Day of Vengeance (10 page)

From across the other side of the café, Jean-Yves whispered to Jack and Angus, “My wife’s a brave woman – one of these days she is going to get herself killed.”

“Who is that officer?” Jack asked.

“Axel Gottschalk,” Jean-Yves whispered back to him. “A rising member of the SS. He knows Adolf Hitler personally. He is based in Villiers-sur-Oise, to the north, but he is often in Paris. He is an important target for us. I am not surprised to see him – particularly given what is happening over the next few days.”

“Nasty piece of work…” Angus said.

“Yes,” Jean-Yves replied, “he has something of a reputation. We must leave, before anything else happens.”

But as they approached the main entrance of the café, the big glass door swung open and a man walked in. He was slim and wore a light suit and a dark tie. He was well groomed and his short, light brown hair was brushed back to show that it was starting to thin at each temple. He had a confident, authoritative air about him and he scanned the restaurant impatiently until his eyes came to rest on Gottschalk sitting with the two soldiers and Marianne in the window booth. He walked briskly over to their table. Gottschalk clearly recognised the civilian and invited him to sit down next to them. There was something oddly deferential about the way Gottschalk acted in front of the new arrival. It was particularly strange as one was an officer in a victorious army and the other seemed to be no more than a non-descript civilian. In contrast, Jack felt there was a self-consciousness about the civilian, a reluctance to be seen with these bullies from the SS. Marianne was now being introduced to the civilian and they shook hands. Soon she was in animated conversation with the four men and her eyes sparkled as she smiled and gossiped. They were putty in her hands.

“And who is that man?” Jack whispered.

“Albrecht Altenberg. He is a German scientist. A physicist, I think. Quite famous. He is seen with Gottschalk frequently here in Paris but also in Villiers. I think they are friends,” Jean-Yves replied. “We must go. Marianne can handle it. Come on. Our place is not too far.”

Jean-Yves continued walking to the door of the café followed
by Sophie, Angus and Jack. Jack wanted to ignore Gottschalk, but somehow he just couldn’t. He glanced over to their booth as he made for the door, trying hard not to walk too fast. Gottschalk spotted the movement from the corner of his eye and looked up. It was as if Jack had been caught in the cross hairs of an assassin’s rifle. A shiver ran down his spine… he wanted to look away, but he found himself staring back. As Gottschalk looked at him, his expression changed. Initially, he seemed a little bemused at the sight of Jack, but then Gottschalk’s brow furrowed. Finally, Jack turned. The door to the café was now only two metres away and he quickened his step, but his legs started to wobble and his stomach churned. He felt naked. It was as if not only Gottschalk was staring at him, but everyone else in the café as well. The big glass door was now only a step away – he reached out for the handle. Beyond it, he could see Jean-Yves, Angus and Sophie already melting away into the street.

“Arretez!”

Jack froze. He did not dare look round. For a second time in ten minutes the café was silenced. Approaching from behind, Jack could hear the heavy boots approaching slowly across the tiled floor. He could feel Gottschalk’s eyes boring into the back of his head. The footsteps stopped.

“Tournez-vous.”

Jack could feel Gottschalk’s breath on his neck – inches behind him. Slowly he turned round. Gottschalk looked at him.

“Name?”

Jack knew that one word from him and the game was up, but he was too terrified even to try and speak.

Gottschalk’s eyes narrowed as he stared intently at Jack, “I asked you kindly to give me your name.”

Jack felt his face burning red.

“Now, officer, please don’t tell me we have another problem…?”

It was Marianne, approaching Gottschalk from behind.

Gottschalk half turned his head but kept his eye on Jack. “Nothing to trouble you my dear… I was asking this young man to be polite enough to tell me who he is and where he is from…”

For the first time, Jack saw fear in Marianne’s face. Gottschalk looked into Jack’s eyes and reached down to his holster. Once again, he withdrew the Luger.

“Now, let me ask you one more time. What is your name?”

Jack stared stupidly, paralysed with fear. Then, suddenly, help arrived from an unexpected source. The portly figure of Antoine appeared behind Marianne and the officer, carrying a silver tray in one hand. On the tray there was a large goblet of brandy.

“If you please, sir,” he said.

