Stranger at the Gates (28 page)

When they were alone, Régine said, ‘You say the area's closed. No one can get out. Or in?'

‘No,' he answered her. ‘It's sealed off. How did you know Adolph Vierken?'

‘Through music,' Régine said. ‘He's very musical. We met at a concert. I'm going to St. Blaize. Tonight.'

‘You can't,' Minden insisted. ‘You won't be let through. You might even be arrested. For God's sake don't attempt it.'

‘I'm going to see him,' she said. ‘I'm going to stop him doing this.'

‘You? You think because you've met him a few times you can hope to influence …'

‘I've been sleeping with him for months,' Régine broke in. ‘He loves me. We love each other. He won't do this when I've talked to him. Say nothing to my aunt. I'll need your car. Will you lend it to me—just to get me there? Your driver can leave me at the first checkpoint and come back here. I'll make my own way after that. Vierken will send transport for me. Please. I know what I'm doing.'

‘I don't think you do,' Minden said. ‘I don't think anything you say will make any difference. I don't think he'll even see you.'

‘You don't know him,' Régine said. ‘And you certainly don't know me. He'll listen. It's the only chance to save the children. If he shoots every man in the village I don't care. It's their own damned fault for meddling. But not the children. That mustn't happen. Lend me the car.'

‘Of course,' Minden said. ‘If there's any chance at all—Fritz will take you as far as he can. I'll wait at the George V till he gets back.'

The Baroness had returned.

To Régine he said, ‘I'll walk to the hotel, it's round the corner. I'll instruct Fritz to drive you. Good luck. And goodbye.'

She held out her hand and he bent over it.

‘If you get through, let your sister-in-law know where the children are. And give her my respects. I hope in spite of everything she may think kindly of me sometimes.' For a moment his eyes stung. Truth pierced him through. Louise had never loved him; the impulse which had brought her to his room was nothing but a sexual whim. Now she could only hate him and blame him for the horror which had overtaken St. Blaize. Even his rescue of her children wouldn't atone for what was being done by fellow Germans. He bowed to the Baroness. ‘If I might see the children for a moment, Madame? Just to say goodbye.'

‘Please,' she said. ‘I'll call them.' The sight of him bending down embracing Sophie while Paul hung on his arm made her want to cry and at the same time she felt like dragging them away. He left the apartment, and she went into her bedroom. Régine had a small overnight case already packed.

‘I'm going home,' Régine said. ‘I think I can do something to help. Now, Aunt Pauline, don't argue with me, please. I'm going. If I can get through to you I will. But don't expect anything. I'll come back when I can. Take care of the children.' Then the door closed after her too. The Baroness telephoned her friends and explained that a violent headache prevented her from joining them for dinner.

‘Are you going to give him up?' Louise asked him. For a moment Jean de Bernard hesitated. He didn't want to see the look of anguish on her face, or to admit how deeply she was committed to the other man. He didn't want to see it because of what that knowledge might do to his judgement.

‘I don't know,' he said. ‘I don't know what I'm going to do; it will depend upon Vierken.'

‘I was ready to do it,' she said, ‘but that was when I thought Paul and Sophie were shut up in that school. Now—now they're not … Oh God, where could Minden have taken them? Why didn't he bring them home?'

‘Because the S.S. would have come and got them,' Jean said. ‘He knew that and he's taken them somewhere they'll be safe. He wasn't a bad man, I told you that.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘I want you to promise me something.'

‘Not to betray Savage—is that what you want?'

‘Yes,' Louise said slowly. ‘I wouldn't have said it like that but that's what I meant. Don't give him up to them.'

‘I don't think I'll need to,' her husband said quietly. ‘As soon as he knows I believe he'll surrender himself. If he doesn't—and the children are at stake, I can't give you any promise. I'm sorry.'

‘We sheltered him,' Louise said. ‘We're the guilty ones.'

‘I know that,' he answered. ‘And I shan't let the innocent suffer. I'm going now; try not to worry.' They were in her bedroom and he came close to her.

‘Will you trust me to do the right thing? And before I go will you believe me when I tell you something?'

‘What is it?' Louise said. He stood in front of her and his hands moved as if he wanted to reach out and hold her, but they stayed at his sides.

‘I didn't betray the Palliers,' he said. ‘Will you believe that?'

