Legacy of Hate Page 3

  But she was also a young woman who could follow her own agenda with unremitting purpose. Thus, as he lay panting into her neck, she gently uncoiled the long legs she had wrapped around him and, with some effort and a few grunts, managed to slide her body out from beneath his. ‘About the drop,’ she remarked.

  He rolled over. ‘Why are you so anxious to commit suicide?’ ‘I have no intention of committing suicide. I just want to do my bit.’

  ‘You are doing your bit right here in this office. And I am not referring to sex.’

  She got up and put the kettle on while he watched her movements, so utterly graceful. ‘Do you have any idea what it is like to sit here like some gigantic spider, issuing directives, orders, commands, to people you have never seen?’

  ‘You saw them, most of them, in September.’

  ‘That makes it worse. I know you feel just the same. You get over there every chance you can.’

  ‘I have been to France three times since the evacuation, and the last was inadvertent. I am still suffering for it. And you have been once. That should be enough for anyone.’

  She poured tea, sat beside him to drink it. ‘This is urgent. Someone has to go. And you know that 1 have all the qualifications. I am a trained parachutist. I can even fly an aircraft. I speak French like a native, and I know both the people and the situation on the ground. Come on, James.’

  ‘Today is December the fifth. You’ll get chilblains on your fanny.’

  ‘Then you can smother it with cream.’

  ‘You’ll miss Christmas.’

  ‘Of course I won’t. I’ll be back in a week. Well, a fortnight.’ She gave a wicked smile. ‘I’ll be able to give Liane your love.’

  James played his trump card. ‘I’ll have to have a temp.’ ‘Of course. Fll organize it.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to go looking for a battleaxe.' ‘Not necessarily. Just someone who will understand that you’re my property.’

  *

  ‘Right,’ James said. ‘Here is the drill. Your papers, ID card and some personal documentation will be ready tomorrow; your name is Brigitte Ferrand and you are a schoolteacher who has lost her job in Paris and is looking for employment in Vichy. You’re not going to jump; you’ll be flown in. Your pilot will be Brune, who you know. You’ll be landed in the Limoges area, which means there won’t be any nasties around. Pound Seventeen will be informed of zone and time and hopefully one of his people will be able to meet you. Your brief is to regain contact with the de Gruchy Group, find out why they have resumed operations without reference to us, and insist that they conform to orders in the future.’

  ‘And after ticking Liane off, I’m to give her your love.'

  ‘If you would.’

  ‘And give her a hug and a kiss?’ She winked at his glare. ‘Just testing. Now, I have Jennifer waiting outside. Shall I bring her in?'

  ‘Jennifer?’

  ‘My temporary replacement. We were at school together.'

  ‘Is that a recommendation?'

  ‘Well, let’s say we know each other very well.’ She opened the door. ‘The Major will see you now, Sergeant.’

  James stood up instinctively as the woman entered the room and stood to attention. ‘Sergeant Jennifer Mayhew, sir. Reporting for duty.’

  As required, Jennifer Mayhew wore civilian clothes, but, in the strongest possible contrast to Rachel, she was short and plump, her features soft, her brown hair curly and worn short.

  ‘Glad to have you, Sergeant,’ James said. ‘I gather Cartwright has put you in the picture?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And you understand the covert nature of our work here?’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir.’

  ‘Well, then, Sergeant Cartwright will show you around.’

  ‘The flat is through here.’ Rachel opened the door, and left it open.

  James listened.

  ‘There’s only one bed,’ Jennifer Mayhew remarked.

  ‘So you sleep one at a time,' Rachel pointed out.

  James grinned, and the telephone rang. Rachel hurried back in, but he had already picked it up. ‘Pound One.’

  ‘Pound,’ said the brigadier. Unusually for him, he sounded breathless. ‘Have you heard the news?’

  ‘Ah … What news, sir?’

  ‘It’s just come through. At seven this morning, Hawaiian time, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and destroyed the American Pacific fleet.’

  ‘Ah … Would you repeat that, sir?’

  ‘For God’s sake, James, wake up. The Japs and the Yanks are at war. So are we, in the Pacific. Reports are coming in that Singapore has been bombed.’

  ‘God Almighty! Where does that leave us?’

  ‘Nationally, I’m waiting to find out. On the ground we have to look after our people. Starting with Jonsson.’

  Chapter Two

  Necessity

  ‘I take it you know where she is,’ the brigadier said, ‘I know that she left this country three days ago.’

  ‘To go where?’

  ‘In the first instance, Sweden. She goes there ostensibly to visit her father. From there she crosses the Baltic to one of the German ports.’

  ‘So she should still be there. In Sweden. Get on to your man in Stockholm, tell him to get hold of her and tell her under no circumstances to go on to Germany. She should return here immediately.’

  ‘With respect, sir, has Germany also attacked the United States?’

  ‘Not so far as I am aware.’

  ‘Then the two countries are not at war. Her situation hasn’t changed.’

  ‘James, Germany and Japan are allies. We do not know the exact terms of the alliance, whether Germany is committed to aiding the Japanese in any war with a third party, but the fact that Japan is also attacking our territories makes it almost certain that Hitler will declare war on the US at some time. In any event, Jonsson is now totally exposed. You get her back.’ He hung up.

  James slowly replaced the phone, looked past it at Jennifer and Rachel, who had been listening on the extension. ‘It’s nice to know the old buzzard cares about his people,’ Rachel commented. ‘Even Joanna.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ James said. ‘He’s only worried that if she’s arrested by the Gestapo and tortured she’ll tell them all she knows about our operations, which is quite a lot.’ ‘Shit! What are we going to do?’

  ‘Obey orders, for a start. That’s your first job, Jennifer. Get on the line to Pound Twenty-Three and tell him to find Pound Three and instruct her to come home immediately.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Ah … what number do I have?’

  ‘In Rachel’s absence, you are her. Pound Two.’

  Jennifer looked at Rachel. ‘Just the number,’ Rachel said. ‘Until I come back.’ Jennifer sat before the set. ‘Does this affect my mission in any way?’ Rachel asked.

  James shook his head. ‘We have to find out what’s happening over there.’

  ‘Willco. Liane, here I come.’

  ‘Only if she’s there. You stay out of the occupied territory. That’s an order.’

  The woman pushed open the iron gate and walked up the path. The grounds to either side of her, though extensive, were nearly as decrepit as she. The lawns were uncut, the hedges undipped, the trees untrimmed. The woman, straggly grey hair escaping from her bonnet, threadbare shawl clutched around her shoulders, back bowed beneath the weight of her pack, stumbled slowly up to the front door of the big, four-square house, set well back from the road to diminish the roar of the Paris traffic — not that on a December afternoon in 1941 there was a great deal of Paris traffic, apart from the vehicles of the occupying army. The woman made her way slowly up the shallow front steps and rang the bell. There was a delay, and then the door swung in.

  ‘We do not open until six,’ this woman said. Tall and raw-boned, she was clearly used to repelling unwanted callers. Then she realized that she was facing a woman. ‘And we need no labour. Be off with you, granny.'

  ‘What a
way to treat a poor old lady,' the woman remarked, her voice crisp and sharp, yet with a peculiarly soft lilt. ‘I thought you would be pleased to see me, Marguerite.’

  Marguerite stared at her, for some seconds unable to speak. Then she gasped. ‘But you are dead! The Germans say you are dead.’

  ‘The Germans say a lot of things that are not necessarily true. Now let me in.'

  Marguerite stepped back and the woman entered the hall, at the same time straightening and shrugging the pack from her back with the ease of a strong and healthy body, quite belying her earlier hesitation. Marguerite ran across the hall, a wide area, and knocked on the door to the left. ‘Madame! Madame! Mademoiselle de Gruchy is here.’

  ‘Sssh!’ Liane de Gruchy followed her more slowly. ‘You will wake the dead.’ She smiled as the door opened. ‘Hello, Constance.’

