by Kit Sergeant
“Two nights ago—he wasn’t in Paris for 24 hours before we learned he was in Fresnes Prison.”
“Why did he go to Paris in the first place?”
Bardet began pacing up and down the room. “We heard they were beginning to crack down on agents in Paris—Marsac had ten contacts there, but most of them had been captured, so we planned on recruiting more. I left as soon as I found out about Marsac and came back here.”
“Were you followed?” Alec took a gulp of his drink.
Bardet paused. “I don’t think so.” He met Odette’s glare. “No, of course not.”
“I take it he also had supplies and money on him. How much?” Odette demanded.
“Two million francs.” Bardet reached up, his hand spanning a rafter. “And four crystals for transmitting. All gone.” He lowered his arms and turned to the duo at the kitchen table. “We might be able to negotiate for his release.”
“No,” Odette replied firmly. “We’re not going to do anything until we hear back from Peter.” She touched Alec’s hand. “Do you think you can send him a message right away?”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s not my regular sked, but I might find someone at the SOE on the wireless.”
“It’s worth a try. And you,” she pointed at Bardet. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“I won’t,” he promised. He widened his eyes as they once again met Odette’s gaze and this time they didn’t look shifty at all.
Chapter 43
Mathilde
Mathilde and Lucas’s departure was scheduled for Friday, February 13th. Their eventual destination was the Moulin de la Rive, a spot on the Breton coast where they were to rendezvous with the British navy.
Bleicher wasn’t accompanying them. He claimed he needed to go to the Alps for some reason.
He sat on the bed as Mathilde packed her suitcase. “You’ll make sure to get a list of all the agents employed by the SOE.”
“Of course.” She folded her black silk pajamas and put them in her bag.
Bleicher fingered the hem of a flowered skirt. “It’s good you are taking your best outfits. London needs to know that Paris hasn’t changed: it's still the fashion capital of the world. But even so,” he dug out his wallet and handed her some money. “Make sure to pick me up a pair of leather shoes from Oxford Street.”
The bills were in British currency. She tucked them in her purse before asking, “Are there a lot of Abwehr men in London?”
Bleicher waved his hand. “Far fewer than we would like.”
“Perhaps you should provide me with their contact information.”
He stood up and placed his hands in his pockets. “Kayser and I discussed it, and we decided it was too much of a risk. MI6 might have men tailing you.”
She studied his face, wondering if he suspected her plan to betray him, but, as always, the detective’s face remained inscrutable. She turned to finish packing and he left the room, returning a moment later with her fur coat. “You’ll need this. London is quite chilly.” As she buttoned it up, he arranged the red beret over her black hair. “Perfect,” he said before giving her a quick peck on her lips. “I’ll greet you when you return, and we’ll celebrate together.”
“You’ll be back in Paris by then?”
“Yes. My assignment in the Alps won’t take too long.”
“Okay.” She gave him a wide smile, hoping to never have to lay eyes on him again. “Take care.”
“And you.” He gave her one final hug, wrapping his arms around the bulky fur.
On Thursday evening, the party boarded the Paris-Brest express. Mathilde and Lucas took one train compartment, Benny another, and their two Abwehr escorts occupied a third.
As soon as they were alone, Mathilde informed Lucas of Bleicher’s plan for the Abwehr to arrest Benny the moment their boat was out of sight.
Lucas blew out his breath. “I should have expected as much.” He rubbed his forehead. “Well, I guess that means Benny is going to have to come with us.”
“Will there be room for a third?”
He shrugged. “Hopefully, seeing as London thinks they’re just picking up me.”
“What about me?”
Lucas stared out the window. “They don’t know you’re coming.”
“What?” She grabbed his arm. “You didn’t tell them?”
“I can’t just tell Buckmaster I’m bringing along a known Nazi collaborator. I’d have to ask permission, and if he said no, that would put us both in a rather awkward position.”
“Not Nazi, just German,” Mathilde corrected. “And I would have added the word ‘unwilling’ in front ‘collaborator.’” She moved her hand to grasp his. “Lucas, think of what we can do when we get to England. We could help the RAF blow up the Abwehr’s headquarters at Maisons Laffitte, or get them to raid Fresnes and free all of the Gestapo’s prisoners. We could even have them poison Bleicher.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but yes, the information we provide to the SOE can help turn the tide of this war.” He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “It’s going to be a long next couple of days. I’m going to snatch whatever rest I can, and I suggest you do the same.”
But Mathilde couldn’t sleep and her mind whirred, imagining Armand’s expression when the RAF told him he was free because of The Cat. Yes, she decided. The Fresnes coup would be priority one. After that would be the demise of Bleicher.
Benny met them on the station platform. Mathilde knew the Abwehr men had gotten off earlier and were going to finish the journey by car while the three spies set off to Moulin de la Rive on foot. The three of them trekking with so many bags would have normally attracted attention, but clearly the German patrolmen had been tipped off, for they weren’t stopped at any time during their 10-kilometer hike.
Despite Mathilde’s heavy bag weighing down her shoulder, the walk was not altogether unpleasant. It was a lovely, sunny day and she spotted quite a few crocuses popping up alongside the road.
Benny didn’t hesitate to find the humor in the scenario. “It’s like the beginning of a bad joke: a British spy, a French spy, and a German spy are walking through the countryside…”
Mathilde shot him a conniving look. “Lucas is clearly the British spy, so who is the German one?”
“I meant, that is, the Germans think you are on their side. Not that I suspect you aren’t on ours,” Benny finished quickly.
“I was also joking,” she told him. “I know both of you have faith in me. At least now,” she added, remembering how Lucas had confessed his previous doubts in his apartment.
They stopped at a charming bistro on the way and had onion soup, washed down by a house red wine that Mathilde deemed very tasty. Though it wasn’t quite as merry as the first time they’d lunched together, it was amiable enough. Lucas hadn’t had the chance to tell Benny he was a marked man and would not be returning to Paris anytime soon.
When they emerged from the bistro, they found to their dismay that the sky had turned dark with gathering storm clouds and a penetrating wind had picked up. A few minutes later, it was raining, the kind of rain that stung like little pinpricks. By the time they’d reached the coast, the sea was rough with waves.
A German patrol was marching along the beach, but they paid no attention to the rain-soaked trio. Lucas located a small cave to use for shelter. A freezing Mathilde set her gaze to where the coastline should have been, but at this point she could see nothing but a gray curtain of rain. Even so, Lucas and Benny flashed their previously-agreed-upon signals every ten minutes.
She was just about to declare their departure hopeless when Lucas shouted, “Look over there!” Indeed, two vague forms were approaching.
Mathilde followed the other men as they ran out to meet them. The rain had let up somewhat, and they were able to hear one of the figures say the password: Le temps d'aller. Time to go.
“I’m Lieutenant Abbott,” the shorter of the two men declared. “Buckmaster’s
sent me to be the wireless operator for your circuit.” He nodded toward the man next to him. “This is Lieutenant Redding, also SOE.”
Redding held up his briefcase. “I’ve brought a new transmitter.”
“No, no.” Lucas pointed down the beach where the men had come from. Mathilde could just make out two dinghies drifting in the waves. “You’re coming with us,” Lucas told the new men.
Abbott scratched his head. “This is going against Buckmaster’s orders.”
Lucas led them to where the dinghies had docked and found the ranking officer. “We’re all going back.”
“What’s this now?” the officer asked.
“I don’t have time to tell you the details,” Lucas replied. “Let’s just say our circuit’s been compromised and the Germans know everything. We’re all in imminent danger, including these new men,” Lucas indicated Redding and Abbott. “There are Abwehr detectives crawling all over these rocks, ready to pounce as soon as you leave.”
“Very well then,” the naval officer sighed before nodding at the SOE men. “We’ll take them back to our freighter waiting just off-shore.”
“My companions are also coming with us,” Lucas commanded, gesturing to Mathilde and Benny.
Benny opened his mouth as if to protest, but thought better of it. He picked up Mathilde’s bag. “Let’s get you aboard.”
Mathilde clutched the sides of the dinghy as it started heading for the awaiting ship. The seasoned naval officer proved to be no match for the powerful current: both dinghies were only a few yards from shore when a giant wave washed over, flinging everyone on board into the freezing sea.
Mathilde felt herself going under, weighed down by her fur coat, which now felt three times as heavy. Her mouth and nose filled with water, burning her nostrils. She glanced up to see the moon’s reflection in the water growing fainter as she was dragged further under.
She felt pressure on her chest and thought it was the water entering her lungs, but then she was yanked back to the surface. She gasped for air, barely hearing Lucas screaming at her. He wrapped his arms around her and he pulled her to shore.
Finally she felt the wonderful sensation of sand under her toes. She tried to stand up, but the cumbersome fur was like a vengeful animal.
Lucas hauled himself up onto the beach beside her. “I think it’s time you lose your fur to the sea gods,” he panted.
“No. I love my fur.”
He got to his feet unsteadily. “It did almost kill you. And we’ve got a long walk back to the village.”
She hugged herself in it one last time, but it felt, and smelled, like a wet dog. Reluctantly she took it off and laid it across the water as if it were a funeral pyre. It began to sink almost immediately. She shivered as she turned to Lucas. “What now?”
The soaking-wet naval officer approached them. “I’ve signaled our ship to go back. Even if they did manage to send us new dinghies, there’s no way we can reach it with these swells.”
They met up with Benny, Redding, and Abbott, who had landed further down the beach. After some discussion, it was agreed that they were much too big a party to go unnoticed. Lucas decided that he, Mathilde, and Benny would go back the way they came, as he remembered seeing an inn along the way.
“And we’ll find shelter and hide out till morning,” Redding stated. “We’ve got papers and some cash, so we should be alright until we can make our way to Paris.”
With that statement, Mathilde realized the bag containing most of her favorite possessions had been washed out to sea.
“You ought to throw your guns into the ocean,” Lucas replied. “Anyone found with a weapon in Occupied France will be shot on sight.”
Redding and Abbott immediately did as Lucas suggested, but the naval officer was more hesitant. After he finally chucked his pistol into the waves, he pulled at his soggy collar. “There’s not much I can do to hide, being in uniform. I’m just going to have to give myself in.”
