‘It was a present – as you’ll have guessed.’ The cognac, they were talking about. She pointed: ‘So was that veal.’ There was a challenge in the statement, and in her expression as she’d glanced at him. Explaining to Rosie then – for her – Rosie’s – benefit, perhaps also for her own, following some instinct that it might be better if in Clausen’s eyes she shouldn’t have told her too much about herself – ‘I have a friend – a man friend – in Amiens, who’s extremely generous. That’s why I’m away at weekends mostly. And it was Gerhardt who introduced us.’
‘I see.’
Looking down at her folded hands: being Jeanne-Marie Lefèvre… Shy, and surprised at her new acquaintance having German friends, but less shocked or disapproving than impressed… Clausen meanwhile concentrating on Jacqui: it was fairly obvious, despite his superficially good manners, that he’d counted on finding her alone and was more than just disappointed that he hadn’t.
Which was fine. And natural – the way Jacqui was looking at this moment, and the way he could hardly take his eyes off her… Then she’d murmured something very quietly, and he’d laughed: Rosie heard him mutter, ‘Very well. Twenty-four hours. No – twenty-two hours, I’ll just manage that…’ Turning to include her in the conversation then: ‘I’m sorry – interrupting your meal as well as whatever vital matters you’re discussing. My apologies, madame… Jacqui – tomorrow evening?’
He might have introduced her to Colonel Walther, but in doing so evidently hadn’t exactly cut himself out of her life… Rosie wasn’t actually listening to their conversation at this stage – Jeanne-Marie wouldn’t have; wouldn’t have wanted to be seen as eavesdropping, anyway – but she was getting snatches of it – a reference to Amiens, and to Berlin then: and a squeak from Jacqui suddenly – ‘You’re going when?’ Rosie looked up, saw her hand on his arm and her eyes startled… ‘A permanent transfer?’
‘I’m sorry. But – yes, on Friday. I’m only back here to clear up. Not my decision, my dear, I wouldn’t volunteer to leave this place!’
Meaning – obviously – ‘to leave you…’
A minute later he tossed back the last drops of his brandy, handed the glass to Jacqui and was kissing Rosie’s hand. She could feel the sweat breaking out on the palms of her hands and her own racing pulse – current thought-processes to some extent aimed at beating all that, a kind of internal whistling in the dark, but then making it worse when the thoughts took their own direction – for instance, as now, that in any get-together in the Palais de Justice he’d be considerably less courteous…
But he was leaving Rouen, apparently. Here to say goodbye – in whatever form the farewell might have taken.
‘I’ll just see him safely down the stairs, Jeanne-Marie—’
Hearing her own complacent, ‘All right…’
Incredible. An S.D. sergeant – with God only knew how many S.O.E. scalps on his belt already… Although, she thought – alone, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers – maybe she hadn’t carried it off too badly. At any rate, he’d seemed to take her at face value. Now, she could let her pulse slow, relax in the cold sweat…
Jacqui came back. ‘It’s a blow that he’s leaving. For good, too, this time. As you said, one hasn’t such a wealth of friends here… I don’t want to eat any more – do you, now it’s cold?’
‘No. But it was terrific, Jacqui, thank you.’
‘So what did you think of him?’
‘Oh, well.’ She shrugged. ‘As you know, I don’t—’
‘You don’t like them. And I suppose – in principle…’ Wry smile, as she accepted a cigarette. ‘What if you hadn’t known he was a German?’ She leant to the single candle, sat back leaking smoke… ‘What would you have thought of him, then?’
‘You’d like me to say I thought he was madly attractive.’
‘And you don’t?’
She drew hard on her cigarette: still needing it…
‘Jacqui. I wonder – how frank we can afford to be with each other.’
‘Come again?’
‘Could we agree to say exactly what’s in our minds, d’you think, with the understanding that nothing’s passed on to what they call ‘third parties’?’
‘As far as I’m concerned—’
‘Good. It’s a deal. And the answer to that question is I can’t imagine taking him for anything but a German… Tell me something? How you met him, and how come a sergeant introduced you to a colonel in another town?’
