Those in Peril (32 page)

Mrs Lamprey had by no means finished her reminiscing. ‘Of course, Eleonora Duse was generally considered to be the finest actress of her generation. I well remember her in
Ghosts
 . . .' There was a quiet knock at the door. Mrs Lamprey halted in mid-sentence, turning. ‘
Monsieur Duval! Comme je suis heureuse de vous revoir
.'

‘I also am happy to see you again, madame. And you, Madame Hillyard.'

Mrs Lamprey was clapping her hands. ‘
Quelle chance pour vous! Nous allons manger un poulet pour le dîner ce soir
.'

‘And I have brought some wine that we can drink with the chicken. I have also brought a small present for you, Madame Lamprey.'

‘
Pour moi?
' Mrs Lamprey opened the package at once and shrieked with delight. ‘
L'Heure Bleue! Quelle surprise! Merci beaucoup, monsieur
.'

There were more expressions of gratitude and pleasure, and enquiries from her about his trip to London. At last, he stemmed the flow politely.

‘I have some business to discuss with Madame Hillyard. If you would excuse us.'

‘Oh?' Her eyes darted to and fro. ‘In that case, I'll leave you two alone.'

‘Please, if you would, madame.' He held the door open.

She nudged him with her elbow. ‘I know when I'm not wanted.'

He shut the door firmly after her. ‘
Eh bien, Madame Hillyard
 . . .'

She was suddenly shy. Not sure what to say or what to do. Rooted to the spot.

‘Well?'

She said softly, ‘I'm so glad you're back.'

He smiled and shook his head. ‘That won't do at all. Come here and show me exactly how glad you are.'

Later on, she told him about Freddie and began to weep yet more tears for her brother. He held her close.

‘My poor one. Is there no hope for him?'

‘They say there were no survivors. I suppose it was a U-boat.'

‘It's very easy for them now that they can use the ports in France.'

She said sadly, ‘Freddie was so dear to me. And all I had.'

‘Not all,' he corrected her. ‘Now you have me.'

He had brought her scent, too. Not Mrs Lamprey's kind but something else that he told her would suit her far better. But what risks had he taken to get it? Some black market deal, almost certainly, that could have got him into serious trouble.

At dinner that evening, he produced the bottles of wine and insisted that she join them in a glass. Mrs Lamprey, well doused in
L'Heure Bleue
and well fortified earlier with Stone's Original Green Ginger wine, had downed several in quick succession before getting unsteadily to her feet. She brandished her glass in the general direction of his table. For once, her French had completely deserted her.

‘Here's looking at you, Monsieur Duval,' she cackled. ‘Mud in your eye!'

The rear admiral and Miss Tindall had also risen. Miss Tindall lifted her glass high with great dignity and a small, triumphant glance at Mrs Lamprey.

‘
Vive la France!
'

Thirteen

Harry telephoned from London.

‘I'd like to come down and meet this chap Duval. Go over everything. Can you set up a meeting, Alan?'

‘When do you want it?'

‘Friday. And let's have some time for you and I to have a bit of a chat privately together beforehand. We need to catch up.'

‘I'll arrange it.'

‘By the way, General de Gaulle wants to meet him too. I'm in two minds whether to let that happen. What do you think? We don't want the French pinching him from us.'

‘We don't really have any right to keep him.'

‘No, but we don't need to tell him about it, do we?'

Harry arrived by train two days later and Powell met him at Kingswear station. As they shook hands on the platform, the vivid image came into his mind of them both standing together on that same platform as raw young cadets years ago. Harry had clearly been thinking along similar lines. As they walked towards the car, he said, ‘Haven't been down here for years, Alan. It takes me right back to the old days – makes me feel almost young again. Like we were. They were good times, weren't they?'

The men that were boys when I was a boy.
‘Very good times.'

A Wren brought cups of coffee into his office and went out again. Harry stirred his sugar vigorously round and round with the spoon.

