Operation Kingfisher (18 page)

She looked across the clearing to where the lock-keeper was being tied to a tree.

‘What do you think will happen to him?’

‘There will be a trial. Gregoire will insist on that. But there’s no doubt about his guilt. I imagine he’ll be shot.’

‘Luke, has it occurred to you that the only evidence against him comes from us?’

He glanced at her and then away.

‘Well, there’s no doubt in my mind. He deserves whatever is coming to him.’

The trial took place immediately after breakfast the following morning. Chairs were set out for Xavier and Gregoire and the rest of the men gathered round squatting on logs. A third chair was offered to Cyrano but he declined, so one of the older members of the
Maquis
, a man called Alphonse, was co-opted as the third
judge. The lock-keeper was untied from the tree, where he had spent the night under guard, and dragged into the centre of the circle.

‘You are charged with collaboration with the enemy,’ Xavier said solemnly. ‘You knew there was going to be an attack on the lock and you warned the Germans, so that they were lying in wait. A firefight followed, in which four patriots were killed. How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ the man babbled. ‘How did I know there was going to be an attack? The German patrol just happened to be there.’

‘Guilty or not guilty,’ Xavier persisted.

‘Not guilty.’

‘I call the first witness. M. Serge, please step forward.’

A man whom Christine had not previously noticed stood up. He was a littler older than most of the others and his upright bearing suggested a military background.

‘I am the leader of the
Maquis Serge
. On the fifteenth of May, my men and I planned to attack the lock at Tannay. We did not wish to cause any civilian casualties, so we warned the lock-keeper, the accused, to keep out of the way. When we arrived, we were immediately confronted by an armed German patrol, which was obviously lying in wait for us. In the ensuing fight, four of my men were killed.’

‘Thank you, Monsieur. So, that disposes of the excuse that you did not know what was going to happen. What do you have to say?’

‘The
Boche
just happened to be there. What else could I do? They threatened to shoot me if I didn’t keep quiet.’

‘That is another lie. We have a witness who saw you fraternising with the enemy after the attack. I call M. Luke to give evidence.’

Luke stumbled to his feet, his face first red and then pale.

‘Tell us what happened when you were passing through the lock.’

‘We had to lie low at the bottom of the lock while the fight was going on. But after it was all over we saw him – the accused – talking to the German officer.’

‘Did it seem as though he had been forced to co-operate with them?’

‘No, they seemed very friendly. They were sharing cigarettes and laughing.’

‘Thank you. That is all.’ Xavier conferred briefly with his fellow judges, then continued. ‘You have been found guilty. The verdict of this court is that you be shot as a traitor to France.’

There was a growl of general approbation and the two men guarding the prisoner grabbed him by the arms and marched him off into the woods. Xavier called several names and the men chosen picked up their rifles and followed him.

Christine, numb with shock, saw one of them thrust a spade into the lock-keeper’s hands. She looked at Gregoire and saw that he was already heading in the opposite direction, towards his car; while Cyrano had returned to his table in the tent. She looked at her brother.

‘This is horrible!’

‘It’s called justice,’ he replied brusquely, but she saw that he had gone pale.

There was a pause in which the sound of digging could be heard. The whole
Maquis
waited and no one spoke. Then came the sound of shots and there was a collective exhalation, as if they had all been holding their breath, and the group dispersed about their normal tasks. Xavier returned, grim faced, and in the forest, spades could be heard at work again. Christine looked at Luke.

He got to his feet. ‘That’s over. I’m going to the range to practise.’

Once again, Christine found herself at a loose end. She decided on an impulse to go exploring. A walk in the woods would be good exercise; it would keep her mind off what had just happened. She wondered briefly if she should tell someone what she intended, but decided against it on the grounds that she would
probably be forbidden to go. She set off along the track that led past the ‘garage’. As she reached it a voice hailed her.

‘Mademoiselle Christine!’ Jean Claude ran across to met her. ‘You remember what you said about replacing the points in the Citroën?’

‘Yes.’

‘I have a friend, an old school friend, who works in a garage in Montsauche. He might be able to help.’

