"Then you must realise that the future of our country can only lie with the Germans."
Vincent said nothing, but Tony noticed the slight frown and was encouraged.
"We work for the SS" he continued, "and have had a certain member of your household under surveillance for some time."
Vincent felt cold. He struggled not to show the fear which settled in the pit of his stomach like a lead weight. Finally he found his voice.
"I don’t understand."
"We mean the young lady who has been living and working here for the past few months. What do you know of her?"
Vincent turned to answer Jean-Paul’s question. "Very little. She was looking for lodgings and work, and I was able to provide both. That’s all."
"Where is she now?"
"Shopping."
Tony approached the counter and placed his hands on it, putting all his weight on them as he leant forward and glared directly into Vincent’s eyes.
"Some of her movements have been suspicious. We believe she may be working against the interests of France. Are you willing to help us to trap her?"
Vincent’s mind was in a turmoil. Of course he was not willing. But if he were to say so then his life would be forfeit. The best he could hope for was to try to gain some time and warn Angeline. After a moment’s hesitation he nodded.
"Of course. What do you want me to do?"
"Keep a note of her movements and the people she meets. One of us will call back each day to see if you have any information for us." Tony’s face was inscrutable as he stepped back from the counter. "France will not forget what you do."
'Neither will she forget you' thought Vincent, but he said nothing as his two visitors turned and left the bakery. He wiped his clammy hands on his apron and moved round the counter to close the door and put up the closed sign. The two men were standing talking on the pavement. He turned away, not wanting them to see him watching. A deep frown furrowing his brow, Vincent made his way upstairs to change. Somehow he had to warn Angeline.
"So far so good." Tony smiled grimly at Jean-Paul. "Either he’s a good liar, or he is willing to sacrifice Angeline. Let's see what he does next."
The two men slipped into the baker’s yard, and hid while they waited for the return of Angeline.
When Angeline entered the baker’s yard she was not aware of Jean-Paul and Tony. They had concealed themselves well. With a worried frown, the radio operator leant her bicycle against the wall and made her way towards the kitchen door. She had expected a message from Tony to tell her what to do about Vincent, but there was nothing at the drop, and she did not know what to do. Pushing open the door, she made her way inside. She found Vincent sitting at the table. He was staring at a cup of coffee which had long since gone cold on the table in front of him. At the sound of the closing door he started, a frightened look in his eyes. Then he relaxed slightly as though he had been expecting someone else, and was relieved to see that it was only Angeline. He stood up and began to pace agitatedly across the floor. Outside in the yard Tony and Jean-Paul made their way over to the window. They crouched below its sill to hear what, if anything, Vincent told Angeline about his two visitors. They did not have long to wait.
"Angeline! I’m glad it’s you!" He stopped pacing and faced her across the kitchen table. "I’ve had a visit from two men working for the SS. They say they’ve had you under surveillance, and they want me to help them spy on you!"
Angeline was stunned. She thought she had been so careful. How had they managed to get on to her?
"I shall have to leave."
Vincent nodded. "It’s the only solution. You should pack and go now, before they come back. Don't tell me where you’re going. If you don’t tell me, I can’t give you away."
"Aren't you coming too? Surely they’ll suspect you if I disappear now?"
Vincent shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve lived here all my life, and I don’t want to leave. I’ll say that you must have become aware of them watching, and you left without speaking to me."
"What happens if they don't believe you?"
"I won’t be able to tell them where you’ve gone. You’ll be safe. Do not worry about me, I can take care of myself." Vincent walked around the table and put a comforting arm around Angeline’s shoulders. "Now pack your things and go."
"That won't be necessary." The voice came from the doorway and the kitchen door opened to reveal Jean-Paul and Tony. Angeline opened her mouth to say something, but Vincent did not give her a chance. Pushing her behind him, he grabbed a bread knife from the kitchen table.
"These are the men I told you about, Angeline. Get away from here while I hold them off."
"But I don't understand!" Angeline looked blankly at Tony, then Vincent, and finally back to Tony. "I don't know the older of these two men, Vincent, but the younger one is a British agent too." She laid a calming hand on the Frenchman’s arm. "Put down the knife, Vincent."
The baker frowned but did not give up his weapon. Neither did he take his eyes from Tony, who was now smiling at him.
"That's right, Vincent. Angeline sent me a message when you caught her with her radio. We paid you that little visit this afternoon to test you."
"To see if I would betray Angeline?"
Tony nodded. "I'm glad to say you passed the test with flying colours."
"What would have happened if I hadn’t? No...don’t tell me. I think I can guess." Vincent hesitated for a moment, then put the knife back onto the table.
Angeline glared angrily at Tony. "That was a pretty mean trick, Albert."
Tony and Jean-Paul came fully into the room, closing the door behind them.
"I know, but I needed to be certain that you were safe. I could have taken the easy option, you know."
Angeline nodded, and Vincent frowned.
"You mean kill me without putting me to the test?" When Tony nodded in reply, Vincent sat down. "This has all happened so quickly. But now perhaps you’ll believe me when I say that I can be trusted and that I want to work with the Resistance."
