Codename Eagle (3 page)

“Don’t bother with that,” the older Frenchman said. “The best place is exactly where you landed. That’s why I chose it.”

“We’ll make sure of that for ourselves,” the officer said. “In daylight. And we’ll take the target the day after tomorrow, early morning.” He stood up. “So unless you are unclear on anything, my men and I would like to get some rest.”

The Frenchman took a long drag at his cigarette and then stubbed it out. “There is one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Why all this urgency? Why not let the real gendarmes arrest him? He’d be in your hands soon enough, anyway. They’d hold him here for a while and then shift him up to the Occupied Zone, or even to Germany. Not that the twins and I are complaining, of course; we’re happy to do our bit.”

“Yes, I can see that,” the German replied. “And as far as your question is concerned, all you need to know is that he’s important to us – extremely important. And we want him. Now. Does that satisfy you?”

“Oh, perfectly, sir,” the Frenchman said, his smile of earlier returning. “Perfectly.”

J
osette Mazet did not look happy. Her dark eyes were narrowed and her lips were clamped tight. She was fighting to stop herself from flying into one of her famous rages and was just about managing to keep her mouth shut. Just about.

Her father, Henri, sat behind his desk, one finger rhythmically stroking his bushy moustache as he considered what Paul had just told him.

Paul looked at Henri, waiting for his response, while Didier leaned against the closed door. It was important that no one outside the office heard what was being discussed, even though the thunderous noise from the looms down on the factory floor would make any words spoken in the room inaudible to anyone in the corridor. But it was best and safest to be certain.

Henri sighed and then nodded to Paul. “Of course, I’ll start making enquiries. It may take a little while, but I’m sure we can get you across the mountains before too long. And we’ll be sure to make a better job of it this time.”

“Thank you, Henri,” Paul said. “You know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Josette could no longer stay silent. “Oh, that’s kind of you,” she said angrily. “Why didn’t you say something before? Or even last night when you got back from Didier’s?”

Paul had lived with Henri Mazet and his family since arriving in Lavelanet the previous year. “It was late,” he said. “And … and I didn’t want to upset your mother.”

“My mother! What about Papa? What about me?”

“Well, all of you. I knew it would come as a bit of a shock.”

“Oh, you’re right about that, it is a shock! So is that why you were too cowardly to come out and tell us before now? Is that it?”

“Josette!” Henri said.

“No, Papa,” Josette continued furiously. “It is cowardly of him to say nothing until the very last minute.”

Paul took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm and not be drawn into an argument with Josette. He was far from a coward. Twice in the previous year he had fought bravely, for his own life and for the lives of his friends. But when Josette was in one of her rages his bravery somehow seemed to disappear. “I’m sorry, Josette,” he said quietly, “but I wasn’t sure myself until a couple of days ago. And you’re right; I should have told you then. But I’ve told you now, and I’ll say it once more so there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind: I do want to leave Lavelanet and try to get to England. And I’m…”

“Oh, well, thank you for letting us know! At last!” Josette snarled, unwilling to listen to any further words of explanation. “And you will be sure to let us know when you change your mind again, won’t you!”

She sprang up from her chair, sending it crashing to the floor as she marched quickly towards the door.

Didier was in her way. He considered saying something, but when he saw her furious glare, swiftly changed his mind and stepped aside. Josette wrenched open the door and stormed out, slamming it so hard that the glass in the office windows shuddered.

Paul looked at Henri, who shrugged and gave him a slight smile. “She’ll be all right when she calms down.”

“I’ll go after her,” Didier said, picking up the chair and setting it by Josette’s desk. “You don’t need me here.”

He winked reassuringly at Paul and left the room, closing the door much more quietly than Josette had.

Henri stared at the young man facing him. He had changed in the past few months, grown up – perhaps too quickly, but that was hardly surprising after what he’d been through. He’d become more confident, assertive and, it now appeared, decisive. “Now, Paul, are you quite certain about your decision?”