Gottschalk half-turned, distracted. “What on earth do you want?”

“More brandy, sir…”

“Not now you fool – we are busy here. We already have what we need.”

Antoine looked hurt, his puffy lips turned down in dismay. “But this is our very finest, Bonaparte’s brandy, we would like you to try it,
Oberstleutnant
.”

The officer looked at Antoine with extreme irritation.

“Brigadeführer…”

“Of course… I meant
Brigadeführer
.”

Suddenly, with his free hand, Antoine reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver lighter. He deftly flicked it open and waved the lighted flame across the top of the glass. A blue flame burst into life as the alcohol caught fire. In a single smooth movement he dropped the lighter, took the glass and thrust it straight into Gottschalk’s face. He screwed the glass round so the rim immediately shattered, lacerating the skin. The flaming brandy splattered everywhere. Gottschalk screamed. Just for a split second, Jack watched as Antoine’s puffy face lit up in an expression of pure joy. It was the last thing he would ever do. Gottschalk held one hand to his bloodied, burned face, but the other still held the Luger. He lifted the gun to Antoine’s head and fired without hesitation. Once.

Antoine’s fat legs gave way and he dropped to the floor. Jack only had time to see Antoine’s eyes staring unblinking at the ceiling, a small entry wound in his forehead and a pool of crimson growing ominously on the floor. The two other soldiers jumped to their feet… but Marianne was quicker. She brought her knee hard up into Gottschalk’s groin and he doubled over in pain, his gun spinning from his hand. Then she stuck her elbow into the back of his neck and he groaned as he fell to his knees. The two soldiers raised their weapons but Jack and Marianne were both through the café door before the first shots rang out, shattering the glass of the windows and the door. Jack and Marianne raced down the street towards the safety of the Paris Metro, leaving Bonaparte’s in chaos behind them.

No Regrets

“You see what we are dealing with,” Jean-Yves said bitterly. “The Nazis are murderers.”

The atmosphere in the little apartment was grim. They had arrived at the safe house on Rue Le Regrattier only two hours before. The street was situated on the Ile St Louis – a small island in the middle of the Seine, only a short walk by bridge to the larger Isle de la Cité where the famous cathedral of Notre Dame stood. In contrast to the other fine apartments that looked out over the Seine from the island, the safe house was a little flat at the top of a higgledy-piggledy staircase. It had only one bedroom and its single front window looked over Rue Le Regrattier, straight into the apartments opposite. If you craned your head out through the open window to the left, you could just see the waters of the Seine languidly drifting past in the late afternoon sun.

Marianne had bought provisions from the
boulangerie
down the road, but food was the last thing on Jack’s mind. He still felt sick from witnessing the cold-blooded murder of Antoine and exhausted from an escape through the Paris underground that had seen them switch from metro to metro, until Jean-Yves was completely sure that they had not been followed. They had picked their way back to the Ile de La Cité before finally coming up for air and slipping in to the old flat here in Rue Le Regrattier.

“We will avenge Antoine,” Jean-Yves said once again as
he stomped angrily around the apartment.

Marianne stood up and put her hand around Jean-Yves’s shoulders. “Jean – stay calm. It is already planned for tomorrow and, if that doesn’t work, there is Villiers.”

He sighed. “You’re right, of course, my dear.”

Jack had no idea what they were talking about. “What is it Marianne? What is happening tomorrow?”

Jean-Yves looked at him with fire in his eyes. “Tomorrow we change the course of history, Jack,” he thought for a moment. “And the more I think about our plan, the more I think maybe you can help us.”

Jack was none the wiser.

“The Germans have kept it quiet, but we know all about it,” Marianne said. “Hitler himself will come to Paris tomorrow morning. He’s coming to see his new conquest – coming to gloat.”

“And we will be ready for him. We are going to assassinate him, Jack. We will stop this Nazi evil before it goes any further.”

For a moment the words did not sink in. Then Jack felt a horrible sick feeling rising from the pit of his stomach.

“You’re planning to assassinate Hitler, here? In Paris? Tomorrow? But…”

“We know exactly when he arrives and the route he will take. Everything is prepared.”

