by Kit Sergeant
She’d heard that name before but couldn’t place it at the moment. “Have you a regular way of getting there? Do you have papers?”
“No. I usually wait all night at a secret airfield near Chartres.”
Mathilde refrained from rolling her eyes. It was clear this man didn’t have the slightest clue on how to run a resistance network. “Well, if you don’t manage to make the plane, I have ways of communicating with London.”
He grinned. “Thank you for the offer, I will keep it in mind.”
Despite the rocky start to the conversation, there was something about Lucas’s cool courage that she took a liking to. He may not know much about spying, but he could easily be taught, she decided.
Mathilde’s smile was genuine this time. “No problem.”
As she walked out into the December sunshine, Mathilde realized she could confide in this young man. Lucas would be her revenge for all the crimes she had been forced to commit.
Bleicher was waiting for her on a bench across the street.
“Well?” he asked as she approached him. He indicated a nearby path leading through a park.
Mathilde understood that he didn’t want anyone to overhear them and started down the path, thinking quickly of her best plan of action. “It’s as you thought. The SOE sent him in to replace Armand.”
Bleicher nodded. “And your role?”
“The same as before.” She put a hand on his arm. “You know you can have complete confidence in me. I will run this Lucas affair, and it will be our triumph. You have nothing to fear for I know the price I will pay if it fails.”
“Shall I purchase a Mozart’s Requiem record just in case?” Bleicher’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“That will not be necessary. As I said, it will be our triumph. But,” she continued as an idea occurred to her. “I will need a new apartment, which I will occupy alone.”
“No,” he replied sternly, and Mathilde’s heart sank. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Although,” he paused his walking. “Maybe you do need to move out of The Cattery.” She was about to say that was exactly what she’d just suggested when he added, “And I will go with you.”
The Abwehr had a list of flats they’d confiscated from British nationals, Jews, or just plain enemies of the Reich. Bleicher and Mathilde inspected quite a few before she finally settled on a suitable one, at 26 rue de la Faisanderie. It had once belonged to an Italian Jew and was beautifully furnished. Bleicher hired a maid to be at Mathilde’s beck and call, and she made sure to keep a constant supply of flowers in the apartment, even though it was winter. In addition, they weren’t subjected to fuel rationing, and fires blazed day and night in the apartment’s many fireplaces.
At Bleicher’s insistence, Mathilde paid a visit to Maître Brault in order to determine whether Lucas had made it back to London. As she’d predicted, he had not. She gave Maître Brault her new address and departed, not remembering until she was already several blocks away that she’d forgotten to inquire about the divorce proceedings.
Not a day later, Mathilde received a telegram from Lucas, informing her he’d be walking past her apartment that night around eight o’clock. If agreeable, she could meet him outside.
“And me,” Bleicher declared after he’d read the telegram.
“I don’t think—” Mathilde started to say.
“But kleines kätzchen...” Bleicher appeared hurt. “There is no reason why I shouldn’t attend every meeting you have with Lucas. After all, we’re in this together.”
Mathilde disagreed with all of his statements, but didn’t reply.
“You’ll introduce me as Jean Castel, your husband. You’ll say that I am Belgian to account for my accent. And, I don’t know if I need to say this directly, but Jean Castel is a Resistance sympathizer.”
She had no choice but to comply.
Bleicher had hired a new wireless operator and decoder—perhaps he, like Mathilde, expected Viola to betray them both. At any rate, he asked them to meet at their new apartment shortly before Lucas said he’d arrive.
In preparation, Bleicher poured them all heavy doses of schnapps. “Now, kleines kätzchen …” he began.
Mathilde was growing to hate that nickname. Translated to “my little cat,” it seemed to belittle all that she had done for the Abwehr. “Be sure not to try any gimmicks with us.”
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
He threw up his hands. “How do I know you don’t have any little tricks up your sleeve?” He got in her face, his breath smelling of alcohol. “Don’t you go and double-cross us now.”
She shot him a sickly-sweet smile. “I would never.”
“I don’t suppose you would,” Bleicher returned, “knowing the price you would pay if you ever even thought about betraying us.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Mathilde lied smoothly. “You can have complete confidence in my abilities.”
“Can I transmit a message through your contacts?” Lucas asked after they’d greeted him. His eyes darted from Mathilde to Bleicher, aka Jean Castel, who stood in the corner.
“Of course,” Mathilde replied.
Lucas’s first transmission to London was simple: he wanted to know if they would acknowledge receipt and if Lucas could use that channel to contact them from now on. Mathilde breathed an inward sigh of relief when the reply came back affirmative.
Chapter 33
Didi
Didi was working late one night when Leo Marks’ secretary informed her that she was needed in the transmission room ASAP.
“We need your expertise,” the captain in charge explained when she’d arrived. “It’s about The Cat. We’re told you have already been briefed—”
Didi nodded. “Is she live?”
“Yes.” He led her to a table where a FANY operator gladly surrendered her headphones.
Didi listened for a moment to the incoming message, faithfully recording it on a white card.
