Voices on the Wind (10 page)

The other girl laughed. ‘He's keen on you, that's what it is,' she said. ‘And you don't like him. It's a creepy feeling. I noticed him watching you the whole time at Loch Gary. He was so jealous of Michaelson, having a drink with you every evening. We all thought it was quite funny. But don't worry about it. He'll be too busy to be a nuisance. God, I'm exhausted!'

Kate said, ‘It isn't that. He's so detached, so secretive. He's not a leader and walking off this morning proves it. He's out on his own, Julie, and that's not what he's supposed to be.'

Julie raised herself briefly from the pillow.

‘My dear Cecilie, the first thing you've got to learn is that all that stuff they teach you at home has nothing whatever to do with the facts of life when you're over here. Why don't you go to sleep? I've had it, I can't talk any more.'

Moments later her breathing was deep and regular. Kate lay and stared at the ceiling. There were cracks in the plaster; a spider crawled out of one, froze at some sense of human presence and then retreated. She closed her eyes and slept.

It was dark when he came. They had been gathered in the kitchen for an hour. There were five members of the network, including the woman who worked as a chambermaid at the Hôtel Mondiale. When there was a knock at the back door, there was a movement of excitement among them. Pierrot came into the kitchen. Kate watched him. He was dressed in a formal suit and tie, and carried a shabby leather briefcase. He looked completely different; the cat-like face and eyes were merely nondescript. He had shed his personality and taken on a new one. A small-town businessman, provincial, badly dressed in ill-cut clothes. A man nobody would look at twice. He greeted everyone. They seemed pleased to see him. There was a friendly atmosphere. This was an old and trusted comrade. He made room for himself beside Kate.

‘You seem rested,' he said quietly.

‘Why did you leave us?' she demanded.

‘I had work to do,' he answered. ‘I knew you would be in good hands. And you were, weren't you?'

‘Yes,' she admitted. ‘But if we'd been stopped.…'

‘Then I would have been captured as well,' he said coolly. ‘And what good would that do anyone? The first rule over here is to survive. Remember that.' He put his hand on her arm and let it rest for a moment. ‘I'm sorry if you were frightened. You'll get used to it. Dulac will inspire you.'

Even though she was looking up at him, Kate couldn't tell whether he was mocking or serious. She helped herself to a glass of wine. He had to take his hand away. When the knock came it was different. Bold and insistent, and Marcel jumped up and stumbled in his eagerness to open it.

‘Dulac!' he cried out, and everyone got to their feet.

‘He was not at all what I expected,' Katharine Alfurd said. ‘I'd imagined some Hollywood film-star type, winning the war single-handed. He wasn't that sort of man at all.'

‘I've seen photographs of him,' Paul Roulier said. ‘And the statue. Maybe they flattered him.'

‘Maybe,' she smiled slightly. ‘He was so dark, that surprised me. Very dark, with black eyes. And slight. Beautifully made, like a dancer. Not the beefy hero type at all. I remember thinking, good Lord, you could be an artist or a musician.'

‘But he made an impact on you?' he asked. He felt her withdraw from him, from her surroundings. She was looking through him and beyond as she answered.

‘Oh yes,' Katharine Alfurd said. ‘From the first moment he came into that room I fell in love with him. The
coup de foudre
, it really can happen. Just like it says: you're struck by lightning and you're in love before you've even spoken. That was the impact on me. Afterwards, he told me he'd felt the same happen to him too.'

‘I'm sorry,' Roulier said, ‘if it distresses you to talk about him. But I have to know.'

She came back to him in her mind. ‘Of course you do,' she said. ‘It doesn't distress me; it's so long ago and some of it was so marvellous and so happy. I always try to think about that part, if I can. The other part – well, everyone knows about that.'

He didn't hurry her. He let a pause develop. Then: ‘That was your first meeting – please tell me about it.'

