"Get going ... you've still got time ... there's a flat roof under the bedroom window . . ."
Thomas shook his head, smiling.
Chantal lost her temper.
"You idiot! They'll pack you full of lead! In ten minutes you'll be floating like a drowned rat in the Old Harbor!"
"It would have been considerate of you to have thought of that a little earlier, my sweet," replied Thomas affably.
She swung up her arm wildly, as though to strike him, and gasped out: "How can you trot out that silly talk at a time like this?"
But a second later she burst out sobbing.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Open up," he said sternly. Chantal, one fist pressed to her lips, did not stir.
The knocking was repeated, but more violently. Josephine Baker's voice was still ringing out.
A male voice familiar to Thomas shouted: "Open the door or we shoot the lock out!"
"Good old Simeon," murmured Thomas. "Still as hotheaded as ever!" He turned his back on the trembling Chantal and went into the hall.
The main door of the flat was now quivering under hammering fists. The door was fastened by a security chain. Thomas turned the handle and the door was pushed open as
far as the chain permitted. A shoe was thrust into the resulting aperture. So was a revolver.
Thomas stepped on the shoe as heavily as he could and pushed up the barrel of the pistol. "I should be glad if you could remove these two objects, Colonel," he announced.
"I daresay you would," Sim6on shouted back from behind the door. "Open up at once or we shoot!"
"Then you'll have to shoot," Thomas told him coolly. "For as long as you've got your hand and foot stuck in the door I can't move the security chain."
After some hesitation the colonel complied with Thomas Lieven's request. The shoe and the weapon were withdrawn. Thomas opened the door. Next moment he felt the barrel of a revolver in his ribs and found himself standing right up against the heroic Jules Simeon, whose mustache bristled as he threw back his impressive head with its Roman nose.
Thomas noted that the poor chap had still not made any money, even during the last few months. He was still wearing the same shabby old trenchcoat.
"Well, this is a pleasure, Colonel," said Thomas. "How are you? And what is our lovely Mimi doing these days?"
The colonel retorted, scarcely moving his lips in the intensity of his scorn: "Your game's up, you dirty traitor!"
"I wonder if you'd mind pushing that pistol barrel against some other part of my body, the chest for instance? I've only just had supper, you know."
"In half an hour all your digestion troubles will be over, you blackguard," Simeon rejoined with flashing eyes.
A second man entered the vestibule. He was tall and elegant, with graying temples and shrewd eyes. The collar of his overcoat was turned up, his hands were in his pockets and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He was Maurice Debras.
"Good evening," said Thomas. T guessed that you would be somewhere about when Chantal told me the name of that record. "How are you, Major?"
Simeon hissed: "Colonel!"
But Colonel Debras himself made no reply. He merely jerked his head, with a brief, imperious gesture, in the direction of the door.
Next moment a furious shout made them all turn round. Chantal, crouching like a tigress on the threshold of the living room, was brandishing a Malay kriss in her right hand. "Out with you!" she yelled savagely. "Or I'll stick the two of you! Leave Jean alone!"
Simeon, in alarm, retreated two steps.
Thomas thought: I'm glad to see you're not quite such an imbecile of a hero as you were when Paris fell. Then he turned to Chantal. "Stop that nonsense, Chantal," he told her sharply. "Didn't you promise the colonel you were going to give me up?"
But Chantal only crouched lower and hissed even more fiercely: "I don't give a damn for that .. . I've behaved like a bitch . . . but I can make amends for it all now . . ."
"You can make a load of damp garbage," Thomas retorted. "They'll only lock you up, you stupid slut."
"Let them . . . it's all one to me—I shall still not have turned anybody in. Get behind me, Jean, quick! Run into the bedroom . . ."
She had come right up to him. Thomas sighed and shook his head. Then he kicked out with his right foot, high. The point of the shoe caught Chantal's right wrist. She uttered a cry of pain. The dagger flew out of her hand and stuck quivering in the doorpost.
Thomas collected his hat and coat, pulled the dagger out and handed it to Debras. "You can't imagine how painful it is for me to have to attack a woman," he said. "But at Mile. Tessier's place, it seems, one can't avoid brutality . . . Shall we go now?"
