Did she regret any of it? Only the death of Pierre, the anguish suffered by Amalie, who was now again her responsibility, and the deaths of the other brave men who had fought at her side. As for the life itself, did she want it ever to end? Of course she did, for the sake of France, of her surviving family – even Madeleine – and for the sake of all the thousands who were dying every day the conflict continued. But for herself? Could she ever go back to what she was before the War? Did she want to? But what was the alternative? James kept telling her he wanted to marry her, but could she ever be a normal housewife? And James, for all his charismatic personality and ruthless determination, was at heart a very conventional man. So think only of the present and the job in hand; she had, in any event, used up all of her nine lives.
*
Her people had assembled within a few hours of James’ departure, and she looked around the faces gathered in the little wood not far from Aumont. She had met them all, but in the darkness it was difficult to identify every one of them. “Gather round,” she said and spread the map on the ground, playing her torch beam on to the stiff paper. “We move out now,” she told them. “We will travel in seven groups, six of three and one of two, that is. Amalie and myself.”
“I do not think two women should travel by themselves,” Philipe objected.
“But two such women,” commented one of the other men.
“Thank you, Gaston,” Liane said. “Just remember, all of you, that I give the orders. Now, the rendezvous is here.” She indicated the wooded area on the map. “We meet here at dawn in five days’ time. Remember, you move only by night and you take care not to be seen. You all have your rations?” They nodded. “Then I will see you in five days’ time.”
“What of the attack?” Philipe asked.
“I will give you the plan of attack when we rendezvous.” Again she looked around their faces. “That way if any of you are captured you cannot betray us.” She smiled at them. “But it would be better if none of you was captured.”
“What will happen if you are captured?” Philipe persisted.
“If I am captured, I will not be at the rendezvous. If I am not at the rendezvous by dawn on the fifth day, the mission is aborted. You will go home. And you, Philipe, will report what has happened to Monsieur Moulin and take his instructions. But as I have never been captured before, I do not see why I should be captured this time. Now go.”
She and Amalie watched them file off through the trees.
“Do you trust them?” Amalie asked.
“We have to trust them. But I believe they are good men. They were handpicked by Jean.”
“Even Philipe?”
“I have known Philipe for years. And he and his family have been sheltering us for six months. So he asks a lot of questions. That is because he has an active mind.”
“He is in love with you.”
“They are all in love with me.” Liane smiled. “Even the Germans are in love with me, or the idea of me. That is the secret of my success.” She picked up her haversack. “Let’s go.”
Amalie picked up her haversack in turn. “He is jealous of James. A jealous man is never trustworthy.”
“Who’s a wise young bird, then?”
“But you will still trust him.”
“At this moment, I have no choice. We have no choice. It is something to be considered after this is over.”
“If anything were to happen to you, I would kill him.”
“Well, it might be a good idea to tell him that. When this is over.”
*
They walked until the first light, their way taking them up hills and into valleys. They passed more than one village but kept at a safe distance. Some dogs barked but because of the curfew no one ventured out to investigate. Liane had a destination in mind, and they reached it in good time; a small copse on the edge of a stream, more than a mile away from the nearest habitation. “
“Woof,” Amalie said. “May I bathe?”
“Of course. I intend to.” The sisters stripped and entered the stream, which was deep enough to reach their waists, Amalie giving a little squeal of discomfort as the cold water got to her bruised thighs. “How are they?” Liane asked.
“Sore. Will you look at them?”
“Yes.” Refreshed, Amalie lay on the grass while Liane inspected the broken flesh. “They are healing. Or I should say, they were healing, until you did all this walking, rubbing the flesh. You should not have come. I do not understand why you are here at all.” This was the first time they had been entirely alone since Amalie’s return.
“Can you not understand that I wish to be with you?”
Liane handed out bread and cheese and filled two cups with wine. That is very sweet of you, but if anything were to happen to you…”
Amalie chuckled. “You would kill Philipe.”
“This is a serious matter, you know. I hope you have not come back simply to commit suicide in a glorious fashion.”
“I have come back to kill Germans, and to be with you. If I am to die, I want to die at your side, the way Pierre did.”
“Do you think I am happy about that? By hurling the grenade a moment before the bullet hit him he saved my life.”
“I know he would not have died any other way. Nor would I. Do you have any idea what it has been like, living in England, in the lap of luxury, knowing you were here, living like this? It was empty, so empty.”
“You were with Mama and Papa.”
“That was worse than anything. They are not the people you remember, Li.”
“Are they not well off? Papa had all those investments in England, Mama’s family—”
“They are perfectly well off. But they are absolutely shattered. The months they spent in prison, then having to abandon the business and their home, and then the death of Pierre… It has all been too much for them. And then there is you. The Germans have put out how you are a cold-blooded murderess—”
“Mama and Papa believe that?”