Suddenly her eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes; if you say so I believe you now. Oh Jean, Jean!' She was in his arms, holding tightly to him, weeping with remorse and fear, fear for him and a greater fear for Roger Savage. He held her, soothing and gentle, tortured by the knowledge that the pain he was comforting was on behalf of someone else.

‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I'm sorry for what I've done to you. I didn't understand you and I didn't trust you. But I trust you now. You'll do what's right.'

‘I'll do my best,' he said, and kissed her quietly on the lips.

Louise came downstairs to find Savage waiting for her. He had a drink in his hand, which was unusual; he never helped himself or presumed on Jean's hospitality. He looked pinched and dangerous. He came straight towards her. ‘I know what's happened,' he said. ‘Marie-Anne told me. They have four grandchildren in the school. Don't worry, darling. I'll sort this out.'

‘Paul and Sophie got away,' she whispered. She shouldn't have leaned against him but her body was trembling and weak. His was warm and his hold was strong. ‘Minden came and got them out before the school was surrounded. I can hardly believe it.'

‘Bully for him,' he said. ‘He'd have gassed them to death but he didn't fancy the S.S. having fun with them—the bastard! The lousy stinking bastards! Children—that's about their level. What did they say they're going to do with them?'

‘Send them to Germany. They'll never be seen again, that's what Vierken said. He was at the school house. One of the mothers ran out and tried to attack him. He shot her dead.'

‘Germany,' Savage repeated. ‘That means an extermination camp. Come over here. Listen to me, will you?'

‘Jean's gone over to see him,' she said. ‘To plead with him.'

‘He's wasting his time,' Savage said. ‘You don't plead with men like Vierken. He'll take those children out of here and they'll be gassed or machine gunned. Jean knows this.' He lifted her face and looked at her. ‘Has he gone to turn me in?'

‘I begged him not to,' she whispered. ‘I don't think he will. He promised to do what was best. Oh God, you mustn't let them take you!'

Savage stroked her hair, twisting one dark strand round his finger. ‘There isn't any other way, sweetheart,' he said gently. ‘If they don't get me, those kids at the school are as good as dead. I'm going to give myself up!'

‘You can't,' she protested violently. ‘You can't do that! You know what they'll do to you …'

‘I have my exit here,' he said, touching the cuff link. ‘Don't worry, they won't have their fun with me. But they'll let the children go; that's all that matters.'

‘You have a pass,' Louise said slowly. ‘You could walk out of here and go back to Switzerland. You carried out your mission and that's all you were asked to do. What happens after you've left is none of your business. That's what some men would say.'

‘And some men could live with themselves afterwards, knowing they'd left a lot of children to die for them? Maybe, but not this man. I love you, you know that, don't you?'

‘Yes,' she said, ‘and I love you. I don't know what to say … Isn't there any other way?'

‘No,' Savage said. ‘There isn't. And we both know it. I never expected to get out of this anyway. Finding you made me want to survive it—that can't be helped. I wish we'd made love.'

‘I wish we had too,' she said.

‘Don't cry for me,' Savage told her. ‘I hate to see you cry. It's going to be tough for you and Jean, talking your way out of it, but I'll square things as much as I can for you both. I can say I
am
your cousin, but the OSS recruited me in Switzerland and sent me here deliberately. You knew nothing about it. They may believe me. There's no reason why they shouldn't. It could have been the truth.'

She couldn't answer him; she held on to him blindly, overwhelmed by an agony only equalled by what she had felt when she believed her children were in danger.

‘I don't care,' she said wildly. ‘I don't care if they arrest me too!'

‘Don't you say that!' He sounded angry. ‘Don't you dare talk that way—I came into your life without any right. I'm going out of it. But there's a future here for all of you; the children growing up—the war will be over and these bastards will be beaten now, I promise you that. You'll have a good life, my darling.' He bent over her and smiled. ‘You can name the schoolhouse after me,' he said.

‘Aren't you afraid?' she whispered.

‘No. In a way I've expected it to end like this. And I've got the pill. They won't hurt me, so you don't need to worry about that. It'll be just like dropping asleep. Snap!' His fingers clicked. ‘Like that. I think I'll walk down to the school,' he said. ‘They can send me to Vierken from there.'

‘No, wait, wait!' Louise begged. ‘Wait till Jean gets back—he may have persuaded him to let them go! Oh, please don't leave me! Don't go down there yet!'

It was a useless stay of the inevitable and she knew it; instinct made her plead, the dread of that awful goodbye as he left her and gave himself into the hands of the enemy. He talked smoothly of escaping their revenge, of taking a pill and finding a quick death. But there was no guarantee. If he made an attempt and he failed … Her imagination fled from the situation; overcome with horror she caught his arm and held it.

‘Wait till Jean gets back,' she said. ‘Then you can go.'

And Savage realised suddenly that if the Comte were there it would be easier to leave her. She wouldn't be alone. ‘All right,' he said. ‘We'll wait together. And you take a grip of yourself. I'm going to get us both a drink.'

It seemed a long time before they heard the sound of the car in the drive. Men's voices murmured outside in the hall. A few moments later Jean de Bernard walked into the room. Louise sprang up and ran to him.

‘Jean—what happened? What did he say?'

‘Nothing happened.' He spoke quietly. ‘I went to see him with Camier and Father Duval; I begged him to let the children go. He refused.' He took out a cigarette and lit it; his hands shook badly.

‘He'll let them go,' Savage said. ‘I'm going to give myself up. Thanks for not doing it first.'

‘You needn't thank me.' Jean looked at him. ‘It won't be any use if you surrender to them. The children are going to Germany. Whatever happens.'

‘But why?' Savage demanded. ‘They want the killer—they said so!'

‘They don't expect to get him. What they want is to make an example of St. Blaize. To punish the French civilian population for sheltering the enemy. I asked Vierken if he'd let the children go if they found the saboteur.' Jean looked at Savage. ‘I was going to betray you. I'm sorry, but when I saw he meant to take them, I made up my mind. He pointed his pencil at me and said, “Comte de Bernard, if the man stood in my office now, I'd send those children out of St. Blaize. A cattle truck is on the way from Paris. By tomorrow night they leave. And no French village will shelter the enemy again without remembering the children of St. Blaize.” Those were his words. We offered everything, including ourselves. Money, our lives, anything. He just laughed. He actually laughed. “Go home and make some more.” I am going to kill him. I don't know how, but I am going to kill that man.' He lit another cigarette from the stub of the last.

‘There's no use you sacrificing yourself,' he said to Savage. ‘They'd kill you and then murder our children anyway. You'd only throw your life away for nothing.'

‘Paul and Sophie,' Louise said slowly. ‘Just think if they were being held in there!'

‘We wouldn't be able to think straight,' Savage said suddenly. ‘And by God, that's what we've got to do. A cattle truck, eh? That means they'll go by train. And that's better than by lorry. Much better. Where's the Mayor and the priest?'

‘In the library. I asked them to wait. Camier is completely broken down. That girl is his only child.'

‘Get them in here,' Savage said. ‘Breaking down isn't going to save her. And that's what we're going to do. We're going to bloody well save them all.'

‘How?' Louise asked him. ‘How can we fight the S.S. They'll kill anyone who tries to go near the school. They've proved that already.'

‘We've no arms, no ammunition, nothing,' Jean de Bernard said. ‘But the people will fight, they'll fight with their hands.'

‘They'll have guns,' Savage said. ‘I promise you. Call the others in here.'

It was dark and inside the school most of the small children had stopped crying and were asleep, stretched out over their desks. The older ones sat mute, staring at the S.S. guard who lounged against the door, his carbine slung from his shoulder. Madame Giffier, the teacher, moved through the classroom, checking each child. Some were sobbing and she paused to comfort them, others whispered questions and she did her best to answer cheerfully. There was no heating and towards seven o'clock she had made the children put on their coats. There had been a hideous outbreak of hysteria when the crowd outside began to gather and the children heard their parents' voices. Three S.S. guards had driven them back, knocking Michelle Giffier to the ground when she intervened. There was an ugly blotch on one side of her face and her mouth had bled. The sight of her bleeding, sprawled on the floor, so shocked the children that they quietened. Fear overcame them all. They cringed in their seats, whimpering and shivering. Several of the smallest wet the floor; one adolescent girl was sick. They had no food and only water from the toilet to drink. Michelle Giffier looked at her watch; it was past eight o'clock. They had been shut up for four hours. She got up and went to the guard at the door. She moved stiffly; the fall on the floor had bruised her back. Shaken but determined she spoke to the guard.