“Oh. Quite. It’s just that none of the other groups have reported in yet. Nor has there been any mention of any attacks on the wolfram mines in the German press.”
“Well, they would hardly publicize it, sir.”
“I suppose not. But they are certainly publicizing the arrest of Moulin. Do you suppose that’s genuine?”
“I’m afraid it is, sir. It is confirmed by Mademoiselle de Gruchy. She is very upset. He was an old friend of her family. She has known him all her life.”
“So what does she think happened to him? How did it happen?”
“As to how, sir, he was betrayed. She does not know by whom, although I believe she intends to find out. As to what has happened to him since his arrest, she has no information on that, but we must fear the worst.”
“Will he betray his people?”
“We must hope not. In the meantime I have ordered Mademoiselle de Gruchy to undertake no further action until the position is clarified.”
“Hm. I suppose that is sensible. But they cannot be out of action for too long. You know we mean to go in next year, no matter what? That is, of course, top secret, although I am sure the Germans must realize it. We are actually going in in a couple of weeks, but the attack will be made on Sicily. There is some optimism that if we carry out a successful invasion of Sicily, Mussolini’s regime may collapse with untold benefits. In any event, engaging the enemy on his southern and most vulnerable front is intended to distract him from the main business, the defence of France. Now, it goes without saying that the guerillas have an important part to play in weakening that defence.”
“You are asking them to trek across France again, to the Channel coast? The last two such ventures were catastrophic, sir, leading almost to the destruction of the group.”
“I understand that, James, and we intend to use groups closer to the coast to support the initial landings. But there is a scheme, dreamt up by de Gaulle’s lot, which could play an important part in hampering the enemy on the ground. Tell me what you know of Grenoble.”
“Ah… I know it was the birthplace of Stendhal.”
“Who?”
“A French writer in the last century, sir. Madame Bovary.”
“Who was Madame Bovary?”
“His most famous heroine. Actually Stendhal was a pseudonym. His real name was Beyle.”
“Your erudition astounds me, James. Is this relevant?”
“You asked me what I knew of Grenoble, sir.”
“And that is the sum of your knowledge? I see. Have you ever been there?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I want you to get hold of a detailed map of the area and study it. You will see that south of Grenoble there is a large area of land, some fifty kilometres by twenty-five, called the Vercours. It is a natural fortress, a sort of inland Gibraltar, a mass of cliffs and ravines, caves and woods, virtually impenetrable by armour if properly defended. There is only one approach, a road from the north, but it is estimated that this can be held by a determined body of men.”
“Sounds interesting. What does it threaten?”
“Well, nothing. The idea is that it is a large sort of isolated salient in the south of France, accessible and therefore supportable by air from Algiers. Therefore the force occupying it could not only be sustained and constantly re-armed, but additional troops could be flown in. The plans are still being drawn up, but let us suppose that by the end of this year we are ready to move. The occupation will be done clandestinely, of course. By then our campaign in Sicily may well have been completed, and it is hoped to have retaken Sardinia and Corsica as well. From those bases we would be able to pour men and munitions into the Vercours, and before the Germans know what is happening they’d have a whole army in their midst, waiting to strike up on the inside of their defences. What do you think?”
“I am bound to say that it is a little fanciful, sir. This army is to be created by drop? That will take a very long time.”
“Not by drop. We’ll use transport planes.”
“You mean there is an airfield in this area? Not secured by the Germans?”
“There is no airstrip at present. It will be the job of the guerillas, once they occupy the territory, to lay down a strip.”
“Just like that?”
“It can be done, James, if these people are capably led.”
“You mean Liane de Gruchy?”
“Amongst others. But that lady certainly seems to have the ability to make men work for her, and fight for her.”
“And die for her,” James observed.
“If necessary. The important thing is, will she and her people take part? She will not be in overall command, of course. That will be a regular army officer, French army, naturally. Will she go along with that?”
“I see no reason why not, if the position is properly explained to her. I would have to go across. This is not something that can be done over a radio link.”
“I suppose you’re right. Do you know where she is?”
“I am in contact with her, yes, sir.”
“Very good. You will have to hold it for a while. As I say, the plans are still being drawn up, and other groups have to be informed and alerted; de Gruchy’s people can’t do it on their own. And, of course, right now we are completely fucked up by Moulin’s getting himself caught.”
“I shouldn’t think he was very happy about that either, sir. Or is now.”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry for the fellow. But you can’t deny it is a nuisance. Now de Gaulle’s lot will have to find and establish a new man, and that is going to take a little while. So it would be best for you not even to inform de Gruchy of the plan until it is ready to be implemented.”
“But as you say, I can’t just leave them in limbo, sir.”
“You can tell them that we have something big in the pipeline for which they must be ready. Have your friend recruit as many men as possible. And let me know if you hear anything concrete about Moulin.”
*
“Fraulein Jonsson is here, Frau,” Hilda announced.
“Oh, damn.”
