“But why is she here at all? After all the trouble Joanna took, the risk she ran…”
“To tell you the truth, Li, after not hearing from you for so long, the brigadier began to feel that you were out of action, and so—”
“He sent Amalie to replace me? One day I must meet this brigadier of yours and teach him the facts of life. How is Joanna?”
“I have no idea.”
Liane stopped walking. “What’s happened to her?”
“Again, I don’t know that anything has happened to her. We offered her an out last summer, but she evaded our surveillance and returned to Germany. Since then nothing.”
Liane resumed walking. “Why did she return to Germany if you were no longer employing her?”
“Again, I have no idea. There was some talk that she had a German boyfriend…”
Liane smiled. “You think that will upset me? Do I not also have a boyfriend?”
“Yours is on the same side as yourself.”
“So, do you now consider her an enemy?”
“I personally do not know what to consider her. But there are lots of people who do.”
They reached the top of the hill and looked down into the next valley. “It will have to be sorted out when the War is over; Joanna, Madeleine…” She sighed. “Will the War ever be over, James?”
He put his arm round her shoulder to hug her. “It’s coming closer every day. You know about Stalingrad?”
“There is a rumour that the Germans were defeated.”
“Defeated? An entire army, over a million men, was wiped out.”
She looked up at him. “Does it mean anything for us?”
“It means that Hitler is being squeezed everywhere. He’s hanging on to North Africa by his bootstraps, he’s being bombed day and night, and now he’s come a real cropper in Russia… Oh, did you know that Helsingen has been invalided home from the Russian front, badly injured?”
“I did not know that. Oh, poor Madeleine.”
“Did you ever know Helsingen?”
“No. He came on the scene after I was already an outlaw. But I know he helped Amalie, or got his friend Hoeppner to do so. Is he going to die?”
“We have only the report that he was wounded.”
“Then perhaps he will survive. Where are your goods?”
“In that wood.”
“Well, at least they are not visible from the air.” She went down the slope, her hair fluttering behind her.
He kept at her shoulder. “What is the situation here?”
“Quiet. There is a German presence and they, or the gendarmerie, make searches every so often, but not very purposefully. That is because no one knows I am here, or Jean, and because we have been carrying out no operations.” She glanced at him. “I assume that is now about to end?”
“Would that bother you?”
“I would welcome it. I have been feeling very guilty, sitting here and doing nothing for all this time. But just to be back in touch with you makes it all worth while.”
“Liane…” He caught her arm, and she turned against him. Her kiss was hungry, but when his hands slipped down to her buttocks she shook her head.
“Let’s go into the trees. Out here is too exposed.”
They hurried and found the containers where he had left them, half buried beneath their leaves and branches. She opened the first one. “It is a start. But there will never be enough.” Again, she turned into his arms. “Love me, James. Oh, love me.” Although the sun was now high, the day remained chilly, but as he and Amalie had intended to return to the wood had their reconnoitre not been successful, their sleeping bags remained where they had left them. Liane stripped with the simple grace that depicted all of her actions and slipped into the quilted warmth. James joined her a few seconds later, and their bodies nestled against each other. “Did you sleep with Amalie?” she asked.
“Would you be jealous if I had?”
She smiled as she kissed him. “I am in no position to be jealous of you, James.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Didn’t she want to?”
“Yes, she did. But I knew I was coming to see you.”
She kissed him again. “It would have done her good.”
“Maybe. But at the time she wouldn’t have enjoyed having me between her legs.” His hands slipped between Liane’s legs. Although they had had so few shared moments since 1940, they both knew what the other wanted.
She sighed, put her hands down to hold him and feel him swell. “What am I to do with her, James?”
“She wants to fight. To kill Germans. And she’ll be useful to you; she’s an explosives expert.”
“Amalie?”
“She’s been to school.”
“I sometimes think all she wants to do is die. Oh, James… James…”
To have an orgasm with Liane de Gruchy had to be to open the gates of paradise. She gave herself without the least hesitation in any direction and if from time to time, he could not stop himself from wondering if she had behaved like that with all the men she had seduced – even that rat Johann Roess on a memorable occasion – or indeed the women, he knew that was the secret of her success. For had not an even more famous Liane, the immortal courtesan de Pougy, written that the only way to make a man believe that you love him while having sex with him, is to love him while having sex with him.
As there was, and never had been, any reason for her to pretend to love him, other than his obvious adoration of her, he refused to believe that such an observation applied to him. But he also knew that she could be the most single-minded woman he had ever encountered and her only reason for living was to see France finally liberated; although, perhaps unlike her sister, she had every intention of staying alive until that happened. So it was no surprise when, after lying quiescent in his arms for a few moments, she asked, “So tell me what you wish me to do?”
But then, if there were a more single-minded man in the world than anyone she had ever known, it was himself. “I have come to tell you about wolfram,” he said.
*
“James!” Jean Moulin embraced him. “It is good to see you. After so long…”
“I have a letter for you, from General de Gaulle.” James gave him the envelope then sat silently with Liane and Amalie while he read the message.
