The Brightest Day

by Christopher Nicole

  Her attention was indeed riveted as he removed his clothes; he was wearing so much more than she. But equally she had never seen a naked man before; Philipe was a very private person, and when he used the pump in the yard to bathe she had never been allowed to be present; although she had noticed that he had no objection to Liane being around. But she was sure that Philipe could not be as large as this man. And he intended to… He knelt beside her, then lay, and began kissing her, while his hand roamed over her stomach and breasts. “Open your mouth,” he said. “I want your tongue.”

  Then his hand went down to her pubes, replacing her fingers with his own. “Oh!” she gasped.

  He raised his head. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she said. “No.”

  “Will you not hold me?” Tentatively she took him in her fingers, and he gave a sigh. Then he rolled on to his back. “Now I wish you to suck him.”

  “To do what?” That was beyond her imagination.

  “Take him into your mouth and suck. Be careful not to bite.”

  “But…” She didn’t really know how to go about it.

  Yet he seemed pleased. “You are a charmer. Get on your knees and turn round.”

  She obeyed, only realizing too late that in doing so she was exposing her buttocks and between her legs to his exploration, which began immediately. But by then she was lost in what she was doing, to be taken aback when he ejaculated. “Oh!” she gasped and rolled away from him, right off the blanket.

  He sat up. “It won’t harm you. And you have made me very happy. Now I must do something for you.” His lips sought her pubes.

  *

  “Papa’s farm is just over the next rise,” Gabrielle said. She continued to be amazed at the calmness of her voice, the way she could address this man, a member of the conquering forces, as a total equal. But then, two people who had shared everything had to be equal.

  “Thus you would like me to drop you here,” he suggested. “Would you father beat you, if he knew of me?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t know if Papa would beat her or not, but the thought of what Liane might do was terrifying. Yet she could not regret what had happened. All her life she had felt that time was passing her by, and now it had suddenly caught up with her in a single bound. That this man was an enemy of her people was irrelevant. They were not enemies. She could not believe that any other man could be so gentle. And when, after only fifteen minutes, he had been sufficiently recovered to enter her, it had been the most heavenly experience of her life. It had not even hurt very much. When she thought of someone like Armand Dragout doing that to her…

  “Then we must say goodbye,” he said. “No, au revoir. Is that the right phrase?”

  “It means we will meet again.”

  “I would like that. Do you ever walk by yourself?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Then do so, today week. At eleven in the morning, walk back towards that wood. Our wood.”

  Gabrielle could think of nothing more romantic. Our wood! “Will you be there?”

  “I will be there. A week today.” He squeezed her hand and she got out. She wondered if she should say “Heil Hitler!” but decided against it, instead waiting while Hans, who had kept a straight face throughout, made a five-point turn and drove towards Aumont. Dieter did not look back, but she did not expect him to.

  When the car was out of sight, she turned and trudged up the hill, stopping at the sight of the cart waiting just over the brow. Then she resumed walking. “What do you want?” she inquired coldly. “Are you spying on me?”

  “I was not. I was cutting some more wood and returning home, and I saw this car coming along the road, so I stopped to wait. There are not many cars on this road. What were you doing riding in a German car?”

  “If it is any business of yours, I was walking home, and this German officer stopped and offered me a ride. So I said yes. It is a long walk, and I was tired.”

  “The Boche are our enemies.”

  “That does not mean I cannot ride with them.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “He did nothing to me,” Gabrielle snapped. But she knew she was flushing. “Why don’t you go home and leave me alone?”

  “You are a traitor, riding with the Boche.” But he poked the mule with his stick and the patient animal began its slow walk.

  Gabrielle went on down the hill. The farm was now in sight, and fifteen minutes later she was at the gate and being greeted by an enthusiastic Rufus. Odile came out of the house to see what was the cause of the barking. “You are back early,” she remarked. “I did not expect you before dusk.”

  “Well, I got two rides.” As Armand had seen her getting out of the German car, there was no point in trying to pretend it hadn’t happened.

  “Two rides? Out here?”

  “Well, this morning Armand Dragout gave me a ride part of the way into town. Then, when I left town again, this German officer offered me a ride in his car.”

  Odile frowned. “He brought you home?”

  “No. He wanted to do that, but I asked him not to, so he let me out just over the hill.”

  “Why did he do that? Where was he going?”

  “I do not know.”

  “You had better talk to Mademoiselle de Gruchy.”

  Gabrielle gulped but she knew there was nothing for it. Liane and Amalie were in the parlour, studying maps. They listened to what Gabrielle had to say with only slight apparent interest. “Did you know this officer before?” Liane asked.

  “Oh, no. I don’t think he’s been here long. He said he had been in Russia.”

  “And he just offered you a ride?”

  “Well… there were these two men… soldiers, and they… well, they molested me.”

  “What did you say?” Odile demanded.

  “They took me down an alley and said they were going to search me. It was terrifying.”

  “I can imagine,” Liane said. “And this officer intervened?”

  “Yes. He sent them off.”

  “And then he offered you a ride. He sounds like a gentleman. Did he tell you his name?”

  “Dieter.”