“What does she want?” Frederick von Helsingen asked. Madeleine squeezed his shoulder. Although she had recovered from the trauma of actually seeing the wreck that was her husband, she was still not reconciled to the fact that there were so few parts of his shattered body that she could touch without giving an involuntary shudder. Yet he was growing stronger every day, and this was confirmed by the doctors. “Why, Frau von Helsingen,” Dr Weinhart had said only yesterday, “We expect the colonel to be up and walking about within a month. Well, perhaps two. But it will happen. Is that not splendid news? Something to look forward to, eh?”
And then he will want sex, Madeleine had thought; his genitals were about the only part of his body that had not been torn to pieces by shrapnel. And she did not know if she would be able to respond.
“I imagine she has come to see you,” she said.
“Is she still thick with Himmler?”
“Officially she is one of his secretaries. But I think they sleep together, yes. Is it important?”
“Not in the least.” But an expression had crossed his face, a shadow she had noticed several times since his return from Russia, and which she could not identify, having never seen it before he had left for the Eastern Front. But then, she reflected, the things he must have seen and felt, quite apart from his wounds, were beyond her comprehension. She went to the door, and he said, “Do not tell her about Kleist’s visit.”
“Very well.” She opened the door and went into the lounge.
“Darling.” Joanna embraced her. She was in all the glory of a summer frock and high-heeled sandals, her hair loose, and looked quite obscenely healthy. But there were stress lines about her mouth and eyes as well. “I hear that Freddie is back from hospital.”
“He has been back for three weeks.”
“How lovely for you. And Helen is well?”
“Very well. She is being wal
ked by Nanny.”
“Don’t tell me you’re employing a nanny? You?”
Madeleine flushed. “Well… I have so much to do, caring for Freddie. The nurse comes in twice a day to change his dressings, but he cannot do very much for himself, yet.”
“You poor darling. Did you have an opportunity to ask him about the front?”
“I don’t think he wants to think about the front, much less talk about it. Do you wish to see him?”
“If I may.”
Madeleine opened the bedroom door. “Joanna is here, Freddie.”
Joanna entered the room and involuntarily checked herself. When she had seen him at the station he had been swathed in bandages, even his head. Now… She remembered a tall, handsome, virile young man. Now she looked at skull-like features, the flesh thin and wasted, the blond hair cut so short as to be almost non-existent. Presumably both flesh and hair would return, but nothing was going to replace the empty sleeve of his pyjama jacket, at least by flesh and bone. She could not stop herself looking at the limbs beneath the sheet, but there did seem to be two of them. She forced a smile. “Freddie. How well you look.”
“Now is not the time for hypocrisy.”
She advanced to the bedside. “I think you are looking well. When you think, well…” She kissed his forehead.
“I am alive,” he said. “That is what matters. When thousands of my comrades are dead, uselessly slaughtered for a madman’s dream.” He checked himself, flushing, and looking surprised at what he had said.
Joanna looked at Madeleine, standing on the other side of the bed. “He is sometimes distraught,” Madeleine said.
“So I have been distraught,” Frederick said. “Will you go scuttling back to your master and have him send his goons to take me away?”
“I only tell my ‘master’ what I think it would be good for him to hear,” Joanna said. “But I have heard that as soon as you are up and about you are going to be offered a position on the Fuehrer’s personal staff. Will that please you?”
“I am an officer in the Wehrmacht. I go where I am sent.” But he had not looked at her as he spoke.
“I think that is very correct of you,” Joanna said. “I can see you’re tired. I’ll call again.”
Madeleine accompanied her outside. “You won’t repeat any of that, will you, Joanna? Sometimes he is quite delirious, even when awake.”
Joanna sat on the settee. “Come and sit beside me.”
“I thought you were leaving.”
“I need to talk with you first.” Madeleine hesitated then sat beside her. “Does Freddie have a lot of visitors?”
“Well, his mother and father, of course.”
“I’m talking about other officers.”
“Oh, well, yes. Some.”
“I want you to tell me their names.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why? Is it because Freddie talks to them the way he talked to me, and perhaps they agree with him?”
“Well…” Madeleine’s cheeks were pink.
“How senior are these officers? Have there been any generals? Come on, tell me.”
Madeleine licked her lips and muttered, “Field Marshal von Bock.”
Joanna stared at her with her mouth open. “Bock was here?” Madeleine nodded. “And Freddie told him what he thought about the War?” Another nod. “And he was not immediately arrested? How long ago was this?”
“Oh… ten days. Right after Freddie came home from hospital.”
“Then if he has not been arrested, he is not going to be arrested. Which must mean…” The two women gazed at each other. “You must give me the other names,” Joanna said. “It is madness. Madness. I am so afraid.”
“Listen,” Joanna said. “You know that Germany cannot now win this war.”
“I suppose not.”
“But the Allies have said they will not negotiate with Hitler, even if he himself were prepared to negotiate, which he is not. Therefore the War is going to drag on until Germany is utterly destroyed, whether by Allied bombing or by invasion – can you imagine what it will be like if the Russians ever get in here after what you people have done in Russia? – or by the removal of Hitler.”
