “Fairly pleased, sir, although Claire’s attitude worries me somewhat. But I’m not so satisfied with my own role.”

  “Each man to his own job. What’s bothering you?”

  For the last moment or two Austin had been looking slightly vexed. He decided to ask the question that was preying on his mind.

  “It’s this, sir. Has she been given a private briefing from you without my knowing it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you given her instructions to keep an eye on him, to spy on him?”

  "No, Austin,” the doctor replied frankly, “I’m relying on you for that. But I knew she would do so in any case, and I think it may be useful. I suppose you no longer have the slightest doubt about the motive for her conduct?”

  "Not the slightest!” Austin exclaimed. "I was mad to think her intention was to redeem her brother’s crime. What an idea! Not once has she acknowledged his treachery. Not for a second has she believed him guilty.”

  "Not for a second. I've known that all along, but I felt it was better for you to find it out for yourself.”

  "She has only one idea, sir, one ambition—to prove her brother’s innocence. But in that case, if he really was innocent, if he wasn’t the one who talked . . .”

  He stopped short. After a short pause Dr. Fog put his thought into words.

  "Someone talked, Austin. If it wasn’t Morvan . . .”

  "It’s impossible, sir. Why should Cousin have been so anxious to go back? He was sitting pretty over here and could have ended the war at his desk.”

  The doctor nodded pensively but did not reply to this question.

  "Well, anyway,” he said, “you mustn’t be surprised if she seizes every opportunity to test his courage and plumb
its depths.”

  "She doesn’t merely seize opportunities, she goes out of her way to create them. That’s exactly what’s worrying me. She doesn’t give a damn for the war or for the enemy.”

  "Neither does he, perhaps,” said Dr. Fog, "and that’s where we come in. It's up to us to channel these passions in such a manner as to serve the interests of the country. And with that end in view, I think it’s essential he should feel he is being watched."

  “Watched, sir! What you mean is spied on, tracked down, hunted! First of all by me—he must have guessed what I was up to over there. If you could only have seen what he was like, knowing he was being observed at every instant, hesitating to make the most common- place gesture for fear of its being interpreted as a sign of weakness, forcing himself to divest his conduct of anything that could give the slightest suggestion of fear. Can you imagine anything more ghastly, sir, than having to assume the reactions of a hero every moment of the day?"

  “That's what we need in this service, Austin," Dr. Fog replied quietly. “Men who behave as though they were heroes, whatever the circumstances.”

  “There they are, living together, and he has to treat her the whole time like a wife he adores. . . . And that's not his only worry.”

  “Of course not. There are also the agent’s natural enemies—the Gestapo and the Abwehr. But he volunteered for the job."

  “I wasn’t thinking of them—what I mean is, her mother. She knows all about it."

  “I'm sure she does. What is she like?”

  “She doesn't have much to say, but I’d swear she’s even worse than her daughter, sir. She’d do her damnedest to vindicate her son. A forceful personality, what’s more. I have a feeling that Claire’s a mere child compared to her mother."

  “You were quite right to accept her services."

  “Perhaps. But I wouldn't be in Arvers’ shoes for anything in the world.”

  “Nor would I,” Dr. Fog agreed. “But then . .

  He assumed a strange tone of voice and looked directly at Austin as he added: