by Jack Higgins
"He wanted to talk, so I let him," Baum replied. "I'm keeping him happy, Major. I'm trying to keep them all happy. Isn't that what you want?"
"Of course," Hofer told him. "Don't take it the wrong way. You're doing fine. Just be careful, that's all."
Necker moved up to join them, and Baum said, "Fantastic, this place. Now I would like to see something in the country. The sort of strongpoint one might find in a village area."
"Of course. Herr Field Marshal."
"And then some lunch."
"Arrangements have been made. The officers' mess at Battle HQ were hoping to entertain you."
"No, Necker, something different, I think. I'd like to see the other side of island life. Vogel tells me he's billeted at some manor house called de Ville Place
. You know it?"
"Yes, Herr Field Marshal. The owner, Mrs. Helen de Ville, is married to the Seigneur who is an officer in the British Army. A most charming woman."
"And a delightful house according to Vogel. I think we'll have lunch there. I'm sure Mrs. de Ville won't object, especially if you provide the food and wine." He looked up at the cloudless blue sky. "A beautiful day for a picnic."
"As you say, Herr Field Marshal. If you'll excuse me I'll go and give the orders."
Ten minutes later, as the cavalcade of officers moved out through the main entrance to where the cars waited, a military police motorcyclist drove up. He pulled in beside Greiser, who sat behind the wheel of Muller's Citroen. Greiser read the message the man handed him, then got out of the car and hurried across to Muller, who was talking to a couple of officers. Martineau, standing nearby, heard everything.
"The bloody fool," Muller said softly and crumpled the message up in his hand. "All right, we'd better get moving."
He went to Necker, spoke briefly to him and then got into the Citroen. It moved away quickly, and Martineau walked over to Necker. "Muller seemed agitated."
"Yes," Necker said. "It would seem one of his men has been killed in a car accident."
"How unfortunate." Martineau offered him a cigarette. "Allow me to compliment you on the way you've handled things at such short notice."
"We do what we can. It's not every day a Rommel comes visiting."
"On the other hand, I expect you'll heave a sigh of relief when that Storch of his takes off tonight. Is he leaving before or after the mail plane?"
"In my opinion he should make the flight under cover of darkness. The mail plane usually leaves at eight for the same reason."
"Don't worry, Major." Martineau smiled. "I'm sure he'll see sense. I'll speak to him personally about it."
On a wooded slope in the parish of St. Peter with distant views of St. Ouen's Bay, the field marshal visited a complex of machine-gun nests, talking to gun crews, accepting a cigarette here and there. With the men, he was a sensational success, Necker had to admit that, although God alone knew where all the energy came from.
They had visited every part of the defense complex, were circling back through the wood, when an extraordinary incident took place. They came out of the trees, Baum in the lead. Below them, a gang of slave laborers worked on the track. They were the most wretched creatures Baum had ever seen in his life, dressed for the most part, in rags.
"What have we here?" he demanded.
"Russians, Herr Field Marshal, plus a few Poles and Spanish Reds."
No one below was aware of their presence, especially the guard who sat on a tree trunk and smoked a cigarette, his rifle across his knees. A cart emerged from the lower wood pulled by a rather thin horse, a young woman in a headscarf and overalls leading it. There was a little girl of five or six in the back of the cart. As they passed the road gang, she tossed them several turnips.
The German guard shouted angrily and ran along the track after the cart. He grabbed the horse by the bridle and brought it to a halt. He said something to the woman and then walked to the back of the cart, reached up and pulled the child down roughly. He slapped her face and, when the young woman ran to help her, knocked the woman to the ground.
Baum did not say a word, but went down the hillside like a strong wind. As he reached the track, the guard's hand rose to strike the child again. Baum caught him by the wrist, twisting it up and around. The guard turned, the anger on his face quickly replaced by astonishment, and Baum punched him in the mouth. The guard bounced off the side of the cart and fell on his hands and knees.
"Major Necker," the field marshal said. "You will oblige me by arresting this animal." He ignored them all, turning to the young woman and the child clutching her. "Your name, Fraulein?" he asked in English.
"Jean le Couteur."
"And this is?" Baum picked the child up.
"My sister Agnes."
"So?" He nodded. "You are a very brave girl, Agnes le Couteur." He put her up in the cart again, turned and saluted the young woman courteously. "My deepest regrets."
She gazed at him, bewildered, then grabbed the bridle and led the horse away along the track. Just before they disappeared from view into the trees, the child raised an arm and waved.
There was general laughter from all the officers present. Baum turned and said to Necker, "Honor being satisfied, I suggest we adjourn to the de Ville Place
for lunch."
Muller stood on the edge of the cliff with Greiser and looked down at the wreck of the Renault. "There was a fire," Greiser told him. "From what the engineer sergeant I spoke to says, he's pretty unrecognizable."
"I can imagine." Muller nodded. "All right, make arrangements with them to get the body up sometime this afternoon. We'll need a postmortem, but discreetly handled. We must keep the drunkenness factor out of it."
He turned away and Greiser said, "But what was he doing out here? That's what I can't understand."
