Legacy of Hate Page 14

‘So let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘Pound Two was put down … when?’

  ‘December eleventh.’

  ‘Right. So she spent virtually a week here, doing what?’ ‘Her cover story was that of a schoolteacher from Paris. I gave her a job here as bookkeeper.’

  ‘While she sought some information on my people, presumably. But you could give her none. And then, one day, she just ups and crosses the border? That’s not logical.’

  ‘She left at night. And I believe she went with Monterre.’ ‘Monterre was here?’

  ‘He suddenly appeared here, seeking information.’

  ‘What information?’

  ‘About you, actually. He wanted to know when you were coming back.’

  ‘Which you could not give him, because you did not know. But you told him about Pound Two. Why did you do that?’ Anatole flushed. ‘Well, we were talking, and I told him how anxious I was about what was happening, and about London calling to find out, and that they had actually sent an agent to investigate … ’

  ‘And you also told him where this agent was to be found.’ ‘Well, I gave him the address of where she was staying, yes. Monterre is one of us. Isn’t he?’

  ‘I will have another cup of coffee,’ Liane said. She watched Anatole get up and go to the pot. There was no point in censuring Anatole. He was a good and loyal patriot. His problem was he trusted too easily. And Monterre was one of them. Or he had been. ‘So you think that Monterre took Pound Two across the border. If she came here to make contact with me or with my brother, he must have told her he knew where we were. Was he also taken by the Germans?’

  ‘There has been no mention of it. But then, to them, he would have appeared as just a guide.’

  ‘A guide who knew where to go.’

  ‘Do you wish to call London? They are most anxious to contact you.’

  Liane considered. But, much as she would have liked to hear James’s voice, she would have to bring him up to date on a fairly catastrophic situation. It would be better to leave it until she had more positive information to give him, both about Rachel and about the Group. ‘I think we’ll do that later.’ ‘And if they call?’

  ‘Leave things the way they are, that you have been unable to contact us. Now let me have that bath and a meal. I must get back across the border.’

  ‘Is that not very dangerous? Did you hear about that business of the Gestapo officer being assaulted by a woman? The whole area has been turned upside down for the past month. No one has had any Christmas. The police were here several times.’

  ‘Why here?’

  ‘Well, they are suspicious of me.’

  ‘And did you tell them anything?’

  ‘Of course 1 did not.’

  ‘Well, continue not to tell them anything. Now, my bath, and a meal, and I will leave you in peace.’

  ‘You are looking for your brother and sister. Is that not like seeking a needle in a haystack?’

  ‘But at least 1 know where the haystack is,' Liane told him.

  ‘This has been one hell of a fuck-up, James,’ the brigadier grumbled. ‘You should never have used that girl in the first place.’

  ‘With respect, sir, you authorized it.’

  ‘Very well, we should never have used her. She lacked experience.’

  ‘I regarded her as very capable, sir.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say much for your judgement. It is now a month since she was taken. Has there been no further word?'

  ‘There has been no word since our last contact with Pound Seventeen, before Christmas, when he informed us of her disappearance.’

  ‘Then she is certainly gone for good, whether she managed to commit suicide, was shot by the Germans, or is in a concentration camp. The damnable thing is that supposing she did not manage to commit suicide, we have no idea how much they got out of her. That is what was so irresponsible about employing her. She knows the identity of every Pound agent.’

  ‘I know, sir. But there has been no suggestion that any of them have been compromised. Their reports are coming in as usual.’

  ‘Well, we shall have to keep our fingers crossed. Now, do you know what I have to do? I have to go and see General Cartwright and tell him his only daughter is missing, believed killed. He is going to go through the roof.’

  ‘If she is dead, sir, she died in the line of duty.’

  ‘I don’t think that is going to make him very happy, as he will not regard being in France as part of her duties in the first place. However, life must go on. I have cancelled my requisition order for funds to support the de Gruchy Organization.’

  ‘But sir, that means you will be virtually shutting down the Route.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting that we pour thousands of francs into the hands of a prostitute?’

  ‘We don’t know that the de Gruchys are out of business, sir. In fact, we know that they are very much in business. It is merely that they have been forced to go into hiding and thus have been unable to contact us. But they will, as soon as possible.’

  ‘Your optimism does you credit. But our business demands realism. What is so damned annoying about this catastrophe is that there is something very big planned for this year, something in which the co-operation of a viable French Resistance movement is damned near essential. Now — ’ His intercom buzzed and he pressed the switch. ‘What is it? I said I was not to be disturbed.'

  The woman was breathless. ‘It is Pound Two, sir. She says it is most urgent she speaks with Pound One.’

  ‘Pound Two?' The brigadier looked at James.

  ‘She means Jennifer, sir. Pound Two’s replacement.’

  ‘Oh. Very well. Put her through. And it had better be important.’

  One of the telephones jangled, and, at a nod from the brigadier, James picked it up. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Pound Two here, sir. I’ve heard from Pound Two.’

  ‘What? Say again?’

  ‘Pound Two, sir. She’s in Switzerland. The Embassy is arranging to send her home.’

  James looked at the brigadier. He was incapable of speech.

  ‘Good God!’ the brigadier said.

  James got his emotions under control. ‘Thank you, Pound Two. That is excellent news.’ He hung up. ‘I would say we can review the situation, sir. She may well have up-to-date information on the de Gruchys.’

  ‘Hmm. I suppose it’s possible. And at least I won’t have to face old Cartwright.’

  James was pleasantly surprised. He had never expected to hear his boss sounding afraid of anyone.

  Liane moved slowly through the bushes along the bank of the Gironde, some twenty miles downstream from the confluence of the Garonne with the Dordogne, and thus a further five miles away from Bordeaux. Here, close to the little town of Paulliac, the centre of the wine-growing industry, there was little traffic, either on the roads in the distance, or in the river at her back. The freighters that had once made this their main thoroughfare now had nowhere to go, except to creep round Biscay or along the north Spanish coast; the fishing boats were mainly based on the river-mouth port of Royan.

  Every couple of hours a German patrol boat swept up or down, but this was usually at some speed, and they were always more intent on watching for the telltale ripples that indicated the many sandbanks that littered the river than in looking at the banks themselves, as they wove their way in and out of the tiny islets in the channels.

  At this moment Liane was more interested in the house, large and four square, with myriad chimney stacks. Most of the windows were shuttered, and the whole structure looked decrepit. But then so did the considerable grounds by which it was surrounded. The grass on the lawns was uncut; the flower beds nothing but a mass of withered stalks and weeds. And there was no sound, where only two years ago her presence, even on the river bank, would have been detected by the dogs, who would have come bounding down to greet a friend or terrify an intruder. She missed them the most, even as she reflected how sad her mother and father would be to see the fam
ily home in such a state. But they were safe in England now, and when they finally saw their house again, they would be the victors, and able to commence its restoration with all the confidence in the world.

  Now she saw what she had been waiting for. It was dusk and there was a gleam of light at one of the unboarded windows. Liane took her pistol from her haversack, checked to make sure the magazine was full — she was sure she would not need it, but one could never be too careful — and thrust it into her waistband. Then she left the trees and ran quickly across the lawn and up the wide, concrete front steps. The front door sagged on its hinges, the once-splendid mahogany scarred and in places shattered. That would have happened last September, when the Germans had been hunting for her, not realizing that she had already left, taking their commanding officer with her. She pushed it aside, and entered the hall, waves of nostalgia sweeping her mind. But, quiet as she had been, the broken wood had creaked, and a man appeared in the doorway to the dining room.

  ‘Who is there?’

  ‘Good evening, Jacques.’ She rested her hand on the butt of the Luger.

  The man came closer. ‘Mademoiselle Liane? My God! But … ’

  ‘No ghost, Jacques. Just tell me that I am welcome.’

  ‘But of course, mademoiselle. How … ?’

  ‘Later. Who is living here with you?’

