hospital.’
Helber started to speak again, but was interrupted by
Walter Bruning. ‘Was Mauclair acting under the instructions
of the Pascale woman?’ he wanted to know.
Von Liebermann rubbed his jaw. ‘No,’ he said, drawing
out the word.
Bruning smirked. ‘Halunke’s?’
Von Liebermann nodded, and shifted his corpulent
frame.
‘Well,’ Bruning said with a sigh, ‘whether she ordered
Mauclair to do it or not, La Pascale will no doubt be pleased
to learn of the accident.’
‘No doubt,’ General von Liebermann agreed. ‘And I am
thinking that the time is fast approaching when one of our
people should pay her a visit.’
‘The Wine Supplier won’t like that,’ Helber commented.
‘He won’t know about it. He is extremely valuable to us,
but his allegiance is to none but himself. It has long been my
intention to change that, to put our friend in a position
where he can be persuaded to see the wisdom of placing the
Nazi cause a little higher on his list of priorities. We may
well be able to achieve that through the Pascale woman. We
are fully aware of her ambitions where the Wine Supplier is
concerned - we may be in a position to help her, if in return
she is prepared to help us.’
‘Do we take it that Mauclair is no longer of any use to us?’
Grundhausen enquired.
‘Not as he is, but when he has recovered I think he could
prove extremely useful in representing us to La Pascale. As
we know, she believes herself to be his sole employer. It
should come as something of a surprise to her to learn that
she is not. Incidentally, Halunke informs me that de
Lorvoire was at the apartment on the avenue Foch when he
learned of his wife’s accident. Before he left, he ordered the
Pascale woman to remove Mauclair from Lorvoire.’
‘De Lorvoire knew of Philippe Mauclair’s association
with his mistress?’
‘It would seem so, Max, my friend. Let it be yet another
lesson to us never to underestimate this man. However, I
think we can remain confident that he knows nothing of our association with Mauclair, which is all that concerns me.’
Ernst Grundhausen spoke again. ‘In acquiring the
services of the Pascale woman we shall presumably become
obliged to arrange the death of the Wine Supplier’s wife and
child?’
‘The child may already have been taken care of,’ von
Liebermann reminded him. ‘However, Halunke gave his
instructions without authorization. I shall speak to him
about it. It is of little concern to me personally whether the
Wine Supplier’s wife lives or dies, but as it is of the utmost
concern to the Pascale woman, I believe the wife should not
be introduced to her Maker just yet. In other words, Elise
Pascale will be more inclined to help us while she has something to gain.’
‘But if the Wine Supplier believes Pascale to be behind
Mauclair’s “accident”, doesn’t that make life rather
complicated?’ Bruning pointed out. ‘After all, the Wine
Supplier wants - wanted? - that child.’
Von Liebermann smiled. ‘When Elise Pascale pleads her
innocence, it is my belief that the Wine Supplier will know
she is telling the truth. However, we must hope that the
child survives, for he will feel better disposed towards his
mistress’s pleas if it does.’
Inwardly, Helber shuddered. Since joining the Komitee
he had encountered a great many unscrupulous men, but
not one of them came even close to disturbing him in the
way the French Wine Supplier did. If that child died, he
most certainly wouldn’t want to be in Elise Pascale’s shoes.
‘Do we have any immediate plans for Mauclair?’ he asked.
‘Halunke advises that we leave him to the Pascale woman
for the time being, and I am inclined to agree.’
‘Do we need to replace him inside the chateau?’
Von Liebermann shook his head. ‘Halunke informs me
that the situation there has changed so much over the past
few months that we no longer need an agent in situ. Of
course the situation could change again - but Halunke will
keep us posted. In the meantime he has devised a way to
observe the Wine Supplier himself, and once we have Elise
Pascale working for us, between them they should be able to
keep us adequately informed of de Lorvoire’s movements.’
‘Have you a meeting scheduled with de Lorvoire?’
‘I have.’
Helber knew better than to ask when, and Grundhausen
returned to the subject of the child.
‘In Mauclair’s last report he mentioned that there was
some doubt as to the father’s identity,’ he said.
‘Halunke is satisfied that it is the Wine Supplier’s,’ von
Liebermann answered with a smirk.
‘When do you expect the Pascale woman to be at our
disposal?’ Bruning asked.
‘As soon as Mauclair has recovered and Halunke has had
an opportunity to apprise him of our intentions. And now,
gentlemen,’ von Liebermann said, sliding his own copy of
the documents he had presented earlier out of his attache
case, ‘I suggest we return to matters closer to home.’
An hour later, all four members of the Abwehr - the
German Intelligence organization whose ruthlessness made
the Gestapo’s seem like child’s play - rose from their chairs
and dropped their documents in the fireplace.
Grundhausen struck the match, and they waited until every
inch of paper had been devoured before they prepared to
leave. Von Liebermann went first, the others followed at
intervals of an hour or more - which gave two of them time
to avail themselves of the services of the prostitute on the
floor below. Helber and von Liebermann would meet later
at another secret address.
For more than twenty-four hours Claudine drifted in and
out of consciousness, dimly aware of the worried faces
looking down at her, and the hushed voices that floated
around her but never quite reached her. She knew her
baby’s life was in jeopardy, but it was as though it was
happening to someone else - she was unable to focus her
attention for more than a few minutes at a time. Once or
twice she thought she heard Francois speaking to her, thought she could feel him holding her hand, stroking her face and whispering to her that it would be all right. But
whenever she managed to force her eyes open, the room was
empty.
