Codename Eagle (6 page)

The night had darkened, clouds moving across the sky to block the starlight. Paul edged closer, making sure Josette could see his face as he spoke. “When I’ve gone, you will be careful, won’t you?”

Josette answered in little more than a whisper. “I’ll be careful. But I will get him. Or her.” She stood up. “Let’s go in. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a busy day for us both.”

They went to the back door and as Paul started to open it, Josette stopped him. He turned to look at her and she kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Come back one day, Paul,” she said, then pulled open the door and went quickly inside.

S
omeone was knocking on the front door. Hammering, pounding, constant and heavy. A voice was shouting: “Open up! Open up!”

For a few confused seconds, Paul thought he was dreaming, but then realized what was happening. They’d come for him. At the very last moment, just as he was about to escape to freedom, he was going to be arrested and taken in.

It was too cruel: heartbreaking. In those agonizing seconds, he saw himself being dragged off and spirited away to Belgium or northern France to be interrogated, before suffering the same fate as his parents. But as his thoughts cleared, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t be taken without a fight. He leapt from his bed, dragged on his clothes and yanked open the bedroom door.

The pounding on the front door grew even louder as Paul came face to face with a grim-faced Henri and a terrified-looking Hélène as they emerged from their bedroom. Then Josette came out of her room.

“What’s happening?” Josette said, her eyes wide but defiant. “Who is it, what do we do?”

“It must be the police,” Paul answered. “They’ve come for me. I’ll try to make a run for it out the back way.”

“No, Paul,” Henri said, “they’ll be armed and they’ll have put someone at the back too.”

“Should we open the shutters, see how many there are?”

As always, the shutters on the house had been closed the previous night. Paul himself had locked the one on the back door before going up to bed. Closed shutters meant security, and no one outside seeing into the house. But it also meant that no one on the inside could see exactly who was hammering at the door. Or how many of them were out there.

“We’ll open the door and bluff it out,” Henri said. “There’s no other choice. Paul has papers; we’ll have to hope they pass as genuine.”

Paul’s forged identity card and work and travel permits had always been accepted, but they had never been scrutinized too closely.

“Let me go down,” Paul said. “It’s me they’ve come for.”

“It’s my house,” Henri said firmly. “I shall open the door.”

Followed by Paul, Henri went to the staircase and then looked back at Hélène and Josette. “Stay here.”

At the bottom of the stairs, the pounding and shouting sounded louder still. But the noise stopped completely as Henri pulled back the sturdy bolts at the top and bottom of the door. He glanced briefly at Paul, smiled reassuringly, then turned the large black key that had remained in the lock overnight, just as it always did.

The mechanism of the ancient lock clunked loudly, breaking the sudden silence. Henri pushed down the door handle and slowly pulled open the heavy door.

And then he stared. So did Paul.

Staring back at them were two men. One was tall and slim and looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had a shock of wild black hair, his thin face was drawn and haggard and his eyes were dark with worry. He wore a loose-fitting, crumpled old suit with a white shirt that was open at the neck.

The other man was in his late sixties. His face was flushed and what hair remained was grey and sparse. Dressed in baggy fawn-coloured trousers and a rough working shirt and jacket, he looked as though he might have come from the fields.

Neither man seemed remotely like a gendarme or a soldier. And both men looked scared.

For a few seconds, all four stood bewildered in the early morning light, just staring.

Then the younger newcomer spoke. “It’s my wife – they’ve taken my wife!”

Henri hesitated, his brow creased. “Your wife? Who’s taken your wife? And who are you? Why have you come here?”

“That was my idea, Monsieur Mazet,” the older man said. “We didn’t know where else to go.”

“You know me?” Henri said.

The man lowered his voice. “I know of you. We’re from Bélesta, and … well, I’ve … I’ve heard things, over the past year. People talk. Say things. You know.”

“No, I don’t know. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“About … about a Resistance group. Here in Lavelanet. Your name was mentioned.”

Henri said nothing, fearing that he might be being drawn into a trap.

