Voices on the Wind (17 page)

Reed choked on a furious reply. Then, typically, he crushed his temper down. The shock of the name on that paper had shaken him for a moment. But not for long. He realized that if he started an internal war, he wouldn't win. The guns were too heavy on the other side. By cooperating, he would keep control.

‘I'd like to take up that offer of a whisky, if I may,' he said suddenly. ‘And I hope you'll join me.'

The polished manners reappeared. ‘That's a splendid idea. I know the General hoped we'd be able to have a chat and exchange views. What would you like, soda or water?'

‘Water,' Reed said. He sat down again and relaxed with an effort.

The younger son of a duke, whose great-grandfather had been prime minister, ordered drinks and then pulled up a chair close to Colonel James Reed.

‘I do sympathize with your difficulties,' he said. ‘I was operational in North Africa for a time. That's where I learned the value of what we're doing. I had a CO who was as cunning a devil as you'd ever meet. “You can kill as many men with lies as you can with bullets, laddie,” he used to say. That “laddie” used to drive me mad, but the rest of it was good sense. You know the value of misinformation, Colonel; your people have used it very effectively.'

‘Not as effectively as sabotage and gathering real information,' Reed countered. He recognized the offer of a truce and his instincts sensed advantage. He could bury the hatchet when he had to.

‘Misleading the enemy is going to be more important in winning the war than blowing up trains and ammunition dumps,' was the reply.

Reed sipped his whisky. ‘And where does this anti-Nazi general fit in with misinformation? Is he supposed to pass it on?'

Before the answer came he knew it would be a lie.

‘He will provide a vital outlet, feeding the High Command exactly what we want them to hear.'

‘The landing in France, for instance,' Reed murmured.

The response was enthusiastic. ‘Precisely. And that's where your people can be invaluable, Colonel.'

‘They can organize uprisings all over France to coincide,' Reed said. ‘We have an extensive programme of sabotage of vital rail links and bridges which can impede the movement of German troops. Our operatives are specially trained to coordinate French Resistance and the Maquis when the time comes.' He noticed the bland expression on the other man's face. He's heard it all before, he thought, and it doesn't mean a damn. None of it is what he's really talking about. And suddenly he saw the scale in perspective himself. A few thousand men and women, widely scattered throughout a large country, throwing their lives in the balance to dynamite a bridge or a rail terminal, imagining that they could really make any difference to the mighty army of Nazi Germany gathered to repel the greatest invasion fleet in history.

‘Can I get you another, Colonel Reed?'

‘No, thank you. Let's get back to Dulac. You're insisting that he leaves the convoy alone because of your man; and I can't give that reason, obviously. So what happens if he won't listen?'

Lord Wroxham studied his hands for a moment and then looked up. ‘Our friend Pierrot will have to deal with it.'

‘How, deal with it?'

‘That will be up to him. We never ask for details, only results.'

‘I see,' Reed said. ‘We'll make radio contact tomorrow. I'll let you know what happens.' He got up. He looked very tired, the younger man thought. As if he had heard news of a personal loss.

‘Colonel Reed,' Wroxham said. ‘I know our departments haven't exactly seen eye to eye over a lot of things. Speaking personally, I've been in the position of whipping boy as far as you're concerned and I haven't enjoyed it. I think the time has come when we should work in full confidence together.'

He was lying before, Reed decided, but he means this. ‘Is that the General's view?'

It was a slight smile, but slyly humorous. ‘I was speaking for myself,' he said. ‘I don't worry the General with every little detail.'

Reed considered for a moment. He felt his antagonism to the man draining away.

‘Why are you suggesting this?' he asked quietly. ‘I don't see any advantage in it for you.'

‘In the next few months,' he answered, ‘you may have to sacrifice a number of your people and I'm going to have to ask you to do it. It will help us both to live with ourselves afterwards if we act together.'

They walked down the narrow passage and took the lift up to ground level.

‘I'll phone through for your car, Colonel.'

Reed said, ‘I didn't bring one. I'll walk. Good night, Major.'

He held out his hand. ‘Why don't you lunch with me on Thursday?' he said. ‘We'll have been in contact with France by then.'