“Well, aren’t you?”
Liane made a moue. “Wheren it is necessary. For France. Can they not understand that?”
“It is not how wars were fought in their youth. They do not believe women should take part in wars, anyhow.”
“So what do they think of you?”
“I do not believe they accept me as their daughter, any more. Oh, Liane…” Her eyes filled with tears. “I spend my time remembering Henri. What have I got to live for?”
“As you are here, you have France to live for. And me.”
“But afterwards… You will have James. And I will have nothing.”
Liane took her into her arms. “You will have me.”
*
To Liane’s relief, all twenty of her people arrived at the rendezvous by the appointed time. “No one seems to have the slightest idea we are about,” Philipe said.
“Well, they will know that we are about by this time tomorrow,” Liane said and spread her more detailed map on the ground, together with the aerial photographs. “You will see that there are woods up to within a hundred yards of the mine entrance. There is a watch tower, here, in front of the shaft, and another there, at the rear. The barracks for the guards is here, and for the miners is here, with a separate building for the mine superintendent and overseers.”
“Are these people French?” someone asked.
“The workers are believed to be Russian prisoners-of-war.”
“Who are our allies.”
“We will not shoot at them unless we have to. Going in at night, they should all be in bed, and if they have any sense they will keep their heads down.”
“And the overseers?”
“My information is that they are French.” The men exchanged glances. “But,” Liane pointed out, “as they are working for the Germans, they are technically traitors. If they also have the sense to keep their heads down, we will ignore them. But… no one can be allowed to interfere.” She looked over their faces before going on.
“Now, we have no knowledge of the guard hours of the Germans, nor of the situation within the mine. This means that we cannot carry out a hit-and-run raid. We must capture the mine and its surrounding buildings and hold it long enough for our explosive charges to be laid. I am talking of several hours.”
“Will they not be in telephone connection with their headquarters?”
“Certainly. That is why we have to seize the entire mine in a coup de main. But cutting the telephone wires comes first. Philipe, you will be responsible for that. Take two men. I will lead the assault on the barracks with nine men. Gaston, you will take the staff bungalow with three men. Louis, you will restrain the workers with the other two.”
“Will they speak French?”
“They must have picked up a word or two by now.”
“And what about the girl?” Philipe inquired.
“She will not take part in the assault.”
“Because she is your sister?”
“Because she is our explosives expert, and if she gets hit we may not be able to carry out the job successfully. Now it is five miles to that wood. We leave at dusk.”
Amalie took her aside. “Are you trying to protect me?”
“I am not protecting anyone. We are in this together. But our business, your business, is to wreck that mine beyond repair, at least for a long time. That is your only business.” Amalie gazed at her for several seconds, then nodded, “I will blow the mine.”
*
The day, as such days always will, passed very slowly. The weather was good and, once the sun got up, quite warm. The men lounged around in various stages of undress, at once excited by what lay ahead of them and by the presence of the two attractive women. But mostly they sought only to sleep after their arduous march. Liane slept herself, but was awakened in mid-afternoon when Gaston sat beside her. He was a small dark man, in his middle twenties, she estimated, with pleasantly ugly features.
“You are so calm,” he said. “You have done this often before, eh?”
“I have done it before,” she agreed.
“For me it is the first time. For all of us. The biggest thing I have ever done is let down the tires on a Boche motorbike.”
“But you know how to use your tommy-gun.”
“I think so. Will I be afraid?”
“Are you afraid now?” He held up his hand, which was trembling. “Once you start firing your gun, you will stop being afraid.”
“Are you never afraid?”
“I do not seem ever to have had the time.”
“Will you hold my hand, mademoiselle? Just to touch you…”
Liane took his hand, held it for a moment, and then pressed it against her breast. Colour rushed into his cheeks. “You will be the bravest of the brave,” she assured him.
Gaston licked his lips and got up. Liane looked past him to where Philipe was watching them, with smouldering eyes. She beckoned him. “Do you wish encouragement also?”
“I wish you, mademoiselle. All of you.”
A moment of crisis? But she was as pragmatic as always. “We will talk of it, after the attack,” she promised.
*
By ten o’clock, they were in position at the edge of the wood, crouching in the trees and underbrush while Liane studied the mine through her binoculars, Amalie and the three unit commanders beside her. There were lights on in all the buildings, and a dull glow from the shaft. To her right she made out a pile of filled sacks, obviously ore waiting to be removed. There was no sound above a low rumble. “That is the generator,” she told them.
“Where?” Gaston asked.
“I do not know. But all the buildings in the photographs are accounted for, so it must be situated in one of them. Probably behind the office. But remember, we do not wish it damaged; we need the pit to be illuminated, at least until after the charges are placed. Now there are two sentries at the pit head,” she said. “I see no other movement outside.”