‘Very long story…’
‘Well, let’s get into it gradually. As it happens, I know quite a bit of it, and I can guess at most of the rest. But you see, Jacqui—’
‘What are you talking about?’
She shook her head. ‘First things first. Number one is – believe me, I am your friend, and I’ve a lot to offer you. No, I really have – wait, just hear me out… For instance – this is the big one, really, we were starting on it when your sergeant friend arrived, if you remember. I was asking you – the way people here feel about you, how you think it might go for you when the Boches are licked?’
‘If they are.’
‘I say when. But go on.’
A silence: staring…
Hostility? Fear?
‘What is this, Jeanne-Marie?’
‘What might they do to you?’
‘Tear me in pieces? That what you want me to say?’
‘Reasonable supposition, anyway. So how would you like some cast-iron insurance, a guarantee nobody’d lay a finger on you?’
Staring again… ‘Jeanne-Marie – are you some kind of—’
‘A word to the Resistance that you’re working for us is all it’d take, Jacqui. I could arrange it pretty well immediately.’
‘My God, you are!’
‘There’d be no danger—’
‘Are you kidding?’ Shaking her dark head, eyes wild. ‘How about a word from me, to—’
‘Jacqui – don’t threaten me. I know the risks here. I’m counting on your intelligence – that you’ll see what I’m offering you – in a minute… No danger to yourself, I’m saying. It’d be known to only a couple of people here, and of course in London. We’d want you to do something for us – obviously, we aren’t thinking of telling lies for you, if you don’t help us… But I’m putting a lot of trust in you already, aren’t I? You could inform on me – to that Clausen person, for instance?’
‘How can you take such a chance?’ Her hands opened. ‘Unless you’re raving mad?’
‘I don’t believe you’d shop me. But in any case it’s important enough that I have to take the risk. Besides, I genuinely like you, the thought of the mob getting their hands on you when our armies drive these bastards out is – sickening… OK, so I’m grinding my own axe too – wanting your help. You may not realize it, but you’re in a position to give us absolutely vital help… Well – here we go – don’t faint now, Jacqui, but it’s to do with your Colonel Walther’s rockets.’
‘I guessed. Ten seconds ago. And you’re asking the impossible, my dear… Look, I won’t inform on you, but I couldn’t—’
‘That’s what’s known as a knee-jerk reaction. Listen… Why we need this information is that if the rockets were deployed and active before we can mount an invasion – well, at that point the south of England’ll have to be packed solid with troops, transport, guns and so on, and the ports crammed with ships. If there was some kind of continuous bombardment—’
‘No invasion.’ Jacqui smiled. Still short of breath, though.
‘So no defeat of Germany. What are you selling me?’
‘We’d still win, Jacqui. Take longer, that’s all. Delay it all while we smash the rocket sites. Or enough of them. What we want is to smash them before they get into action – so there’s no such delay – and to do that we need to know where they are, or will be.’ She’d lit a new cigarette – Jacqui’s was still going. ‘This is where you come in. And you see how important it is – so you’d be equivalently importan
t to us, and we’d look after you… Wouldn’t be so difficult for you, would it?’
‘You think not?’
‘Doesn’t he leave papers around, and maps? Don’t you hear things – where he was last week, or where his teams are going next?’
‘I suppose…’
‘You wouldn’t have to use a radio, or contact anyone, or even pick up a telephone. I’d come to you for a hairdo once a week, and you’d give me whatever you’d got. Verbally, or on paper if you like. Verbally’s the safe way, if your memory’s up to it. No risk at all. Not like it was when you worked for La Chatte, huh?’
‘Oh.’ A shrug… ‘You know about her, then.’
‘Lord, yes. Well, she came to London, didn’t she?’ Rosie glanced in the direction of the sideboard. ‘D’you think we could both use some of that cognac?’