Magnetism, Kate thought; even the lights seem to be brighter. The way he embraces Jeanne, kisses her and hugs her as if he were her son. The same with Marcel; he doesn't shake hands, he clasps them, as if that contact was the most important to him in the world. And the confident, brilliant smile that makes you want to smile back, as if he'd brought you good news. Yes, he would inspire me, she thought, feeling her rapid heartbeat. He was clapping Pierrot on the back, saying over and over how glad he was to see him, warming even that cold man into enthusiasm. And then he came to her, and they touched hands. Maybe nobody else round them noticed anything.

‘You're Cecilie,' he said. ‘Welcome to France. With your help she will soon be free again.'

Tears came into her eyes. She had to blink hard to force them back. He saw them and lifting her hand to his lips he kissed it. Then he turned away and took his place at the table and the meeting began.

Perhaps it was the voice she fell in love with. It wasn't mellifluous, or stagey like the Colonel in Baker Street who talked as if he were playing a musical instrument. It was a baritone in musical terms, clear and pleasing; he had a gift for words that caught the imagination, and the content was fiery with patriotism. And with humour. He radiated confidence and optimism. Everything was going well. France's ordeal would soon be over. Kate heard the theme of Europe's Liberation for the first time that night, but he never spoke as leader without making it a focal point. He introduced the new comrades. Each was asked to stand up and each was given a toast. Pandora, silent as usual, was nudged to his feet. He grinned awkwardly.

‘Our friend from England,' Dulac said. ‘Braver than most, because he doesn't speak our language and has to stay hidden until his moment comes. A very important moment,' he looked round the table, ‘I want everyone to remember that, because it may be hard for some of you who have to take risks in the open, to think of our friend staying low in safety. But he has come here for a purpose and when we know what that is, he'll play his part as bravely as any one of us. Pandora, Dulac welcomes you!'

Julie translated; Pandora reddened and sat down as quickly as possible.

‘Now,' Dulac sipped his wine. ‘We'll make our reports. Gaston, you begin.'

There was a convoy of German troops expected to relieve part of the garrison at Antibes. Among them would be several senior officers wounded in Italy. Their destination was the Hôtel du Cap, now taken over by the German army as a convalescent home. Gaston had the information from a girl who was friendly with one of the staff working at the hotel. The officers were expected in the next month and the garrison in the area was preparing to be part-relieved. So, Gaston concluded, what plans should be made to attack the convoy and kill the senior officers?

‘How senior are they?' Pierrot asked.

Gaston didn't know in detail, but nobody under the rank of colonel was sent to that hotel.

The woman who worked at the Hôtel Mondiale was called Marie. She took up the point.

‘Colonels and upwards are worth killing,' she said flatly. ‘But isn't it more important to wipe out these relief troops if we can? The others are targets, true, but they're not combatants at this moment. I say we should concentrate on the troops, and if we get the officers as well – eh, that's a bonus!'

There was a mutter of agreement. Gaston looked sullen. One forgets the human element, Kate thought. He's angry that Marie's pushed him into the background. He's glaring at her as if she was an enemy. Then Dulac interrupted, averting trouble between them.

‘Gaston, this is very important information. Just the kind of exercise we need. And Marie, you have made a valuable comment. Ideally we should kill as many Germans, whatever their rank or condition, as we can, as often as we can. But first we need to know approximately how many relief troops will be coming. That will determine the method of attack; whether it is trucks, with armoured escorts or scout cars, and what time these officers are expected at Antibes, also how many. That will indicate the time the troops will come into Nice.' He paused and said to Pierrot, ‘Can you get this information for us?'

Beside Kate, the Frenchman shifted slightly. She felt the movement and it signalled his surprise.

‘I should be able to,' he answered. ‘If you think it's worth the risk.'

Dulac smiled, as if he had said something rather foolish.

‘It's not like you to talk about risks, my friend. You've been in England too long. Everything we do is a risk. Every time we go on to the streets, speak to each other, send a message, it's a risk. Yes, Pierrot, I want the information and you will take the risk. Jacques, how much ammunition and explosives have we at Saint Paul?'

Jacques was a squat, ugly man, with the grimy hands of a mechanic.

‘Forty sticks of gelignite, a case of grenades, a thousand rounds of ammunition for the submachine guns. Enough to do a lot of damage, if we stop everything else. We have to choose between the power plant and this convoy. We can't attack both.'