“There’s no one in Bélesta we could go to,” the man continued. “So we came here.” He pointed back to the road. “In my old car.”

Henri remained silent, forcing the man to go on. “I have a relative who works in your factory.”

“Who?” Paul asked, impatient to know exactly what the men were expecting. “What’s his name?”

“It’s Joseph Argoud,” the man answered, still looking at Henri. “He’s been with you for years. My wife’s younger brother.”

Henri nodded, but said nothing.

“My name is Antoine Granel. You can ask Joseph about me, or anyone in Bélesta, they’ll vouch for me. But my young friend here needs your help.”

Again, Henri waited, giving himself time to think before replying. “If he needs help, then he must go to the police,” he said at last.

“But I can’t go to the police,” the younger man said loudly, his face desperate with worry. “It was the police who took my wife away.”

Paul and Henri exchanged a look.

“Why? Why did they do that?” Henri asked.

“They were looking for me,” the man said. “But I wasn’t there, so they took my wife, and I’ve no idea where they’ve taken her.”

“Please?” Antoine Granel said to Henri. “Will you at least give us a chance to explain?”

Again, Henri hesitated. Then he and Paul turned as they heard a creak on the staircase. Hélène and Josette had made their way down the stairs.

“Ask our visitors to come in, Henri,” Hélène said. “You can’t leave them standing on the doorstep like that.”

“But, Hélène,” Henri replied, “we know nothing about—”

“Ask them in, Henri,” Hélène said, more assertively this time. “I’ll make coffee while you go and dress. If you stay there, the whole neighbourhood will hear your conversation.”

“I
don’t sleep well, I’ve always had trouble sleeping.” The younger of the two men had finally introduced himself as Max Bernard. He put down his coffee cup and tapped his head with one finger. “Too much going on up here all the time, thinking about my work.”

They were gathered in the sitting room. The shutters were open now, and the morning light was warming the room. Henri had dressed in his usual workday suit, Josette had flung on whatever had come to hand and Paul was still in the clothes he had dragged on as he heard the thunderous knocking on the front door.

Hélène made coffee and then left them to it, knowing that she would learn the details of their conversation soon enough.

“Please go on, Monsieur Bernard,” Henri said, satisfied that the visitors posed no threat.

“Max: call me Max.”

Henri nodded. “Please go on, Max.”

“My wife needs her sleep; when I’m restless I disturb her. Often I get up in the early hours and walk, usually by the river. It’s quiet; I can think. When I return, if it’s still dark, I’m sometimes tired enough to sleep for an hour or two before breakfast. That’s how it was this morning, but just as I went to turn the corner to our street I saw them. Well, I heard them first.”

“Heard who?”

“The gendarmes. Something made me stop; I was hidden from their sight by the wall of a house. I peered around the corner. It was still dark, but I could see enough. Two of them, and my wife. And she was…” Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. “She was crying; saying I was away and wouldn’t be back for days. I should have gone to help, but I didn’t. I hid behind the wall and stayed there until I heard their car drive away.”

“You couldn’t have done anything, Max,” Antoine Granel told him. “Better to come to me so that we could both try to get help.”

“But your wife needed help then,” Josette said, her face angry. “I wouldn’t have—”

“Josette, please!” Henri said. “Listen to what Monsieur Berna— to what Max has to say before you go jumping to conclusions.”

“No, your daughter’s right,” Max said. “Julia did need my help. But you see, we knew this might happen one day; that they would come for me. But Julia always said that it was most important that I stay free, even if she was taken.”

“Well, that’s ridicu—!” Josette fell silent as she saw her father glaring at her. She looked over at Paul, who also gave her a warning look.

“Perhaps you can explain what you mean by that, Max?” Henri asked gently.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m a scientist, a physicist. Before the war I was working in Germany; research, with some of the very best they had. I was considered one of the best. But after Hitler came to power, we decided we should leave while we could. I’m Jewish, you see. We came home to France. Paris first, and then when Paris became unsafe last year, we travelled here, helped by friends along the way.”

He paused for a moment and took a drink of coffee, lifting the cup in both hands. They were shaking.