‘I've got some rather splendid news, Alan. We'll be getting those radio transmitters quite soon.'

‘About bloody time.'

‘As you so rightly say, about bloody time. Which means that our agents will be able to stay over there for a decent period instead of popping back every so often. That's partly why I wanted to meet Duval. If we're going to go on using him, he'll need to be properly trained how to operate the damn things, as well as all the rest of it. I'd like to see for myself what he's like – before we go that far. He's something of an unknown quantity, after all. Bit of a wild card.'

‘He's inexperienced at the job, but I'd say he was completely reliable.'

‘He's certainly done a good job so far, I'll grant you that. That last little trip of his produced some interesting titbits. And he's recruiting a few quite useful people. Mostly small fry, of course, but they seem to have their wits about them. And it's all grist to the mill.'

‘The information on the U-boat pens at Lorient was rather better than grist, I thought.'

‘Yes, I'd like to ask him a bit more about that.'

‘You read what his informant there had to say? He believes the pens should be attacked
now
, while they're still being built. That we shouldn't wait until they're finished. I think he's right. If the bunker concrete's going to be as thick as he says, bombing them later on might be completely useless. Like bouncing peas off a drum.'

‘The fellow's an electrician, isn't he? With the best will in the world, he can't know much about the strength of concrete bunkers. He's not an expert and we need an expert opinion. The RAF can't just send their chaps off into the blue without a lot more facts and figures.' The coffee spoon went round and round again. ‘Besides, I happen to know, Alan, that the Foreign Office are saying that on the grounds of humanity we shouldn't strike the land and people of a defeated France. We couldn't hit the Germans without hitting some French too. They're quite persuasive in their argument with the Chiefs of Staff.'

He said sharply, ‘I think that's absolute nonsense. France has effectively become our enemy. Even Churchill says so. Look how their Vichy government is behaving.'

‘But the Vichy lot don't represent the views of
all
the French, do they? By no means, and that's the sticky problem. Anyway, I've got another piece of news that you'll like. I've been pressing hard lately for something a bit faster than your fishing boats for you.'

‘And?'

‘Well, as we know, submarines are probably the best way of landing and picking up agents, but the difficulty is that they can seldom be spared unless they happen to be in the immediate area and, of course, it's damned hard to arrange for them to meet up with another boat that's under sail and dependent on the wind. High-speed motor torpedo boats have many advantages, I know you'll agree, and I have reason to believe that one may come our way very shortly, on loan from the Admiralty. One big snag, though, is we'd be stuck with using the north coast. The boats still don't have the speed or range to go further south. Not ideal, I know. Crawling with Germans and seas rough as hell, but there we go.'

They discussed the pros and cons of the high-speed boats for a while until Lieutenant Smythson arrived at the appointed hour with Louis Duval. The Frenchman came into the room and Powell introduced him and watched Harry greet him affably, pumping his hand and clapping him on the shoulder. He sensed, though, that Duval was well aware that he was under close scrutiny of some kind and was, therefore, on his guard. The Wren brought in more cups of coffee and he saw the way she blushed when Duval smiled at her and thanked her for his. He was lighting one of his Gauloises, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, waiting quietly for whatever came next. For the first time in his life, Powell felt the miserable, gnawing pain of jealousy. Barbara was in love with this man. A Frenchman, with all the powerful attraction they apparently held for women – if Hattie was to be believed.
So different. From what? Well . . . from Englishmen.

Harry was speaking. ‘These people you've recruited, Mr Duval . . . admirable, in their limited way, of course, but you're aware, I'm sure, that we need harder facts.'

‘Rome, as they say, was not built in a day, Commander Chilcot.'

‘No, indeed.' Harry cleared his throat. ‘Regarding the Lorient submarine bunker construction – you have another new contact working there now, I understand . . . a plumber by the assumed name of Léon?'

‘That is correct.'