"So far the only thing we do know is that he was drinking heavily last night. Check with military police for this area, just in case someone saw his car," Muller told him. "I'll have to get back to the official party now so I'll take the Citron. You'll have to commandeer something from the military police. The moment you have any information at all, let me know."
The mess sergeant and his men who had descended on de Ville Place
from the officers' club at Bagatelle brought ample supplies of food and wine. They simply took over, carrying tables and chairs from the house, covering them with the white linen tablecloths they had brought with them, working very fast. The mess sergeant was polite but made it clear to Helen that as the field marshal was due at any time, he would appreciate it if she did not get in the way.
She went up to her bedroom, searched through the wardrobe and found a summer dress in pale green organdy from happier days. As she was pulling it over her head, there was a tap on the door and Sarah came in. "Getting ready to play hostess?"
"I don't have much choice, do I?" Helen told her. "Even if he was the real thing."
She brushed back her hair and fitted ivory side combs. Sarah said, "You look very nice."
"And so do you." Sarah was wearing a dark coat and tiny black hat, the hair swept up.
"We do our best. I'll be glad when it's all over."
"Not long now, love." Helen put her arms around her and held her for a moment, then turned and smoothed her dress.
"You haven't changed your mind, you and Sean? You won't come with us?"
"Good heavens no. Can you imagine what would happen to de Ville Place
if I wasn't here? Nothing for Ralph to come home to, and remember that Sean, as he keeps telling us, is a neutral." She applied a little lipstick. "I certainly have nothing to worry about. You and Standartenführer Vogel were uninvited guests here. Anyway, there's always Guido in the background to back me up."
"You're really quite a remarkable woman," Sarah said.
"All women are remarkable, my darling. They have to be to get by. It's a man's world." She moved to the window. "Yes, I thought so. They're here." She turned, smiled. "Don't forget that down there among all those of
ficers you and I are formally polite. French only."
"I'll remember."
"Good. Into battle then. I'll go first. Give me a few minutes," and she went out.
When Sarah went into the Great Hall she found Guido, Bruno Feldt and three other young naval officers, all hovering uncertainly around the front door, peering outside. "Ah, Mademoiselle Latour," Guido said in French. "You look ravishing as usual. The field marshal has just arrived."
They moved out onto the steps. Baum was being introduced to Helen by Necker, and Sarah saw Harry standing at the back of the group of officers. Someone took the field marshal's leather coat, baton and gloves. He turned back to Helen, smoothing his tunic, and spoke in English.
"This is most kind of you, Frau de Ville. A gross imposition, but I felt I wanted to see for myself one of your famous Jersey manor houses. De Ville Place
comes highly recommended."
"Quite modest compared to some, Herr Field Marshal. St. Ouen's Manor, for example, is much more spectacular."
"But this is delightful. Truly delightful. The gardens, the flowers and palm trees and the sea down there. What a fantastic color." He offered her his arm gallantly. "And now, if you would do me the honor. A little lobster? Some champagne? Perhaps we can forget the war for a while?"
"Difficult, Herr Field Marshal, but I'll try." She took his arm and they walked across the grass to the tables.
The afternoon started off well. Guido Orsini asked permission to take photos which the Field Marshal graciously agreed to, posing with the assembled officers, Martineau standing next to him. The whole affair was obviously a huge success.
Necker, on his fourth glass of champagne, was standing by the drinks table with Hofer and Martineau. "I think he's enjoying himself."
Hofer nodded. "Most definitely. A marvelous place and a most charming hostess."
"However reluctant," Martineau commented acidly. "But too well bred to show it. The English upper classes are always the same."
"Perhaps," Necker said coldly. "And understandably so. Her husband, after all, is a major in the British Army."
"And therefore an enemy of the Reich, but then I hardly need remind you of that."
Martineau picked up another glass of champagne and walked away. Sarah was surrounded by the naval officers and Guido was taking a photo. She waved and Martineau joined them.
"Please, Max," she said. "We must have a photo together."
He laughed lightly and handed his glass to Bruno. "Why not?"
The others moved to one side and he and Sarah stood there together in the sunshine. She felt strange, remembering what Helen had said, her hand tightening on his arm as if trying desperately to hold on.
Guido smiled. "That's fine."
"Good." Martineau retrieved his champagne from Bruno. "And now I must speak to the field marshal. You'll look after Anne-Marie for me, Lieutenant?" he said to Guido and walked away.
He'd noticed Muller arrive, rather later than everyone else. He was standing talking to Necker, and behind him, a military police motorcycle drove up with Greiser in the saddle. Martineau paused, watching. Greiser got off, pushed the motorcycle up on it's stand and approached Muller, who made his excuses to Necker and moved away, listening to what the sergeant had to say. After a while, he looked around as if searching for someone. When he found Martineau, he crossed the grass toward him.
"I wonder if I might have a few words in private, Standartenführer?"
"Of course," Martineau said, and they moved away from the others, walking toward the trees. "What can I do for you?"
"My man Kleist was killed last night. A messy business. His car went over a cliff at La Moye."
