Early One Morning (31 page)

Keppler took out his Luger pistol and laid it on the desk in front of him. ‘When Virginia was turned over to me, I told her more about SOE than she knew. I could do the same for you. Prosper, Autogyro, Donkeyman and now Chestnut … all gone. We nearly caught Bodington last month. That would have been a prize. Your head of clandestine flights gives us these—’ from his desk he produced a pile of mimeographed letters and communications. ‘Everything going out on the Lysanders, copied to us. Very polite, eh? We know who is doing what where. Except you two decided that the normal methods of communications were unsafe. You were right. So you kept us in the dark. Very, very rude. Time to make amends.’

The door opened and Lock slipped in and stood next to one of the guards. Robert looked across at him with his hawk-like stare until the Englishman’s eyes went down.

‘What’s going on here, Keppler?’ Robert asked, ‘Why don’t you just pull out our toenails and have done with it?’

Keppler shuddered. ‘My God, the very thought of it. That doesn’t happen here. Not in this room.’ He smiled. ‘Not on this carpet. We can take you to eighty-six or seventy-two if we need to do that. But I prefer not to use such methods.’

‘So what am I doing here?’ asked Williams.

‘Well, every now and then Neumann has to be allowed to prove he can do better than me. I’m just an old copper to him, outdated, outmoded. He has science on his side, I have reason. Every time he proves me right.’

‘How gratifying,’ croaked Williams.

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Keppler as he sipped the wine again. ‘You see, there isn’t much I need from you. Arms dumps? Got them. Contacts? Got those, too. Wimille? Well, he’ll have gone to ground. All that is left is just a few details, really. Not worth the effort of beating you all up.’

Robert got up, walked over to Williams and took the goggles off. Nobody tried to stop him. Williams blinked in the sudden light and his eyes began to water. Robert touched the burns on his head and smiled at his old friend. ‘These need dressing.’

‘They will be,’ said Keppler.

‘Now.’

‘You are in no position to make demands.’

‘And you think you are? They’ll go septic. They need something on them.’

Keppler hesitated and clicked his fingers at Virginia. She went outside, fetched a first aid kit. On her return she began dabbing iodine on the wounds. Williams, wincing, avoided her gaze.

‘So,’ continued Keppler, ‘there are three things I need.’

‘Just three?’ asked Robert.

‘Yes.’

‘And in return?’

‘You go east as POWs. Not
N&N
.’

‘N&N?

‘
Nacht und Nebel.
Night and Fog.
Rückkehr unerwünscht.
Return not required.’

‘
Nacht und Nebel.
Nice,’ mused Robert. ‘So why should we trust you, you cunt?’

Lock couldn’t help a smile at the sheer audacity. Even Keppler was too taken aback to react angrily. ‘Ask Arthur over there. Ask Virginia. Starr. Gilbert. Suthill. A dozen others. Look, Neumann is our resident thug. I make deals. And I keep them.’

‘It’s not good enough.’

Keppler banged the table in mock disgust. ‘Benoist, you really are the absolute limit. Can I remind you, you are my prisoner, I have the power of life and death, yet you sit there as if it is the other way round.’

‘I think it is.’

‘Please, explain for us.’

Williams cleared his throat and answered for Robert. ‘The Allies are in Sicily. Next Italy.’ He looked at Robert, ‘And if I got it right, the Germans seem to have been hammered at somewhere called Kursk. So now we know that one day, one day soon, you and your chums here will be called to reckon for us. How you treated us. Now, I can guess what will happen to Lock. But you …’

Keppler shrugged. ‘So, my life in your hands? An interesting thought. Let’s pretend you are right. How do we proceed?’

‘Tell me the three things you want,’ said Robert, ‘and I’ll tell you what I will trade for them.’

Keppler stood up and paced in front of his desk, a small smile on his face, fascinated and amused by the calmness of the man. ‘I want your radio. Its code. And …’ He looked a little embarrassed. ‘The Bugatti Atlantic.’

Robert nodded. ‘Seems reasonable.’

‘Robert—’ Williams croaked, suddenly disliking where this was going.

‘No, Will. Let’s see how it goes. Roll the dice, Keppler.’

The German nodded. ‘The radio? I assume you have a radio?’

‘Yes, I have one. And for that I want Eve Williams released.’