“Promises, promises,” Moulin said. “And the usual bombast. But that is the nature of the beast. He certainly seems very confident. He talks of great things about to happen.” He raised his head. “Would that be this year?”
“Everyone is talking about this year,” Amalie said.
“No one is supposed to be talking about it at all,” James said. “And certainly not someone in General de Gaulle’s position.”
“He says,” Moulin went on, “that when it happens, I must be ready to put 50,000 Frenchmen into the field.”
“And women,” Liane reminded him.
“He does not mention women at all. 50,000! He is starting to believe his own propaganda. Even if I could raise 50,000 men, how am I to arm them? Will your government provide arms and ammunition for such a number, James?”
“We haven’t got it spare. With respect, Jean, I think we should leave the big things to the big boys and get on with the task in hand. Do you know where this wolfram mine is situated?”
“Yes.” The map was spread on the kitchen table, and Moulin indicated the area. “Can it not be bombed?”
“Not if we intend to destroy the mine itself.” James laid several photographs beside the map. “These were taken by the RAF. You’ll see there are barracks here, and here. One of them is for the labour force. Then there is the office, and quarters for the management staff.”
“And two watch towers,” Liane commented.
“Is that a problem?”
“I shouldn’t think so.” She indicated the dark areas fringing the photos. “Are these woods?”
“Yes.”
“Then there will be no problem. And the ne
arest town is…?”
“Ten miles away. But there will be telephone communication. How long would it take you and your people to get there?”
She checked the scale and peered at the map again, studying the terrain. “A week. With twenty men.”
“And two women,” Amalie said.
“Have you that number?”
She nodded. “I can raise that number.”
“And arms?”
“Thanks to what you brought we have six tommy-guns and eight pistols. My people are all farmers, so they will have shotguns.”
“You also have the two dozen grenades.”
She nodded again. “They will be vital.”
James turned to Moulin. “Any idea how well the mine will be guarded?”
“In such a remote area, I would say not more than twenty men.”
“One for one,” Amalie declared.
“Every one armed with an automatic weapon.”
“Can you do it?” James asked Liane.
“Yes.”
“You understand, I would come with you, if I could. But I have been expressly ordered to make contact and return to London. As soon as we can set up some landing lights I must call Brune for a pick-up.”
“Of course I understand, my darling.” Liane squeezed his hand. “But when you get home, send us some more weapons, please.”
“Wheren will you be ready to move?”
“As soon as we can contact all our people.” She looked at Moulin.
He nodded. “I will start tomorrow.”
“Well, then…” She stood up, still holding James’ hand. “We are for bed.”
*
Captain Kaufman scrambled to his feet, hastily buttoning his tunic. If he had never seen Colonel Roess before, he had heard the name. Now he goggled at the little man, who was today wearing his black uniform, and at the tall blonde woman beside him. Beauty and the beast, he thought; he was a classicist.
“Herr Colonel! Heil Hitler! Will you not sit down? And the Fraulein. If I had known you were coming…”
“So would everyone else.” Roess sat before the desk. Joanna fetched the other chair in the room to sit beside him.
“Oh, no, Herr Colonel. But…” He looked at Joanna and then back at Roess. “Is there a problem? Here? In Lyons?”
“You would not say so? Now you will tell me that you do not know the name Juliette Dugard?”
“Juliette Dugard. Oh, yes, I know of Juliette Dugard. A madwoman.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, her brother committed suicide, you know.”
“Our information is that he was murdered.”
“That is what she says. She claims he was murdered by the Resistance. By the famous Liane de Gruchy. But there is no proof. Now she claims to have seen this de Gruchy quite close to here, in the village of Aumont. Well, Herr Colonel, I ask you… and again there is no proof.”
“I am not interested in proof, captain. I am interested in Liane de Gruchy. What steps have you taken to follow this matter up? Have you carried out searches?”
“Searches, Herr Colonel? This is a huge area, and I have only a few men—”
“You have the use of the Milice Français and the gendarmerie.”
“I do not trust them. Certainly the Milice Français. All Frenchmen hate us at heart; they only join outfits like the Milice to avoid the labour battalions. I did request the gendarmerie to make enquiries, but they turned nothing up.”
“But you trust them. Very good, Captain Kaufman. I wish Madame Dugard brought in for questioning. Do it discreetly, we do not want to alarm the neighbourhood. And when you have done that, you may pack your bags.”
“Sir?”
“It is my opinion that you are not temperamentally suited for this assignment. You may do better in Russia.”
*
Joanna stood at the window of her hotel room and looked out at the rolling hills. Liane was out there. Did she know what was happening in here? Had she any inkling of the net that was closing around her? And there was nothing she could do about it, with Roess always at her side, save…
She heard him now, tapping on her door. “Are you awake, Fraulein?”
“Yes.”
