He looked up at Helen. "Home Farm, de Ville Place," she said.
"Fair enough. Ill go and get the color of his eyes, hair and so on while you phone Pine Trees." He paused at the door. "Ill enter his occupation as fisherman. That way we can say it was a boating accident. And one more thing, George."
"What's that?" Hamilton asked as he lifted the phone.
"I'm going with you. We'll take him up in the van. No arguments. We must all hang together, or all hang separately." He smiled wryly and went out.
Pine Trees was an ugly house, obviously late Victorian in origin. At some time, the walls had been faced in cement which had cracked in many places, here and there, large pieces having flaked away altogether. Gallagher drove the van into the front courtyard, Hamilton sitting beside him. As they got out, the front door opened and Sister Maria Teresa came down the sloping concrete ramp to meet them. She wore a simple black habit, a small woman with calm eyes and not a wrinkle to be seen on her face though she was in her sixties.
"Dr. Hamilton." Her English was good, but with a pronounced French accent.
"This is General Gallagher. He manages de Ville Place where the patient is employed."
"We'll need a trolley," Gallagher said.
"There's one just inside the door."
He got it and brought it to the back of the van. He opened the doors, revealing Kelso lying on an old mattress, and they eased him out onto the trolley.
Sister Maria Teresa led the way inside, and as he pushed the trolley up the ramp, Gallagher whispered to Kelso, "Don't forget, keep your trap shut, and if you have to moan in pain, try not to sound American."
Hamilton stood in the operating theater examining the x-ray plates which young Sister Bernadette had brought in. "Three fractures," Sister Maria Teresa said. "Not good. He should be in hospital, Doctor, but I don't need to tell you that."
"All right, Sister. I'll tell you the truth," Hamilton said. "If he goes down to St. Helier they'll want to know how it happened. Our German friends insist on it. You know what sticklers for detail they are. Le Marquand was fishing illegally when the accident took place."
Gallagher cut in smoothly, "Which could earn him three months in jail."
"I see." She shook her head. "I wish I had a bed to offer, but we're quite full."
"Any Germans about?"
"Two of their girlfriends," she said calmly. "The usual thing. One of the army doctors handled that yesterday. Major Speer. Do you know him?"
"IVe worked with him on occasion at the hospital," Hamilton said. "I've known worse. Anyway, Sister, if you'd care to assist me, you and Sister Bernadette, we'll get started."
She eased him into a robe and he went to scrub up at the sink in the corner. As Sister Bernadette helped him on with rubber gloves, he said to Maria Teresa, "A short-term anesthetic only. Chloroform on the pad will do." He moved to the operating table and looked down at Kelso. "All right?"
Kelso, gritting his teeth, nodded and Hamilton said to Gallagher. "You'd better wait outside."
Gallagher turned to leave, and at that moment, the door opened and a German officer walked in.
"Ah, there you are, Sister," he said in French, then smiled and changed to English. "Professor Hamilton, you here?" "Major Speer," Hamilton said, gloved hands raised.
"IVe just looked in on my patients, Sister. Both are doing well."
Speer was a tall, handsome man with a good-humored, rather fleshy face. His greatcoat hung open, and Gallagher noticed an Iron Cross First Class on the left breast and the ribbon for the Russian Winter War. A man who had seen action.
"Anything interesting, Doctor?"
"Fractures of the tibia. An employee of General Gallagher here. Have you met?"
"No, but IVe heard of you many times, General." Spoor clicked his heels and saluted. "A pleasure." He moved to the x-rays and examined them. "Not good. Not good at all. Comminuted fracture of the tibia in three places."
"I know hospitalization and traction should be the norm," Hamilton said. "But a bed isn't available."
"Oh, I should think it perfectly acceptable to set the bones and then plaster." Speer smiled with great charm and took off his greatcoat. "But, Herr Professor, this is hardly your field. It would be a pleasure to take care of this small matter for you."
He was already taking a gown down from a peg on the wall and moved to the sink to scrub up. "If you insist," Hamilton said calmly. "There's little doubt this is more your sort of thing than mine."
A few minutes later, Speer was ready, leaning down to examine the leg. He looked up at Sister Maria Teresa. "Right, Sister, chloroform now, I think. Not too much and we'll work very quickly."
From the corner, Gallagher watched, fascinated.
Savary wasn't feeling too pleased with life as he walked along the cobbled streets of the walled city in Granville.
For one thing, the trip from Jersey In the fog had been lousy, and he was distinctly unhappy at the situation Gallagher had placed him in. He turned into a quiet square. Sophie's Bar was on the far side, a chink of light showing here and there through the shutters. He walked across, slowly and reluctantly, and went in.
Gerard Cresson sat in his wheelchair playing the piano, a small man with the white intense face of the invalid, black hair hanging almost to his shoulders. He'd broken his back in an accident on the docks two years before the war. "Would never walk again, not even with crutches.
There were a dozen or so customers scattered around the bar, some of them seamen whom Savary knew. Sophie sat on a high stool behind the marble counter, bottles ranged behind her against an ornate mirror, and read the local newspaper. She was in her late thirties, dark hair piled high on her head, black eyes, the face sallow like a gypsy's, the mouth wide and painted bright red. She had good breasts, the best Savary had ever seen. Not that it would have done any good. With a knife or a bottle she was dynamite, and there were men in Granville with scars to prove it.
"Ah, Robert, it's been a long time. How goes it?" "It could be worse, it could be better." As she poured him a cognac, he slipped the letter across. "What's this?" she demanded.