Keppler clapped his hands in delight. ‘Very good … although why are you bargaining for another man’s wife?’

‘In loco maritus,’
said Williams.

‘How modern.’ Keppler took the yellow release form and signed it, handed it to Virginia and said, ‘Do it.’

‘But—’

‘Just do it.’

Five minutes passed while Keppler paced and hummed tunelessly to himself. Eventually he went over to the window and looked down. He beckoned Robert to his side. Below he saw Eve and Virginia reach the high metal gates at the front. Eve, looking tired and bedraggled but as beautiful as ever, hesitated as she stepped through the small door cut into the larger one and scanned the building. Robert wasn’t sure she caught the two-fingered kiss he made as Virginia bundled her out into the street. He imagined he could hear her running on the other side, sprinting for the small apartment round the corner, and sanctuary.

‘You know that was easy for me. I hate women being involved in this,’ said Keppler: ‘So?’

‘Don’t do it, Robert,’ said Williams.

‘She can be picked up again very quickly,’ snarled Keppler.

‘A deal is a deal. And she’s out, Will. That’s all that matters,’ said Robert heavily. ‘Here we go. Go back to the house in the forest. Kitchen. Fourth flagstone from the door. You’ll find a B2 transmitter.’

‘And the frequency?’

Robert glanced at Williams and said: ‘Over to you, Will.’

Williams tried to stay calm. There was a message here. Robert knew perfectly well what the frequencies were. He could tell Keppler. Unless he wanted to make him complicit in this dreadful compromise. Or was trying to tell him that it really didn’t matter. Williams caught the softest, fastest of winks and, taking it as reassurance, said quickly: ‘Four point five to nine megacycles. Three crystals. Two normal, one emergency.’

Keppler smiled and went back to his wine. ‘Now let’s try … for the coded poem. You are still using the poems?’

Both nodded at once, a tad too enthusiastically, but Keppler failed to notice.

‘You want the code? You’ll leave my family alone, once, and for all time,’ said Robert.

‘Maurice included?’

‘Fuck Maurice. I should have shot him.’

‘Did you know your brother helped us compile lists, lists of naturalised Jews in Paris? I gave him a travel pass for every ten names.’

Robert felt his spirits sink. They moved around on the backs of denounced and deported Jews. He felt sick to his stomach. He repeated softly: ‘I said, fuck Maurice.’

‘OK. You have my word. The family, left in peace.’

‘No matter what?’ insisted Williams.

‘No matter what.’

Obst, the stenographer, asked: ‘Which of you is the poet?’

Williams began the defunct code: ‘Sweet sister death … has gone debauched today, and stalks on this high ground …’

‘Repeat the last five words please,’ requested Obst.

To Williams’ surprise, Virginia picked up: ‘Stalks on this high ground … with strumpet confidence …’

Obst stumbled at the sudden change. ‘Strumpet?’

‘Yes, strumpet. With strumpet confidence makes no coy veiling of her appetite … but leers from you to me … with all her parts discovered.’

Obst asked: ‘Who wrote this?’

Virginia answered: ‘David Jones. He saw you lot in action last time.’

‘I prefer Irving Berlin,’ said Keppler offhandedly.

‘He’s Jewish,’ said Williams bitterly.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’ Keppler drained the last of his wine and said triumphantly, ‘This seems to be going rather well. So finally, we come to the Bugatti Atlantic. What do you want for that?’

Robert pursed his lips and clicked his fingers, as if seeking the right conditions that would satisfy him before he said slowly, in his most cultured voice: ‘How about you suck our cocks?’

P
ARIS
, L
ATE
M
ARCH
1944

E
VE LET THE
feeble spring sun warm her back, stroking deliriously through the thin linen jacket she wore over a faded cotton dress, as she leafed through the postcards and books on the banks of the Seine, moving from stall to stall, marvelling at the pictures and prints of a city that seemed to exist in a half-remembered time, as if it really was sepia and brown tinged, the way her memory tended to play it back these days.

Eight months since the arrests. Eight months of arguing, cajoling and—above all—bribing. So many thousand francs to make sure they had decent cells, another ten for better rations, twenty for a message, a scrap of paper with almost illegible scrawl, written in the depths of winter with numb fingers, but still strong, the big X, the kiss, still defiant. Five thousand to take them new clothes. Twenty-five for a passage into that hideous inner courtyard and glimpse at a cell window, so high and so far it could be anyone, but she knew it was Will.

