Death Ray (26 page)

Max and Amélie joined us. Loki drew his Colt revolver, hiding it beneath his coat. ‘I’m not going to let them take her,’ he snarled.

‘Are you armed, Max?’ I asked.

‘No, Finn. I thought it too dangerous.’

Without a word, Loki set off in Freya’s direction.
About
fifty yards separated him from the huddle of soldiers surrounding her. I ran after him. ‘This is suicide,’ I whispered.

‘I don’t care, Finn. We stand or fall together. That’s what we promised each other, and that’s how it will be.’

Catching us up, Max appeared again at my shoulder, standing tall and flexing his muscles. ‘I think I can take a couple on. Maybe if I can grab a gun or something. I’ll do my best.’

The odds were worse than four to one. We had only surprise on our side. I knew it wasn’t enough. I knew that we wouldn’t succeed. But Loki was right. We’d stand or fall together. I removed the safety catch on my welrod and set about choosing my target.

Amélie raced past us, turned and stood in Loki’s way. ‘
Non!
’

He tried pushing her to one side.

She threw her arms round him. ‘
Non! Arrête! Arrête! Arrête un instant. Reste là!
Stop! For God’s sake, stop!’

Max hesitated and grabbed my arm. ‘Maybe she’s right.’

‘A few more steps and we’re all dead,’ Amélie whispered. ‘
All dead!
Do you hear me? Put your guns away. Put them away.’

Loki tried to prise her off but her grip was tight. ‘Let go of me, Amélie,’ he snarled. ‘I have to try. I won’t let them take her.’

Sickening feelings of horror and helplessness welled up inside me as more soldiers arrived. A car appeared too, screeching to a halt beside the kerb. Its door swung
open
. Freya struggled, desperately trying to free herself. She swore, spat and kicked out at them. She wasn’t going without a fight. Her spirit was strong, her strength suddenly doubled. She broke free. A soldier swung his rifle at her, catching her full in the ribs. She fell like a stone.

Tears streamed down Amélie’s cheeks. ‘
Non
, Loki!’ she cried softly. ‘Walk away. We must walk away.’

SOMEHOW WE GOT
back to the cellar of the safe house in one piece. Max hurriedly began gathering up our various weapons and equipment. It was too dangerous to stay there. We had to find somewhere else to hide out. If, or rather
when
, Freya talked we’d undoubtedly be raided. Loki was inconsolable and alternated between bouts of angst-ridden fury and crushed, despairing sobs. Finally his fury won over all his other emotions and he took out his frustration on the crates that had served as our chairs. Most soon lay in pieces. As I paced back and forth, giving Max a helping hand with the packing, my brain buzzed with questions. Was it pure coincidence that the fat man had been in the rue de la Gare at precisely midday, exactly when Freya was due to transmit? No. It had to be more than a coincidence, I realized. Soldiers were waiting to pounce. The whole thing smacked of betrayal. Someone had been talking. Someone we trusted.

‘Probably Monsieur Truffaut,’ said Max when I asked for ideas. ‘After all, he was the leader of the Resistance. He knew all the contacts. And the location of the safe houses. Probably knew all about us coming too, and simply cracked under interrogation.’

It sounded plausible until Amélie threw a spanner in
the
works. ‘He may have betrayed some of the other partisans but not Odette. She only decided to use that particular safe house yesterday. And Monsieur Truffaut was arrested before we even arrived. So, no way could he have known her
sked
for contacting London.’ She peered at her watch. ‘Where is Jacques? It’s unlike him to miss a rendezvous.’ Biting her nails, she added, ‘I think he must’ve been arrested too.
Désastre!
’

Loki slumped down onto the earth floor and buried his head in his hands. Rubbing his cheeks until they were red, he asked, ‘Any idea where they’ll take her?’

‘Well,’ Amélie replied, ‘probably to the château. That’s where the SS and Gestapo are. That’s where they normally take people. There are large wine cellars beneath the building. Perfect for holding prisoners.’

Had there been any crates left to smash up I’d have happily kicked them into the middle of next week.

‘Christ, we’re in a mess! Freya’s arrested, Jacques is missing, our plan’s ruined, and Fritz has our wireless transmitter so we can’t even call London.’

Amélie looked up at me. ‘We have got another transmitter,’ she revealed. ‘It’s not as powerful but we have used it before.’

‘Where is it?’