Tony laughed. "We have no doubt about that at all. I’ll let you know when and how we can use you." He held out a hand to the Frenchman, who stood and shook it warmly. "Welcome to our little group, Vincent."
102
Karl Dresner stood to attention, tight lipped and silent, wishing he could be anywhere else but here. The communiqué he had brought for Major Steinhauser, the cause of the man’s displeasure, lay innocently on the desk, studiously ignored by Dresner and the object of Steinhauser’s furious outburst.
"Did you read it, Karl?" He did not wait for an answer. He paced the width of his office, his usually handsome Aryan features contorted by his feelings. "They’re sending General Wolffe here to visit us. They make it sound like a normal visit, but what they’re really saying is that we’ve had too much trouble from the Resistance in the last few months. General Wolffe is coming to find out why we haven’t crushed this group by now. It makes me so angry!” He stopped his pacing and faced his subordinate. "They’ll say that we haven’t tried hard enough, that we’re bringing the SS into disrepute."
"I’m sure that the General will say no such thing."
Steinhauser laughed mercilessly at Dresner's comment.
"Of course he won’t say it outright. He’ll just say how unfortunate it is that this rabble is still freely roaming the countryside, maybe a fresh outlook would help? Damn it! Next he’ll be suggesting that I might like to apply for a transfer to the Russian front! We have got to do something, Karl, and do it before General Wolffe arrives."
He frowned. “Wolffe is merciless, Karl. He has been stationed in northern France. A good number of British planes have been shot down there. They couldn’t find most of the pilots. Wolffe eventually narrowed down his suspects to a small village. No-one would give up the people who were helping the pilots, so he had the whole village shot. Over three hundred men, women and children, Karl. Then he burned the place to the ground.”
“Y
ou think he is coming here to do something similar?”
“Who knows? But the chances are that someone thinks we are not doing a good enough job.”
Suddenly the Major stopped his tirade. His eyes narrowed as his thoughts came together. After a moment he smiled, a smile of malicious humour.
"Maybe we can use the Herr General’s visit to help to show us in a good light."
"Sir?"
"If you were in the Resistance, or an enemy agent, what would you do if you knew that a high ranking general responsible for such actions was about to pay a visit?"
"I suppose I might try to assassinate him, sir"
"Good. That’s what I thought."
"But the Resistance doesn’t know that General Wolffe is coming."
"No, not yet. But they will, Karl." Steinhauser made his way over to his desk and sat down. He leant back into the leather chair and put his feet up on its highly polished surface. "I want you to spruce up all of our troops, ready for inspection. I want them to know that the general is coming. The information is bound to leak out. I also want you to plan a route of entry for him, make sure it has two or three positions along it ideal to conceal an assassin, then leave copies of that lying around H.Q. There’s bound to be some scum here who would sell such information to the Resistance."
"Won’t we be putting the general’s life in danger?"
Steinhauser laughed. "Of course! But this is war! We will do everything in our power to ensure that he is not hurt. But," he grinned, "the death of Herr General Wolffe would be no great loss in my eyes. It may even help to speed up the promotion I've been seeking, especially if I manage to catch the assassin."
He took his feet from the desk and sat up, leaning forward to hold Dresner’s eyes with his own icy blue ones.
"I want our best men watching all possible sites an assassin might use. If anyone tries anything, they are to move in. Make sure that they know that I want this man alive, Karl. They can shoot to wound and slow him down, but if anyone kills him I’ll have him transferred to the Russian Front. And I’ll make sure that he doesn’t come back. Understand?"
“Yes, sir.”
"Good. The leader of this group is mine, and I want him alive." He grinned. "Alive when I get him, that is. By the time I’ve finished with him he’ll wish he was dead!"
103
“Are you sure you want to do this, Albert?”
“No. I’m not sure. But London wants him out of the way, so I have to do it. They must have their reasons. They will know the dangers. I’d rather be lying low with the rest of you. This is too much of a risk, but it has to be done.”
“Are you sure your plan will work?”
Tony shrugged as he walked along the lane beside his friend. “I don’t know, Jean-Paul. The details of the general’s movements which Georges got are pretty good, as long as they are accurate; but it’s still very risky and I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. I have to make this hit alone.”
“Maybe so, my friend. But we must have someone else there to know what happens, to report to Angeline if things go wrong, or to cover your back on your escape.”
“You will not cover me, Jean-Paul, I forbid it. I can see that I won’t be able to persuade you to stay away, but you mustn’t get involved, no matter what happens. Is that clear?”
The Frenchman nodded sadly. “Yes, Albert. But I won’t pretend that I like it.”
“No one expects you to. But it’s the safest way. You have too much to lose, a wife, children. This is far too dangerous for you.”
“Surely no more than any other attack we’ve made?”
Tony frowned. “I don’t know. The information that Georges got for me is too detailed. It seemed too easy for him to acquire. I have a funny feeling about all this.”
“Then don’t do it.”
“But I have to, Jean-Paul. I don’t know what this general has done. But if my bosses want him out of the way, then I must do all I can to accomplish that. No one else need risk their life. It’s probably not a bad idea for you to be in the area, in case something goes wrong. But you will be unarmed, and there will be nothing to link you with me. That is how it has to be.”