‘What do you think he might achieve?'

A shrug that would annoy Harry. ‘Who can say? He'll try his hardest, that's all.'

‘Quite. You're of the opinion – it says so very specifically in your last report – that the U-boat bunkers at Lorient, and presumably elsewhere, should be attacked
now
, before they can be completed.'

‘Later may be too late. It may prove quite impossible to destroy them.'

‘But your theory is based on the view of an ordinary electrician. Hardly an expert opinion. And you've never actually seen the bunkers yourself.'

‘What do you expect from me, Commander? That I should go and ask one of the Todt Organization engineers? Do you think the RAF should bomb you now, or later?'

Harry smiled thinly. ‘I appreciate the difficulties, Monsieur Duval. I'm sure you appreciate ours. We need a lot more technical information.'

‘I'll do my best to get it for you.'

‘So, you would be quite willing to return to France to continue your activities?'

‘Certainly.'

‘And, before you go, to undergo some rather special training here?'

‘What sort of training?'

‘On the assembly and operation of radio transmitters. How to send messages. How to receive them. Morse, coded messages. As well as various other things.'

‘You have these radio transmitters at last?'

‘We do. Or rather we will very soon.'

‘And the proposal is for me to take one to France next time?'

‘Assuming you complete the training course satisfactorily. It would mean a much bigger risk for you, of course. Rather tricky to explain away a transmitter to the Germans, if they happen to catch you with one. But, as you have pointed out yourself, considerably more effective than going backwards and forwards across the Channel.' Harry paused. He said casually, ‘We'd rather like you to go on working for
us
, rather than for the Free French.'

‘So far they haven't invited me.'

‘They may. To speak frankly, before we invest considerable time and trouble in you, Mr Duval, we need to be able to count on your continued loyalty to our organization. You understand?'

‘Perfectly.'

‘So?'

‘You can count on it, Commander. I imagine that I'll serve my country equally well, working for the British.'

‘Possibly even better.' Harry stirred his coffee once again. ‘By the way, General de Gaulle has asked to meet you. Lieutenant Commander Powell will arrange it for you, if you like.'

To his disappointment Mrs Lamprey opened the front door to him. ‘Mrs Hillyard is out, Lieutenant Commander.' She opened the door wider, with a coy smile. ‘But you can come in and wait, if you like. I don't expect she'll be long.'

He said briskly, ‘Just for a few minutes.'

She took him into the sitting room and, to his irritation, showed every sign of staying. The cloying scent she wore smelled even stronger than usual and he thought from her behaviour that she was slightly tipsy.

‘Monsieur Duval's not here either. He's gone to London to meet General de Gaulle.'

‘Really? How interesting.' It was no surprise since he had set up the meeting himself. The general, it seemed, was quite keen to meet Duval.

‘Yes, isn't it? He's promised to tell us all about it when he gets back. We're very fond of him. All of us –
especially
mrs Hillyard. They're having an affair, did you know?'

He said coldly, ‘I hardly think that concerns either of us, Mrs Lamprey.'

‘I've seen him going to her room at night . . . am I shocking you, Lieutenant Commander?'

‘No.'

‘It doesn't shock
me
. Not a bit. Those of us in the theatrical profession are
quite
used to that sort of thing.'

‘Yes, I'm sure you are.'

She wagged a finger under his nose. ‘You're in love with her yourself, aren't you?'

He stepped back one pace. ‘I'd prefer not to discuss Mrs Hillyard at all, if you don't mind.'

‘Ah, but I know you are. I can tell.
She
doesn't realize, though. Hasn't a clue. All she can see is
him
. Frenchmen know exactly how to treat women, that's the thing.'

‘I expect they do.' It was the last thing he wanted to hear.

The finger wagged again. ‘Mind you, Englishmen have their good points as well. Only they're not so obvious. I think the most attractive man I ever met was Gerald du Maurier. Did you ever see him on the stage?'