Suddenly, Jack remembered the picture that Angus’s father had shown them of Hitler standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. He’d told them it had been taken in 1940 – the only time Hitler had visited Paris. Jean-Yves and Marianne were talking about the same visit, Jack was sure of it. The photograph would be taken tomorrow,
but as far as Jack knew, there was nothing in history about an assassination attempt during the visit. And of course, Hitler had not died until 1945 – five years later. That could only mean that whatever Jean-Yves and Marianne were planning, it would not turn out as they intended.

Jack took a deep breath. “Jean-Yves, I understand why you want to do this,” he had to swallow back a lump in his throat, “but what you are talking about is very dangerous…”

“Of course it is dangerous. That doesn’t matter. We have to act against this evil. We have our chance and we are going to take it.” He paused for a moment. “And you can help us… Help Sophie, with the signalling.”

“What?” Angus exclaimed. “Hold on…”

“You will not help us?” Jean-Yves looked surprised. “But we are allies and you are military pilots, it is your duty to help us, is it not? Intelligence like this is rare – chances rarer. We must seize the opportunity.”

This was spiralling out of control. Not only was Jack worried for their own safety, but he was sure that the visit was a success. If there had been an assassination attempt it must have failed, or have been covered up. And if that was the case, what had happened to the assassins?

He battled to articulate his concern to Jean-Yves and Marianne. “It can’t be that simple. You are talking about assassinating Hitler. He will be well guarded. And, well, even if you succeed, we don’t necessarily know that the world will be a better place…”

Jean-Yves and Marianne looked at him, bemused.

With difficulty, Jack tried to explain, “I don’t know, but even if you
killed him – somebody else might take over. That somebody might be, I don’t know, a better leader – he might even keep Nazi Germany in place for longer… maybe that would be even worse…”

“You’re wrong, Jack. We all know that Hitler and his followers are criminals and that they have harnessed an entire nation to carry out their work. The Nazis are evil, Jack, pure evil. You saw Gottschalk – they are all infected in the same way. We must stop it. Anyone can see that. Hitler is the leader – and we will plan to kill him and hopefully Gottschalk and any of his other cronies at the same time. If we fail there is a back-up plan. A second cell. I don’t want to be harsh with you, but we saved your lives and now we need your help. Then we can get you home.”

There was silence in the room but for a breath of summer air that rose from the Seine and twitched the white cotton curtains that screened the windows. Jean-Yves, Marianne and Sophie were all watching for Jack’s reaction. Until that point, Sophie had been brooding in an armchair by the fireplace, her arms folded around her knees. Suddenly she spoke, “Surely you must see that this is a good thing we are doing?”

Jack had no answer.

“Good. It’s agreed then. No more discussion,” Jean-Yves said. “He walked over to the table and unfurled a map. “Come – I will show you our plans.” He pointed to a spot on the table off the map. “Hitler will arrive here at Le Bourget airfield, north-west of Paris at around five-thirty tomorrow morning. Three open-topped Mercedes sedans will be waiting. Hitler will probably sit in the front seat next to the chauffeur. Our information is that he will be accompanied by Albert Speer, his architect, and the sculptor, Breker. There will
be adjutants in the back seats. They will first go to the Opéra. Afterwards, they will drive to Place de La Concorde, up the Champs-Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe and onto the Eiffel Tower…” Jean-Yves continued running his finger carefully along the route, “… then he will go to Invalides – to visit the tomb of Napoleon – and then back across the river to Sacré-Coeur. Our intelligence says he will be in Paris for no more than three hours. Then he will go on to Villiers-sur-Oise,” Jean-Yves looked up at them with cold eyes. “This will be his last visit… anywhere.” He stabbed his index finger into the map. “And that is where it shall be done…”

“The Arc de Triomphe,” Marianne said.

“Well-named… and with twelve streets around it – there are plenty of escape options,” Jean-Yves added.

Suddenly, there was knocking at the door. Three slow knocks, followed by three fast ones. Jack and Angus exchanged worried glances.

Marianne looked at her watch. “Eight-thirty. Ours and Patrice. Sophie – let them in. We will have supper and afterwards we will go through everything again.”

An hour later they had finished their evening meal. Jean-Yves had opened a bottle of wine. Food and a glass of wine had taken the edge off Jacks’ nerves. Jean-Yves pored over a map of central Paris and went through the plans with everyone again.

