Initiative (The Red Gambit Series Book 6) (26 page)

“No, I do not need you to repeat that order, Sir.”

The smile broadened further.

“Yes, Herr General. Thank you and goodbye.”

He handed the telephone back and slapped Rolf on the shoulder.

“Get your men ready to renew the attack, Rolf. I will get you some decent information, so we know what we are up against here. Now go.”

Opening his words to the whole group, Knocke continued.

“We will make our own plans. We’ll commence at 1500, so officers group here at 1400. Find General Bittrich immediately; let him know he has command of Normandie until Lavalle is back in action.”

He clapped his hands, chivvying his staff along.

“Now, we must move quickly. I want the latest reconnaissance photos, reports from the last action, everything here, on my desk, before I finish this coffee, kameraden.”

The officers and men moved in all direction like a bursting star.

Camerone, wounded and stung, would return to the field.

Bittrich had been found and was in control of Group Normandie, his absence caused by nothing more sinister than a vehicle breakdown that kept him out of the loop during the vital time.

Hitching a ride on a passing supply truck, Général de Brigade Willi Bittrich, or as he was now, by De Lattre’s recent order, temporary Général de Division arrived ready to apologise for his lateness.

The loss of Lavalle, albeit temporary, was not something he had anticipated, but the ex-SS officer was up to the task and took up the reins immediately.

He, Knocke, and senior staff officers were poring over the map and latest reports when Molyneux’s entourage swept into the site, changing the atmosphere from one of confident preparation to that of suspicion and threat.

The Frenchman strode into the command tent and stopped at the table, his face dark and malevolent, silently waiting for some recognition of his status and presence.

Bittrich obliged by calling the assembly to attention, throwing up a salute, and starting into a formal report, one that was cut short with malice.

“Herr General Molyneux, I have taken command of Normandie and…”

“Shut your mouth! Just shut your mouth right now! I’ll deal with you later!”

Molyneux slammed his hand on the table, sending pens and documents into the air.

His hand shot out, a single gloved finger holding a magnificent polished ebony cane, trimmed with elegant silver settings, pointing out the two main targets for his malice.

“You, you… you… fucking useless German bastard!”

Knocke stood silently and expressionless.

“And you, you traitorous pig!”

St. Clair blanched and his face showed his anger and contempt.

“Why are you still here? I ordered your arrest! Capitaine!”

The officer commanding Molyneux’s troops stepped forward, ready to do his General’s bidding.

“Capitaine, detain that… and that,” he pointed at the two Legion officers with all the contempt he could muster, “And if they resist, you may shoot them out of hand.”

Captain Maillard relished his instructions more than anyone realised, except Molyneux, who had selected him purposefully and, perhaps, Plummer, who knew everything there was to know about anyone in the Corps headquarters.

Maillard’s extended family had suffered huge loss at the hands of the Waffen-SS in the atrocity at Oradour-sur-Glane in 1944.

That no one present had been anywhere near the massacre was of no consequence.

To him, all SS were to be hated and exterminated.

Plummer was not present to enact De Lattre’s long-standing instructions, having already absented himself due to the death of a family member.

Had he been there, what came to pass might never have occurred.

The atmosphere in the command post went from suspicion and threat to one of extreme danger for all concerned.

The four men positioned behind Maillard tightened their grips on their Mulhouse manufactured ST-45s*.

It said a lot about Molyneux that he had allocated the modest supply of the excellent new assault rifles to his rear headquarters before sending any to the front.

The muzzles of the ST-45s present in the tent moved from side to side, menacing the assembled legion officers.

Three people entered the command post, aware that something of importance was happening.

The leading officer, De Walle, quickly assessed what was happening and moved to interject, but a head gesture from Molyneux ensured that one of the ST-45s was focused purely on the ‘Deux’ General.

“Keep very quiet, Général de Walle, and you may well come out of this with your rank intact.”

Molyneux returned his attention to those around the table.

St. Clair was extremely agitated, and the sadistic Frenchman derived great satisfaction from the sight of the decorated officer, albeit clearly a coward and traitor and not worthy of his awards, visibly cowed by his presence and under his thumb.

He derived much less pleasure from the sight of Knocke.

Stood erect at parade ease, face set in a passionless mask, the useless German bastard had not moved a muscle.

“Capitaine, I believe that one needs some encouragement.”

Maillard stepped forward and, in one easy movement, slammed the butt of his assault rifle into Knocke’s midriff.

Hard.

The veteran soldier folded instantly, firing liquid from his mouth as his stomach rebelled at the treatment.

Bittrich protested, his shouts stopping any further harm to the gasping Knocke.

“Molyneux! What the hell do you think you’re doing, man?”

Molyneux’s face betrayed his total pleasure at the circumstances he presently found himself in.

“Clearing out this nest of vermin… cleansing this formation so that it consists solely of those who will fight for France… removing traitors…”

He walked slowly round the table until he was next to the collapsed Camerone commander.

“This piece of shit disobeyed my direct orders, and he should think himself lucky that I don’t have him shot right here… right now!”

He released the stick from under his arm and slid the black ebony shaft under Knocke’s chin, pulling the distressed man upright.

“You will not walk away from this one, you German bastard.”

Perhaps it was the fact that there was no perceived threat from this particular officer… perhaps it was a matter of gender… certainly, it had to be because none of Molyneux’s entourage knew who she was…

Molyneux became aware that all was not well and that the pressure in his throat was probably caused by the cold business end of a handgun, pressed hard into his flesh by a beautiful woman with cold and deadly eyes.

“Touch Général Knocke again and I’ll blow your head… mon Général.”

The military title she delivered to him could not have been delivered with less respect and more venom.