“Is it Marcel?” a man with a thin face and high forehead barked as he approached her table.
Having heard him even through her headphones, Didi took them off and shook her head. “No. It’s someone new.”
“Well then,” the man gestured to the captain. “Let’s run them through some of Lucas’s security checks.”
The captain placed a sheet of paper in front of Didi. “Major Buckmaster, I’d like you to meet…” he paused and looked disconcerted.
“Didi,” she replied. Buckmaster shook her hand absentmindedly, clearly distracted.
She typed out the first check, What is your brother’s name? on her Morse key. After a moment she looked up. “He’s said their names are Jean and Phillipe.”
Buckmaster nodded approvingly. “Another one.”
Despite her misgivings, knowing that Marks would in no way approve of exchanging such personal information about agents over radio waves, Didi dutifully tapped out the next question. When is your birthday?
She repeated the answer aloud. “January 1, 1906.”
“That’s our man,” Buckmaster affirmed. “Apparently he has indeed made contact with The Cat.”
“They must have gotten yet another new operator,” the captain stated. “I thought for sure it was Marcel.”
“Hasn’t Marcel been gone from Interallié for quite some time?” Didi asked.
Buckmaster rubbed his forehead. “Yes.” He waved his arm toward the white cards scattered around the wireless. “But this is definitely Lucas. Ask him what he wants from us.”
Lucas’s reply was that he was in need of a radio operator.
“Tell him there are no men properly trained and ready to leave. He needs to have patience,” Buckmaster added.
“Sir.” Didi took her finger off the key. “I could be of use.”
“Is that so?” Buckmaster looked doubtful. “What did you say your name was?”
“Didi—Eileen Nearne.”
The captain’s eyes grew wide. “Nearne, as in Ja
cqueline Nearne?”
“That’s my sister.”
Buckmaster lifted his arm, as if to make some sort of signal to the captain, but Didi missed it as the next message came through. “Lucas also requires funds,” she told them.
The captain’s focus remained on Jackie. “Jacqueline Nearne is one of our top—”
Buckmaster cut him off with a wave of his hand and fixed his steely blue eyes on Didi. “Nearne, you say. Well, you obviously aren’t ready to go off and join Lucas and The Cat just yet, but…” He seemed deep in thought. “After proper training… maybe someday.”
Chapter 34
Mathilde
After the SOE rejected Lucas’s request for a wireless operator, he asked Bleicher’s new transmitter to beg them for more money. Surprisingly, London returned by directing him to a Vichy diplomat.
Lucas turned to Mathilde with barely concealed delight. “I didn’t expect them to be so inclined to replenish my funds. If all is as they say it is with this Vichy chap, well then I owe you an apology.”
“Me?” Mathilde asked, willing herself not to glance at Bleicher/Castel, still in his place in the corner of the room. “Why?”
“I wasn’t sure how you managed to avoid arrest by the Abwehr. Word has gotten around that their man Bleicher is ruthless.”
Even though she was avoiding his eyes, she could see Bleicher start at the sound of his name.
“Well, I was no longer living at the house on rue Villa Leandre with Armand when he was captured.” She paused to catch her breath. “How do you know the name Bleicher?”
“We are very well informed of everything happening with the Resistance.”
I only wish that were true. Mathilde felt her cheeks grow hot as she felt Bleicher’s gaze on her. She kept her face a mask, but sensed Bleicher could see right through her, teasing out her deepest secret: she was attracted to this man Lucas.
“But you’ve only just arrived,” Bleicher/Castel insisted. “You wouldn’t know this, but we have on good authority that Hugo Bleicher has released a dozen of our contacts without shooting them.”
“That’s right,” Mathilde added. “He has even treated some of our most important agents as prisoners of war instead of hanging them as Resistance vigilantes.”
“Prisoners of war? Do you know he sent René Aubertin to the Mauthausen concentration camp?” Lucas demanded. “Do you know what they do to these so-called vigilantes there?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head, hoping he would understand that she also did not want to think about it.
Bleicher saved her by stating, “Whatever Aubertin’s fate, rest assured the Abwehr’s sympathy will be tested as soon as the Resistance commits more sabotage.”
Mathilde could detect the warning in Bleicher’s voice, but Lucas refused to be intimidated. “We will not give in to the Abwehr… or Hitler’s demands. We must stand tall no matter what.” He stood up from his chair to emphasize his point.
“This Bleicher fellow,” Bleicher spat out his own last name with as much vehemence as he could muster. “What orders have you been given with regard to him?”
Lucas’s reply was prompt. “Why, to liquidate him of course.”
“C’est la vie.” Bleicher rubbed at his eyes. “The hour is late. Come, wife, it is time for bed.”
Mathilde looked at Lucas. She wanted to tell him he’d just put himself in grave danger and to stay alert, but doing so would be even more perilous for herself. And so she said nothing as Bleicher led her out of the room.
Chapter 35
Odette
Peter decided it was time to relocate the Spindle network. He and Odette had met a contact on the train back from Périgueux who told them that Peter’s old Cannes flat had been visited by the Gestapo.
