The Black Baroness (42 page)

On the far side of the hill they came to the remnants of a village which had been almost blasted to pieces and was still being shelled by the German heavies. Making a circle round it through the fields they regained the road on its far side and found there, under cover in an orchard, a number of small cars and motor-cycle combinations. The runner who was acting as Gregory’s guide handed him over to one of the motor-cyclists, and when Gregory was comfortably installed in a side-car they set oft at a good pace down the road. Soon they were passing other vehicles but their progress was delayed from time to time-by having to dismount and take shelter from the machine-gunners of the German planes that were harassing the road; but a little over an hour later, having bumped along several curving side-roads, they puiled up at a small, white château.

After a short wait an orderly took Gregory in to a Staff-Captain and he spent the next hour dictating a long report,
giving all the particulars he could about the German forces that were operating in the neighbourhood of Brussels. When he had done the Staff-Captain asked him to wait for a moment and left the room. Ten minutes later he returned to say that the Divisional Commander would like to see him.

‘That’s good,’ Gregory smiled, standing up, ‘as I was going to ask you if he could spare a moment to see me.’

The General looked a little tired but was as unhurried in Ms speech and as carefully groomed as though he were sitting in an office in Whitehall. For about a quarter of an hour he asked many penetrating questions, which Gregory answered clearly and briefly to the best of his ability. He then said:

‘You know, sir, it was a surprise to find that the British were holding this sector. The Germans are under the impression that they’re fighting the Belgians up here.’

The General nodded. ‘That’s quite understandable. Until early yesterday we were holding the line of the Scheldt, but the Belgians received such a terrific hammering that they were driven pell-mell out of Ghent; which exposed our flank. We had to retire to positions on the Lys and my division was sent north to support the Belgian left only last night.’

‘What sort of view do you take of things, sir?’ Gregory asked.

‘They might be worse’ The General smiled a little thinly, ‘Our men are proving magnificent. Nine out of ten of them have never seen active service before; but they’re behaving like veterans. The trouble is the French having let us down so badly in the south and the enormous superiority which the Germans have in numbers. At Oudenarde, yesterday, where there was the hardest fighting that we’ve so far seen in the war, we estimated that the Germans had a superiority of at least four to one in men and more than that in tanks and guns. But I’m afraid I must ask you to excuse me now because I have a lot to do.’

Gregory stood up at once. ‘As you’ve gathered, sir, my job is Intelligence, and it’s of the utmost importance that I should reach King Leopold’s headquarters at the earliest possible moment. Can you tell me where they are situated now?’

The General frowned. ‘It’s being kept highly secret, because the poor fellow is being bombed so badly. The same applies to Lord Gort’s headquarters. These damned Fifth Columnists seem to smell us out wherever we go; almost before we’ve got our papers unpacked the bombers come over on information received from their spies. No, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.’

‘Just as you like, sir, but the King’s life may depend on it,’ Gregory lied quietly. ‘There’s a plot against him, and if I don’t get there in time we may all have reason to regret it.’

By the General’s expression he saw that the trick was working, so he added: ‘Naturally, it’s up to you to take every precaution, and I can’t offer you any real proof that I am not a German spy myself but…’

‘That’s just the trouble,’ the General cut in frankly. ‘The information you’ve brought in checks with what we know already or suspect, so naturally one’s inclined to accept you at your own valuation. But you have no credentials and admit yourself that you’re not operating in any of the M.I. services; so you can hardly expect me to trust you with an important military secret.’

Gregory smiled. ‘I was about to say, sir, that there must be some things few German agents could possibly know; for instance, how the rooms are arranged in some of our West-End clubs, the best years for vintage port, the etiquette of the hunting field, and what takes place during a levée at St. James’s Palace, If you care to test me out with a few questions of that kind I think you’ll find you can satisfy yourself that I’m all right.’

The General accepted the suggestion and for a few minutes he fired questions at Gregory until they found that they had several mutual acquaintances, details about whose idiosyncrasies and relatives brushed away the General’s lingering hesitation, so he said: ‘Well, as far as I know, King Leopold is now at Ostend, but more than that I can’t tell you.’