‘It’s hidden in the woods not far from here along with the rest of our equipment. I suggest we go there as soon as it gets dark.’

Distant taps on the back door indicated we had a visitor. ‘
Jacques!
’ Amélie said hopefully, jumping to her
feet
, her face lighting up. Max reached for a pistol and together we made our way up the stairs.

Pierre could barely stand. His right arm was draped across the shoulders of a taller, older boy I recognized from earlier that day. He’d been the one who’d signalled to Pierre from the telephone kiosk. I assumed he was the fourth of the Truffaut brothers. I was right. His name was Alain. We helped them inside. Pierre’s jacket was soaked with blood. ‘Get him downstairs,’ Max ordered.

We managed to get Pierre down into the cellar. He was in great pain. Escaping from the church tower, he’d taken a bullet that had gone right through his left shoulder. While the others tried to get him comfortable, I sought out the first-aid kit we’d taken from the Heinkel. Popping open the lid, I fumbled with the syringes and small ampoules of morphine. ‘Any idea how much we should give him?’

Max seized the tin from me. ‘I’ll do it.’ Deftly he broke the top off one of the ampoules, filled a syringe and then stabbed the needle into Pierre’s thigh. It didn’t take long for Pierre’s pain to dull and for him to cease groaning. Tearing off his shirt, Amélie used some antiseptic to clean up the wound and then set about bandaging it.

‘He’s lost a lot of blood. I’ll do what I can but he needs a doctor.’

Only once Pierre had been left to sleep did we get properly acquainted with his brother, Alain.

‘What you did today in Rochefort was crazy!’ Amélie
spat
angrily. ‘Two of your brothers are dead, and the third is lying here. It was madness.’

Alain responded by looking at her coldly. In fact, I was struck by how icy his piercing pale-blue eyes were. I’d only ever seen eyes like his once before, many years ago on a hunting trip deep into the wilderness of my homeland. I was being watched by wolves lurking at the edge of a forest. I froze on seeing them. But it was their eyes that put the fear of God into me. They were eyes that wanted to kill.

‘
Œil pour œil
, Amélie,’ Alain hissed uncompromisingly.

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

Loki managed to translate. ‘An eye for an eye, Finn.’

‘Revenge for your father?’

Alain’s deadly gaze settled on me and he nodded. ‘It had to be done.’

Amélie swore at him. ‘You know what Jacques told you – no raids until our job here is complete. He told me everyone had given him their word.
Everyone
, including you.’

Alain pulled a face. ‘You are mistaken. The raid in Rochefort’s square had Jacques’ full agreement. Of course, although we were desperate to avenge our father, we did question the timing. Your brother said it needed to be done, that a tough message had to be sent. He encouraged us.’

‘You liar!’

Despite Amélie’s disbelief, I reckoned Alain had little to gain by lying. I believed him. And that was
troubling
. Their raid would lead to reprisals, to heightened security, just what we didn’t need. Why would Jacques encourage them to act now, at just the wrong moment?

Loki suddenly stood up and took a deep breath. ‘All right,’ he began. ‘The way I see it, we’ve got to try and rescue Freya. And quickly too, before the Gestapo break her. Otherwise she’ll meet the same fate as Alain’s father and we can forget all about Operation Death Ray. The Germans will know all about it and we’ll stand no chance.’

‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘But we’ve got to get ourselves organized and come up with a plan to get her out of the château. Any ideas?’

Unfortunately my question was met by silence. Then Max tentatively raised a hand. ‘Do we have anyone inside the château, anyone who might help us?’

‘There is one person,’ Alain declared.

‘Who?’

‘Monsieur Lefebvre, of course.’

To say Amélie was startled would be an understatement. ‘But he’s in Berlin,’ she shouted at him incredulously.

‘No he isn’t,’ Alain replied calmly. ‘Your father returned to Rochefort weeks ago. He’s working in the laboratories in the château.’ He frowned. ‘Surely you knew, Amélie?’

She sat down heavily on a blanket covering a bale of straw and shook her head. ‘
Non
. I don’t understand. Who told you?’

‘He’s been seen several times walking in the grounds of the château. I’m sure Jacques knows. It’s odd that he didn’t tell you.’

