The Lavender Keeper

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘Of course. And I’m sorry for disappointing you. You know I would never do anything to hurt you, Walter.’

  He waved a hand as if it was of no concern. ‘I do. Which is why I told him I knew of Ravensburg.’

  Her eyes flashed at him. ‘You did?’

  ‘How else was I to rid you of that toad?’

  She looked down, played with the handle of her cup.

  ‘Once I’d confirmed that I knew your young man, von Schleigel left with his tail between his legs. But what I’d like to know is why you told the Gestapo you were to be married.’

  She took a breath. ‘For the same reason you lied for me. I told him that because I was terrified. I truly thought he would kill Lukas, and if I said I – Walter Eichel’s goddaughter – was to marry him, I hoped it would protect him.’

  ‘I see. Do you feel close to this Lukas?’

  ‘I … Yes and no. When I was with him it was wonderful, but as I said, war is no time to be thinking too far ahead.’

  ‘And now there’s Markus Kilian in your life.’

  She hesitated and knew he saw it. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you playing with Markus?’

  ‘I hardly know him.’

  ‘Because I suspect that would be dangerous. I don’t want you getting into a situation beyond your control.’

  ‘What situation?’

  ‘Being the lover of a high-ranking German Wehrmacht officer.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘I know you spent the night at his hotel.’ He looked away, embarrassed.

  She felt ill. ‘Are you spying on me?’

  ‘I’m looking out for you, Lisette. I am your godfather.’

  ‘I have no reason to lie to you, Walter.’

  ‘No, but you may have reason to try to protect me.’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘From whatever it is that Lukas Ravensburg and von Schleigel have between them.’

  ‘You’re seeing something that isn’t there.’

  ‘I hope so. I hope I’m wrong. But if I’m not, then I’m obliged to warn you that where the Gestapo is concerned, my influence is minimal. You might be able to impress a lowlife like von Schleigel with my name, but I can assure you, if Berlin or even Gestapo headquarters in Paris starts to take an interest in you, I am no shield. Himmler is ruthless, and what’s more, he’s paranoid. It’s a terrible combination for someone who is chief of the secret service and the paramilitary.’

  She nodded.

  ‘You’re fortunate that von Schleigel is on his way east to Poland, to work in the camps. Frankly, I hope he freezes and dies there!’ Walter said, his voice full of disgust. ‘But people like him never do. Anyway, I sent him on his way believing that I know and like Ravensburg. I trust that my lie will not come back to bite me.’

  ‘Thank you, Walter,’ she said softly.

  ‘Before you start thanking me, you need to know one more thing.’

  Their eyes met.

  ‘Von Schleigel asked many questions about you before he asked about your so-called engagement.’

  She frowned. ‘And?’

  ‘I mentioned Colonel Kilian.’

  Her mouth became instantly dry. ‘Is that relevant?’

  ‘Von Schleigel was certainly interested.’

  ‘Why did you mention Kilian?’

  ‘He asked if you were romantically involved with anyone. I wasn’t going to risk a second lie.’

  ‘Does Markus know about your conversation?’

  ‘With von Schleigel?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Not to my knowledge.’

  ‘Well, hopefully the toad hasn’t stirred up any trouble with the colonel.’

  ‘Have you told Markus about Ravensburg?’

  ‘No. Markus is …’

  ‘A fling?’

  She gave a helpless gesture with her hand. ‘I was going to say an irresistible force.’

  ‘Apart from the Führer and his henchmen, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t admire him.’

  ‘The perfect man?’

  He shook his head. ‘The perfect soldier. But he is a man, Lisette, with all the usual foibles, and he has fallen for your charms. Be careful. He is proud. If you plan to pursue his affections, I suggest you cut ties with Ravensburg … or you tell Markus of the southerner and bring this budding romance – or whatever it is – to a halt.’

  She nodded. If only he knew that she could do neither.

  ‘I’ve said enough. Shall we go?’ Walter stood and rummaged in his pockets for some money. ‘When do you see Markus next?’ he asked, dropping coins into the saucer.