‘Thanks. Now, how d’you suggest that I should get there?’

‘If the matter is as urgent as you say, I’d better lend you a car and a driver.’

‘I’d be very grateful if you could, sir.’

‘Come with me and I’ll fix it up.’ The General led Gregory outside and handed him over to the divisional transport officer, who waved him away ten minutes later.

It was now three o’clock in the afternoon and as Ostend was only some thirty miles away they should have got there under the hour, but the journey took three times that time, as the German planes barely left the traffic on the road alone for more than ten consecutive minutes, and after they had passed through Bruges they had to come down to walking pace because refugees from the city, which was now being bombed almost
hourly, blocked the roads once more.

In Ostend the driver was going to set Gregory down on the promenade in front of the big hotels, many of which had now been turned by the Belgians into temporary Government offices; but he told the man that he would require the car until he located King Leopold’s headquarters. A long and tiring inquiry then ensued.

The King was not at his Palace on the
Plage
and, whether they knew the situation of the King’s headquarters or not, officers and officials denied all knowledge of it; so Gregory was reduced to driving round the town looking for groups of military motor-cars, on the theory that wherever a number of military cars are gathered together there is a headquarters. His main worry was that even if he succeeded in finding the right place, unless he actually happened to see the King through a window—which was most unlikely—everybody would deny that the King was there, so he might go on all night searching in vain; but he hoped that by the cars outside the place he might be able to establish whether the King was within.

After they had combed the town for an hour and a half unsuccessfully he ordered the driver to try the roads first to the north and then to the south, as far as the nearest villages upon each; and his first choice proved lucky. Some distance to the left of the road, about three miles to the north of Ostend and just at the entrance to the little inland village of Breedene, he noticed several cars lined up outside the gate of a big private house standing in its own grounds, so he told the chauffeur to drive down the side-road towards them. One of the cars was a complete give-away; on its bonnet it carried the Belgian Royal Standard. That was quite enough to inform him that he had located the King. The next thing was to find Erika.

Ordering the car back to the main road he stopped it there, got out, thanked the driver and sent him off; then he turned towards the houses. The light was now failing so he put his best foot forward and kept a sharp look-out to right and left as he hurried into the centre of the village to see if it contained a small hotel or
pension
. He had just drawn level with an
épicerie
when a familiar figure came out of the door carrying four bottles of wine—it was Kuporovitch. And with a shout of relief Gregory bounded forward to greet the amiable Russian.

Kuporovitch turned and, recognising him, in spite of his grubby appearance from having spent much of the day crouching
in ditches, hailed him with delight. Five minutes later they entered a small house a hundred yards down the street and Gregory had Erika in his arms.

For half an hour they sat in a garishly-furnished little ground-floor sitting-room, holding hands, as they told each other of their experiences and narrow escapes during the past sixteen unforgettable days, while Kuporovitch remained discreetly withdrawn in an upper chamber; but they had only given each other an outline of their doings when the woman of the house came in to lay the table for supper.

Over the meal, which Kuporovitch shared with them, Gregory went into further details of his adventures but it was not until they had finished and their buxom landlady had cleared away that Gregory asked if he had been right in assuming that Erika was on the track of the Black Baroness.

She nodded. ‘Yes. She is here in Breedene, and she’s staying at the Château with the King.’

‘That’s bad,’ said Gregory quickly.

‘It is even worse than you think,’ Kuporovitch cut in, and Erika added:

‘Yes, Gregory; we’re really up against it this time. Leopold has been driven half-crazy by sixteen days and nights of perpetual bombing. If we can’t do something about it, I believe that in another twenty-four hours he will surrender, and Belgium will be out of the war.’

‘God!’ exclaimed Gregory. ‘But if the Belgian Army lays down its arms the northern flank of the B.E.F. will be left naked in the air.’

Kuporovitch nodded. ‘They are already outflanked in the south, where the Germans have reached Lille and St. Omer. If the Belgian Army cease fire the British will find themselves fighting on three fronts and will have no alternative but to abandon the coast they are defending and cut their way through, back to the main French Army.’