Julie spoke up. ‘What is the power plant?'

‘Our next scheduled target,' Dulac told her. ‘It supplies two factories making spare parts for the railway; also, the town of Nice. Destroying it would cause a lot of inconvenience and confusion to our own people, but it would be a blow at the German supply lines by rail. And its propaganda value would be high.'

‘People here have a bad enough time,' Marie said. ‘Taking their light and heat away wouldn't make them love us. What about the hospital?'

‘It has its own generator,' Jacques answered. ‘I service it; nobody would suffer more than a few minutes' darkness. I say we should blow the power station and maybe mount a small attack on the ambulances going to Antibes. Leave the main troops alone.'

‘I agree,' Gaston said. He took out a pipe and filled it with a coarse tobacco. The smell was choking in the crowded kitchen.

Julie said coldly, ‘Put that out, will you, please. I can't breathe.'

‘Then take a walk outside,' he snapped.

‘No, Gaston.' Dulac was pleasant. ‘If you want to suffocate yourself you'll be the one to take the walk. I think you can wait till later for your smoke. Put it out, my friend. We have to come to a decision. When that decision is reached, we'll know whether to call on Jacques's people or not.'

Kate whispered to Pierrot, ‘What people?'

His lips hardly moved. ‘Maquis. Communists. He's their leader in this area.'

‘Now.' Dulac had risen to his feet. Immediately he was in full command of them all. ‘Normally we would vote. But there is a chance to do both, as I see it. What we have is enough explosive and ammunition to attack the troop convoy, provided it is not bigger than usual or specially protected. Pierrot will find that out. After that, we lie very quiet and ask London for a drop of more supplies for the power station. That gives us time. What do you say?'

‘I say we put the plan to London,' Pierrot said. Nobody else had time to speak. ‘I say we send a radio message and wait for their reaction. It may not be possible for them to make a drop for some long time. In which case we must choose one target and let the other one go – if it's the power station, the factories will have supplied the spares to the railways before we get a chance to strike. Let London decide.'

Kate had never heard him assert himself before. The change from cold detachment to hard opposition was remarkable. There was silence. The others were all watching Dulac. Whatever Pierrot said, they would follow their leader's decision. As I would, Kate decided. I'd like to say something, but it wouldn't be right. I'd like to support him because I think this is an attempt to challenge his authority. But I've only just arrived … it would be resented.

As if he knew her thoughts, Dulac turned and looked at her. ‘Here we have Cecilie; a very good radio operator, I'm told. It's time she went to work. We'll send a message to London and she will transmit it for us this evening. My friends, let's have some wine and then go on our way. We meet when we have an answer. You'll be contacted in the usual way.'

She knew he was going to come over to her. Seeing him fill a glass, pause for a word with Gaston and the dour mechanic Jacques, who controlled the Maquis, nobody would have guessed that Kate was his objective. But she knew, and she sat still until he took the vacant seat beside her. She hadn't noticed Pierrot leave. He hadn't won, but she didn't know why not.

‘You look a little worried,' he said. ‘It's all very new and confusing, isn't it?'

‘Yes, a little,' she admitted.

‘I am glad you came,' he said. ‘London says you're very talented. Our last operator wasn't as efficient as I hoped.'

‘Oh.'

The very dark eyes gleamed for a moment and Kate felt herself flushing red.

‘Nothing happened to them,' Dulac answered the unspoken question. ‘It was a man and he had a heavy hand. I sent him to another network. I don't mind if he makes a mess of their messages. You're not staying here, they have a detector van that sometimes trundles up and down. Not very often. They're not as dangerous in the Midi as they are in the North. If you get your things and your set, I'll take you to the place where you'll be living from now on. In ten minutes? That gives us plenty of time before the curfew.'

Kate got up. ‘I'll be ready,' she said.

‘Good.'

She ran up the stairs to the stuffy little room. Her suitcase with the hidden transmitter was under the iron bedstead. She folded her clothes and packed them in the body of the case. It was heavy, but not heavy enough to be suspicious if anyone else picked it up. The weight was adjusted to the sex and strength of the operative. Julie came into the room.