Debras nodded without speaking. Simeon pushed Thomas out onto the landing.
[16]
The door banged. Chantal was left alone. She began to tremble convulsively and sank helplessly to the floor, where she tossed from side to side, sobbing and crying out. At last she rose and staggered into the living room. The record was finished. But the needle was carrying on rhythmically. Chantal seized the gramophone and flung it against the wall, where it smashed with a clatter.
That night, the worst she had ever experienced, she could not sleep. She tossed to and fro in the bed, restless, conscience-stricken and in despair. She had betrayed her beloved and was responsible for his death, since she was sure that Simeon and Debras would kill him.
At dawn she fell into an uneasy slumber.
A resonant male voice, singing out of tune, awoke her. With an aching head and limbs that felt like lead she sat up.
She could hear the man's voice quite distinctly. It was singing "Vaideux amours"
Mad, I've gone mad, she thought in alarm. I can hear his voice—the voice of a dead man—O God, I've lost my reason ...
"Jean!" she screamed.
There was no answer.
She stumbled out of bed and rushed from the room in her nightdress. Away—away from here ...
Then she halted abruptly. The door of the bathroom stood open. And Thomas Lieven was sitting in the bath.
Chantal closed her eyes. Then she opened them again. Thomas was still sitting in the bath. She moaned: "Jean ..." -
"Good morning, bitch," said he.
She fell rather than walked through the doorway and sank down on the edge of the bath. "How—what—what are you doing here?" she stammered.
"I'm trying to soap my back. I wonder if you'd be kind enough to do it for me."
"But... but... but..."
"I beg your pardon?"
"But they must have shot you ... you must be dead ..."
"If I were dead I wouldn't be here trying to soap my back," he told her reprovingly. "What nonsense you do talk. Really, Chantal, you must pull yourself together a little. You're not living in a lunatic asylum or in the jungle. Not now."
He held a piece of soap out to her. She seized it and flung it back into the water. At the same time she cried shrilly: "Tell me this moment what's happened!"
In a dangerously quiet tone Thomas replied: "Get that soap out of the water instantly. You're going to get a thrashing in any case. God is my witness, Chantal, that up to now I've never hit a woman. But in your case I shall abandon my most sacred principles. Wash my back now. Get on with it. How much longer are you going to be?"
Chantal fumbled in the water, found the soap and did as he asked. Meanwhile she gazed at him in awed admiration.
"It's taken me a long time to find out how to deal with you," he said grimly.
"What happened, Jean?" she demanded hoarsely. "Tell me..."
" 'Please tell me,' is the proper was to ask."
"Please, Jean, please ..."
"That's better," he grunted, writhing luxuriously. "Higher.
Further to the left. Harder. Well, after those two had carried me off from here, they took me down to the docks ..."
[17]
Simeon and De"bras drove down to the harbor with Thomas Lieve
n. An icy wind whistled through the narrow lanes of the Old Quarter. Dogs were baying the full moon. No one was about.
Debras sat at the wheel of the ramshackle Ford. Simeon, still holding his revolver, sat in the back of the car next to Thomas. No one spoke.
Lights were still burning in the black market dealers' caf6s on the Quai du Port in the Old Quarter. At the Intendance Sanitaire building Debras turned right into the Quai de la Tourette and drove past the venerable cathedral northward to the Place de la Joliette. He bypassed the huge black Gare Maritime along the deserted Boulevard Dunkerque. Then they were again at the waterfront, this time that of the Bassin de la Gare Maritime. The Ford jolted over railway lines and sleepers, pulling up at last on the dark Mole A.
"Out you get," said Simeon.
Thomas Lieven alighted obediently. The autumn gale cut him to the bone. The air stank of fish. The few lights strung out along the mole danced wildly. A ship's siren sounded in the distance. Debras had suddenly drawn a heavy pistol. He jerked his chin up.