‘I don’t see what good that is,’ she responded. ‘How would we get in touch with him?’

‘That’s easy! We can drive down there now in the van.’

‘Drive into a town? Can we do that?’

‘Of course. How do you think we get our supplies?’

‘But what about the Germans. Suppose we get stopped.’

He grinned. ‘There aren’t any Germans in the Morvan.’

‘None at all? Are you sure?’

‘Oh yes. There are German garrisons in Nevers and Château Chinon and from time to time they send patrols through this area, but they stick to the main roads. They know we are in control everywhere else. They don’t risk venturing into the forest. And all the local people are on our side, so we soon get to know if there are any about.’

‘Well, if you’re sure about that, I suppose it’s worth a try.’

‘Let’s go, then.’

She hesitated a moment. Luke would wonder where she was. But then he was occupied on the rifle range and wasn’t bothered about her, and Gregoire had vanished as he so often did and Cyrano was busy.

‘OK. Let’s go!’

As they bumped down the forest track, she said, ‘Who was that man who said his group had been betrayed by the lock-keeper?’

Jean Claude looked puzzled. ‘Serge? He’s the head of the
Maquis Serge
, obviously.’

‘You mean there are other groups in the area? I thought there was just Xavier’s and the
Maquis Vincent
.’

‘Oh no. There are groups scattered all over the Morvan:
Maquis Serge, Maquis Jean, Maquis Bernard, Maquis Socrate
. There may be others but those are the ones I know of. Of course, those aren’t their real names, any more than Xavier is really called Xavier.’

‘What is his real name, then?’

‘I’ve no idea. Does it matter?’

‘Why don’t you all amalgamate and make one big force? Surely that would make you more effective.’

‘Move everyone together into one big camp? Then if the
Boche
decided to attack they could wipe us all out. This way, if they manage to locate one group, the others are still safe and the
Boche
have no idea where we are hiding or where the next attack is coming from.’

Christine nodded. ‘Yes, that makes sense. I see now.’

They came out of the forest onto a road and she said, ‘So you are really able to drive around without worrying about running into a German patrol?’

‘I told you, there are no Germans in the Morvan.’ The van rounded a bend and Jean Claude stood on the brakes. ‘
Merde
!
’

Ahead of them, a convoy of German trucks and armoured cars was drawn up on the side of the road. The soldiers had left the vehicles and were lounging on the verge, smoking and chatting. So far, they showed no sign of having noticed the van.

‘Don’t stop!’ Christine said quickly. ‘If you do, it will look suspicious. Drive on past them. After all, this is just a harmless-looking butcher’s van. If anyone asks, you’ve just been out delivering orders.’

Jean Claude glanced sideways at her, his face pale, but he nodded and let in the clutch. The van drove slowly past the convoy and none of the men gave it more than a second glance. Just ahead of them was a T-junction, and on the corner there was a garage. As they passed it they saw why the convoy had halted; a staff car was drawn up on the forecourt and a sweating mechanic was struggling with one of the wheels, while a German officer
paced around and a corporal, presumably his driver, stood watching.

‘
Merde
!
’ said Jean Claude again. ‘That’s the place where my friend works. Now we’re stuck.’ He drove round the corner and stopped the van out of sight of the convoy. ‘What do we do now? Wait until they go?’

‘It’ll look suspicious if we just sit here,’ Christine said. ‘Can’t you just drive into the garage and pretend you’ve come to check the oil or something?’

The Frenchman shook his head vehemently. ‘I dare not show my face in there. I’m the right age for the STO. I was supposed to go. If they question me I’ve had it.’

‘You were supposed to go for STO? How did you get out of it?’

‘The morning we were supposed to assemble at the station, I scarpered and went to the
Maquis
. That’s why I can’t risk being asked to show my papers.’

‘I see.’ Christine was thinking hard. ‘I can see why it’s a problem for any man your age. But they wouldn’t question a woman. I could walk in on some pretext. The way I’m dressed,’ she glanced down at her grease-stained dungarees, ‘they would probably think I worked there.’

‘You can’t!’ Jean Claude protested. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘I don’t see why. I bet the
Boche
wouldn’t even notice me. What’s your friend’s name?’

‘Laurent. But he won’t know you. Why should he trust you? You could be a collaborator, spying for the Germans.’

‘You’re right. I need some kind of signal, some kind of code word, that would tell him I must have come from you. Think! Is there anything you used to do or say at school that only you and he would know about?’

Jean Claude frowned. Then his face cleared. ‘There were three of us, who were always together. We called ourselves the Three Musketeers. I was Athos, Laurent was Aramis.’

‘Who was Porthos?’

‘That was Albert.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘He was called up for STO the same time as me – but he went. I tried to persuade him to come with me, but he was too scared.’

‘Why wasn’t Laurent called up?’

‘Medical grounds. He had polio when he was a kid and it left him with a weak leg. Are you definitely set on trying this?’

‘Yes. Why not?’

‘OK. You’ll probably find Laurent in the workshop. Say that his friend Athos sends greetings to Aramis. Then he’ll know you must come from me.’

‘Right.’ Christine opened the door. ‘Wait for me for half an hour. If I’m not back by then get back to the
Maquis
and tell Gregoire or Cyrano what has happened.’ She looked at her companion’s face, creased with worry, and smiled. ‘Don’t look like that. I’ll be fine.’

She walked back to the corner. The convoy was still waiting. Her heart was pounding and she felt that her hands were beginning to shake. To still them, she thrust them into the pockets of her dungarees, pouted her lips and forced herself to whistle.
Auprès de ma blonde
…. The tune wavered, then gained strength as she sauntered across the road and onto the garage forecourt. The officer was now haranguing the unfortunate mechanic, who was having difficulty removing the wheel with its flat tyre. None of them looked at Christine. At the rear of the forecourt, she could see the open door of a workshop and hear the sound of someone using a file. She walked in and a slight young man straightened up from the workbench and peered at her.

‘Yes?’

‘Your friend Athos sends his greetings to Aramis.’

He gave a gasp, quickly suppressed. ‘You have come from Jean Claude?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you are … you are …’ he left the sentence unfinished, staring at her in confusion.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘We need your help. Can you supply me with a new set of these?’

She produced the old points from her pocket and held them out. Laurent took them and examined them.

‘Wait a moment, please, Madame … Mademoiselle …’ he stammered into silence again and disappeared into a storeroom.

Christine waited, biting her lip. Outside, she heard the mechanic give an exclamation of triumph and guessed he had finally succeeded in freeing the recalcitrant wheel. It occurred to her to wonder if there was a telephone in the storeroom and if even now Laurent was ringing someone to inform on her. He returned at last and held out a packet.

‘These are the right ones. I knew we had some somewhere. You need them for…?’

‘For a car that won’t start, obviously.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thank you. Your friend will be very grateful.’

‘Give him my best wishes.’

‘I will. Goodbye – and thanks again.’

As she crossed the forecourt, the mechanic was tightening the last nut on the replacement wheel. The officer glanced at her, then walked out into the road and shouted an order. She heard the clatter of boots as the men climbed back into their trucks. The driver revved the engine of the staff car and the officer jumped in and the whole convoy moved off. Christine watched them go and then moved over to where the mechanic was packing up his tools.

‘Dirty
Boche
! What are they doing here?’

The mechanic spat expressively.

‘God knows! But it looks as if they’re planning to stay. The officer was agitating because he was supposed to meet the advanced party at the camp site half an hour ago.’

‘Camp site! You mean they’re going to make camp somewhere near Montsauche?’

‘Looks like it, damn them! But what can we do?’ He squinted at her suspiciously. ‘Anyway, who are you? I’ve never seen you round here before.’

‘Oh, I’m just visiting. My uncle needed some new points for his Citroën. I’d better get back. He’ll be waiting.
Au revoir
!’ She
gave a quick wave and hurried away to where Jean Claude was parked.

‘Thank God!’ he exclaimed as she climbed into the van. ‘I was beginning to think the
Boche
had taken you with them.’

‘No. They didn’t even notice me. But we’d better get back. The mechanic who changed the wheel thinks they are here to stay. Gregoire needs to know.’