  “He told you his name was Dieter. Dieter who?”

  “I…” Gabrielle bit her lip. “He didn’t say.”

  “Gabrielle,” Odile said severely. “Did this man interfere with you?”

  “Oh, no, Mama. No, no. He wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

  Odile looked at Liane, who smiled, reassuringly. “And you didn’t let him actually discover where you live. You handled it very well. Now tell me, did you see Vlabon?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You gave him my message?”

  “Oh, yes. He said he hoped to see Gaston this afternoon.” “Then that is very satisfactory. I am very pleased with you, Gabrielle. Thank you.”

  Gabrielle knew she had been dismissed, but she hesitated for a moment before leaving the room, followed by Odile, who closed the door.

  “She is lying,” Amalie said.

  “I know. Or at least, I know she is not telling us the whole truth.”

  “Then…”

  “I do not think she would betray us. Betray her family. And if she has, she would hardly have told us that the German officer brought her home.”

  “Then what do you think happened?”

  “I think her story is largely true. I think what she has not told us is that this German officer charmed her, and she is afraid to admit it.”

  “Charmed her? A Boche!”

  “Amalie, you cannot hate an entire nation because of what one or two of their people may have done to you.”

  “You can say that? How many Germans have you killed?”

  “I have absolutely no idea. When one is blowing up a train, one is not counting heads. But I do know that not all of them were thugs like Roess.”

  “I would like you to name me one German you have met who is not a murdering bastard. And don’t bring up Helsingen. You know wh
at the Germans have done in Russia.”

  “I know absolutely nothing about Helsingen, except that he is our brother-in-law. But I could offer you Franz Hoeppner.”

  “Ha!”

  “He saved your life.”

  “As he might have driven round a cat in his car.”

  “He did it because you are Madeleine’s sister. I found him charming. And Joanna says she is going to marry him.”

  “Joanna! She is—”

  “Please don’t say it, Amalie. She is my dearest friend, and she has helped our family, and especially you, more than we had any right to expect. Stop brooding on the past and think about the future. We have a lot to do when Gaston gets here. And then… Vercours.”

  “Am I coming with you?”

  “I would like us to stick together.”

  “So would I. And Philipe?”

  “If he wishes. We must all be volunteers.”

  “Have you slept with him yet?”

  “He is very faithful,” Liane said.

  Six

  The Dawn

  “Well?” the brigadier demanded, gesturing James to a chair.

  James sat down. “Merry Christmas, sir.”

  “Is it? Tell me about the Vercours.”

  “They’re there. Liane reports that there are over a thousand of them, with more coming in every day. And this fellow Colonel Huet appears to be a real live wire. He already has them levelling ground for the airstrip. What is more, Jerry doesn’t seem to have any idea what is going on. Once the men and munitions start coming in from Algiers, we really will have a second front, right in the heart of southern France.”

  “Delestraint has been taken,” the brigadier said.

  “Oh! That’s bad luck. How did it happen?”

  “He was betrayed. This whole business is riddled with traitors.”

  “Do you think he’ll break?”

  “I would have supposed so, as he is a human being. Was a human being.”

  “Shit! I beg you pardon, sir. Does that mean the Germans may learn about the Vercours?”

  “If they do, they’ll be way ahead of anyone in London or Algiers. This entire scheme was dreamt up by Delestraint. But he does not appear to have confided it to anyone else.” James scratched his head. “There is a report on file,” the brigadier went on. “This was when the scheme was first mooted, back in March of last year, and I was instructed to proceed with the preliminary planning. But apparently it was then filed under F, both by us and the French Headquarters in London. It appears that no one in Algiers has ever heard of it. Well, of course, back in March of last year everyone was scrapping like mad down there, and I suppose no one was really interested in a rather high-flown plan for creating an Allied base in the middle of France. But there it is.”

  “You mean the plan has been aborted?” James was aghast. “I have to tell my people to pull out after they have so carefully established themselves? I’m afraid that will have a disastrous effect upon morale. As for expecting their help when the balloon goes up—”

  “Simmer down, James. Nobody is contemplating aborting. I am just explaining to you that so far there has been a colossal cock-up. However, someone has to explain to the guerillas that they can expect no help for another couple of months. Now that Italy is out of the War, and we have Corsica and Sardinia as well as Sicily, it will be possible to get materiél up there and then it is only a short haul to the south of France. But it can’t be done overnight, certainly while the Germans are hanging on to most of the peninsula. Once we get past Rome, now…”

  “And when will that be, sir?”

  “I really cannot say. But as I say, someone has to put the guerillas into the picture, and it can’t be done by radio.”

  “Permission to go in, sir.”

  The brigadier smiled, a rare event. “I thought you might wish to volunteer. You understand this could be a lengthy mission. You will first of all have to go to Algiers, and both brief them and be briefed by them. This means dealing with de Gaulle personally. Then you’ll be dropped into the Vercours. The trouble is, once you’re in, there’s no way we can get you back out, until that airstrip is completed.”

  James nodded. “As I said, they’re working on it now.”

  “Very good. Now there is the business of who is going to run the Pound Office while you’re away.”