‘My God, couldn’t we…’
‘But La Chatte – yes… I know quite a bit of your background, as it happens. Father French, mother Italian – right? Accounts for your lovely colouring, of course. You really are beautiful, Jacqui, Sergeant Clausen wasn’t exaggerating in the least… But your father was drowned, wasn’t he – air crash into the Bay of Biscay in – 1925? And your mother remarried – to an Italian, and when last heard of they were living in Rome… Thanks – I think I do need this.’
Jacqui sat down again, sniffing at hers… ‘I can’t get over the risk you’re taking.’ She nodded towards the phone. ‘One short call to Gerhardt, for instance – or a word to him – you heard, he’ll be here tomorrow night—’
‘And gone by Friday. I’m glad of that.’ Rosie put her glass down. Nodding, breathing smoke… ‘What I’m offering you, you see, is a whole package of long-term benefits. One – insurance against what’s bound to happen to you when the Boches are beaten. You know it would happen – in my contention one might say will happen – whether or not you ratted on me now. OK, I’d be dead – Ravensbruck’s where they’ve killed most of us, so far – but there’d be a hellish time in store for you, too. Or, suppose you were right about them winning – you aren’t, but suppose you were – you’d have lost nothing, because nobody’s going to know anything about this. You can take that as a promise too. In fact the Boches won’t win -the only reason you can’t see it is you’re stuffed with all their propaganda – but obviously you’d continue your relationship with Walther – you’d have to, that’s your special value – and when it’s over you’d not only be safe, you’d be a patriot. Oh, and also,’ – she raised a forefinger – ‘you’d be of independent means. Walther or no Walther.’
She saw that strike home. She’d known it would. Jacqui had been lifting her glass towards her lips: she’d frozen, holding it there.
‘How d’you work that out?’
‘Doesn’t a quarter of a million francs sound like independence?’
‘Quarter-million…’
‘Right.’
‘Who’d pay it – and when?’
Rosie sipped brandy. ‘You’d have it – well, not tomorrow, Clausen’ll be here tomorrow… Thursday?’
‘Can I believe you?’
‘Better than a free sample of scent, isn’t it?’
‘The scent thing’s all baloney, obviously. But – this money—’
‘Not baloney at all. It’s what I’m in Rouen for. I’m going to try hard to make a go of it, too.’
‘S.O.E., are you?’
‘S.O.E.? What’s that?’
‘All right. All right… Jeanne-Marie, are we talking about a quarter of a million in cash?’
‘Absolutely. Be a useful nest egg, wouldn’t it? It’s not just a bribe, incidentally, we realized you might need it. If Walther ran out on you – well, I’m sure he wouldn’t – but if Clausen arranged for his transfer to the Eastern Front, for instance—’
‘Now look—’
‘Such things have been known. Although Clausen’s going to be out of it now, isn’t he… Did La Chatte pay you well, Jacqui?’
‘Oh – no, not so well.’
‘You were going to tell me – about you and Clausen, and Walther, weren’t you? Tell me I’m on the right track now – it wasn’t Clausen, was it, it was a man called Bleicher, who trapped La Chatte. And he was Abwehr, not S.D…. But is Clausen a chum of his?’
‘They worked together, at one time. Some other place—’
‘Bleicher caught La Chatte – and she must have shopped you—’
‘Perhaps without knowing. He’s clever – like Clausen, they’re birds of a feather, that’s the way they work… What I know for sure is Mathilde-Lily was arrested – yes, by Bleicher – and she agreed to work for them. She used her radio to London, giving information they wanted her to give.’
‘What about you, though?’
‘I never worked for them. I was arrested, Bleicher asked me a lot of questions – about her, not about me, I wasn’t important to them as she was, I was only her employee. And at that time I was sure she’d betrayed me, so—’
‘You told them all you knew.’
‘Well.’ A shrug. ‘Most.’
‘And Bleicher became your lover?’
‘What gives you that idea?’
‘Just guessing… mostly… But when you came here, he put his friend Clausen on to you – personal favour, or professional cooperation, or both – and – as you said, through Clausen you met Colonel Walther.’