“Do you realize that we would all be executed if anyone even suspected what you are thinking?”
“That is why we must stick together. Listen, Franz feels the same way.”
“You have spoken with him?”
“Of course I have not spoken with him. He is in Russia. But I can tell from his letters that he is not happy with the situation.”
Madeleine’s eyes were enormous. “He has put things like that in a letter? Isn’t all mail censored?”
“He is very discreet. And having a general as an uncle helps. In any event, he never actually offers an opinion. He loves me, but he believes I am a firm supporter of the regime, and I cannot indicate otherwise in my letters. Besides, up till now I have felt that his was a lone voice wailing in the wilderness. But don’t you see, if there is really a groundswell of opinion that something must be done to end the War now, even if it involves the removal of Hitler, well, we must give them all the support we can.”
“And wind up dangling from a noose? Groundswell? What groundswell? Half a dozen officers visiting a wounded comrade?”
“One of them a field marshal?”
“Retired. And how do we know it would do any good? That the Allies would deal with them, even if Hitler was no longer there? Anyway, Freddie is crippled. What possible part could he take in a revolution? Because you are speaking of revolution, aren’t you.”
“I am speaking of the removal of Hitler from power, by whatever means may be necessary. And Freddie’s importance lies in the fact that he has, or will have as soon as he is fit again, unlimited access to Hitler’s presence.”
“You mean to kill him?” Madeleine was aghast. “I don’t think Freddie would ever go for that.”
“Why don’t you ask him? And let me know.”
*
Joanna returned to her suite at the Hotel Albert, poured herself a cognac and discovered that her hands were shaking. Suddenly, she was in possession of the biggest secret information she had ever obtained, bigger even than that Russian coup. The potential for ending the War, years – or perhaps even months – before a decision could be reached on the battlefield, with the saving of so many hundreds of thousand of lives, was breathtaking. All that these discontented and disillusioned officers needed was a guarantee of their own salvation if they took the risk of removing the Fuehrer, and only London could provide that. And there was only one person who could put London in the picture. Only one person who would be believed, at any rate. Herself.
Did she dare? But she had to dare. She might have been waiting all of her life for this piece of information. She picked up the phone and asked for the private number.
“Reichsfuehrer Himmler’s office.”
“This is Fraulein Jonsson. I need to speak with the Reichsfuehrer, urgently.”
“One moment, Fraulein.”
“Joanna! Are we not lunching together?”
“Oh, Heinrich, 1 was so looking forward to it. But I have had a telegram from Stockholm.”
“Not bad news, I hope?”
“My father is ill. He wants to see me, as soon as possible.”
“He’s not dying?”
“I hope not. But I feel I must go.”
“Of course you must. I will arrange it.”
“Oh, Heinrich, you are so kind to me.”
*
Rachel put her hand over the telephone mouthpiece. “You won’t believe this, but there is a policeman on the line. He wants to speak with you.”
“How can a policeman possibly have this number? What did he call me?”
“By your name. Major Barron.”
“Give me the phone.” She placed the speaker and receiver on James’ desk and he picked them up. “Major Barron.”
“Oh, major, I am sorry to disturb you at your ho
me.” James looked at Rachel, who was listening on the extension. She waggled her eyebrows. “Inspector Lodge here, Harwich police. We have a strange situation here, a young lady who has just arrived from Sweden.”
“Yes,” James said. Rachel sat down.
“Well, sir, the name on her passport, a Swedish passport, is Jonsson, and we were informed that a woman by that name is actually a spy working for the Germans—”
“Who gave you that information?”
“The US Embassy.”
“I see. And this lady asked you to call me?”
“She said you would vouch for her, sir.”
“She is known to me, yes. I will come down to pick her up.”
“Ah… The US Embassy wishes her to be held pending her arrest.”
“Inspector, as you say, the lady is travelling on a Swedish passport, which I can assure you is genuine. She may once have lived in the United States, but she has not done so for some years now, and she is a Swedish citizen. Therefore the United States have no jurisdiction over her.”
“But if she is a German spy—”
“My department will take care of it.”
There was a brief silence. “I’m sorry, sir, but in all the circumstances, I will have to have written authority from a senior officer before I can release the lady.” His tone indicated that he did not consider a mere major to be senior enough.
“Very well. I will bring the authority with me. Thank you for calling.” He hung up. “Get hold of the brigadier, will you, please, Rachel.”
“Yes, sir. What do you think has happened? It’s been very nearly a year since we last heard from her.”
“Well, she’s either running for her life, or…”
“She no longer officially works for us.”
“I’m not sure she understands that. Make that call.”
*
The police cell was small and smelt of disinfectant. Joanna lay on a cot, fully dressed, with her hands beneath her head, but she swung her legs to the floor and sat up as the door opened. “What kept you?” she asked.
James peered at her. He had never seen her looking dishevelled before. Even her normally immaculate hair was untidy. “There were wheels that had to be turned. Are you all right?”
The Brightest Day Page 9