“Well, dress yourself and come down. They brought in Madame Dugard last night.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” She put on her clothes, picked up her shoulder-bag and checked that her Luger pistol was loaded. Beside it there lay a knife with a six-inch blade. The moment of decision. She hated using knives. And she actually hated killing people. She was about to take a terrible risk. But if Liane’s life was at stake… She picked up the pistol again, extracted the magazine and removed the first two bullets. Then she removed the bullet from the chamber. The bullets she placed in her shoulder-bag. Then she slapped the magazine back into the gun butt and went to the door. God save Liane, she thought. But she would rather do it herself.
Three
Catastrophe
“Do you really trust this woman?” Joanna asked, as she got into the car beside Roess.
“As a woman? Good God, no. She is French.”
“But you are prepared to trust her information.”
“She is a woman whose brother was murdered. I am prepared to trust her desire for vengeance.”
“But you have only her opinion that he was murdered. The gendarmerie in Limoges do not think so. So this woman claims to have seen Liane in Oradour not long after her brother’s death. Has this sighting been confirmed by anyone else? And if it were, why should she not be in Oradour? It is only a few kilometres north of Limoges. The mere fact that she was there does not mean she had anything to do with Monterre’s death.”
“Jut what are you trying to say, Fraulein?”
“The first is that we may be engaging on a wild goose chase at the behest of an hysterical woman determined to avenge her brother, dreaming up sightings of de Gruchy in every corner.”
“You did not suggest this to Reichsfuehrer Himmler.”
“I had not had the time to think about it.”
“Well, as we are here, we must follow it up.” The car had arrived at Gestapo Headquarters.
“But there is another aspect of the situation that concerns me,” Joanna said, as the door was opened.
Roess, about to step out, checked himself. “What is that?”
“Do you not find the whole thing too pat? This woman claims to have seen Liane de Gruchy in Oradour. No one else seems to have done so. Now she claims to have seen her here in the south. No one else has. Is it not possible that it is all a subterfuge, that she is actually working with Liane? After all, we have only her say so that she is not a member of the Resistance.”
“What would be the purpose of this subterfuge?”
“Well, she claims to have seen Liane in the Limoges area, when it seems doubtful that she was there. Now she claims to have seen her down here. So we, predictably, come rushing down here to find her, when it is extremely possible that she is somewhere else, far away, about to blow up something or murder someone.”
Roess got out of the car. “If I thought that, I would take this woman apart, inch by inch.”
Joanna joined him. “It would be simpler to find out the truth.”
Roess acknowledged the salutes of the sentries as he strode into the building. “Oh, I intend to do that.”
Joanna walked at his shoulder. “With your whips and your electrodes. I could do it for you much more quickly and effectively.” He turned to face her. “I can do it without destroying her, and in a tenth of the time,” Joanna said. “You need to remember that I was trained by Oskar Weber.”
He considered for a moment, then said, “Very well. It should be amusing to watch.”
“I work alone.”
“Why?”
“A woman needs to have her secrets. It will only take me half an hour.”
Another brief consideration, then he nodded. “Very well. You may have half an hour, then I will take over.”
Kaufman was waiting for them, sweating. “Good morning, Herr Colonel. Fraulein. Heil Hitler!”
“Where is the prisoner?” Roess demanded.
“In my office.”
“Your office? Why is this?”
“Well, Herr Colonel, she is not actually a prisoner. She has come here to supply us with information. As soon as we told her what we wanted, she came of her own free will.”
Roess looked at Joanna, who shrugged. “The office will do very well.” In fact, she thought, it will be ideal.
“Very well. Proceed. You have half an hour. Show the Fraulein to your office, Kaufman, and I will have coffee.”
“Of course, Herr Colonel.” Kaufman signalled an orderly and then escorted Joanna up the stairs to his office and opened the door. “My people are close, if you need assistance.”
“I never need assistance,” Joanna assured him and stepped inside, locking the door behind her.
The woman seated in the chair before the desk turned to look at her. Juliette Dugard was a large woman, almost as tall as Joanna herself, and equally well built. Unlike Joanna, her features were also large, and coarse, and her hair a straggly and unkempt dark brown. She wore a somewhat shapeless dress, clearly hastily put on. “I was told the Gestapo wished to interview me,” she said.
Joanna sat behind the desk. “I am the Gestapo. Tell me about Liane de Gruchy.”
“She is a devil. She is all sweetness and light on the outside, with her soft voice and her charming smile, but underneath she is a cold-hearted killer.”
“Of traitors and Germans, certainly.” Juliette’s head jerked. “And you claim to know her,” Joanna said. “And to have seen her, recently.”
“Not a week ago. In Aumont, in the bar where I work.”
“Was she wearing any form of disguise?”
“Oh, well, she wears a headscarf and those sunglass things. Very chic. But there is no need for her to be disguised. Vlabon is her friend.”
“Who is Vlabon?”
“The patron. Everyone in Aumont is her friend.”
“Except you.”
Once again, Juliette jerked. “She murdered my brother.”
“So you say. Is Mademoiselle de Gruchy by herself when she comes to Aumont?”
The Brightest Day Page 5