‘Gerhardt was looking into Security for him, then – when Hans was setting up, in Amiens. And – there was some socializing, some parties – he’s supposed to be only a sergeant, but that’s not how they treat him or how he lives.’
‘All the same, Walther took you over.’
‘If you want to put it that way. Although Gerhardt—’
‘—stayed in the wings. Yes, I – imagine. Mind you, La Chatte really slept around, didn’t she?’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting—’
‘I’m talking about La Chatte. She slept with Bleicher, didn’t she? Amongst others?’
‘This is an interrogation, Jeanne-Marie!’
‘Sorry. More a matter of comparing notes, really. It’s as well to be on the same wave-length – for you to know I know the background, or most of it… I must say I’m immensely relieved that Clausen’s leaving. If you and I are going to do business, Jacqui.’ She leant forward to stub out her cigarette; in the same movement, glancing at the clock and realizing that if she was going to beat the curfew, she’d have to run.
A better idea, then…
‘Jacqui – would it inconvenience you dreadfully to let me spend the night here?’
‘Spend the night?’
‘Curfew-time approaching, long way home—’
‘Oh. Well – no, of course. We can make up a bed for you on the sofa there.’
‘Lovely. So no rush, now… We are going to do business, eh?’
Staring at her. Speechless, thinking about it. Scared of it, obviously, despite the carrots: but wanting them – wanting them too badly to refuse them, Rosie guessed. She suggested – feeling sure of it, also an absolute imperative to make it so – ‘Let’s talk details, Jacqui…’
16
César was back in Rouen on the Thursday morning, and Rosie joined him before lunch at the Belle Femme. In his room, to start with, where they could talk business without looking over their shoulders all the time: the bed littered with overspill from an open suitcase, and the briefcase open too, amongst it. She could see her own notes there, on top, the wads of cheap blue notepaper. He had a lot more clothes with him than she had, she noticed.
He’d met the man in Amiens, he told her, and had been introduced by him to a woman agent of B.C.R.A. – the Gaullists’ equivalent of S.O.E. – with whom that group apparently had close links.
‘We might do well to cooperate with them, Angel, in these sabotage operations he’s planning. Don’t you agree?’
‘London wouldn’t.’ As he’d known damn well – surely… Looking at him curiously – and wondering whether th
e girl might be exceptionally attractive, which might partially explain the aberration. She added, ‘Nor would their hierarchy, would it – on past form. But I suppose some specific operation – if there’s mutual advantage in it, and she’s willing?’
‘Oh, she is!’
He’d been to Lyons-la-Forêt, after Amiens and Dury, to check on the success of the arms drops. She’d already known of this: she’d spent most of yesterday with Romeo at Pigot’s garage, and once again he’d had a call from Lebrun, via the Bistro Suisse, checking on César’s bona fides. Romeo had confirmed to the schoolmaster that César was the new boss, but suggested he should tell him politely that he’d prefer to deal only with Angel. Otherwise there could be wires crossed and other complications: it was always simpler to deal with just one individual. Lebrun had said he was relieved to have his own preference backed up, and that he’d act accordingly.
César commented, ‘As you said yourself, not a very inspiring sort of chap. But you evidently made a great hit with him.’
‘Did I, now…’
‘Only wants to work with you personally, he told me.’
‘Well – that’s hardly unusual, is it?’
‘To be unwilling to deal with the réseau leader?’
‘It would be more that he’d prefer to have just one contact. Most do – in my limited experience!’
‘Shades of your Romeo?’
She changed the subject: ‘This is his last day here, incidentally – Romeo’s. Oh, and by the way—’
‘To finish about Lebrun – if I may?’
‘Sorry—’
‘He asked me to tell you that the drop went off without any hitch and they got what they asked for. He’d heard that the Beauvais group were happy too. Wanted me to thank you. Apart from that, what seemed to have made his day was news of Mussolini being deposed. I ask you – as if that makes any difference to anything!’
‘I’d say it’s a straw in the wind – wouldn’t you?’
Into the Fire Page 27
