He was certainly energetic. They visited Meadowbank in the Parish of St. Lawrence where for two years military engineers and slave workers had labored on tunnels designed to be an artillery depot. Now it was in process of being converted into a military hospital.
Afterward they saw the Russians in Defense Sector North and the strongpoints at Greve de Lecq, Plemont and Les Landes. It all took time. The field marshal seemed to want to look in every foxhole personally, visit every gun post.
He asked to see the war cemetery at St. Brelade and inspected the church while he was there. The Soldaten-heim, the Soldiers' Home, was just along the road in a requisitioned hotel overlooking the bay. He insisted on calling in there, much to the delight of the matron in charge, and discovered a proxy wedding taking place. It was a system devised by the Nazi government to take care of the fact that it was increasingly difficult for soldiers on active duty to get married in the normal way any longer, as they seldom got furloughs back home in Germany. The groom was a burly sergeant and a Red Cross nursing sister stood in for his bride, who was in Berlin.
It was very much a Nazi marriage, totally without any religious significance at all. The insistence on the lack of Jewish blood in either the bride or bridegroom was something Baum found especially ironic, but he toasted the sergeant's good health with a glass of schnapps and moved on.
By the time they reached St. Aubin it was evening, and most of the party were beginning to flag. Baum, examining the map Necker had provided, noticed the artillery positions on Mont de la Rocque and asked to be taken up there.
Martineau followed, still on the tail of the line of cars climbing the steep hill of the Mont until they came to a narrow turning that led out on top where there were a number of flat-roofed houses.
"A gun platoon only now, Field Marshal," Necker assured Baum as he got out.
The house at the very end with a courtyard behind a wall was called Septembertide. The one next to it had a French name, Hinguette. In its garden, a narrow entrance gave access to a series of underground bunkers and machine-gun posts which ran along the crest of the hill under the gardens. There were no civilians living in any of the houses, only troops, who were overwhelmed to have the Desert Fox in proximity to them, none more so than the commanding officer, a Captain Heider.
It transpired that his personal billet was Septembertide. When the field marshal expressed an interest in it, he eagerly led the way. They all trooped down into the garden. The views across the bay, St. Aubin on the right and St. Helier on the left, were breathtaking. The garden was edged with a low concrete wall, and the ground fell almost vertically down through trees and heavy undergrowth to the road far below.
Baum said, "You'd need the Alpine Corps to get up here, gentlemen." He looked up at the house. There was a large terrace in front of the sitting room and another above running the full length at bedroom level. "Nice." He turned to Heider. "I need somewhere to lay my head tonight. Will you lend it to me?"
Heider was beside himself with joy. "An honor, Herr Field Marshal. I can move into Hinguette for the night wi^h my second in command."
"I'm sure you can find us a decent cook among your men."
"No problem, Field Marshal."
Baum turned to Necker. "You see, my dear Necker, all taken care of. This will suit me very well indeed. Impregnable on this side and Captain Heider and his boys guarding the front. What more could one ask for?"
"It was hoped you might join us for dinner at the officers' club at Bagatelle," Necker said diffidently.
"Another time. It's been a long day and frankly, I'd welcome an early night. Call for me in the morning. Not too early. Let's say at ten, and we can do the other side of the island."
"At your orders, Heir Field Marshal."
They all went around to the front of the house where there was a general leavetaking. Heider took Baum and Hofer inside and showed them around. The living room was large and reasonably well furnished.
"It was like this when we moved in," Heider said. "If you'll excuse me, I'll get my things out of the bedroom. Field Marshal, then I'll arrange a cook."
He went upstairs. Baum turned to Hofer. "Did I do well?"
"Superb," Hofer said, "And this place is perfect. Just the right amount of isolation. You're a genius, Berger."
The evening meal had already started at de Ville Plac-e when Martineau got bark. He peered in at the window and saw Sarah sitting with Guido and half-a-dozen other naval officers at the table. He decided not to go in and, instead, went round to the back door and let himself into the kitchen. Helen was washing dishes at the sink and Gallagher was drying for her.
"How did things go?" the Irishman demanded.
"Well enough. Absolutely no problems, if that's what you mean."
"Did you see the great man?"
"As close as I am to you, but he made it clear the SS is not exactly his favorite organization."
Helen poured him a cup of tea, and Gallagher said, "We've been making decisions while youVe been away."
He told him how they'd decided to move Kelso. When he was finished, Martineau nodded. "That makes sense to me. We'll make it later though. Say around eleven."
"Should be safe enough then," Gallagher said.
Martineau went upstairs and lay on the bed of the room he shared with Sarah. Although they slept in the same bed he had not made love to her again since that first night. There was no particular reason. There just didn't seem to be the need. But no. He wasn't being honest. It wasn't Sarah, it was him, something inside, some old wound of the spirit that made him afraid to give himself fully. A morose fear that it would all prove to be just another disappointment or perhaps simply the fear that this strange, enchanting, tough young woman was forcing him back into the real world again. Bringing him back to life.
He lay on the bed smoking a cigarette, staring at the ceiling, strangely restless, thinking of Rommel and the energy of the man-and what a target he was. He got up and put on his belt with the bolstered PPK, then he opened his suitcase, found the Carswell silencer and put it in his pocket.
When he went downstairs, they were still eating in the great hall. He went back to the kitchen. Helen looked up in surprise. "You're going out again?"
"Things to do." He turned to Gallagher. "Tell Sarah I'll be back soon."
The Irishman frowned. "Are you all right? Is something wrong?"
"Not in the whole wide world," Martineau assured him. "I'll see you later," and he went out.