“Yes, Henri,” Paul replied without hesitation. “I’m absolutely certain.” He felt himself relaxing; the tension that had been building suddenly eased now that he had finally admitted to himself and everyone else that he wanted and needed to leave Lavelanet. The long, hard winter and the surrounding mountains had somehow combined to make him feel trapped, hemmed in. Now that would change, but so would the relationships he had built with all those he had grown so close to over the past months – particularly Josette.

Paul was getting used to change, and yet before the war and despite his complicated family background – he was part English, part French and part Belgian – his life had been so simple. His father had been an important civil engineer, specializing in the modernization and rebuilding of all the largest harbours and docks in Europe, including those in Germany.

And while Edward Hansen and his wife, Clarisse, criss-crossed Europe, Paul attended an English boarding school until the age of fourteen. Then, when his parents eventually settled in Antwerp, Belgium, Paul joined them.

Even when war came, with the Germans occupying the whole of northern Europe, Paul had still somehow felt that it wasn’t really affecting him too seriously: his life carried on largely as it had before.

But his comfortable existence was shattered in a single brutal moment when he saw his father shot and killed by German soldiers. That same day his mother was arrested and taken away by the Nazis. No word had been heard of her since.

The following day, Paul had begun his journey across Belgium and down through France for the attempt to escape to freedom across the Pyrenees. Only then did he learn that his father had not only been leading the Resistance movement in Antwerp, he had also operated as a spy for the Allies, making detailed plans of the German harbours and their defences.

And although Edward Hansen had been dead for more than six months, the plans he had made were still in existence. Somewhere.

Paul was deep in thought, reliving his escape from Belgium, thinking about his mother and father and the times they had shared. Suddenly a new thought flashed into his mind as he remembered a conversation with his father about a hiding place, a perfect hiding place.

“Oh!” Paul gasped. “Of course!”

He looked across at Henri, who was staring at him. “What is it, Paul? Is there something else you want to tell me?”

Paul nodded. “Yes, there is, Henri. And I think it’s important, very important. It’s about my father.”

I
t was a bright, warm spring morning; the sun blazed proudly in a sky of deep, almost unnatural blue.

Josette sat on the café terrace staring at an untouched cup of coffee. Didier sat opposite her, waiting for the outburst, which he suspected would arrive at any moment.

He had followed Josette to the café after being informed by the factory foreman, Marcel Castelnaud, that she had thundered down the stairs and swept out of the building without a word to anyone.

“Looked to be in one of her tempers, so I didn’t say anything,” Marcel had told him.

Didier took a guess at where Josette might have gone to collect her thoughts, and he was right. It was a café they went to quite often, usually with Paul.

He took a seat, ordered a coffee for himself and waited. The coffee arrived; Didier took a sip, replaced the cup on the saucer and then waited some more.

“I brought him here,” Josette said at last, without looking at Didier, “when he first came to Lavelanet. I hadn’t been very friendly until then, so I brought him here to talk. And that was the first time I … I realized that I did like him … a bit. I shouldn’t have bothered being so nice.”

Didier expected Josette to continue, but she fell into a brooding silence.

“Your coffee’s getting cold.”

“I don’t care about the coffee,” Josette snapped. “I don’t want it.”

Didier smiled sympathetically. “It’s always been a bit stormy between you two, hasn’t it? And anyway, I’ve been telling you for months that I’m the one for you. You should have accepted that long ago.” He laughed. “Look, I know you like Paul too, but face up to it, Josette, you and I were made for each other.”

Despite her anger, Josette couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She’d known Didier for most of her life and she liked him a lot. But when he’d spoken of his feelings for her the previous year, she’d told him she wasn’t interested in a boyfriend – any boyfriend.

Her brother, Venant, had been killed fighting for his country just a few months earlier, and then all Josette had wanted was to be part of the Resistance movement, to fight back against the Germans.

But then Paul turned up and, although Josette’s commitment to the war effort hadn’t wavered, her thoughts about a boyfriend had. She did like Paul. And she also liked Didier, but not in quite the same way.

Didier was good-looking: tall – a little taller than Paul – and dark-haired, with a strong face and twinkling eyes. You knew where you stood with Didier; he was solid and totally reliable.