  “Oh, Rachel can handle it, sir. She’s done it before.”

  “Hm. Well, if you’re totally confident…”

  “I am, sir. Besides, as practically our whole control is now in the Vercours, there won’t be much for her to do.”

  “That’s true. Right-ho, James. I’ll arrange all your passages. Oh, there’s just one more thing. Have you heard anything from Jonsson, recently?”

  “No, sir, I have not, and I do not expect to, after the way we snubbed her.”

  “Now, James, you don’t really believe there was anything in that cock-and-bull story?”

  “Yes, sir, I do believe there is something going on inside Germany that could be of great value to us. And you believed it too, when she was here in this office.”

  “She’s a compelling young woman, I’ll give you that. But considered in the cold light of day… It has to be absurd.”

  “Yes, sir,” James said coldly. “I hope you’re right.”

  *

  “Algiers?” Rachel demanded. “You are going to Algiers?”

  “As a staging post to the Vercours. Think of it, you’ll have the office all to yourself.”

  “I don’t want the office all to myself. For how long?”

  “It could be a little while. Due to this foul-up things are way behind schedule.”

  “I suppose you’ll be spending all your time with Liane.” “She is one of the people I am going to see, yes.”

  “Well, you can give her some news about her girlfriend.”

  “Joanna? You have heard from Joanna?”

  “Of her, not from her.” She indicated the pile of papers on her desk. “A German radio transcript.”

  “She hasn’t been arrested?”

  “Joanna? Chance would be a fine thing. Let me see…” She sifted through the various slips. “Here we are: Colonel Franz Hoeppner, recently returned from the Eastern Front, was today married to Swedish socialite Joanna Jonsson.”

  James sat down, “Good God!”

  Rachel continued reading. “Colonel Hoeppner, nephew of the well-known panzer general, has served with distinction in Russia for the past eighteen months. Frau Hoeppner is the daughter of a Swedish diplomat and an American woman, and was brought up in the United States, but renounced her citizenship to work in Germany. She is currently employed as one of Reichsfuehrer Himmler’s personal secretaries.” She raised her head. “I wonder what hubby thinks of that? It goes on that the ceremony was attended by the Fuehrer and just about everyone you can think of; Goering, Goebbels, a kind of Who’s Who of the Nazi hierarchy. And, of course, a clutch of Swedish notables, including her father, down from Stockholm for the occasion.”

  “Trust Joanna to do things in style.”

  “Doesn’t this mean that she’s gone over, irrevocably?”

  “I don’t think anything is irrevocable where Joanna is concerned.”

  “I’d be very interested to know what Liane thinks about it.”

  “I’ll find out, I’m sure. So tell me, what do you think of it?”

  “What has it got to do with me?” Rachel asked. James gave her an old-fashioned look and she flushed. “It was a one-night stand. Actually it was even less than that, a one-aftemoon stand. I felt she needed cheering up.”

  “And I am sure you did that. Well, I have to get started on arrangements.”

  “Do you wish this information sent to the brigadier? After all, she is still officially Pound Three.”

  James considered briefly. “I don’t think we’ll bother, Rachel. It would only increase his blood pressure.”

  *

  “Happy?” Joanna asked, stroking her toes
up and down Franz’s calf. They were sharing a bath in their Munich hotel after a day skiing; the same hotel where they had rendezvoused very nearly two years previously, on the night she had had to shoot the assassin sent after her by the SIS, who supposed she had betrayed their secrets to the Gestapo. That had been sorted out – at the cost of their man’s life – but she could not help but wonder if the memory of that episode had played its part in their refusal to believe what she had had to tell them of the plot against Hitler.

  And now… it could be over. It should be over. But if it were, surely they would have heard? On the other hand, it might have been thought prudent to keep the death of the Fuehrer secret until all the arrangements for his replacement were completed. That of course had to include the removal of Himmler from power. She felt quite breathless when she thought of that. She wondered how he would react; whether he would face his fate with undisturbed arrogance or whether he would collapse in terror. She rather suspected the latter.

  But she could not discover what had happened until her return to Berlin, which would be that evening. So she could enjoy this last morning, as she had enjoyed every one of the past thirteen mornings, with this handsome, charming man. The odd thing was that Franz looked every inch the Aryan ideal, with his blond hair, his crisp features, his powerful physique and, up till now at any rate, his utter loyalty to Adolf Hitler; and yet, she knew, he personally abhorred Nazism and all the things done in its name.

  Their first meetings had been frosty, because she had been working for Oskar Weber and he regarded the whole Gestapo, and even more the SD, with utter distaste. But his attitude to her had slowly changed, as he had been commanding officer of the Bordeaux area and she had been sent there time and again to take part in the search for Liane de Gruchy. Franz was no fool and it had not taken him very long to realize that, for all her apparent loyalty to Weber and all he stood for, she was in fact secretly protecting and aiding Liane to avoid capture. When she had realized that he knew this, she had anticipated immediate arrest and at best a concentration camp. Instead he had invited her into his bed, an invitation she had not felt able to refuse, and then, to her consternation, asked her to marry him.