"Not good," Martineau said. "Had he been drinking?"
"Perhaps," Muller replied cautiously. "The thing is we can't think of any convincing reason for him having been there. It's a remote sort of place."
"A woman perhaps?" Martineau suggested.
"No sign of another body."
"A mystery then, but what has it to do with me?" Martineau knew, of course, what was to come.
"We ran a routine check with the military police patrols in that sector in case they'd noticed his car."
"And had they?"
"No, but we have got a report that you were stopped in your Kubelwagen on Route du Sud at approximately two o'clock this morning."
"Correct," Martineau told him calmly. "But what has that to do with the matter in hand?"
"To get to the area of La Moye where Kleist met with his unfortunate accident it would be necessary to drive along Route du Sud, then take the Corbiere road."
"Do get to the point, Muller, the field marshal is expecting me."
"Very well, Standartenführer. I was wondering what you were doing there at two o'clock in the morning."
"It's quite simple," Martineau said. "I was about my business, under direct orders of the Reichsführer, as you well know. When I return to Berlin he will expect a report on what I found here in Jersey. I'm sorry to say it will not be favorable."
Muller frowned. "Perhaps you could explain, Standartenführer."
"Security for one thing," Martineau told him. "Or the lack of it. Yes, Muller, I was stopped by a military police patrol on Route du Sud this morning. I left de Ville Place
at midnight, drove through St. Peter's Valley, up to the village and along to Greve de Lecq. Just after one o'clock I reached L'Etacq at the north end of St. Ouen's Bay, having taken a back lane around Les Landes. A defense area, am I right?"
"Yes, Standartenführer."
"And the places all have important military installations?"
"True."
"I'm glad you agree. I then drove along the bay to Corbiere lighthouse and was eventually stopped in Route du Sud by two military policemen who appeared to be having a smoke at the side of the road. You do get the point, don't you, Muller?" His face was hard and dangerous. "I drove around this island in the early hours of the morning close to some of our most sensitive installations and only got stopped once." He allowed his voice to rise so that officers nearby turned curiously. "Would you say that was satisfactory?"
"No, Standartenführer."
"Then I suggest you do something about it." Martineau put his glass down on a nearby table. "And now I think I've kept the field marshal waiting long enough."
As he walked away, Greiser joined Muller. "What happened?"
"Nothing very much. He says he was on a tour of inspection. Says that in two hours of touring the west of the island, he was only stopped once—on Route du Sud."
"Do you believe him, Herr Captain?"
"Oh, it fits well enough," Muller said. "Unfortunately we're back with that policeman's nose of mine. He was in the area, that's a fact, and I hate coincidences."
"So what shall I do?"
"When they get poor old Willi's body up, get it straight in for a postmortem. If he was awash with schnapps when he died, at least it will show and we'll know where we are."
"All right, Herr Captain, I'll see to it." Greiser went back to his motorcycle, mounted and rode away quickly.
Baum, talking to Helen and a couple of officers, turned as Martineau approached. "Ah, there you are, Vogel. I'm in your debt for suggesting my visit to such a delightful spot."
"A pleasure, Herr Reich Marshal."
"Come, we'll walk awhile and you can tell me how things are in Berlin these days." He took Helen's hand and kissed it. "You'll excuse us, Frau de Ville?"
"Of course, Herr Field Marshal."
Martineau and Baum turned away and strolled across the grass toward the trees, taking the path that led to the rampart walk with its view of the bay. "This whole thing becomes more like a bad play by the minute," Baum said.
"Yes, well we don't have time right now to discuss what Brecht might have made of it. This is what happens. The mail plane leaves at eight. They expect you to fly out in the Storch at about the same time."
"So?"
"I'll turn up at Septembertide at seven.
I'll have Sarah with me, also Kelso in Kriegsmarine uniform and heavily bandaged."
"And how does Hofer react?"
"He does exactly as he's told. I've got a syringe and a strong sedative, courtesy of the doctor who's been treating Kelso. An armful of that and he'll be out for hours. We'll lock him in his bedroom."
"When does this happen?"
"I'd say the best time would be at the end of your tour when you return to Septembertide. Probably around five o'clock. Get rid of Necker and the others, but ask me to stay for a drink."
"But how do I explain his absence at the airport?"
"Simple. Necker will be there with his staff to bid you a fond farewell. It's at that point you announce you intend to fly out in the mail plane. You can't arrange it earlier because Hofer would want to know what you were up to. You tell Necker that the chief medical officer at the hospital has made representations on behalf of this sailor, badly wounded in the convoy attack the other night and in urgent need of specialist treatment on the mainland. As you're using the bigger plane, you're giving me and Sarah a lift."
"And Hofer?"
"Tell Necker that Hofer is following behind. That he's going to fly out in the Storch on his own."
"And you think all this will work?"
"Yes," Martineau said, "because it's actually rather simple. I could have tried something like it without you, using my letter from the Reichsführer, but perhaps the Luftwaffe commanding officer here would have insisted on getting permission from Luftwaffe HQ in Normandy." He smiled. "But to Erwin Rommel, nobody says no."