And she got a message from Robert. It told her he had spent the last two weeks inscribing something on his wall. Something he still believed, something for her to cling on to. Never give up. Never confess. Never surrender. That he would look after Will for her, no matter what. It had made her weep for her friend.

Now, the ultimate bribe.

Paris felt like a powder keg or a steam cooker with no safety valve, heading for an explosion. More desperate deportations of Jews and undesirables, more workers for the Reich, more reprisals not only in the capital but at Lille and Tulle. There was a strong anticipation of ultimate liberation now. That included kicking over traces, losing any little conveniences. Like SOE spies. And of feathering nests. Hence the greed of guards and gaolers in Fresnes, there to be exploited.

So she had to make sure Will and Robert were on the right train, not labelled
N&N
but POW. So she had a deal, of sorts.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned round to see Neumann beaming at her, in sober civilian clothes for once. She managed to smile back with what she hoped was enthusiasm. He kissed her cheek and she tilted her head as if she welcomed it.

‘They went out last night. To Germany. Both to Stalags for officers.’

Inside she felt like crying, the thought of Will and Robert moving even further from her, but she managed to say, ‘Thank you, Joachim.’

‘All this could have been done long ago if you had just come to me earlier.’

‘I know. I was … stubborn. Silly.’

He held his arm out and she slipped hers through his. They began to walk north, crossing the river at the Pont Royal and wandering through the Tuileries, its once immaculate beds now churned up for precious vegetable production. Nobody seemed to notice the pair of them, nobody stopped and pointed, or hissed, ‘Whore, slut, traitor’, as she half expected. Just two lovers of indeterminate nationality out for a walk.

‘You know, I don’t always approve of Hans Keppler’s methods,’ said Neumann. ‘But he has taught me two things. The power of negotiation, especially if you are doing so from a position of strength.’ He bent down to kiss her again, this time on the lips. ‘And patience. And I have to say, Eve, you were well worth the wait.’

Across the Rivoli, heading for Place du Vendôme to his apartment on rue de la Paix.

‘Can I ask you about something? If you promise not to question me on it?’

‘Questioning is my job, Eve.’

‘You’re out of uniform. And all this isn’t really part of the job. Not strictly speaking.’

‘True.’ He considered for a moment. They were on the Vendome now, the shops that had been swarming with German officers and their mistresses two years before looking a little shabbier, more desperate now. The age of frivolity was over. Buying couture dresses and hastily pawned Jewish jewellery was no longer the priority it had been. Still, as ever, a line of Hotchkisses, Rolls-Royces and Delages attended upon the Ritz, where a form of good life continued apace, day and night. ‘OK, no questions.’

She began to relay the rumour she had received from a sceptical Madame Teyssédre. ‘An acquaintance told me an astonishing story. They heard that a group of French Canadian agents were met at Gare d’Austerlitz by someone who they were assured was a friend. The friend betrayed them to your people.’

‘Go on.’

‘The agents got word out of Fresnes—’

‘How?’

‘Uh-uh. You know Fresnes leaks like a sieve now. Anyway, no questions. You promised.’ She pinched him hard on the arm.

‘Very well,’ Neumann laughed.

‘The message said their betrayer was a man called Williams.’

‘Really?’

‘Was it?’

‘Was it what?’

‘Was it Will?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think you had someone impersonate him. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it? You set up the meeting on a turned radio and sent a stand-in.’

He shrugged noncommittally. ‘Such as?’

‘You are about the right height and build. A little younger. Wrong colour hair. But with a hat …’

‘Here we are.’ Neumann stopped and opened the solid, ornate door of a grand apartment block. ‘No questions and no answers either I am afraid. But I will tell you this.’ She felt his hand low on her back, sliding on to her backside as he propelled her in. ‘I have no objection to being in your husband’s shoes right now.’

Eve had to gasp when she saw the scale of the apartment itself. An enormous living room, full of good-quality furniture, all in heavy reds and golds, with two bedrooms and a bathroom leading from it. ‘My God.’

‘Yes, excellent isn’t it. I’ve only had it a month. The contessa had to, um, leave at rather short notice. There’s a good view of the Opera from that window there. Drink?’

‘Gin?’