Thomas moved off resignedly, marching out along the deserted mole. He was still smiling. But the smile was growing gradually stiffen
Water glittered in the ashen light of the moon. White crests of foam rose and fell on the little waves. The fishy stench grew stronger. Thomas, as he shuffled along, heard Simeon stumbling and cursing behind him. This is awful, thought Thomas, naturally he's got his finger on the trigger all this time. I hope he doesn't stumble again. Quite a serious accident might so easily occur....
Colonel Debras had still not uttered a single word. Now there was not another living soul anywhere near them.
Anyone who falls into the water here won't be found for a very long time, thought Thomas. Especially if he has a few bullets in his guts. The mole had come to an end at last. Suddenly there was nothing more ahead but a strip of concrete and beyond it the waters of the port. They looked very black.
"Halt," said Simeon.
Thomas halted.
Then Debras spoke for the first time: 'Turn around."
Thomas turned around. He gazed at Debras and Simeon and heard the church clocks of Marseilles strike the three quarters of the hour, far off, muted by the wind, ethereal. Next moment he heard Simeon say in a preoccupied, urgent tone: "Quarter to eleven, chief. We'll have to hurry if we're to get him to Madame's by eleven o'clock."
Thomas gasped. His stiff smile relaxed. He coughed discreetly as he heard one colonel say to the other: "You utter idiot!"
With a smile, Thomas addressed Debras. "Don't be too hard on him, for spoiling your little game. I've suffered from him too. He once landed me in a terribly difficult situation in front of a German first lieutenant. All the same, he's a decent sort." He clapped Simeon, who was looking frightfully embarrassed, on the back.
Debras pocketed his pistol and turned away to hide a grin which he didn't want either Thomas or Simeon to see.
Thomas continued: "Apart from that, gentlemen, I had an idea,, right away, that you only wanted to give me a devil of a fright and then, probably, get me to work for you again."
"Wh—what made you think that?" Sim6on stuttered.
"As soon as I heard Josephine Baker's record I suspected that M. Debras was somewhere about. Then I said to myself, If the major—oh, pardon, colonel, and let me congratulate you, by the way, on your promotion—if, then, you had made a special journey from Casablanca, it could hardly have been simply in order to be present at my inglorious demise. Am I right?"
Debras turned back to Thomas. He nodded. "Damn you three times over for an insolent Bochel"
"May I suggest, then, that we leave this inhospitable spot? The stink's beginning to get me down. And we really ought not to keep Madame waiting. Also, Fd like to go around by the station if possible."
"The station?" repeated Simeon with a bewildered look.
"There's a flower shop there which keeps open all night," Thomas instructed him amiably. "I want to buy a few orchids .. ."
Josephine Baker seemed more beautiful than ever to Thomas Lieven. She received him in the drawing-room of her
suite at the Hotel de Noailles in the Cannebiere, the principal street of Marseilles.
Josephine's blue-black hair was piled high in a shining crown. She wore huge white earrings. Her dark skin had the sheen of velvet. The colorful sparkle of a great ring with a rosette of diamonds flashed in Thomas's eyes as he bent to kiss the hand of the woman he so revered.
She looked serious as she took the cellophane carton containing three rose-red orchids. "Thank you, Herr Lieven. Please sit down. Maurice, may I ask you to open the champagne?"
There were only three of them present. For Debras, in a sudden access of impatience, had sent Colonel Simeon back to his quarters.
Thomas Lieven, glancing about the room, saw a big mirror and a grand piano with a heap of sheet music lying on it He also noticed a poster which read:
Marseilles Opera
JOSEPHINE BAKER
in
THE CREOLE
An Opera in Three Acts
by JACQUES OFFENBACH
Opening Night: 24th December 1940.
Colonel Debras filled their cut-glass goblets. He said: "Let us drink to the woman to whom you owe your life, Hen-Lie ven."
Thomas bowed low to Josephine. "I always hoped, madame, that you would understand the reasons for my behavior. As a woman you must hate violence, war, bloodshed and murder even more than I do.'*
"Of course," the brilliantly handsome woman answered. "But I also love my country. You did us a lot of harm by destroying those genuine lists."
"Madame," Thomas rejoined, "would I not have done your country even more harm if I had not destroyed those lists, if I had handed them over to the Germans?"