It was the beginning of a friendship that was to last for forty years.

It was dangerous to call a meeting; but it was absolutely necessary to get the group leaders together and formulate their plan of attack. The Gestapo had released their prisoners and the curfew was put back to its old times. News of Eilenburg's ultimatum was all over Nice. Fear and suspicion were poisoning old friendships within a few hours of the terms being known. Families were under threat. Ten per cent of the populace a month, unless the Resistance was sacrificed.

Jacques from the Maquis in the hills was there when they met that evening; Dulac and Kate, with Julie and Pandora sitting in shadow at the back; Janot and the widowed Beatrice from the grocery shop, Marie who worked at the Mondiale and the surly Gaston. The last to come into the smoky kitchen was Pierrot. He went up to Kate. The cat's eyes were red-rimmed, as if he hadn't been sleeping.

‘How are you?'

‘Fine,' she said.

‘I have been worried about you.' His voice was low. ‘Things have taken a turn for the bad here. I'm glad you're all right.' He took a seat beside her.

‘Don't worry about me,' Kate murmured. ‘I've been out of it.'

‘Except for cycling into Nice and picking us up.' Julie leaned across to them. ‘And getting Pandora and me up to Valbonne one jump ahead of the bloody SS patrols!'

He turned to look at Kate. ‘You were sent to do that?' He seemed to have lost colour. It's anger, she realized, pure, blazing anger. And then he glanced at Dulac. It was only for a few seconds, but Kate saw something that horrified her: hatred. Real hatred for the man who was leading them – for the man she loved with total passion and commitment.

Dulac got up. He said simply, ‘Thank you, my friends, for coming to this meeting. I know it means risks for many of you. I wouldn't have called it unless it was vital. The Gestapo have begun a campaign of terror and intimidation and we've got to respond to it. You've all heard what they've threatened to do unless our fellow Frenchmen betray us. And there are too many who know or suspect just a little, for any one of us to feel secure. One word is all they want, one arrest. Like Louis Cabrot, picked up at random.'

Beatrice said in her flat voice, ‘He's dead. His wife found him.'

‘I know,' Dulac said.

‘They've taken him away for a post mortem,' Beatrice went on.

Kate saw Dulac start in surprise. ‘Who's taken him?'

‘The Gestapo. Louise couldn't stop them. They haven't given the body back yet.'

‘Why should the swine do that?' Gaston demanded. ‘They killed him!'

‘He wasn't beaten,' Beatrice volunteered. ‘Louise told me.'

‘Post mortem?' Marie shook her head. ‘I don't understand.'

‘I do.' The Maquis leader, Jacques, spoke up. ‘I think we all do. Cabrot agreed to work for them. That's why he was released. Dulac?'

Kate shivered. It was stuffy and hot, with them crowded into the small kitchen, but she still shivered.

‘I dealt with it,' Dulac said. ‘I don't pass judgement on any man, but we couldn't take the chance.'

There was complete silence, after one gasp from Beatrice. Kate saw her eyes fill with tears, before she turned away.

‘Will the post mortem show anything?' Pierrot asked the question.

‘I don't know,' Dulac answered.

Kate's hands were clenched until they ached.

‘And you were sure Cabrot was guilty?' It was Pierrot again.

Dulac accepted the challenge. ‘The evidence spoke for itself. He wasn't interrogated, he was released ahead of the others. The new man at the Villa Trianon is no humanitarian. We know that. He sent Cabrot home for other reasons. We couldn't take a chance. I accept the responsibility for what was done. Outside this room, Cabrot was a hero of the Resistance and that's how he'll be remembered.'

‘I think we've wasted enough time.' Jacques voice rose angrily. ‘If Cabrot was a traitor he got what he deserved; if he wasn't, he was a hero who died for France! Now, comrades, what about the living? What are we to do to protect ourselves?' He too was on his feet; an ugly, powerful man with a raucous voice. ‘You people talked about attacking a convoy of Germans. And then blowing the power station. We were supposed to wait for London to tell us what to do.' He snorted with contempt. ‘Have they answered?'