  The woman standing there, long-legged and voluptuous, with dyed red hair, was in her mid-forties, but no less attractive for that. Now, like her maid, she stared at Liane. ‘My God!’ she whispered. ‘But … ’

  ‘Everyone thinks I am dead. Shall we keep it that way for the time being?’

  ‘But … ’ Constance peered at her. ‘What have they done to you?’

  ‘They have done nothing that a hot bath and a bottle of shampoo won’t fix. In fact, that is the top of my list.’

  ‘Marguerite,’ Constance commanded, ‘draw Mademoiselle Liane a bath. In my apartment.’

  Marguerite hurried off and Constance held out her arms. Liane went to them and was embraced. ‘My God!’ Constance said. ‘You smell like a sewer.’

  ‘Well, that we are about to put right. But to stink is the best way to put men off getting too close, whether they be German soldiers or French lechers.’ She went into the office. ‘It is also some time since I had a drink.’

  ‘Cognac!’ Constance hurried to the sideboard and poured two glasses. ‘But why are you here?’ She leaned on the desk ‘It is so dangerous.’

  Liane brushed glasses. ‘Damnation to the Boches! It is not dangerous at all, as long as your people are still loyal.’

  ‘Of course they are. But if you were to be recognized ‘Like this?’

  ‘But after you have had a bath, and washed the dye from your hair and the make-up from your face, you will have to stay in your room.’

  ‘I don’t think that will be necessary. The Germans have one photograph of me, which is three years old and is of a very chic, long-haired blonde. They also have a description of the woman who shot five German soldiers in a minute, a woman with short black hair and a generally dowdy appearance.’

  ‘Liane, no man who has ever got close to you is going to ever forget any part of you.’

  Liane blew her a kiss. ‘You are so sweet. I think you should dye my hair red. Then you can say I am your sister come to visit with you.’

  ‘I do not have a sister.’

  ‘You do now. We will make up a joint family background.’ ‘The Gestapo know my family background.’

  ‘Then we will embroider it and add a few details. As to why I am here, well, I wish to know that everything is running smoothly.’

  ‘With the Route? There has been no problem so far. We have two Evaders in residence now. They are to be moved tomorrow. Do you wish to see them?’

  ‘I do not think so. Certainly they must not know who I am. One of these people is going to be captured, one day.’

  ‘And you think he would betray us?’

  ‘Hopefully not. But it is better to be safe. Is the money being paid regularly?’

  ‘Yes. Monsieur Brissard is not happy … ’

  Liane nodded. ‘I wish to see him. Tell him to come here.’ ‘You expect a man like Brissard to come to a brothel?’ ‘Even an old stick-in-the-mud like Brissard must feel like a woman other than his wife occasionally. I assume he also thinks I am dead?’

  ‘Everyone thinks you are dead.’

  ‘Then to tell him I am alive may give him a heart attack. He must come here where he can see me for himself and where I can speak with him. Tell him you wish to see him, urgently.’

  Constance nodded and looked up as the door opened. ‘The bath is ready. Mademoiselle Liane,’ Marguerite said.

  Liane finished her drink and got up. ‘You had better send Hercule to me.’

  ‘Hercule is not here.’

  ‘You let him go out? He is a wanted man.’

  ‘I could not keep him. When he heard of your death he went berserk. He took to the bottle, then he left.’

  ‘Shit! Was he armed?’

  ‘He had that gun you left here.’

  ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Liane led the way up the stairs.

  ‘That man worships you.’ Constance followed.

  ‘And I am very fond of him. He saved my life.’ Liane faced a pretty young woman wearing a dressing gown. ‘Hello, Louise.’

  ‘Mademoiselle Liane! But … ’

  ‘It’s a long story, which Madame Constance will explain to you shortly. For the time being, pretend that you have seen a ghost.’ She entered the bathroom and stripped off her filthy clothes. ‘I have worn those for twelve days. I think they should be burned.’

  Constance regarded the naked body in front of her. ‘Why do you always look good enough to eat? Did you not love Hercule? You were his mistress.’

  Liane sank into the tub with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘I was not his mistress, Constance, except in his eyes. I shared his bed because I had to have a base in Paris.’ Constance undressed as well, and knelt beside the tub with a bottle of shampoo. In some contrast to Liane’s hard-muscled perfection, she was overweight. ‘Have you never loved any man? Or woman?’ she added hopefully.

  Liane soaped, slowly and luxuriously, while Constance soaked her hair. ‘I have loved a woman. I think I probably still do. We were at school together.’ And she, too, has saved my life, she thought. It was such a feeling of reassurance to know that she and Joanna were now working together, for the same end.

  ‘But no men,’ Constance suggested, more hopefully yet.

  Liane considered. ‘There is one,’ she said, and giggled. ‘My boss.’

  ‘You have a boss?’

  ‘Did you think I could create all this, the network, the Route, have access to my gun and ammunition, all on my own? I work for the British.’

  ‘I do not like the British. They deserted us last year. Lean back so I can rinse.’ Liane obeyed, and then there was a tap on the door. ‘What is it?’ Constance called.

  Marguerite opened the door. ‘Captain Hoffmann is here.’ ‘He is always early. What time is it?’

  ‘Just past six, madame.’

  ‘Are the girls down?’

  ‘Three of them.’

  ‘Well, tell them to entertain him. I will be down in a little while. If he is impatient, they can give him a trick. He can pay later.’ Marguerite closed the door.

  ‘As popular as ever,’ Liane remarked.

  Constance poured water and massaged Liane’s scalp. ‘Of course. I run the best house in Paris. Now get out and I will use the dye. You are sure you wish to be red? It will not go with your colouring.’

  ‘Who is going to look at my colouring?’ Liane got out of the bath and towelled herself dry. ‘I feel almost human again.’ She leaned over the basin. ‘You must not hate the British, Constance. They took their army away to fight another day. What would have been the point in their surrendering three hundred thousand men to the Germans? In any event, you are working for them now, too.’

  Constance was busy with the shampoo. ‘You told me I was working for France.’

  ‘We are all working for the defeat of Nazi Germany. We in particular are under the command of the British Secret Service.’ ‘And you have fallen in love with one of them?’

  ‘I did not say I had fallen in love with him. But I think if I was going to love any man it would be him.’

  ‘Have you ever met him?’

  ‘Oh, I have met him,’ Liane said dreamily.

  ‘There,’
Constance said. ‘That is fine. Actually it suits you.’ Liane straightened to look at herself in the mirror. ‘I look forty years younger.’

  ‘When the war is over you should join the Folies Bergere. Or will you merely go back to being a millionairess?’

  ‘I don’t know there will be anything left to go back to, after the war.’

  ‘Well, you know … Liane was still looking at herself in the mirror. Constance slid her hands over her buttocks and then round in front to caress her pubes. ‘There will always be a place for you here.’

  Liane blew her a kiss. ‘After the war, maybe. But as I am here now, let’s go and see what the latest breed of Nazi officer is like.’

  Henri Brissard closed the gate behind him, and looked nervously left and right. He was sixty-two years old, and for forty of those years had been the epitome of respectability. He had worked his way up from junior clerk to be the manager of De Gruchy and Son’s Paris office, which, apart from the headquarters in the village of Paulliac, outside Bordeaux, was the most important of the firm’s agencies. The bulk of the orders for Gruchy wines came through Paris. Of course, since the invasion, the only orders came from Germans, but even Germans could appreciate good wine, and de Gruchy was the best. So, although the family itself, by identifying with and then leading the Resistance, had outlawed themselves, the Germans were content to let the vineyards continue to produce their superb grapes, and the business to continue without interruption. They counted the staff as of no importance, clerks who were only happy to have retained their well-paid jobs. They had no idea what went on beneath the surface, and particularly here in Paris. But that was known only to himself and a bunch of whores.