  ‘Perhaps tomorrow.’

  ‘Think on what I said. Can you find your own way back? I have some errands to run.’

  She kissed him goodbye.

  ‘Be careful, child,’ he said softly, returning her embrace. ‘I don’t want you hurt.’

  Lisette smiled gently and turned to walk away, deeply troubled but showing none of her concern, knowing he watched her. She was not ready to tell London her cover had been compromised, especially so hot on the heels of her last few notes that she hoped would have impressed London. She decided to say nothing, and risk that von Schleigel had been simply ‘fishing’. If Buckmaster wanted her to continue, then she would persist with Markus at all costs. But what if Luc was right and they no longer cared about anything other than the promised D-day? Then she needed to hear that from SOE.

  London would decide her next move.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Kilian moved through his work on Tuesday distractedly; none of it was important anyway. He ranged in mood from excitement to despair; he was proud to be part of a plot that could destroy Hitler’s evil hold over Germany but the call from the Gestapo had been unsettling.

  Was he to believe von Schleigel? If not, what reason had the man of the Gestapo to lie? Where there was smoke, there was usually fire.

  Most importantly of all, why would Lisette lie? If she was unhappy enough with her fiancé to gladly accept Markus as her lover, then why did she not tell him? It was that last thought that roamed around his mind. She must have something to hide, or she would have told you about Ravensburg.

  But what could she be hiding? A girl in her mid-twenties. German background and German sympathiser, French national. Beautiful, young, intelligent.

  Kilian went for a walk, hoping to shake off his unsettled mood by strolling along the Seine. Right now he was peering out mournfully from Pont Neuf on the western edge of the Isle de la Cité. He loved knowing that he stood on a bridge whose first stone was laid in the late Middle Ages by Henry lll, favourite son of the great Catherine de Medici. But not even his favourite bridge in Paris could lift the gloom that had settled on his shoulders.

  Until this moment he had remained open – to ideas, to women, to the future. How could he fail to be taken in by Lisette? The momentarily heart-stopping response slammed into his mind – what if he was meant to?

  Was Lisette a spy?

  Why? What could he possibly have to offer a spy? He was simply an officer, and in disgrace as much as exile. Surely that would make him … the perfect candidate. Unhappy, resentful, disgruntled and vulnerable. Did the Allies think they could turn him with a beautiful, young, clever agent?

  He swallowed hard. Was Lisette with him to find out information? But he had no information!

  There was a flap of wings and he saw a small troupe of sparrows see off a crow, its black shape incongruous among the tiny birds, all seemingly identical, all following some instinctive order to chase away the intruder. He blinked as the scene resonated in his heart like an omen. He was the black-hearted figure among the otherwise uniform brown of the military. Everyone followed orders – few drew attention to themselves.

  Had he come to the attention of the Allies? And then a dramatic realisation hit. Could Lisette be working for the Gestapo? Had the embryonic plan to kill Hitler been compromised? No! The men involved had been so careful. Besides, he knew none of the detail.<
br />
  Kilian let out a groan. Even though he knew he was grasping at ideas, he had to speak with Stülpnagel. He could not be the one who destroyed this last roll of the die for Germany.

  He all but ran back to his car, whose driver leapt to open the door. The driver was not Wehrmacht – not even military.

  ‘Back to the offices, Colonel?’

  ‘No. Take me to General Stülpnagel.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Are you all right, Colonel?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Forgive me. You looked worried, sir.’ The car pulled away from the kerb and eased forward.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Kilian assured the driver. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Loewe, Colonel. Christian Loewe.’

  ‘You’re the one who took Mademoiselle Forestier home last night, did you not?’

  He watched the man’s eyes glance in the rear-view mirror. ‘Yes, sir. I saw her up to her apartment.’

  ‘Does she live alone?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you, sir. I’ve never met her before.’