“All right, Albert. You’re the boss.”
“If it is a set-up and something goes wrong, you’ll be able to take over the running of the group for the time being and get a message to Angeline.”
The two men entered the outskirts of the city and moved through the suburbs towards Tony’s chosen spot. They were half a mile away when Tony stopped.
“Right, Jean-Paul. This is where we split up. You go to the café where you can watch what happens, but don’t get involved. Understand?”
“Yes, Albert.”
The two men looked at each other for a few moments; there was so much to say yet no words to say it.
Jean-Paul held out his hand. “Good luck, my friend.”
Tony took the hand and gripped it tightly. “Good luck to you too. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”
He turned and walked away.
Tony stood by the intersection of two roads, and reviewed his plan. The general’s car would come along one street, then slow to turn left. That was when Tony would shoot him, before making his getaway down the alley behind him, dumping the gun and mingling with the customers at one of the pavement cafés. He did not really like the plan. Too many things could go wrong, and his chances of getting away were slim. But he had no choice. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he felt the smooth outline of the pistol, his only weapon for the attack. He wondered again if he was doing the right thing. He glanced around him, his casual movements masking the careful scrutiny as he noted all details of the people around him. Were any acting suspiciously? Was he under surveillance? He saw Jean-Paul sitting at a pavement cafe across the road but showed no sign of recognition.
Tony heard the sound of an approaching vehicle, and turned towards it. An open-topped staff car flying the red, black and white flag of the Third Reich, was moving towards him. He slipped his right hand into his pocket to grip the butt of his gun and pull it to make sure it was not caught on the material. It moved freely. He breathed deeply, once, twice, and concentrated on the approaching car. The general was seated in the rear. The only other occupant was his driver, while the car was flanked by four motorcycle outriders. The car slowed as it approached the corner. Tony pulled the gun from his pocket and levelled it, arm stretched out straight in front of him. As the car drew level, he pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. In the rear of the vehicle the general threw up his arms in pain and horror, a deep red stain spreading on the front of his tunic. At the sound of the shots, the driver of the car put his foot down hard. The vehicle leapt forwards, too late for the general, whose blood pooled on the floor of the car as he slumped over the back seat.
As Tony turned to run, he saw the four motorcycles screech to a halt. The riders reached for their weapons as they leapt free and began to pursue him. It was as Tony had expected, and he was ready. As long as he was able to get to the end of the alleyway before they began shooting, he should be able to make it. He threw his head back, opening his airways to take gulp after gulp of air to feed his muscles. His legs and arms pumped, forcing him down the alleyway faster than he had ever run before in his life. Behind him he heard the footsteps of the outriders, and waited for the sound of their guns. He felt so vulnerable, his back a huge target for them to aim at, but to stop turn and fire on them would be suicidal. He would just have to keep running and hope that they missed. As he neared the end of the alleyway, his mind was racing. Why had they failed to open fire? His breathing was ragged and there was a sharp pain in his chest when he saw a group of shadows moving at the end of the alleyway, yards ahead. Tony slowed to a walk then stopped. Six soldiers barred his way, rifles levelled at his chest.
Slowly Tony turned around. The four soldiers who had been chasing him also stopped, guns levelled. Tony’s heart sank. He was cornered. It was obviously a trap, why else would th
ey have held their fire? Slowly he dropped his arms to his sides, his fingers releasing the gun. It fell to the ground at his feet with a clatter. Over the shoulders of the soldiers who were now walking towards him, Tony could see a crowd gathered in the entrance to the alley, the figure of Jean-Paul prominent in their midst. For a moment their eyes met and held, then Tony broke the contact. Turning to meet the gaze of the closest soldier, he raised his hands above his head and waited.
AUGUST 1942
104
The summer of 1942 produced many a dark day for the people of England. In June, the North African army eventually gave up the unequal struggle to retain control of Tobruk. They withdrew, falling back to El Alamein and leaving some thirty-five thousand of their number en route, to be taken by the advancing Germans and incarcerated for the remainder of the war. The shattered British people saw it as a bad omen, almost as bad as the fall of Singapore. Britain was retreating in all theatres of war, the only Allied successes seemed to come from the Americans in the Far East. In July, Convoy PQ17, taking badly needed supplies to beleaguered Russia, supplies which the British could hardly spare from their scant resources, was hit by submarines which sank twenty-four out of the thirty-five merchantmen, and further depressed the spirit of the British people. Rations were cut even further, Those who had felt that they could not survive on the food they were allowed now found themselves managing on even less. Coal was running short. Priority went to fuelling the power stations to provide electricity for vital war industries leaving little for domestic consumption, a fact that did not matter in the summer heat; but thoughts were already turning to the cold winter months ahead. Those who could began to build up pitifully small stocks of coal to see them through the days to come. Things looked bad. The euphoria of America’s entry into the war faded quickly in the face of the harsh realities of life in war torn Britain. Little did the people realise that more disasters awaited them just around the corner.
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