Bewildered, Amélie stared blankly into thin air. No one spoke for several minutes, during which the pieces began falling into place inside my head, like the puzzles I used to do back home on a rainy Sunday afternoon – joining up the dots with a pen to reveal a picture. There’d always be a point when, suddenly, enough dots had been linked that I could see what the final picture would look like. I’d reached that moment. The trouble was, it didn’t make sense. I ran through it all again.

Too many things had gone wrong – someone was talking. A traitor lurked in our midst and whoever it was knew a great deal. Then there was all that confusing stuff Nils had told me about ‘Freya detection’ – I couldn’t discount the possibility that Fritz knew we were heading for France. With so many partisans being rounded up, Operation Death Ray was crumbling before our eyes and our planned diversion seemed an impossible task. So much so Jacques was asking London for the whole operation to be put off. Pierre and Alain’s escapade was the last thing we needed, yet they’d undertaken it with Jacques’ blessing. Then there was the strange disappearance of Amélie’s mother, despite Jacques saying he’d visited her. Why had he lied? Their house had been empty for ages. And why hadn’t he told Amélie that their father was back from Berlin? Worst of all, there was Freya’s capture. I was damn sure Fritz had been tipped off that she’d be there. I was faced with a
horrible
fact: only a handful of people knew she’d be using that particular safe house, and that she’d be transmitting at midday. Discounting Loki and me, that left Max, Amélie and Jacques. The fact that Max was German ought to have been enough to place him at the top of my list of suspects. But he’d stood shoulder to shoulder with us as we walked down the rue de la Gare. He was willing to die trying to save Freya. So I doubted it was him. What about Amélie? No, I thought, she just seemed increasingly bewildered by each additional twist and turn of events.

Jacques? Where was Jacques? He was supposed to meet Freya at the safe house. But he didn’t.
Jacques!
I’d reached the same awful conclusion again. In my head it was simple: either Jacques had been captured and had talked, or he was a rotten egg. Had Freya’s capture been the only disaster, I’d have bet my life that Jacques had been arrested and interrogated. But it was all the other stuff that, when added into the equation, pointed to him being the traitor. Then I remembered something else. Jacques had met with Renard back in England. Had Renard turned him into a double agent, like he had Véronique? Was Jacques’ real mission to make sure Operation Death Ray failed? Although I’d convinced myself that I was right, there remained one thing I just couldn’t fathom –
why
? Why would Jacques betray us?

Wondering how best to express my thoughts, I decided there was no easy way. I began by outlining all that had gone wrong. Loki was first to grasp what I was saying.

‘Are you telling us you reckon Jacques is a double agent?’

Amélie shrieked. ‘That’s crazy! Jacques is no traitor.’

‘I’m afraid Loki’s right,’ I said. ‘Think about it, Amélie.’

‘That’s mad. I know Jacques better than anyone. He hates the Nazis. He’d never work for them. He’d never betray the Resistance, or anyone in Special Operations.’

‘You may not know him as well as you believe you do,’ I said. I began repeating the evidence for the prosecution.

‘
Ferme la! Ferme ton bec!
Shut up! Shut up!’ she shouted, covering her ears. Tears welled up and cascaded down her cheeks.

‘But what clinches it for me,’ I continued, ‘was that he never made it to the rue de la Gare today.’

Loki’s face darkened. ‘If you’re right about that, Finn, then he sent Freya into a death trap.’

All Amélie could do was shake her head in denial. She couldn’t find the words to defend her brother, or the innocent explanations needed to explain his odd behaviour. In the end she just broke down into jerking sobs that, like hiccups, just wouldn’t go away. Max took pity and tried comforting her. It was probably the worst moment of her life, not least because I think she knew it was all true.

Loki was seething. Grabbing my arm and dragging me aside, he whispered venomously into my ear, ‘If I ever see Jacques again, Finn,
I’m going to kill him
!’

WHILE WE CONTINUED
packing, Loki hunted for a scrap of paper and a pencil. He handed it to me.

‘What’s this for?’

‘Sending a message to London, Finn. As soon as we get to the woods. You’re better than the rest of us at coding and Morse. Max and I decided it’s best that you do it.’

Reluctantly I accepted the task. I wasn’t a patch on Freya but knew that Loki was even more fingers and thumbs than me. I sat down with him and Max and worked out what we wanted to say, keeping in mind that our message had to be kept brief. It was important to spend as little time as possible on air to minimize the chances of Fritz intercepting us. Eventually we agreed on the following: