The Greeks had been driven some way back from their own frontier, but they were said to be putting up a stout resistance. Authentic news was still scarce, but Lacroix, who was in a better position to know than most people, expressed the opinion that, although the Greeks were comparatively ill-armed, now that they had been called upon to defend their own soil they would give the Italians some very hard fighting before the country was overrun.
General de Gaulle had landed in the French colony of Gabon on the previous Sunday, and although fighting was reported to be in progress there considerable numbers of the garrison had come over to him. As Lacroix was a great friend and admirer of the General’s he was particularly elated by this first success of the Free French Forces, and the others congratulated him upon it.
They had been in conference for about an hour, and Lacroix was giving Gregory all the information he could regarding the German preparations for the invasion of Britain, when to their consternation the alarum bell tinkled.
All three of them came to their feet, and the Colonel said swiftly: ‘I have yet to give you those details, Gregory, about the arms-running and the delivery of money in Lisbon. The four stout fellows who are acting as mutes will be coming in to fetch me, and it may not be safe for me to return here tonight; but it will take them some minutes to get the coffin downstairs. Quick! Slip up to your rooms, get your clothes on, then follow me out of the house as though you are mourners. If you are questioned the body is that of your old friend Professor Fresnais, the ethnologist.’
He was still speaking when Madeleine and two of the mutes came hurrying into the room. She was calm, but a little pale, as she said: ‘It’s the police, but they don’t seem ill-disposed. Nurse Yolanda and your other two men are keeping them occupied for the moment down in the hall.’
Lacroix was already getting into the coffin, and no sooner was he lying at full length in the satin-lined shell than the mutes seized the coffin-lid, placed it over him and began to screw it down.
Gregory and Kuporovitch, meanwhile, were scurrying quietly but quickly upstairs. In frantic haste they tore off their dressing-gowns and began to pull on their clothes. Barely two minutes elapsed before they were ready. Their underclothes had been tucked in anyhow, and their ties and collars were still undone, but each had a muffler round his neck and a heavy overcoat over his clothes, so that to outward appearances they were fully dressed. Thrusting the automatics with which Madeleine had furnished them from the secret armoury of the home into their pockets, they met on the landing.
Tiptoeing down to the first floor, they saw that the four mutes, now carrying the coffin, had just reached the hall. Madeleine was walking behind it, and the unwelcome visitors, who consisted of an inspector and three agents de ville, stood respectfully aside with bowed heads as it was carried towards the door.
Side by side, looking suitably mournful, Gregory and Kuporovitch came down the last flight; but the inspector stepped forward and said: ‘Pardon, messieurs, where are you going?’
‘We are about to follow our poor friend Professor Fresnais on his last journey,’ Gregory replied sadly.
‘I regret, messieurs,’ the inspector’s voice was courteous but firm, ‘that, I cannot permit. We have reason to suspect that this house is used for subversive activities, and it is now surrounded. I have orders that no one is to be allowed to leave.’
Gregory’s face showed only shocked surprise, but he was now acutely anxious. Things were evidently much worse than they had first believed. Fortunately, owing to the careful routine which Madeleine maintained, everything in the home was in apple-pie order. There was little chance of the police finding anything they could bring a charge upon, unless they happened to recognise one of the “patients” as a man that they were after. The great thing was that Lacroix had safely passed through the net. The four mutes, shouldering the coffin, were already out in the street, and the motor hearse was backing towards them.
These thoughts had raced through his brain as he took the last two steps downstairs. Instantly he began to protest, although only as a matter of form, since he now felt certain that Kuporovitch and himself would not be allowed out of the house until the police had completed their investigation.
Madeleine was outside on the pavement. She, too, now realised that this was no formal visit, as, even in the semi-darkness, she could see that a little knot of gendarmes had been posted on either side of the house, a little way down the street.
As she stood there uneasily watching the mutes slide the coffin into the back of the hearse she caught the wail of a klaxon horn. A large car came hurtling round the corner and drew up within a few yards of the house. Madeleine’s heart missed a beat. Major Schaub jumped out of the car, followed by two other S.S. guards.
He did not appear to notice her, but his glance swiftly took in the hearse, the mutes and the inspector and the others, who were standing in the open doorway of the hall.
‘What’s going on here?’ he barked in staccato French.
The inspector came forward and saluted. ‘It is the funeral of Professor Fresnais, Monsieur le Major. He died last night from weakness after a severe operation. There are two men here who wished to follow the hearse to the cemetery, but I have detained them.’
‘You have done rightly,’ said the Major. ‘As for the hearse, we can let that go. Our business is with the living, not with the dead.’
It was at that moment that, swinging on his heel, he came face to face with Madeleine. Even in the half light his recognition of her was instant.
‘Ach, so!’ he exclaimed, his eyes narrowing. ‘Surely you are the pretty girl who is willing to provide Russian refugees with a little amusement for the price of a good dinner. Mademoiselle Mirabeau was the name, if I’m not mistaken. So you have become a nurse! I must say the uniform suits you! But the last time we met you were pulled in for having been in conversation with an anarchist who shot a French detective. And now I find you as a nurse in a home which is under suspicion as a rendezvous for saboteurs. This is most interesting!’
Suddenly he swung round again. The hearse was just on the point of moving as he called out: ‘Halt there! Halt!’ And pulling out his pistol he sent a warning shot over the head of the driver.
The hearse pulled up with a jerk. At the sound of the shot the French inspector and his men came running out on to the pavement. Gregory and Kuporovitch, knowing now that there was real trouble ahead, followed.
Major Schaub walked up to the back of the open hearse and tapped the coffin-lid with the barrel of his automatic. ‘I have heard of tricks being played with coffins before,’ he said coldly, ‘and I am not now prepared to accept the statement that this one contains the body of a dead professor.’
The mutes had left their stations beside the hearse and gathered round him. With a sudden flourish of his gun towards them he rapped out: ‘Take it back into the house! I wish to see what’s inside it!’
12
The Unexpected Snare
The doorway of the nursing-home stood open and was now empty except for Nurse Yolanda. The inspector and his men had all come out of the house and stood grouped together on the edge of the pavement. Kuporovitch had stepped up to Madeleine and, taking her by the arm, drawn her back a little. The Russian did not want to start anything himself, but he was determined to put up a fight rather than allow Madeleine to be arrested. With his right hand he firmly grasped the automatic in his pocket, which had its safety-catch off and was ready for instant use.
Night had come now. The light from the doorway of the nursing-home lit the scene, but the ends of the street were obscured in darkness. The infringement of the black-out regulations, the hearse, the S.S. men, and the French police had attracted the attention of numerous passers-by. They now formed a small crowd at either side of the doorway but some way back from it, consumed with curiosity yet fearful of being involved.
Gregory had followed the inspector out of the house, and he now stepped forward off the pavement. He had heard M
ajor Schaub’s order to the mutes that the coffin was to be carried into the home and opened, and he knew that all other considerations must be disregarded in an attempt to prevent that.
He had seen the small groups of police posted further down the road, but in the immediate vicinity there were only the inspector, the three agents de ville and the three S.S. men. As the four mutes were not really mutes at all, but Lacroix’s people, Gregory felt certain that they would be armed. There were also himself, Kuporovitch, and the driver of the hearse, so the odds were exactly even—seven against seven.
He knew that if a fight started it would be a desperate business, since all fourteen would be firing at one another at pointblank range. It was a certainty that several of them would get killed, and probably some of the bystanders would be injured. Madeleine and the other inmates of the home would also have to be sacrificed, as in any attempt to get the hearse away there would be no time to get them away with it; so they would be arrested afterwards. But it had not taken Gregory two seconds to sum up the situation clearly and form his decision.
Lacroix was the very heart and soul of this great and growing conspiracy which in time might break the Nazi stranglehold on France and thus play a huge part in bringing the war to a successful conclusion. That was the thing that mattered above all else. If Lacroix was captured, even if the whole movement were not broken up entirely, it would set it back by many months. At all costs that must be prevented. Whoever else fell a victim to shots or capture, an attempt had to be made to save the all-important brain of the movement.
Stepping off the pavement, Gregory walked quietly up to Major Schaub and said in excellent French: ‘Monsieur le Major, if you will think for a moment you will realise that you can’t do this sort of thing.’
‘Why not, monsieur?’ said the Major icily, staring at him in surprise.
‘Because it’s not decent,’ Gregory replied firmly. ‘How can you expect us French people to collaborate with you if you insult our dead?’
‘I do not insult your dead!’ retorted the Major. ‘I simply require that this coffin should be opened in order that I may inspect its contents before it is despatched to the cemetery—or wherever they propose to take it at this late hour.’
Gregory glanced round at the four mutes, endeavouring as best he could by his glance alone to warn them that he meant to make trouble; then he said: ‘Am I not right, messieurs? To disturb the newly dead by wrenching off a coffin-lid is to insult them.’
Before any of the men could reply Major Schaub cried angrily: ‘To hell with that! We’re wasting time. I intend to have this coffin opened. Come on, you men! Get that coffin back into the house, or there’ll be trouble for you!’
Gregory had purposely come up very close the the Major while he was speaking to him—so close that he was not only within easy striking range, but the German had no room to use his gun. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, Gregory brought his left knee up with all his force into the Major’s crutch. An instant later, as the Major’s mouth opened and he swayed forward slightly, Gregory hit him with all his force under the chin; he fell crashing into the roadway.
The sight of the assault acted like a signal. The four mutes, the inspector, the agents de ville, the two remaining S.S. men and Kuporovitch all jerked their guns from pockets or holsters.
As the Major fell Gregory sprang into the open back of the hearse alongside the coffin, yelling at the top of his lungs: ‘Drive on! Drive on!’
His shout was half-drowned by a ragged burst of firing. Kuporovitch shot one of the S.S. men through the head. Bullets from the guns of two of the mutes hit the other in the body, but not before the shots from his automatic had brought one of them, gulping blood, to the ground.
The inspector and his men came late into action. They knew it to be their duty to support the Germans, but had a natural reluctance to fire at the Frenchmen who were gathered round the hearse. Their indecision gave Kuporovitch his opportunity. His one concern was to save Madeleine. Thrusting aside one of the agents de ville who stood in his path, he dragged her back through the open door of the nursing-home and slammed it to.
Next moment shots crashed out again. The inspector knew that he would pay for it with his own life if he allowed Gregory and the mutes to get away with the murder of the Nazis. The hearse was now in motion, and the three remaining mutes, clinging on behind, were twisting themselves up into it. Raising his old-fashioned revolver, the inspector fired at them. Two of his men followed his example. The other had run to the door of the nursing-home and was banging loudly on it. One of the mutes was hit and let out a yell of pain. The glass in the side of the hearse was shattered and came clanging down among its struggling occupants. Gregory was underneath, but he wriggled free and pulled his gun.
As the hearse sped away they returned the fire of the agents de ville, and one of them fell reeling into the gutter, Major Schaub lay stretched out where he had fallen, still unconscious. The two other Nazis and the dead mute made ugly twisted heaps beside him.
The agents de ville were now giving chase, firing as they ran. The bystanders were shouting and scurrying for the nearest cover, fearful of being wounded, but a brawny workman thrust out his foot and tripped the inspector before diving into a nearby alleyway. As Gregory’s swift glance took in the scene he searched anxiously in the semi-darkness for Madeleine and Kuporovitch, but he could not see them. He could only hope that they had managed to make good their escape in the confusion.
At the far end of the street the group of police were now coming into action. A sergeant bravely stood right in the centre of the road, calling at the top of his voice on the hearse to halt. Its driver drove straight at him, and he only managed to leap aside just in time. His companion sent a ragged volley at the hearse as it sped past them. A flying splinter of glass cut Gregory’s cheek, but next minute, almost on two wheels, the hearse hurtled round the corner.