  ‘I know that, Loewe. Don’t be dim. Were there any signs of another person or other people living with her?’

  ‘No, sir. Not that I could say.’

  They fell silent again. But soon Kilian spoke again. ‘Have you ever been in love, Loewe?’

  The man blinked. ‘Yes, Colonel.’

  ‘Reduces men to pulp, don’t you think?’

  He smiled. ‘It’s dangerous in wartime.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly. Do you still love her?’

  ‘I do, Colonel. I’m not sure that she loves me, however.’

  ‘Someone else?’

  ‘Yes. He’s older, more powerful.’

  Kilian gave a wave of his hand. ‘Is she fickle?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Confused, perhaps. The war has made us all do things we regret.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Kilian sighed. He could see they were to be held up by an obstruction in the street.

  ‘I’m sorry about this, Colonel. I can’t reverse easily to—’

  ‘It is not your fault.’ He sighed again and his attention was caught by a Jewish couple outside on the street, the yellow star of David sewn onto their coats. They were perhaps in their early forties, neatly dressed, and they held the hands of a boy who skipped between them. Kilian wondered how this family had escaped being rounded up so far; what sort of protection they had. How much longer would their luck hold? He wished that he could save this trio and in doing so, somehow save his own soul.

  ‘Tell me about the woman you love,’ he continued.

  He didn’t see his driver glance again into the mirror or the way his jaw tightened. ‘What would you like to know, sir?’

  ‘How long have you known her?’

  ‘Only since last year.’

  Kilian shot him a glance. ‘That’s not very long.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you know you love her.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because I have been with many women, and none have affected me as she has.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I argue with her a lot. She can make me so furious!’ Loewe chuckled.

  Kilian gave a brief laugh. ‘A good sign, then, that she’s got under your skin. Is she pretty?’

  ‘She’s beautiful, dark-haired, although there’s not much of her.’

  Again Kilian smiled. Loewe could be describing Lisette. ‘Do you trust her any more?’

  ‘I don’t know how to answer that. She has fallen for someone else. I feel betrayed, but at the same time you can’t plan to fall in love.’

  ‘Did she lie to you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t give up on her, Loewe. She’ll leave the older man, come to her senses.’

  ‘We’re here, Colonel.’

  Kilian looked out, surprised to see that they had arrived at the Hotel Meurice on the Rue de Rivoli, opposite the Tuileries. He sighed.

  ‘Would you like me to wait for you, Colonel?’

  ‘No. It’s a short walk back to the office from here. I’m sure you can be more use elsewhere.’

  ‘Very good.’

  Kilian frowned. ‘Tell me something, Loewe.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘You’re German?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why aren’t you fighting?’

  ‘I was wounded early in war, sir. I have an injured leg. Not much use to the Wehrmacht.’ He gave an expressive shrug. ‘I was assigned to your department in February, Colonel.’

  ‘And you’ve been discreet. I appreciate that.’

  ‘We all have secrets, Colonel.’

  Any other senior officer might have reprimanded the man for such familiarity but Kilian smiled. ‘And what is your secret, Loewe?’

  ‘That I’m a much better lover than I am a driver or a soldier, Colonel.’

  Kilian smiled more broadly. ‘Thank you, Loewe.’ He gave the man a conspiratorial nod as he emerged from the car, reminded of how much he missed the camaraderie of ordinary men – men with no hidden agendas.

  Stülpnagel didn’t keep him waiting as long as he’d anticipated. ‘Colonel Kilian,’ the general said, overly warm as he approached through the long sweep of the main lobby, his heels clicking on the marble floors of the grand and gilt-laden Hotel Meurice. ‘Thank you for coming personally. I hear I left my file with you yesterday.’

  Kilian blinked and caught on. ‘Yes, I was passing and thought I’d check you got it. I sent it immediately it was discovered,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, thank you again. I was just about to take some air. Would you care to accompany me? A coffee, perhaps?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Stülpnagel walked him out to the Tuileries and Kilian soon found himself engaged in small talk as he was steered towards Café Renard. There were a lot more people than usual strolling through the gardens and sitting around the fountain but only Germans were taking their refreshment at the café. They looked to be soldiers on leave, wooing young women. Most snapped to attention, their backs stiffening at the sight of the general and a colonel.