Something about the woman stilled Maillard and his men.

They now understood something that they had previously completely missed.

The beautiful woman with the curvaceous form and long curly hair was a person not to be crossed, something her eyes announced to everyone she made eye contact with, even Molyneux, who was suddenly very afraid.

“So… how do we resolve this? I can pull the trigger and we’ll be rid of you and your stupidity forever, or I can step back, and leave you to withdraw.”

Maillard offered his own suggestion.

“You can surrender that weapon to me and hope that the courts-martial will be lenient to you, Commandant.”

He used Anne-Marie’s rank with more deference than he felt, as he had already assigned the bitch to his list of traitors ripe for destruction.

“That will not be necessary, Captain.”

Knocke spoke, his pain evident in his clipped words, pulling himself back upright to deliver his message.

“Under orders given to me by General de Lattre de Tassigny less than one hour ago… I must inform you that you have been relieved of the command of the Legion Corps D’Assaut… effective immediately that I delivered his order to you. You will return to your former headquarters and wait for further orders to arrive. You will no longer issues orders, but will be afforded the privileges of your rank, until such times as your fate is decided.”

Ignoring Molyneux’s blustered rebuttal, Knocke switched immediately to Maillard, licking a tinge of blood from his lips before he spoke.

“General de Lattre was specific about any officers presently under your command…” the veteran tank officer splutter and coughed, a mixture of spittle and blood causing concern amongst those around him, “…They are to be permitted to return to their duties, in the full understanding that they have acted under orders that they believed to be fully lawful. There will be no repercussions… so long as the response to this command is total and immediate.”

Maillard was a man in turmoil.

His natural hatred for the ex-SS around him was bolstered by the presence of the French General who had issued him with definite orders.

On the other side of that, was the presence of a gun at the throat of that same General, and the orders that the German bastard had just passed on from De Lattre…

‘… from De Lattre?’

“Show me these orders.”

Knocke could not, and said so, and explained why.

He turned to the communications officer, seeking reconnection with De Lattre’s First Army headquarters.

The attempt quickly proved in vain, the General not being available to take a further call.

“So, we have a problem, Capitaine… I need to plan an attack to break through the enemy positions ahead. I can’t do that while you stand there with your guns, refusing the orders of the Army commander.”

Knocke left that hanging for a moment, hoping to reinforce that message with the silence.

“I have no order… just the words of someone I came here to arrest.”

Maillard left off the bit about the swift courts-martial and inevitable sentence that had been loosely discussed with the vengeful Molyneux.

In his mind, the single most important factor was the automatic pistol rammed into Molyneux’s throat, held there firmly by a woman who clearly knew how to use it… and would do so without a second’s hesitation.

De Walle held up his hands in a placatory gesture.

“Gentlemen, we’re all military men here,” which was the first of his lies.

“There is a war to prosecute, so let’s find an arrangement that will allow us to do so properly, and without duress.”

Eyes swiveled to him and gave him their full attention, all save Anne-Marie de Valois, who kept hers firmly on the men with guns drawn.

“We clearly have an impasse.”

To Maillard, he spoke firmly, but with an even voice.

“You have acted under orders from authority and, as Général De Lattre’s orders state, shall not come to harm. So there is no pressure on you to act precipitously in any way.”

He looked at his ‘Deux’ comrade.

“My colleague has acted as she believes correct in the circumstances that have presented themselves. I know her… and know she will not hesitate to remove the Général’s head from his shoulders.”

That was definitely no lie.

De Walle looked at his watch, gauging the time of the events he knew were in operation.

“Might I suggest the following compromise until we can get definite instructions from higher authorit…”

“
I
am high authority, De Walle,
I
a…”

The pistol pushed just a little harder.

“With regret, Général Molyneux, I think we have yet to have that point decided.”

The Frenchman wisely decided to await the rest of De Walle’s proposition.

“I believe we should place our weapons away from use, clear the headquarters of unnecessary personnel, and get about the process of organising a successful attack.”

Everyone, except Molyneux, understood that the words had been directed mainly at Maillard.

De Walle decided on a different tack.

“Perhaps, Capitaine Maillard, it would be appropriate for you to remain in here, purely as an observer? Retaining your firearm as befits your rank. Similarly, I think Commandant De Valois will remain in comparable state.”

The reaction was slight but noticeable, and the wily intelligence officer knew he had his man.

“Général Molyneux, I would suggest that we all refrain from unhelpful threats and orders… and that… for the moment… you remain purely in an observer’s role… whilst we make the greatest possible efforts to ascertain the present circumstances.”

Restricted by the recently increased pressure on his windpipe, Molyneux wisely decided to give solely a curt nod.

Turning to the assembled Legion officers, his eyes took in Knocke’s bloody lips and grey face.

“I trust that is satisfactory to you all.”

His eye gave the slightest of winks.

Bittrich moved forward carefully, picking up the disorganized sheaf of intelligence photos.

He brought the men of Normandie back to business.

“Perfect… now let’s move on with the war, gentlemen.”

A wave of relaxation and relief swept through the command tent, the last sign of which was the sudden absence of the pistol at Molyneux’s throat.

The martinet General turned to De Valois and, staring at the female officer as evilly as he could manage, spat a threat with his most venomous voice.

“Regardless of what happens here, you will pay for that. I will have my day with you, Commandant.”

Anne-Marie leant closer, and her tone gave greater weight to her words than Molyneux ever thought possible, and he felt the sudden return of fear.

“I’ll be ready, mon Général… I won’t be stood open and vulnerable so you can just strike me down with a rifle butt or your cane… I’ll be prepared… so… when it comes to it… we’ll see who will have their day with whom.”