They disembarked at Toulouse, and Peter sent one of his couriers to bring Alec to him.
“Cannes is boiling,” Alec told them when he arrived. “The whole circuit looks as if it’s been blown. If you return there, Peter, you’d be nothing but a bloody fool.”
Peter gestured to Odette. “Once again, Alec, I remind you that you are in the presence of a cultivated woman. Please don’t swear.”
“Well,” Alec leaned forward, casting his eyes around, but the three of them were alone in their contact’s study. “The Gestapo paid a visit to Baron de Carteret, asking for information about the whereabouts of Monsieur Raoul Olivier.”
Odette knew they were referring to Peter. “And De Carteret gave them his address?”
Alec helped himself to a pickled onion from the dish on the coffee table. “De Carteret believed, as did we all, that you were already in England by then. He sent them on a wild-goose chase to one of your unoccupied apartments.”
“Is de Carteret under suspicion?” Peter asked.
“Not as far as I know,” Alec replied through a mouthful of food.
“What about Lise?”
Alec’s eyes darted to her before turning back to Peter and shaking his head. “She’s safe, but you should have caught that Lysander to England and cleared out for good. If I’d been there, I’d have shot the bastards stalking you.”
Peter sighed. “If you shot everyone you threatened to, we’d have run out of ammunition a long time ago.”
“Where shall we go?” Odette asked, mentally agreeing with Alec that Peter should not return to Cannes.
Peter sat back. “I’ve been thinking. We go to Haute Savoie and find a small town where they don’t ask questions.”
Odette nodded. “I could forge a doctor’s note stating that I need to live at a certain altitude.”
“Altitude?” Alec helped himself to more onions. “Are we talking mountains here?”
“In the Alps,” Peter confirmed.
“I don’t like mountains,” Alec remarked stubbornly. “They interfere with my transmissions.”
Since Alec was certain Odette had not come under suspicion, she returned to Cannes to discreetly warn the rest of the network to move on. Although Peter wanted to accompany her, she insisted he wait for her in Toulouse, hiding in a sympathetic farmer’s shed.
She discovered that Monsieur Raoul Olivier was indeed a wanted man and must now disappear into thin air. She used one of their remaining contacts—a documents expert—to get Peter a forged card with a new identity: Pierre Chauvet, a freelance journalist.
When she presented the card to him, Peter laughed and told her, “You always think of everything.”
Peter and Odette left the next day for the little town of St. Jorioz, a little less than 10 kilometers outside of Annecy in the French Alps. They discovered with trepidation that there were Gestapo at the station checking everyone’s identity cards before they were allowed to board the train.
“Here goes nothing.” Peter retrieved his wallet.
Odette got in line a few people behind him so that, in the event he was stopped, she could avoid detection as well.
She watched Peter hold his head up straight as the queue moved forward. She knew it wasn’t the men in uniform that he was worried about. It was the man in a civilian gray suit and hat, standing directly behind the policemen.
She breathed an inward sigh of relief as Peter was told to move on. Now it was her turn.
The policeman gave her card a cursory glance before waving her on.
A railway assistant offered to take her bag and asked if he could assist her in finding a seat.
“No thank you,” Odette replied. “I’m meeting my husband aboard.”
She found Peter in the second-to-last compartment.
“Now we start all over again,” he said quietly as she sat down beside him. “New contacts to recruit, new safehouses to locate. A new life. What do you think about it?”
She shrugged. “I told you a long time ago that I never liked Cannes.”
He yawned. “Do you think you’ll like Annecy?”
“We’ll see.” She put a gloved hand on his arm. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
“Ar
en’t you tired?”
“I’ll be alright.”
As Peter fell asleep, Odette gazed out the window as the sun set behind the Alps. She said a grateful good-bye to the warmth of Southern France, looking forward to her next adventure with the man now known as Pierre Chauvet by her side.
Chapter 36
Mathilde
Now that Mathilde—and her imposter husband, Jean Castel—had won Lucas’s trust, Bleicher decided they would form a fake network in order to penetrate other Resistance organizations. He told her about it with glee over a dinner she’d made in their new apartment.
“And you want me to do for Lucas and his network what I did for Armand,” she surmised aloud.
He gave her a leering smile. “Not everything, of course.”
She sat on her hands to refrain from slapping his fat face.
“We’ll need to plant more moles.” He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt.
“Release René Aubertin and he can be one of them.”
“No.” He replaced his glasses. “He’d never agree to being a double-agent. I was thinking more along the lines of your man Kiki. Do you think he’s the type to betray his own country?”
Am I? Bleicher’s words hit home and Mathilde pushed her plate of food away. “Yes, I believe Kiki would.”
The next afternoon, Mathilde met Lucas in front of 10 Boulevard Malesherbes. She couldn’t help notice how well his custom-fit French suit showed off his athletic frame. It had been a while since she was in the company of a handsome man.
Lucas’s gaze seemed to be equal in its admiration. “I like your necklace.”
She fingered it. “Bl—I mean, Jean Castel gave it to me.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Your husband.”