  Stülpnagel accepted their salutes and found a table at the rear of the café, turning his back to the fountain and the patrons.

  The general finally dropped the pretence. ‘Why are we here?’

  Kilian took a breath. ‘I can’t be sure, but I’m obliged to tell you that I may have been compromised.’

  Stülpnagel gave a soft sigh. ‘How?’

  In the lowest of voices Kilian told the general what he knew.

  ‘So no accusation was levelled at you?’ the general confirmed.

  ‘No. Nonetheless I see it as a warning.’

  ‘Yes. The timing of this woman’s arrival in your life is rather coincidental.’

  Kilian agreed. ‘Why me, though? I have no connection to the sort of information the Allies would be after. Surely everyone knows that I’m in exile here?’

  Stülpnagel pulled at his lip. ‘I have to agree it makes no sense. Could it be nothing more than a coincidence?’

  ‘I hope so. She is goddaughter to Walter Eichel. He introduced me to her. I find it hard to see Eichel involved in something sinister.’

  ‘And you say you only met her a short time ago?’

  ‘By chance last week. On Monday I met her again for dinner. But two things give me pause. Firstly, the timing is wrong; how could the Allies or the Gestapo know of your intention to involve me in the plot before I knew it myself? Any spy with that information would have made contact with me after our meeting yesterday, not before. More importantly, I don’t see how any spy network could have known that all these seemingly unrelated elements might work in concert: meeting Lisette, the plot, this Lukas person and his connection with the Gestapo.’

  ‘It’s impossible,’ Stülpnagel agreed. ‘As you say, von Schleigel was simply confirming Eichel’s story – and stirring up trouble with a Wehrmacht officer. You know the Gestapo as well as I do
, Colonel – its people are always looking to seed doubt.’

  ‘You believe he’s lying then?’

  ‘No, Kilian. He has no reason to lie about Mademoiselle Forestier but he’s reaching for invisible connections.’

  Kilian looked pensive. ‘He struck me as little more than a cruel thug with an axe to grind. And I suspect he privately detests men like myself who have led a more … well, shall I say, privileged existence? But the mere fact that the Gestapo has even looked at me is potentially dangerous. I don’t want anything to trip up our cause. And if I’m the potential obstacle, then I should be removed from the picture.’

  The general nodded. ‘Yes. But there is no one else I can risk trusting in Paris. I need someone with your experience on the ground.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’ Kilian asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ the general said, draining his cup. ‘As you say, this fellow has gone.’

  ‘What about Lisette Forestier?’

  ‘You like this woman?’

  Kilian nodded, not ready to admit how much.

  ‘She comes from a good family. I’ll look into her. Maintain your relationship, but you could arrange to have her followed, perhaps. There’s enough at stake. Make sure you use someone with no vested interest … obviously someone you trust, but definitely not from inside the ministry. A civilian is the best option.’

  ‘I can do that.’

  ‘And perhaps you have some business out of Paris you could attend to for a week or two? Give yourself some breathing space. Just make sure you maintain regular contact with my office; we may need you to return at a moment’s notice.’

  Kilian looked thoughtful. ‘There is a trip I’ve been putting off … Thank you, General.’

  ‘I think all is well, Colonel Kilian. But I appreciate your prompt action. Let me know if anything further strikes you as odd.’

  Kilian stood. ‘And you’ll let me know if your sources uncover anything unusual about Lisette Forestier?’

  ‘Of course.’ Stülpnagel finally twisted in his chair to look across the western sweep of the gardens. ‘I might enjoy some of this spring sun, Colonel … for a few more minutes.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘Perhaps you could introduce me to the bishop of Paris soon,’ Stülpnagel said in a loud, jovial voice.