Paul took the opportunity to look at Josette. She was staring back at him. They realized that Max and Julia Bernard might very well have had a similar journey through France as Paul’s, probably with similarly heart-stopping moments.

“We managed to get false papers,” Max continued, “and we have a little money. We hoped we might hide away quietly until the war is over.”

“So the police came for you this morning because you’re Jewish?” Paul asked.

“No, I don’t believe it was that.”

“What, then?”

“They want me for what I know. For my knowledge. It appears that the Nazis are not as concerned about a person’s race or ethnic background if they can be of particular use to them. And I can.”

“In what way?” Henri asked. “If you don’t mind telling us.”

Max finished his coffee. His hands were still trembling. “They know I can help them build a nuclear weapon.”

“A what?” Josette said. “What is that?”

“A bomb.”

“But they have bombs. Hundreds of bombs. Thousands.”

The scientist shook his head. “Not like this. At the moment no such weapon exists. But it will, and before too long. The Americans, the British, the Germans, probably the Russians, too, they’re all racing to build it, and one day someone will succeed. And when they do…” His voice trailed away.

“But this bomb?” Paul asked. “What sort of weapon will it be?”

Max sighed heavily. “Like nothing you have ever imagined. A bomb that will not just destroy a building, but whole towns, entire cities. A single bomb capable of killing hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions.”

“But … but that’s impossible,” Josette breathed. “It can’t be.”

“It will happen,” Max said, “I promise you. But I won’t be part of it – for anyone, the Germans, the Americans, anyone. When I left Germany I swore I would never again help develop such a monstrous weapon. But that means nothing to the Germans. That’s why they’ve come for me.”

“Germans?” Paul said. “But you said it was the police. Two gendarmes in a police car.”

“Perhaps,” Max said. “But I was very close, and voices travel in the morning air, even softly spoken voices. I’m certain I heard one of them speaking German as they bundled my wife into the car.”

Paul felt his heart thudding in his chest as Antoine Granel leaned across to his friend. “And tell them about the car; where it went.”

“Oh, yes, the car. When they drove away, the car didn’t head towards Lavelanet, as you would expect, or even in the opposite direction towards Puivert. They crossed the river and headed up towards the forest of Bélesta and the Plateau de Sault.”

“Now why would gendarmes go that way?” Antoine said to Henri. “There’s nothing up there but trees and cows. Will you help, monsieur? Will you and your Resistance group find Julia and help us get her back?”

“Well…” Henri said slowly. “We’re not really…”

“Of course we’ll help,” Paul said quickly. “That’s what we’re here for, to fight the enemies of France.”

The elderly man smiled at Paul. “Excuse me for saying this, monsieur, but you look very … very young for … this sort of work.”

“Everyone…” Paul glanced briefly at Henri. “
Almost
everyone in our group is very young. But we’re all experienced, we’ve all seen action and we’re all prepared for further action.” He turned back to Henri. “Isn’t that right, Henri?”

“Well…”

“And how many are you?” the elderly man asked before Henri could reply.

“We prefer to keep that information to ourselves,” Paul told him. “It’s safest that you don’t know. What you don’t know, you can’t tell anyone else.”

Antoine nodded and shrugged his shoulders, appearing to be impressed.

Paul turned to Max. “Did you go back into your house?”

“No, I went straight to Antoine’s. He said we should come here and not go into the house in case the gendarmes returned.”

“Or in case they’re still there,” Paul said.

“But I saw them leave, with my wife.”

“You saw two of them leave; you don’t know how many arrived.”

This time even Henri looked impressed. “He’s right. They could still be there, waiting for you to walk into a trap.”

Paul was thinking quickly as he got to his feet. “Henri, if Monsieur Granel has heard rumours about you and the Resistance, then others must have heard them too. We need to get Max somewhere safe before we have a visit from the gendarmes, or from anyone else. If you organize that, I’ll go and speak to Didier.”

“And I’ll go with him,” Josette said, getting up from her chair.

“But…”

“There’s no time to lose, Henri,” Paul said, walking to the door, with Josette following. “We must act now.”