Kate watched her lover. Louis Cabrot, the consumptive, was dead. She forced her hands apart and gripped the sides of the wooden chair. The brute force of one personality against the charm and magnetism of a man different in all aspects. The natural leaders of the community had always been the lawyers, doctors, teachers. But no longer. The symbol of the French Communist Party stood across the table from the man of the middle classes and metaphorically clenched a fist in his face.

‘They've answered,' Dulac said. ‘We attack the convoy. That, my friends, is why I've called this meeting. Jacques, I'll deal with your point first. How do we protect ourselves? You must make your own arrangements. You operate in the hills and you can fight from there. We are from the town. We have nowhere to run. We stay and we fight here and we die if it's necessary. You're afraid of betrayal, aren't you? So am I. More afraid of Frenchmen being forced to betray Frenchmen than of anything the Gestapo can do. So I say our answer to the ultimatum is to strike back. We have two weeks' grace. It's not enough.'

‘It's enough for the power station,' Jacques retorted. ‘I say we hit that for a start.'

Pierrot said coldly, ‘You realize that fifty hostages will be shot?' Jacques gathered phlegm in his mouth and deliberately spat on the floor.

‘This is a war,' he said. ‘We can't afford sentiment. All right, we can try and rescue them, but I say we blow up the power station as an answer to the threats. And we kill as many soldiers as we can pick off. You talk about two weeks! Two weeks or two months, it's not going to make any difference. Either we fight these bastards to a standstill or we give ourselves up!'

They waited for Dulac then. He looked drawn and as he started to speak he began coughing. Kate moved to the sink and brought him a glass of water.

‘The convoy is the more important target of the two. There are a number of senior army officers on their way to Antibes. If the Gestapo takes hostages, so will we.'

There was a murmur of excitement among them then. Kate felt Pierrot stiffen, because they were close enough to touch elbows on the table. There was no room for her to move away. She saw the scowl on Jacques's face and realized that for his own reasons he wanted the other target. Dulac knew it too.

‘You'll have the big bang, my friend,' he said gently. ‘I promise you that. But you must help us first. Help us to destroy that convoy and capture some of the officers. Then we can bargain with Eilenburg on our own terms. I put it to the vote.'

Only Pierrot and the sad-eyed Beatrice abstained. There was a low cheer from everyone else. Jacques, who had been openly aggressive, now embraced Dulac, invigorated by the prospect of action.

‘Afterwards the power station, eh?' He nodded and grinned.

Marie clapped her hands, Gaston rubbed his; Julie translated excitedly for Pandora. Dulac looked across at Kate.

‘Thank you for the water,' he said. He sat down and banged on the table. ‘Now we've made our decision. So let's start on the plan of action. Pierrot, you said you could find out exactly when the convoy arrives. Have you any news?'

‘No,' he said. ‘I've had to lie low like everyone else. While the truce lasts I can try to find out.' He lit a cigarette. Kate noticed that his hand was shaking. He passed one to her and slid the matches over as well. He kept his eyes on Dulac. ‘I didn't vote for it because I don't see how you can do it in the time,' he added.

‘Unless you use your contacts, we can't,' Dulac retorted. ‘So it's up to you. Get me the dates, that's all we need. After we know that, we can finalize the plans. Jacques, we'll need every man you can muster, with small arms, grenades and that bazooka.'

‘What about supplies from London?' the Maquis leader demanded. The bazooka, dropped by one of SOE's precious supply planes, was the treasure of his arsenal.

‘They'll be coming,' Dulac promised. ‘We have their full support.'

She had never imagined that he would lie. It was so unexpected that she nearly said something. Pierrot's hand gripped her arm and she was silent. A calculated lie, not just a sidestep from the truth. London had refused help and ordered the convoy to be left alone. She lost the next few minutes of discussion; the voices rose and fell without her taking in what they said. When it was over they split up into tiny groups. Gaston and Marie were arguing as usual; Jacques was in close conversation with Dulac. Strange, she thought, how the prospect of fighting drew such natural enemies together.

Pierrot said, ‘Are you going back to Valbonne?'

‘I'm staying here now,' she answered. She tried to move away before he could ask the next question.

‘Where's here?'