There was a half moon again and in its light, he saw the line of white houses high overhead on the ridge above the trees. He turned the Kubelwagen into La Haule Hill and parked in a track where it joined with Mont de la Rocque. For a while, he sat there thinking about it, and then he got out and started up through the trees.
It was nonsense, of course. Shoot Rommel and they'd have the island sewn up tight within an hour. Nowhere to go. On top of that they'd probably take hostages until the assassin gave himself up. They'd done that in other countries. No reason to think Jersey would be any different. But in spite of all reason and logic, the thought titillated, would not go away. He kept on climbing.
M.
Luller was working in his office at the Silvertide, faying to catch up on his paperwork when there was a knock on the door and Greiser looked in. "Working late tonight, Heir Captain." "The field marshal accounted for most of my time today, and he's likely to take up more tomorrow," Muller said. "IVe at least twelve ease reports to work through for court appearances next week. I thought I'd try to get rid of them tonight." He stretched and yawned. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"
"The phone call I booked to my brother in Stuttgart. IVe just been talking to him."
Muller was immediately interested. "What did he have to say about Vogel?"
"Well, he certainly never came across him at Gestapo Headquarters in Berlin. But he does point out that the SD are housed in a building at the other end of Prince Al-brechtstrasse. He simply wasn't familiar with who was who, except for the big noises like Heydrich before they murdered him and Walter Schellenberg. However, it was an open secret during his time in Berlin, that the Reichs-fuhrer uses mystery men like Vogel with special powers and so on. He says nobody was all that sure who they were."
"Which is exactly the point of the whole exercise," Muller observed.
"Anyway, he says people like that operate out of the SD unit attached to the Reichsfiihrer's office at the Reich Chancellery. As it happens, he knows someone on the staff there rather well."
"Who?"
"An SS auxiliary named Lotte Neumann. She was his mistress during his Berlin period. She's secretary to one of the Reichsfilhrer's aides."
"And he's going to speak to her?"
"He has a call booked through to Berlin in the morning. He'll get back to me as soon as he can. At least it will tell us just how important Vogel is. She's bound to know something about him."
"Excellent." Muller nodded. "Have you seen Will! tonight?"
"Yes," Greiser admitted reluctantly. "At the club. Then he insisted on going to a bar in some back street in St. Helier."
"He's drinking?" Greiser hesitated and Muller said, "Come on, man, tell me the worst."
"Yes, Herr Captain, heavily. I couldn't keep up. As you know I drink very little. I stayed with him for a while, but then he grew morose and angry as he does. He told me to clear off. Became rather violent."
"Damnation!" Muller sighed. "Nothing to be done now. He's probably ended up with some woman. You'd better get off to bed. I'll need you again in the morning. Ten o'clock at Septembertide."
"Very well, Herr Captain."
He went out, and Muller opened another file and picked up his pen.
Kleist was at that moment parking his car on a track on the edge of the de Ville estate very close to Gallagher's cottage. He was dangerously drunk, way beyond any consideration of common sense. He had half a bottle of schnapps with him. He took a pull at it, put it in his pocket, got out of the car and walked unsteadily along the track toward the cottage.
There was a chink of light at the drawn curtains covering one of the sitting room windows. He kicked on the front door vigorously. There was no response. He kicked again, then tried the handle and the door opened. He peered into the sitting room. There was an oil lamp on the table, the embers of a flre on the hearth, but no other sign of life. The kitchen was also empty.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Gallagher, where are you?"
There was no reply. He got the oil lamp and went upstairs to see for himself, but both bedrooms were empty. He descended the stairs again, slowly and with some difficulty, went into the sitting room and put the lamp on the table.
He turned it down, leaving the room in darkness except for a dull glow from the embers of the flre. He pulled back the curtain at the window and sat there in a wing chair, looking at the yard outside, clear in the moonlight. "Right, you bastard. YouVe got to come home sometime."
He took a Mauser from his right-hand pocket and sat there nursing it in his lap as he waited.
At Septembertide, Baum and Hofer had enjoyed a surprisingly excellent meal. Cold roast chicken, Jersey new potatoes and a salad, washed down with a bottle of excellent Sancerre provided by Captain Heider. The half moon gave a wonderful view of St. Aubin's Bay, and they went out onto the terrace to finish their wine.
After a while, the corporal who had cooked the meal appeared. "All is in order, Herr Major," he told Hofer, "the kitchen is clear again. IVe left coffee and milk on the side. Will there be anything else?"
"Not tonight," Hofer told him. "We'll have breakfast at nine sharp in the morning. Eggs, ham, anything you can lay your hands on. You can return to your billet now."
The corporal clicked his heels and withdrew. Baum said, "What a night."
"My dear Berger, what a day," Hofer told him. "The most remarkable of my life."
"And the second act still to come." Baum yawned.
"Speaking of tomorrow, I could do with some sleep," and he went back inside.
Hofer said, "You, of course, in deference to your superior rank, will take the large bedroom above this, which has its own bathroom. I'll take the small room at the end of the corridor. It overlooks the front of the house so I'll be more aware of what's going on there."
They went upstairs, Baum still carrying his glass of wine. "What time?" he said.
"If you're not already up I'll wake you at seven-thirty," Hofer told him.
"Rommel would be up at five, but one can take playacting too far." Baum smiled. He closed the outer door to the bedroom suite, walked through the dressing area into the bedroom itself. It was plainly furnished with two wardrobes, a dressing table and a double bed, presumably left by the owners from whom the house had been requisitioned. The corporal had drawn the curtains at the windows. They were large and heavy, made of red velvet and touched the floor. When he parted them, he found a steel and glass door, which he opened and stepped out onto the upper terrace.