"Your friend Gallagher in Jersey uses me as a postman now. I don't know what's in it and I don't want to, but he expects an answer when I return. We sail tomorrow at noon. I'll be back." He swallowed his cognac and left.
She came round the counter and called to one of the customers, "Heh, Marcel, look after the bar for me."
She approached her husband who had stopped playing and was lighting a cigarette. "What was that all about?"
"Let's go in the back and find out."
She pulled his wheelchair from the piano, turned and pushed him along the bar to the sitting room at the rear. Gerard Cresson sat at the table and read Gallagher's letter, then pushed it across to her, face grave.
She read it quickly, then got a bottle of red wine and filled two glasses. "He's in a real mess this time, our friend the General."
"And then some."
Between them they had controlled the Resistance movement from Granville to Avranches and St. Malo for three years now. Gerard provided the organizing ability and Sophie was his good right arm. They were a very successful team. Had to be to have survived so long.
"You'll radio London?"
"Of course."
"What do you think?" she said. "Maybe they'll ask us to try to get this Yank out of Jersey."
"Difficult at the best of times," he said. "Not possible with the state he's in." He held out his glass for more wine. "Of course, there is a rather obvious solution. Much better for everyone in the circumstances, I should have thought."
"And what's that?"
"Send someone across to cut his throat."
There was silence between them. She said, "It's been a long war."
"Too long," he said. "Now take me to the storeroom and I'll radio London."
Major Speer turned from the sink, toweling his hands. Sister Bernadette was already mixing the plaster of Paris, and he crossed to the operating table and looked down at Kelso who was still unconscious.
"An excellent piece of work," George Hamilton said.
"Yes, I must say I'm rather pleased with it myself." Speer reached for his greatcoat. "I'm sure you can handle the rest. I'm already late for dinner at the officers' club. Don't forget to let me know how he progresses, Herr Professor. General." He saluted and went out.
Hamilton stood, looked down at Kelso, suddenly drained as he stripped off his gloves and gown. Kelso moaned a little as he started to come round and said softly, "Janet, I love you."
The American accent was unmistakable. Sister Berna-dette appeared not to have noticed, but the older woman glanced sharply at Hamilton and then at Gallagher.
"He seems to be coming around," Hamilton said lamely.
"So it would appear," she said. "Why don't you and General Gallagher go to my office. One of the nuns will get you some coffee. We have some of the real stuff thanks to Major Speer. Sister Bernadette and I will put the cast on for you."
"That's very kind of you, Sister."
The two men went out and along the corridor, past the kitchen where two nuns worked, to the office at the end. Hamilton sat behind the desk and Gallagher gave him one of his Gitanes and sat in the window seat.
"The moment he came through that door will stay with me forever," the Irishman said.
"As I told you, he's not a bad sort," Hamilton commented. "And a damn fine doctor."
"You think Kelso will be all right?"
"I don't see why not. We should be able to move him in an hour or so. We'll have to watch him closely for the next few days. The possibility of infection mustn't be discounted, but there were some ampules of this new wonder drug, penicillin, in that emergency kit from his life raft. I'll start him on that if he gets the wrong sort of reaction."
"Sister Maria Teresa-she knows things aren't what they seem."
"Yes, I feel rather bad about that," George Hamilton said. "As if I've used her. She won't tell, of course. It would be contrary to every belief she holds dear."
"She reminds me of my old aunt in Dublin when I was a lad," Gallagher said. "Incense, candles and the Holy Water."
"Do you still believe, Sean?" Hamilton asked.
"Not since the first of July, nineteen sixteen, on the Somme," Gallagher said. "I was attached to a Yorkshire Regiment, the Leeds Pals. The idiots at headquarters sent those lads over the top, packs on their backs, into heavy machine-gun fire. By noon, there were around forty or so survivors out of eight hundred. I decided then that if God existed, he was having a bad joke at my expense."
"I take your point," Hamilton said gravely.
Gallagher stood up. "I think I'll sample the night air for a while," and he opened the door and went out.
George Hamilton rested his head on his arms on the desk and yawned. It had been a long day. He closed his eyes and was asleep within a couple of minutes.
It was just after ten and Dougal Munro was still working away at his desk in his office at Baker Street when the door opened and Jack Carter limped in, his face grim. He placed a signal flimsy on the brigadier's desk. "Brace yourself, sir."
"What is this?" Munro demanded.
"Message just in from our Resistance contact in Gran-ville. That's in Normandy."
"I know where it is, for God's sake." Munro started to read and suddenly sat up straight. "I don't believe it."
Munro read the signal through again. "It couldn't be worse. There isn't a resistance movement in Jersey. No one to call on. I mean, this de Ville woman and the Gallagher man, how long can they manage, especially if he's ill? And how long can he get by on a small island like that? It doesn't bear thinking of, Jack."
For the first time since Carter had known him he sounded close to despair, uncertain which way to go. "You'll think of something, sir, you always do," Carter said gently.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Munro stood up and reached for his coat. "Now you'd better phone through to Hayes Lodge and get me an immediate appointment with General Eisenhower. Tell them I'm on my way."
Helen de Ville had been waiting anxiously for the sound of the van returning, and when it drove into the courtyard, at the side of de Ville Place, she ran out. As Gallagher and Hamilton got out of the van, she cried, "Is he all right?"
"Still doped up, but the leg's doing fine," Gallagher told her.
"There's no one in at the moment. They're either in Granville or at sea or at the officers' club, so let's get him upstairs."