“Good luck to you, and thank you for your service.” Lucas held out his hand.
The officer shook it. “At least I’ll be taken with all the privileges of a prisoner of war. If any of you are captured in civilian clothes, you’ll be hanged as spies.”
Lucas nodded.
“Presumably those Germans you said were patrolling the beach watched everything. So let’s see, eh?” The officer held up both his hands in surrender and walked toward the dunes circling the edge of the beach. Nothing happened.
“Right then,” Lucas said to Benny and Mathilde. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 44
Didi
Leo Marks called Didi into his office one afternoon in early February. “I’m sorry to say I have to let you go,” he said before Didi had even sat down.
“What? Why?”
“Buckmaster wants you to report to him right away—he’s at 6 Orchard Court. Looks as if you’re going to be recruited for spy work after all.”
“Yes, sir.” She reached out to shake Marks’ hand. “Thank you, sir.”
He shuffled a pile of messages on his desk. “I’ll be sorry to lose you, but at least the SOE finally got their heads out of their arses and promoted someone worthy.”
“Yes, sir. Thanks again,” Didi called as she left his office and walked outside.
It was less than half a kilometer to the address Marks had given her. A sign outside read, “Inter-Services Research Building.” In contrast to the bustling Baker Street office, the lobby seemed eerily quiet.
“You must be Eileen Nearne.” A lanky man stepped out from behind a large ficus tree. “Major Buckmaster has been expecting you.” He led her through a maze of rooms until they finally stopped in an office where the well-groomed Buckmaster waited.
“Didi, it’s good to see you again.” Without waiting for a reply, he removed a pile of papers from an upholstered armchair. “Sit.”
“Mr. Marks said you wanted to see me.”
“Yes.” He sat behind the desk. “We are expecting the arrival of a woman from the depths of Occupied France. I believe you know her.”
“Is it Jackie?”
“No,” he waved his hand distractedly. “Jacqueline’s doing fine work out there. It’s The Cat.”
Didi couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open. “She’s coming to London?”
He appeared disconcerted as he fiddled with a pen. “Yes, and her SOE companions suspect she might be acting for the benefit of Germany.”
Didi sat back. “I can’t believe it, not after everything Interallié accomplished.”
Buckmaster held up his hand. “I completely agree, but we can’t be too careful. We’re going to need someone to accompany her at all times. Considering your history as their wireless contact, I thought you might be in the best position to help us decide whether or not she can be trusted.”
She wasn’t being sent to France, but this newest mission was the closest Didi had come to being an agent. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter 45
Mathilde
It took another two weeks and two more failed, though not as eventful, beach pick-ups before Mathilde finally found herself on a seaworthy dinghy headed for a Royal Navy ship waiting offshore.
A tall man in a white overcoat stood at the bow of the ship. “What is this?” His grip tightened on the revolver he was holding as he watched a sailor help them aboard. “Oh Christ,” he said upon making eye contact with Mathilde. “A bloody woman.”
“Sorry, sir,” Lucas replied, straightening. “But she’ll be of good use to us.”
The man introduced himself as Major Boddington as the ship got underway. “Don’t like the look of that light,” he said, pointing toward a faint glow coming from the beach dunes.
You’d like it even less if you knew the Germans were witnessing your Navy’s exact procedures for smuggling Allied agents out of France. Mathilde glanced with disdain at his conspicuous white jacket, deciding that Major Boddington was a first-class blockhead.
Lucas stood n
ext to Mathilde as the ship’s motor started. Together they watched the white-capped waves hit the boat with great force. Her stomach began to churn in unison with the choppy sea below. “I think I might need to lie down,” she said.
Lucas put his hand on her arm. “But you’ll miss the first view of Blighty.”
His touch warmed her in a way her lost fur never could. As much as she wanted to stay, her nausea needed to be quelled. “Wake me when we get there.”
But Lucas wasn’t on deck when she returned. As she stared out at the cliffs of Dover, which formed a jagged, purple border between the gray sea and the pinkening sky, Mathilde’s thoughts turned unexpectedly to Armand. She recalled how he used to play with her hair and tell her that she could accomplish anything to which she aspired. She tightened her grip on the hand railing, picturing the people of London standing on the street, heralding her as she made her entrance. If only Armand could see me now.
Upon arrival in England, Mathilde, Lucas, and Boddington were escorted to a car. The sun faded into the legendary fog while they approached London and Mathilde—still exhausted from her long journey—fell in and out of sleep.
The traffic in the city seemed endless, especially compared to Paris, where the only people who could afford cars, or their gas, were the Germans. As they pulled up to yet another stoplight, Boddington informed them they’d be staying in his flat that night, and would be shown their private accommodations the next morning. “Madame Carré, we’ve arranged for one of our secretaries to be your companion, since you don’t speak the language that well.”
She narrowed her still sleepy eyes. “You mean to guard me?”
“No.” He shot an embarrassed smile at Lucas before he asked, “Do you wish to go to dinner? Major Buckmaster is anxious to meet the woman he knows as The Cat.”