For a few moments the hearse raced through the darkened streets that Gregory did not recognise. Then it roared past a tall archway outside which there was an empty sentry-box, and he realised that beyond the dark courtyard lay the Elysée Palace, the official home of France’s Presidents. Swinging to the right the hearse dashed down a side turning into the Champs-Elysées. Here it turned right again and headed up the broad thoroughfare towards the Arc de Triomphe, ignoring all traffic lights and speed limits. Three minutes later they rounded the arch and careered wildly down the Avenue Foch, until at its end they entered the Bois de Boulogne.
Only then did the driver begin to moderate his pace. A few hundred yards farther on he turned off the road down one of the thickly wooded rides of the great park, the use of which is prohibited to motor traffic. Then, when the hearse was well screened by the trees, he pulled up.
Without a moment’s delay two of the mutes began to unscrew the coffin-lid while the third held a torch. As soon as the lid was removed Lacroix scrambled out of the satin-lined shell. He had heard the shooting through the ventilation holes concealed in the sides of the coffin, which had been specially constructed for him, and he asked at once what casualties his men had sustained.
‘They got Alexandre,’ replied one of the mutes, ‘and Raoul here is wounded in the shoulder; but the rest of us are all right.’
‘How about the people in the home?’ asked Lacroix.
‘The Matron and the thickset man who was with her got back into it and slammed the door.’
‘Thank God for that!’ murmured Gregory. ‘The inspector said the house had been surrounded, but Kuporovitch is a cunning old fox. With luck he may be able to get them out through the garden.’
‘Anyhow, your friend got one of the Nazis,’ commented the mute. ‘Poor Alexandre and I accounted for the other.’
‘Good!’ said Lacroix. ‘Things might be worse then, but we have no time to lose. Already a general call will have been sent out from Police Headquarters for this hearse to be halted wherever it may be seen. We were lucky to get as far as this without bein
g held up, but on all the routes leading out of Paris the Germans have strong road controls armed wih machine-guns. We must abandon the hearse at once and disperse in the hope of getting through separately on foot.’
‘Where will you make for?’ asked Gregory.
‘For Vichy. Once we can reach the frontier of Unoccupied France there are a dozen places in which we can cross it unknown to the authorities. For myself and my men I have few qualms, but about you, Gregory, I am anxious. It is important that you should get back to England as soon as possible. If you proceed with one of us to Vichy you may meet with grave delays. It is better, I think, that you should go home by the direct route that I had already planned for you.’
‘That’s all right by me,’ Gregory agreed. ‘You have only to give me directions. But before we part you must let me have those particulars about shipping arms and your man in Lisbon.’
Lacroix glanced round his bodyguard. ‘I wish to talk alone with my friend here. You will leave us for a few moments. Take up your positions about fifty yards away; so that we are not surprised if one of the police cars which now must be searching for us happens to turn in along this drive.’
When the men had scrambled out of the hearse Lacroix produced a small pad and fountain-pen from his pocket. While Gregory held a torch the Colonel wrote swiftly upon the paper, then he tore off the sheet and handed it over, as he said:
‘It would be a bad business if you were captured with that on you, so you must memorise these particulars at the first opportunity, then destroy them.’
Taking a cardboard covered booklet from another pocket he handed that to Gregory, as he went on: ‘That is the passport I had faked for you. It is in the name of Lucien Rouxel. Now, about your journey: you’ll go tomorrow morning to the office of Dormey, Jamier et Fils in the Rue de la Roquette, which is near the Cimetière du Père Lachaise. They are haulage contractors who are working for the Germans. Ask for Monsieur Adolphe Dormey, show him your passport and tell him that you are a night watchman who seeks employment. He will then arrange for you to be smuggled through in one of his lorries either to Boulogne or Calais. At whichever place you arrive I now have good arrangements. The lorry-driver will put you in touch with someone who has managed to conceal a motor-boat under a deserted wharf in one of the small harbours along the coast. German troops are now thick as flies in that area, but, thank God, the women of France do not lack courage, and many of them are becoming very skilful at distracting the attention of sentries when required to do so for their country’s sake. Fortunately, the moon is in its dark period, so with the help you’ll be given you should have no great difficulty in getting away from the coast. The boat will put you aboard the first British ship that it meets and return either the same or the following night. Is that all clear?’
V for Vengeance Page 18