  ‘Just my wife. Paul comes in every day, but he does not live in.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, mademoiselle … ’

  ‘Where are my brother and sister, Bouterre?’

  ‘They are on the islet.’

  She nodded. ‘And you supply them with food and drink. How often do they come across?’

  ‘Twice a week. They were here last night.’

  ‘Ah. Do the Germans ever come here?’

  ‘Not now. They came here after the assassination. They took the place apart. But Monsieur Pierre and Madame Burstein had not come yet, so they went away again.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Liane went up to the vineyard manager and embraced him. ‘As you can probably gather, I have spent the last week in and out of ditches and sleeping rough. I would like a bath, and a square meal, and a bottle of Gruchy. And then a bed. Can you provide those?’

  ‘Of course, mademoiselle … Liliane!’ he called. ‘You will never guess who is here.’

  Pierre de Gruchy peered at his sister, then hugged her tightly. Though several years the younger, he was also several inches taller, and although very thin, had a great deal of strength; he lifted her from her feet to kiss her.

  ‘Oof,’ she wheezed. His face, as handsome as any de Gruchy’s, was covered in several days’ growth of beard. ‘Thank God you are back. You have heard … ’

  ‘Most of it. How is Amalie?’

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  ‘Then load this stuff and take me to her.’

  ‘You are coming across?’

  ‘That is why I am here. Can’t you use another paddle?’ Pierre and Bouterre loaded the canoe, placing the food and bottles of wine and water in the centre of the slender hull. Liane got in, kneeling in the bow, her paddle ready. Pierre sat in the stern and Bouterre pushed them off. They drove their paddles into the relatively still water and raced along, their experienced eyes picking out the ripple of the sandbanks; this part of the river they had explored time and again as children. It took them only fifteen minutes to reach the islet, where Amalie waited, up to her knees in the water, to hold the boat steady.

  ‘Liane!’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Liane!’ She burst into tears. Liane kissed her, then helped Pierre push the canoe into a gully in the rocks where it was invisible from the river. Between them, Amalie now helping, they unloaded the stores and carried them into the little cave, the entrance of which was also turned away from the river so that no one who had not actually landed on the islet could know it was there.

  ‘This is our hot meal night,’ Pierre said, unclipping the lid for the cooking pot.

  Liane uncorked one of the wine bottles. ‘Together again,’ she said. ‘I should never have left you in the first place.’ Pierre brushed his mug against hers. ‘Probably.’

  ‘Are you very angry?’ Amalie asked. She, too, was taller than her sister, but had the least classic features of all the family, although she was quite pretty. But her face was drawn and pale, her eyes filled with tragedy.

  ‘I should be. But perhaps you can explain it.’

  ‘You know what happened?’

  ‘I know what I have been told by various people. No one has told me what Henri was doing in Bordeaux in the first place.’

  ‘He went with Monterre.’

  Liane frowned. ‘Monterre went home before I left for Paris. He said he was fed up with being a fugitive.’

  ‘Well, I suppose things didn’t work out at home, either,’ Pierre said, refilling her mug. ‘He suddenly showed up at the bakery. Neither Amalie nor I were there, unfortunately, so he saw Henri. According to Anatole, he told Henri that he had recruited some men who wished to join the Group, but they had to be sure we were genuine. So he wanted Henri to go and talk with them.’

  ‘Anatole did not tell me this,’ Liane said thoughtfully.

  ‘If only I had been there,’ Amalie said. ‘If only … ’

  ‘So Henri went to talk with these people. Could he not wait for you to come home?’

  ‘He was in such a frustrated and agitated state. Well, we all were.’

  ‘Did he know he was going to have to cross the border?’ ‘I don’t know. When we got home he was gone. Anatole could only tell us that he had left with Monterre. He didn’t know where they had gone. So all we could do was wait.’ ‘Until you heard he had been arrested and hanged. What happened to Monterre?’

  ‘There was no mention of him. He must have got away.’

  ‘But did he not come back to tell you what had happened?’ ‘No,’ Pierre said. ‘We assumed that he had gone into hiding.’ Liane looked at Amalie. ‘So then you went berserk.’ ‘What was I to do?’ Amalie gulped some wine. ‘They put the photo in the papers. Didn’t you see it?’

  ‘I haven’t had much time to read newspapers recently.’ ‘They showed a picture of him, hanging. Henri! And those brutes standing around, laughing. I had to do something. You weren’t here … ’

  ‘Do you require me to be at your side for the rest of your life?’ Liane turned to Pierre. ‘Why did you not stop her?’ ‘She left while I was out.’

  ‘But you guessed where she had gone.’

  ‘When I discovered she had taken the gun, yes.’

  ‘So you followed. And found her.’

  ‘Well, I knew she would not return to Vichy. The local authorities work very closely with the Germans. She would seek to hide somewhere in the Bordeaux area, and there was only one safe place … ’

  ‘You are a pair of inexcusable fools.’ Liane squeezed both their hands. ‘You realize that London has been going mad?’ ‘Because I shot a German officer?’ Amalie asked. ‘Because you did so without orders, and stirred up the entire Bordeaux area, and other areas besides. Do you realize that the Germans have shot a hundred men?’

  ‘The hostages?’ Pierre was aghast.

  ‘How could they do that?’ Amalie was no less horrified. ‘Because you would not surrender. And because you, Pierre, promptly disappeared, London was not able to contact you. You must remember that we are not acting on our own in this business. We are fighting a war, in conjunction with our allies, who also happen to be our bosses. We do not know what plans they are laying, but we have to obey their orders, to fit in with those plans.’

  ‘Well, they’ll have to accept what has happened,’ Pierre asserted. ‘It is over and done with, and the furore will soon die down. Anyway, London can get as angry as it likes. It needs us.’

  ‘It is not over and done with,’ Liane told him. ‘Because of their inability to get hold of you, London dropped an agent to look for us. I am pretty sure that it was Rachel. She was sent to Anatole in the first inst
ance, but then, like Henri, she crossed the border. And do you know why she did that? Because Monterre sought her out.’

  ‘Monterre? But … ’

  ‘As you say, he must have got away when Henri was arrested. Or did he get away? Because this British agent, Rachel, was also arrested once she was across the border.’ ‘Oh, my God!’ Amalie cried. ‘She was hanged, too?’

  ‘We don’t know. Anatole said there has been no publicity, other than that a British spy has been arrested. That was a month ago. So she is probably dead. But before she died … She knew everything about us. If she told the Germans … ’ ‘Rachel would never betray us,’ Pierre said.

  ‘Of course she will have, whether she wanted to or not. The only hope is that she managed to kill herself before they searched her. But that is done. It is what happens next that matters. I am going to return to Anatole and get in touch with James, tell him what has happened, and see what he wants done. I am also going to see if I can find Monterre. It seems to me that he has a lot of explaining to do.’

  ‘And us?’ Pierre asked.

  ‘You stay right here.’

  ‘You mean you no longer trust us.’

  ‘I no longer trust you not to do something stupid, yes. After I have contacted James, I will return here to tell you what happens next.’

  ‘How long will that be? Do you have any idea what it is like to be cooped up in this hole? We cannot even go out of the cave in daylight for fear of being spotted by a patrol boat.’

  ‘It will take me a week to get back to Limoges, and a week to return here. Assuming I can contact James right away, I should be back in just over a fortnight. But allow three weeks just to be safe.’

  ‘And if you are not back in three weeks?’

  ‘You may assume that I am dead.’

  ‘Or taken by the Germans.’

  ‘If I am taken by the Germans, I will be dead. I have my capsule.’

  ‘Oh, Liane!’ Amalie burst into tears.

  Liane hugged her. ‘It will not happen. But if it does, Pierre, you will have to take command.’

  ‘Command of what?’ Pierre asked.

  ‘Of the force I am about to start recruiting. Now take me back to the mainland before the weather changes.’