Debras intervened. "You are right. No need to say any more on that subject. Nor do I forget that you helped me to leave Madrid. You're a borderline case, Lieven. But I swear to you that if you play us up just once more there won't be more
champagne, however well Josephine may understand the reasons for your behavior. Next time you won't be returning from the mole."
"Look here, Debras. I'm fond of you. I really, honestly am. I'm also fond of France. But I swear to you here and now that if you compel me to work for you again I shall play you up again. For I'm not going to act against any country, even my own."
Josephine asked quietly: "Including the Gestapo?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Would you also have any scruples about injuring the Gestapo?"
"I would do that, madame, with the very greatest of pleasure."
Colonel Debras lifted his hand. "I suppose you know that just now, with British support, we are building up a new secret service and a resistance movement in both occupied and unoccupied France."
"Yes, I know that"
"Colonel Simeon had orders from his new chief in Paris to lure you to Marseilles and liquidate you. But before acting he discussed your case with Josephine. She informed me of the plan and asked me to intervene."
"Madame," said Thomas, with a bow, "may I refill your glass?"
"Lieven, I have to return to Casablanca. Josephine will follow me in a few weeks' time. We have received certain orders from London. Simeon will then be left alone here. What is your opinion of him?"
Thomas replied courteously: "I would have to lie to answer you."
Debras sighed. "Sim6on has a good heart. He is an ardent patriot."
"And a heroic soldier," Thomas added approvingly.
"Brave and energetic," Josephine approved in her turn.
"Yes, yes, yes," said Debras. "But unfortunately there's something lacking in him. We all know what it is. I need not mention it."
Thomas nodded regretfully.
"It's not only a ready fist that proves courage," said Josephine. "A head is also required. You, Herr Lieven, and Colonel Simeon, can supply both between you. You two would make a good team."
"Simeon will never be equal to his job on his own," Debras said.
"What job?"
Debras compressed his lips. "The position is serious, Lieven. I've no wish to represent my countrymen as better than they are. Even some Frenchmen are swine."
"There are swine everywhere," said Thomas.
"Those in both occupied and unoccupied France are collaborating with the Nazis. They are betraying us. They are selling their country. There are French swine in the.pay of the Gestapo. I said Gestapo, Herr Lieven."
"I heard you," Thomas said.
"You are a German. You can get on with Germans. And you can also at any time pass for a native Frenchman."
"Oh Lord, there it goes again!"
"Those people are not only betraying their country, they are also plundering it," said D6bras. "For example, only a few days ago two men arrived here from Paris to buy up gold and currency."
"Frenchmen?"
"Frenchmen working for the Gestapo."
"What are their names?"
"Jacques Bergier and Paul de Lesseps."
Thomas Lieven gazed into space for a while, reflecting. Then he said: "Very well, Debras, 1*11 help to find those two traitors for you. But I should like you to promise me that you will let me go when I have done so."
**Where do you want to go to?"
"You know that perfectly well. To South America. I have a friend there called Lindner, a banker. I have no more money myself. But he has plenty."
"Herr Lieven ..."
"He has a million dollars. If I could obtain a new passport from you he would guarantee me a visa ..."
"Herr Lieven, just a minute..."
"And as soon as I have the visa I can get a ship ..." He stopped speaking abruptly. "What's the matter?"
"I'm sorry, Herr Lieven. I'm really sorry. But I'm afraid you'll never see your friend Lindner again."
"What do you mean? Give me the details, please, and don't keep anything back. I'm already gradually beginning to see myself as a modern Job. What's happened to my friend Lindner?"
"He is dead," Ddbras said.
"Dead?" repeated Thomas. His face changed color, going gray. Walter Lindner dead. My last hope, my last friend, my last chance to leave this crazy continent...
"You were in jail at the time. So you heard nothing about it," Debras said. "On November 3, 1940, near the Bermudas, Lindner's boat hit a floating mine and sank twenty minutes later. Only a few survivors were picked up. Lindner and his wife were not among them .. ."
The Monte Cristo Cover-Up Page 23