“What about the towers?”
“They do not appear to be manned. They think themselves secure, buried in this remote place. We will give them another hour to go to sleep.”
“Can you see the telephone wires?” Philipe asked.
“Not the wires. But the poles are visible. Make for the first one, nearest the office, and cut the wire there.” The men returned to their units and waited.
“Are you all right?” Liane asked Amalie. Although they had fought together in the past, it had been a defensive action, trying desperately to stay alive. Liane had not been there when Amalie had shot down the German officer, so she had never seen her sister in full flow, as it were. But then, Amalie had never seen Liane at work, either.
“I am all right,” Amalie said. “But you… you will not get hit. Promise me.” Liane kissed her.
*
By eleven, most of the lights were out, save for the glow from the pit head, and another in the office. The generator continued to rumble away, helpful in that it would shroud casual noise. “You go first, Philipe,” she said. “Cut the wire, and then fire a single shot. Then break into the office and destroy it. We will attack on your signal.”
“Wish me fortune.”
She blew him a kiss. “I will wish you all the fortune in the world.”
He and his two men stole off, circling the wood to get behind the office. Liane kept her glasses fixed on the sentries, who were seated on a bench close to the pit head, tommy-guns on their knees, apparently oblivious to anything that might be happening around them. She lowered the glasses and then picked up a movement on the far side of the mine. She levelled the glasses again and made out a shadowy figure coming through the trees. Definitely a German soldier. So there had, after all, been a guard on the other side, who was now returning; and he was on the same side as Philipe and his companions, who were clearly unaware of his presence.
“Shit,” she muttered. “Stand by,” she told the men. But she held her fire as well as her breath; there was still a chance.
The guard actually passed the last telegraph pole and was speaking with his two fellows. Liane couldn’t hear what he was saying, but they both turned their heads. Then he suddenly checked and looked over his shoulder. Again Liane couldn’t hear what had alerted him, but she knew it had to be Philipe’s group; perhaps one of them had trodden on a twig.
The guard shouted, “Who goes there?” and at the same time unslung his tommy-gun.
The reply was a single shot. The sentry staggered and then fell to his knees.
“Go!” Liane shouted, leaping to her feet and running into the clearing. The two seated guards were on their feet, initially looking to the sound of the shot but then turning back towards her. She loosed a burst of automatic fire and they both went down, although she did not suppose they were both dead. A man appeared in the doorway of the office, silhouetted against the light. She fired at him too, and he ducked back inside and slammed the door.
Lights were coming on in the bungalow as well as the barracks, and there was a great deal of noise from the workmen’s barracks. Liane could hear feet pounding behind her and knew she was being supported. She ran at the garrison barracks as the door opened and two half-dressed men emerged. Both carried tommy-guns and she brought them down with another burst. Then her drum clicked empty. She had a spare in her haversack but there was no time to change them. She threw herself to the ground and rolled against the wall, while her companions sprayed the building with bullets. The garrison was awake now, and they were professional soldiers. Windows were thrown open and fire returned, and one of the guerillas went down with a shriek of pain. The rest threw themselves to the ground, but they were totally exposed and would soon be destroyed.
One of the windows was obliquely above Liane’s head. She crawled to it, looked up at the rifle barrel resting on the sill. She drew a grenade from her belt, took a deep breath, pulled the pin, stood up and grasped the barrel while the soldier stared at her in consternation, and threw the grenade into the crowded room. There was a s
hout of alarm, but before anyone could respond it exploded. Liane had already dropped back to her knees, but even pressed against the wall she felt the enormous gush of air exploding from the window. She waited for several seconds, her ears ringing, looking at her people, who were slowly getting to their feet. She waved them down again and repeated her first manoeuvre, drawing the pin from the grenade before standing up and tossing it into the room.
Once again, the response was horrific, although there were less screams than before. She changed the drum on her tommy-gun, waved her people forward and went to the door. This had been blown off its hinges; inside was suggestive of an abattoir gone wrong. There were still moans and groans from amidst the shattered bodies, but she did not suppose any of these men would ever fight again. And now flames were licking up from the floor.
“You did not need us,” one of the guerillas said admiringly. “You destroyed them single-handed.”
“I needed you,” she assured him. “I will always need you. Now guard the door. Shoot anyone who attempts to come out.”
“Are there many alive?”
“I do not know. But they will soon be dead. The rest of you, come with me.”
*
But the brief battle was already over. Having cut the telephone line, Philipe and his men had stormed the office and killed the man on duty. They had also despatched the two sentries. Louis had talked the miners into returning to bed. Gaston’s group had had no difficulty in securing the surrender of the overseers, who were gathered together, four men in pyjamas and three women in nightdresses, shivering from fear and the night air. Liane was more interested in the office.
The Brightest Day Page 7