Gregory looked at Erika, ‘Tell me what’s been going on, I
suppose the Baroness has been working on Leopold to make him chuck his hand in?’

‘That’s it; and I’ve been working on Leopold to make him stay the course.’

‘
You?
’

Erika smiled. ‘Yes. I’m Leopold’s new girl friend.’

Gregory made a grimace. ‘I’m not at all certain that I like that. It’s trying my patriotism a bit high.’

‘You stupid darling!’ Erika laughed. ‘The poor man is much too occupied with events and overwrought by what has happened to his country to make love to anyone; but it seems that he likes blondes. It was the Baroness’s idea that his mind could be taken off the war for a little each evening if he was removed from his advisers for an hour or two into the more restful atmosphere of female society, and I put in for the job of the female. But, of course, the black lady’s real intention was that while he was out of the clutch of his patriotic General Staff I should instil sweet poison into his ears and persuade him that he would serve his country better by throwing in the sponge.’

‘You’re a wonder,’ Gregory grinned. ‘But how on earth did you manage to persuade the Baroness that you were the right person for such a job?’

‘It wasn’t very difficult, my sweet. Paula is completely under Stefan’s thumb, and when we heard that her boyfriend the Comte de Werbomont was evacuating to Ghent it stood out a mile long that Leopold was going there too. Then Stefan learnt that the Baroness was also to be of the party. It seemed to me then that you must have slipped up somewhere in Rotterdam, so I decided that I had better take a hand in the game, and when we reached Ghent I arranged for Paula to introduce me to the Baroness.’

‘Wasn’t that mighty dangerous?’ Gregory hazarded. ‘Paula knows that you’re not a Norwegian at all but Erika von Epp; and if the Baroness learnt that she would put the Gestapo thugs on your tail in no time.’

‘Paula knows; but she will not mention it,’ Kuporovitch cut in. ‘I have told her that if she lets out Erika’s real identity I will wring her pretty neck.’

‘I see. You’ve got Paula into the state of mind where she’s prepared to double-cross her paymasters.’

The Russian’s smile was cherubic as he replied: ‘She does not know any longer if she is standing on her heels or her head;
and believe me, she looks just as lovely in one position as in the other when she has no clothes on; the only thing she knows is that while I do not interfere with her ordinary duties she must do just as I tell her in all other ways.’

‘Good,’ muttered Gregory, turning back to Erika. ‘So you were introduced to the Baroness. What then?’

‘She took a fancy to me and when Paula vouched for me as pro-Nazi I could almost see the Baroness’s brain turning over as to what way she could best make use of me. On the next day she sounded my feelings and having found that I was willing to give myself body and soul in the service of that scum, Adolf Hitler, she proceeded to tell me how the air-raids were making such havoc of poor Leopold’s nerves and hinted that what he needed was a little relaxation from his tiresome Generals in the company of someone just like myself.’

‘Yes; I get the layout now,’ Gregory agreed swiftly; ‘but what I don’t quite see is why she should have chosen you—a comparative stranger to her—for such a vitally important job.’

‘There are several reasons,’ Erika told him. ‘Firstly, you must remember that Paula vouched for my pro-Nazi sentiments. Secondly, while Belgium was still neutral, no special comment would have been aroused if Leopold had taken to himself a German or Austrian girl friend, but now Belgium is at war his entourage would make the position of such a lady difficult if not impossible; whereas, they could raise no objection to a Norwegian. Thirdly, the
Baronne’s
choice is probably very limited now that the country is in a state of upheaval from end to end. Lastly, although you may not have observed it yourself, quite a number of people have remarked that I am passably good-looking.’

‘Pax—pax!’ laughed Gregory. ‘You win hands down. Of course, the second the Baroness set eyes upon your loveliness she must have realised that if you were willing to take on the job you were God’s gift from Heaven; no man, half-crazy from bombing or not, could possibly fail to fall for you. But what sort of state did you find him in?’