Paul was different. He was good-looking, too. In fact, Josette thought as she pictured Paul in her mind, he could actually be described as
handsome
. His fair hair and striking blue eyes made him stand out in southern France. Josette reckoned he looked a bit like one of those American film stars she’d watched at the cinema in Lavelanet. She’d never told him that, of course. The trouble with Paul, though, was that he was complicated; you were never entirely sure what he was thinking.

“Or what he’s going to do next,” she suddenly said aloud.

“What?” Didier asked.

“Nothing,” Josette said, with a shake of her head. “Why does he want to go, Didier? What’s wrong with us? He told me you’re the best friend he’s ever had.”

“He saved my life in the mountains last year.”

“And you saved his.”

Didier shrugged modestly. “I suppose that gives us some kind of special bond.”

“So then why does he want to leave?”

“Josette, you and I have lived here all our lives. This is our home. This is the place and these are the people we want to fight for. It’s not the same for Paul. The war is a bigger picture for him, and the world is a bigger place.”

“But he said he wanted to stay and help us.”

“Yes, but when he arrived here things were different. When your father and me, and Gaston Rouzard and—”

“That traitor!” Josette interrupted, eyes blazing. “I would have killed him myself.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve told me before, but just listen for once.”

Josette glared at him.

“Please?” Didier said.

She took a breath and sat back in her chair.

Didier leaned closer, speaking softly. “When the four of us – your father and me, Gaston and Jean-Pierre Dilhat – set up the Resistance cell, we expected more to join us.”

“But it didn’t happen,” Josette said, glancing towards the distant mountains. “Even though Jean-Pierre gave his life for us up there.”

“No,” Didier said with a shake of his head, “it hasn’t worked out as we hoped.”

Josette was still looking at the mountains. “My grandmother says people here have seen too much war and they’re tired of it, so they don’t get involved or they ignore it and pretend it’s not happening.” She turned back to Didier, her face angry again. “But it is happening, Didier, and we can’t ignore it. And when the Germans come marching in here like they did in the north, then everyone who hasn’t bothered will be sorry. Because then it’ll be too late.”

“Shh,”
Didier said softly. “Keep your voice down. It won’t be too late, and we’ll be ready. It’s just a pity that Paul won’t be with us after all.”

They were quiet for a couple of minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Then Josette picked up her coffee cup, took a sip and grimaced. “It’s cold.”

“I told you it was. Shall we order some more?”

They were alone on the terrace. Josette glanced towards the café. Through the window she could see the owner, Victor Forêt, standing behind the bar. He appeared to be in a heated argument with one of his customers.

“Look at those two,” Josette said to Didier. “Plenty to say as usual, and I’ll bet it’s about nothing important. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m fighting for people like those two.”

“Oh, Victor’s all right.”

“You think everyone’s all right.”

“I don’t, but Victor’s never done me any harm.”

Before Josette could say any more, the café door flew back and a young man staggered out and crashed into one of the terrace tables. He yelled in pain, then stumbled and fell to the ground.

Victor Forêt was pursuing him. “And you can stay out! You’re banned! Go and drink your beer somewhere else. You’re not wanted here.”

“Oh, I’ll stay out,” the young man said, slowly getting to his feet and rubbing his bruised leg. “But I won’t forget this. And you’ll be sorry for what you just did, very sorry.”

“Are you threatening me?” Forêt said, clenching his fist and taking a step towards the younger man.

“You’ll see, Victor, you’ll see,” the young man said, backing away. He noticed Josette and Didier staring, and gave them a hostile glare before limping off the terrace and across the small square.

The café owner watched him go, both hands resting on his huge beer gut. His round, podgy face was even redder than usual. He sniffed loudly and wiped the back of one hand across his nose.

Then the scowl he wore turned to a smile as he realized Josette and Didier were watching him. “Argument over rugby got a little out of hand,” he said, the smile fixed to his face. “But that Alain Noury; always boasting, spoiling for a fight.” He took a deep breath and wiped his hand across his face a second time. “Now what can I get you? More coffee?”