As he was finishing, Jack remembered something. “Jean-Yves, earlier you mentioned a back-up plan. What did you mean?”

“Yes Jack. Our intelligence says that after Hitler has visited Paris he will travel to Villiers-sur-Oise. We think he will travel there with Gottschalk and there will be a meeting of the top brass. 
We don’t know what it’s about – the future of France, maybe. We do know that there has been quite a lot of activity in that area, so it sounds like our intelligence is right. The Network we are building has different cells. There is a cell based there and it includes elements of the army from the north. If, for whatever reason, we fail tomorrow, then the cell at Villiers will have a second chance.”

Hitler’s tour of Paris, June 1940

This time Jack raised no objections. It looked like the die was cast, and whatever his personal opinion, he and Angus were now part of the team. Finally, the long discussion came to an end and Angus nudged Jack. “We’re going to get some fresh air, before it gets dark.”

“OK – but don’t go far. Be careful!” Jean-Yves said.

After venturing only a few metres, Jack and Angus found themselves looking out over the Seine towards the great cathedral of Notre Dame, which loomed up from the neighbouring Ile de la Cité.

“This is a complete nightmare,” Jack said, finally.

“But if it wasn’t for them, we’d be stuffed. I think we need to help them. They’re not asking us to actually do it – just help Sophie with the signalling along the route.” Angus shrugged, “Killing Hitler. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me…”

“Get a grip, Angus. You’re in VIGIL. It might seem like a good idea, but it’s not. It’s not meant to happen. I’ve never heard anything about any assassination attempt on Hitler in Paris or in this place they keep talking about – Villiers or whatever it’s called.”

“What do you mean?”

“I checked out the iPhone app. Take a look.” Jack glanced
up and down the street to make sure they were alone and surreptitiously brought out his iPhone. He pressed a button and waved a finger across the screen. “VIGIL’s historical archive app – events, places, people – the whole of history.” Jack tapped in some letters. “It’s even got old film footage… So I put in ‘Hitler plus Paris visit plus 1940’…”

Jack tapped the screen and a grainy black-and-white film started to play.

“Recognise Paris?” Jack said. “I’ll turn up the volume.”

The old film was accompanied by military music and the stern voice of a German commentator. It sounded a bit tinny and they couldn’t really make out the German, but they could understand the announcement of a series of famous place names: ‘Opéra’, ‘Place de la Concorde’, then, ‘Trocadero’…

“A motorcade… they’re German soldiers…”

“And you probably recognise that guy getting out of the front car?”

“Adolf Hitler.”

“Right. I think this is an actual film of Hitler’s tour of Paris, which happens tomorrow morning. It has the date and time. Back home it’s probably on YouTube. Anyway, you can see the big
open-top
cars in the motorcade and all the sights he visits… just like Jean-Yves was saying. Basically, from this you can tell exactly where he is going and when – the information that Jean-Yves has got is pretty accurate.”

The jumpy black-and-white image followed Hitler and his entourage from one Paris landmark to the next. There were also some gaps in the footage. For example, there was film of the
approach to the Arc de Triomphe but then there was a gap, before the entourage was seen continuing on down Avenue Victor Hugo. The film had been extensively edited – but it was good enough.

“This film is taken
tomorrow
by the German army photographer,” Angus whispered, “as Hitler tours Paris… so…”

Jack finished his sentence, “…there is nothing in there showing any kind of trouble. So either it never happens, or…”

“Or what?”

“It did happen but the Germans caught whoever did it and quietly erased the footage from history – along with everyone involved.”

“You mean… like… they might erase us.”

Suddenly, they were interrupted.

“What are you doing, boys?”

Jack jumped. They had been so engrossed that they had not heard Sophie come up behind them. Jack fumbled with the iPhone but was not quick enough to put it away.

“What’s that?” Sophie asked, staring at the device.

“Oh, nothing, pilot stuff…”

“What? Show me.”

“It’s nothing, really…” Jack said anxiously.

But Sophie was insistent. “Come on – show me.”

Angus said the first thing that came into his head, “Special thing you get in the RAF. Er, also plays music. Check this out. You put these plugs in your ears. It’s cool.” He snatched the phone from Jack’s hand and offered the earplugs to Sophie.