It was another three days before she was able to sit up without feeling faint, and a further two before Doctor Lebrun dared to admit that it seemed the baby would
survive. However, he refused point-blank to allow her out of
bed; she must stay there, he told her, for at least another
week. By now her strength had returned sufficiently for her
to protest loudly at this ruling, but when Francois appeared
at the door and informed the doctor that his wife would of
course take his advice, she decided to give in gracefully.
Arguing with Francois when her condition was still so
delicate would be foolish in the extreme. She would simply
wait for him to leave - as he no doubt would, now that the
immediate danger had passed - and then she would vacate
her bed as and when she pleased.
However, she soon began to realize that Francois had no
intention of leaving just yet, and though he hardly ever came
into her room, she could feel his presence as oppressively as
if he were a gaoler.
‘As you are carrying my child,’ he said, on one of the rare
occasions when he visited her, ‘you will do as I say. If you
wish to exercise your legs, you can walk about the apartment,
and if you want fresh air, the windows will be opened.
But until Doctor Lebrun is satisfied that you are strong
enough to leave this room, you will stay where you are.’
Afterwards, she heard him outside, telling Magaly that if
he found out that his wife had disobeyed him, he would hold
her responsible.
Magaly came into the room a few minutes later, having
first made certain that Francois had left the apartment.
When she pulled an envelope from her apron pocket,
Claudine very nearly snatched it out of her hand.
She didn’t even wait for Magaly to leave the room before
tearing the letter open, but when she read the few words it
contained, she fell back against the pillows, tears welling in
her eyes. ‘I am thinking of you. She whispered the words
aloud. ‘Oh, Magaly, this must be so terrible for him.’
Magaly walked back to the bed and took Claudine’s hand
between her own. They had never discussed Armand
before, but Magaly had known Claudine since she was six
years old and didn’t need to be told what was going on in her
mistress’s mind.
‘Would you like to write to him, cherie?’ she said. ‘I will
take the letter for you.’
Claudine opened her eyes, and smiling through her tears,
she said. ‘Do you think he knows that I love him, Magaly?’
Laughing, Magaly said, ‘I am in no doubt of it.’
But then Claudine’s face fell again. ‘What are we going to
do, Magaly?’
Magaly gave her hand a comforting squeeze. ‘It is very
hard for you now, ma petite, but one day you will find a way.’
Again she laughed. ‘When have you not?’ And taking a
handkerchief from her apron pocket, she started to wipe
away her mistress’s tears.
‘Stay and talk to me, Magaly,’ Claudine whispered. ‘Talk
to me about him.’
It was dark outside by the time Magaly left. Claudine was
at last sleeping peacefully, Armand’s letter tucked beneath
her pillow. Magaly would deliver her answer the next
morning - she had written the same as him, Jepense a toi.
She was still fast asleep when Francois let himself into the
room just after midnight and stood at the foot of her bed,
staring down at her with a hard, impenetrable look in his
eyes. He had stood there like this every night since her fall,
and he would continue to come until the doctor pronounced
his child sufficiently out of danger for Claudine to leave her
bed.
That happened ten days later, by which time Erich von
Pappen had told Francois that his presence in Berlin was
requested urgently. He waited another two days, during
which time he provoked everyone’s curiosity by spending
many hours with Liliane. Then, on the first morning
Claudine was allowed downstairs, he prepared to leave.
Solange walked with him to the car, her arm through his.
During the crisis she had behaved with perfect sanity, but
now that the danger was past she had returned to her old
eccentric self. What had happened, she told Francois as she
stood with him by the car, her crazy hair wildly on end, was
something they could now all forget about. It was an
accident which, thank God, had done nothing more than
shake them all up a little.
Her words stayed with him throughout the journey to
Paris. She was right, it had shaken them all. But he alone
knew how much; he alone knew that the very thing he had
been dreading since Claudine first came into his life, had
finally started to happen. Which was why he now wanted to
get as far away from her as he could, for as long as he could and
why he would pray every day to the Holy Mother that he
had done the right thing in talking to Liliane.
Elise hadn’t had to arrange for Philippe Mauclair to be
removed from the chateau, Doctor Lebrun had done that
for her. But, she had organized his transfer to a hospital in
Paris just as soon as he could be moved, and from there to a cliniqueprivee in the thirteenth arrondissement. It was there that she visited him, almost two weeks after Claudine’s fall.
‘Why?’ she seethed, the moment the doctor had moved
out of earshot. ‘Why did you do it when you had received no
instructions from me?’
Philippe gazed up at her with an expression of intense
irritation on his face. He was still in pain, and could do
without the tantrums of Elise Pascale. ‘I am feeling much
better than I was, thank you for asking, Elise,’ he remarked
acidly.
‘Don’t be clever with me!’ she snapped.
‘I thought you would have been pleased,’ he said. ‘Didn’t
you want…’
‘Pleased! How can I be pleased when the baby is still alive
and you are lying here strung up like a turkey?’
‘Yes, well, that wasn’t supposed to happen,’ he admitted.
She glared at him. ‘How can you call yourself a
stuntman,’ she sneered, ‘when you can’t even fall down the
stairs in one piece? And why the hell did you do it without
talking to me first?’
‘I saw the opportunity, I took it.’
‘And broke her fall by letting her land on top of you!’
He looked at her with genuine surprise. ‘How do you
know that?’
‘I’m asking the questions,’ she snapped.
He nodded. ‘Francois de Lorvoire. He told you.’
‘I haven’t spoken to Francois since the day it happened. I
won’t repeat what he said when he left me, just suffice it to
say he knows about you.’
‘Knows what about me?’ Philippe asked cagily.
‘That you were sent to Lorvoire by me, you fool.’