Paris: The Novel (148 page)

There was no question, the old man was very game.

“It’s funny how they call us the Maquis these days,” he remarked. “And
they say that’s the countryside down in the south of France. But the real Maquis is right here, where these boys and I come from.” He gave the Dalou boys a grin. “The Maquis up on the hill of Montmartre.”

For all the old man’s cheerful resilience, Max was still concerned that Thomas might be too slow. But he’d surprised Max by running down the street and back quite swiftly, and since Max hadn’t time to find more men, he’d said a prayer and retained Thomas where he was. Since his station was right beside the park, he should be able to vanish into the trees before any pursuers even reached that street.

Each of these men had a whistle that made a piercing sound. If they saw anything that looked like an ambush, they were to blow hard on their whistle, and vanish.

The Dalous and the other three men had also prepared some rather interesting distractions that might keep the enemy busy.

But all the same, Max was worried. There were several things about this business that he did not like. The short notice. The high risk—for he told Charlie that he thought there was a good chance they’d both be shot when they made the attack—and the complete uncertainty about how Müller would be guarded.

“If at the last moment Charlie and I see that the thing can’t be done,” he told the team, “then we stand down. You hear no shots, and you all vanish.”

One big question had been whether to make the attempt as Müller arrived at the theater, or when he left. Since it would still be broad daylight when he came, it was decided to try as he departed.

“He’ll probably come out before the rest of the audience. That means that we’ll be visible, but have a clear shot. If not, then we’ll just have to mingle with the crowd and take a shot if we can,” Max said to Charlie. “It’ll be more complex. Frankly,” he confessed, “if this were for a lesser target than Müller himself, I wouldn’t attempt it.”

Charlie carried a small pistol, Max a large Welrod with a silencer. Between them, they also had a Sten gun.

As the time of the theater opening approached, the audience began to gather on the cobbles among the trees. Gradually they filtered through the doors. There was no sign of any official presence until, just as the last of the audience went through the doors, a police truck rolled up and halted at the end of the cobbles. A dozen police got out, but remained
surveying the scene by the bus. A couple of minutes later, three cars drew swiftly into the street on the other side of the theater. Two Gestapo men got out of the first, another two from the last. The middle vehicle was a larger staff car. Three obviously high-ranking Gestapo officers stepped out. The general in the center was a dark-haired, middle-aged man with a clear-cut, rather sour-looking face.

“That certainly looks like Müller,” Max whispered. The first two Gestapo men swiftly entered the theater, presumably to make sure the way was clear. Then the others, moving in a posse with the general in the center, walked straight in through the doors. The police stayed where they were. After this, there was silence.

Charlie and Max waited over an hour. Charlie wondered if there would be an interval, but as nobody came out through the doors, he assumed not. Dusk fell. The policemen remained by their bus.

“There’s only one thing to do,” Max said. “You’ll have to open up on the police with the Sten gun. That’ll give me cover, and the noise will alert the others. