Stranger at the Gates (31 page)

‘I don't think we can call it interference,' an American Lieutenant Colonel interposed. ‘This message says that our help is needed; otherwise if I get it right, they're going to kill the
children
. I'm not saying there's anything we can do, but I can't go along with your criticism of our operator.' He sat back in his chair and folded his hands on the table. He didn't like the English liaison officer from SOE.

A Group Captain in the RAF glanced up at him and then towards the General. ‘If you want our help, sir,' he said, ‘I can arrange it, provided we don't take too long to reach a decision.'

‘And before we do,' the man in civilian clothes spoke up, ‘we have to recognise that this has grave political implications.'

‘As I see it,' Heidsecker spoke and everyone turned towards him, ‘the issue here is very simple. We sent an agent into France with a mission so important that I can honestly say it has decided the outcome of the war. He accomplished that mission. Intelligence from Paris informs us that he went beyond his instructions and that there are rumours of serious sabotage at the Château Diane as well as Brühl's murder. Our man couldn't have done this without the co-operation of the French. And it's the people who helped him who are going to suffer.' The General looked round the table; Fairbairn pinched his lip between thumb and finger and avoided his eyes. ‘Children, gentlemen,' Heidsecker said. ‘Children are going to be murdered; that's what that message said. I for one will not refuse to help them.'

The official from the Foreign Office, who was only an observer and not as senior as he liked to pretend, coughed and said, ‘I'm sure it would damage Anglo-French relations if the story got out after the war that we'd done nothing to assist them. I'm sure my department would agree with your decision. General.'

‘And I'm sure mine wouldn't.' Fairbairn couldn't restrain himself. ‘I think the whole idea is insane. We
knew
there'd be reprisals and we knew they'd be extreme. It's happened dozens of times before. People are taken as hostages and shot—we don't rush in with planes and guns to rescue them! It isn't possible. I want it on record that I think we should order this man to do absolutely nothing to draw attention to himself, but to get back by the recognised escape route as soon as he can. Of course it's admirable that he succeeded. Nobody, General, is more delighted than I am. After all, I helped to brief him. But I don't believe we should involve ourselves in French affairs. If I may put forward a practical view, that part of France is notoriously lukewarm towards the Allies, and an atrocity like this might be just what is needed to tip them over to our side!'

Heidsecker regarded him for a moment. ‘I've noted your opinion, Colonel, and it's on the record. I reject it completely. Group Captain—you can arrange for a plane? I suggest we do the thing properly and send a transport in with the supplies. Lavallière field is big enough for it to land. If the operation against the Germans is successful we can airlift the children out.'

‘You're going to take them
out
, sir?' That was the Lieutenant Colonel who had corrected Fairbairn.

‘I am,' the General said. ‘I'm going to give this rescue everything we've got! Those kids are going to be saved, and I'm going to be personally responsible!'

‘In that case,' the Group Captain said, ‘we've a lot to arrange and very little time.'

‘Colonel Fairbairn,' Heidsecker said, ‘we'll need your full co-operation.'

‘Once a decision has been reached,' the Colonel said irritably, ‘I shall abide by it. We will do everything necessary.'

‘Good,' the General said. He flexed his shoulder muscles. ‘Now, gentlemen, it's getting on for midnight. Let's get down to details.'

She knelt down beside him as he listened, taking the message down. Savage pulled the headphones off and swung round to her.

‘They're sending everything,' he said. ‘And a plane to take the children back! It's due at Lavallière at first light, around five o'clock. Come on, we've got to get going!'

They found Jean de Bernard in the library. He got up and looked at them, anger and suspicion on his face. ‘You've been together? You know it's after one o'clock.'

‘They're sending help,' Louise broke in on him. She went up and caught his arm. ‘Jean, don't you understand, we've been on the roof, waiting—the message just came. They're sending guns and ammunition and a plane which can take the children back to England!'

‘Thank God,' he said. He spoke to Savage. ‘Camier and the others will be waiting. I'll go down on the bicycle; I know a way across our fields which will bring me to the edge of the village. I can get to his house from there without being stopped.'

‘We both go,' Savage said. ‘And then on to the field to wait for the plane.'

For a moment Jean hesitated. Then he came to Savage and held out his hand. ‘I congratulate you,' he said. ‘I didn't believe it could be done.'

‘No more did I,' Savage answered. ‘And until we see that plane take off with every child inside it, I wouldn't congratulate anyone, if I were you.'

‘Why have you come here? I told you to stay in Paris!' Régine had never seen him look like that before. His face was grey with anger, the deep-set eyes were burning. He stepped close to her and she saw his right hand twitching. She thought suddenly that he was going to hit her, but she didn't move.

‘Adolph, I had to come,' she said. ‘Why are you so angry? Why did you send the car and let me through?'

‘Because I thought something was wrong,' he shouted. ‘I thought you were in trouble! Now I find there's nothing, nothing but an idea that you can interfere! You can go straight back—I'll send you back immediately!'

‘Why don't you want me here?' she asked him. ‘It's because of what you're going to do to the children, isn't it?'

‘Children?' He seized her upper arm, his fingers crushing the flesh until she gave a cry. ‘How do you know about the children? Answer me!' He slapped her so hard across the face that only his grip on her arm kept her from falling. Tears rushed into her eyes and streamed down her face. He raised his hand again. This was a stranger, a man she didn't know, a violent enemy prepared to beat her unconscious. But they were lovers. She loved him and he loved her. The ferocity of love was not like this. She shrank away, one arm flung up to protect herself. ‘How did you find out?' He snarled the words at her. ‘You'll tell me, or by God I'll call Kramm in here and let him get it out of you!'

‘Minden,' she gasped. ‘Minden told me. He came to my aunt's flat with my nephew and niece … He'd rescued them from the school just in time. He told me about Operation Herod …'

‘Minden …' Vierken released her. She stood before him, weeping.

‘He snatched the de Bernard children away, did he? By God he'll be sorry he did …' Without warning his mood changed. The fury he felt towards Régine suddenly veered away from her. He had another scapegoat. Minden: the brilliant biochemist who was one of Brühl's staff, the lover of Louise de Bernard. They were all the same—Vierken raged at the thought of him. He had completely forgotten Régine. Like all intellectuals, thinking themselves superior to the military élite of the Reich, naturally he could indulge his sentimental whim and flout the S.S., thwart them of their vengeance.
He
hadn't fought in Russia …

Suddenly he saw Régine, wiping her wet face, the ugly weal where he had struck her darkening on one cheek.

‘Don't cry,' he said. ‘I lost my temper. I'm sorry. Poor little one, come here.'

‘It doesn't matter!' Régine said. Suddenly she threw her arms round his neck. ‘Don't hate me, darling! Don't be angry with me! I can't bear it—I love you so much …'

He embraced her; she held on to him and sobbed.

It was not her fault; women were more sensitive about these things. He regretted having been unkind to her. He stroked her hair and soothed her. Minden, his mind said, Minden. So he went behind our backs, did he, and robbed us of two of them …

‘Hush,' he said to Régine. ‘No more tears. I'm not angry with you, sweetheart. It's all over. We won't quarrel.' He could feel the warmth of her body and the heat rose in him. He was tired and in need of relaxation. He pressed her against him. ‘We'll have something nice to drink,' he said. ‘And we'll stay together. I'm not angry you came—I'm glad.'

‘The children,' Régine whispered. ‘You're not really going to do anything to them, are you? It's only a bluff, isn't it?'

He was unbuttoning her coat, his fingers brushing against her breasts. ‘Of course,' he mumbled, seizing the soft flesh, bending to kiss her. ‘Don't worry about it.'

He ordered champagne; they drank it sitting on the bed. It was the same canopied bed in which Brühl had been murdered. Vierken was not superstitious about such details. It was the best bedroom in the Château and he took it.

She cried while they were making love; he was too absorbed and excited to see any significance in it. Lying in his arms, Régine stayed awake while he slept. She loved him; he was part of her. But so was St. Blaize; the Château where she had grown up, her father, fading out of life, her brother Jean, the children, who were now, thank God, asleep in their aunt's flat and not shut up in that school, like the others …

Nineteen years she had lived in the one place; she knew every villager by name. Jumont, clasping her hand and begging for help outside the schoolhouse. He had two grandsons and a grand-daughter, a great-niece … She turned over on the pillow and looked at Vierken sleeping beside her. He had said it was a bluff; he had told her not to worry. Doubt tortured her, an instinct stronger than her longing to trust him urged her not to believe it. She slid out of his embrace and lay on the edge of the mattress, huddled and cold. He couldn't mean to hurt them. He had children of his own; he had shown her a picture of them, two boys in Hitler Jugend uniform. He couldn't do anything to Jumont's grandchildren, to Caroline Camier, to dozens of others she kept seeing in imagination. He couldn't.

She was asleep when the telephone rang. She woke, startled and confused, to find Vierken gone. The ringing continued; she picked the receiver up and as she did so, Vierken answered from the extension; there was a sound of water running. He was in the bathroom, She held the receiver and listened. She had taken German as a major subject for her ‘Bacchot'. She and Vierken spoke it when they were alone together. The caller was a subordinate; Vierken addressed him as Major.

‘What's the position down there?'

‘Quiet, Standartenführer. There was an alert about an hour ago, but nothing happened. We let them stay round the school, and at six this morning we moved them off the streets. A few protested but the rest went home. There were four arrests, three women and a man, and that convinced the rest of them. Everything is under control. The transport has arrived. It came at six o'clock this morning. It's ready for them.'

‘Good,' Vierken answered. ‘They're not expecting anything to happen till tonight. I told de Bernard we were sending the children out this evening. They won't have had time to prepare anything. You sent the special detail to Chemire?'

‘Yes sir. The grave has been dug.'

‘Good,' he said again. Régine lay back on the pillow, one hand pressed to her mouth, the receiver gripped in the other.

‘I think I'll come down and see them go,' he said. ‘Take the schoolmistress with them.'

‘Right, Standartenführer.'

‘And no trace is to be left, you understand? Nothing!'

‘I told Grunewald to find a spot inside the woods,' the Major said. ‘He reported an hour ago. Nobody will find them; it's completely hidden. There are no farmhouses anywhere near. Nothing will be heard.'

‘Move them out in an hour,' Vierken said. ‘I shall be there to watch it. Heil Hitler!'

Very carefully she put back the receiver; her hand was steady and she replaced it without making any noise. She lay back, her arms straight at her sides.

‘The grave has been dug.' They weren't going to Germany; the children of St. Blaize were going to be taken off the train and marched into the woods at Chemire and murdered. She gave one cry of choking anguish and then stopped. He came into the bedroom, naked, with a towel over his arm, and stood looking down at her.

‘You look pale,' he said. ‘Go back to sleep. I'm going out and I'll be back in two hours. Then I'll wake you.' He bent over her and kissed her mouth, biting her lower lip. ‘You're so bad for me,' he murmured. ‘You take my mind off my work …'

‘I'm not tired,' she said. She smiled and rolled away from him. ‘If you're going out, couldn't I go to St. Blaize? I need clothes.'

‘Not for me,' he said. ‘I like you as you are.'

‘Take me to St. Blaize,' she pleaded. ‘I want to look nice for you. Please, Adolph.'

‘All right; but not to stay. Just to pack what you want and then the car will bring you straight back here. I don't want you hanging about the village.'

‘Why not? Are you expecting trouble?'

He shrugged. ‘No, certainly not. But I want you here, waiting for me. I'll come to the Château with you. Get dressed then; we haven't time to waste.'

She sat in the back of the car with him; he reached out and held her hand. She smiled at him. ‘I questioned your sister-in-law,' he said. ‘I made it very disagreeable for her.'

Régine went on smiling. ‘How disagreeable—did you hurt her? My brother?'

‘No, no, my darling,' he protested. ‘There wasn't any need. I'm a mild man, you know that. I just bullied her a little; to please you!' He squeezed her hand. ‘It will amuse me to go there with you.'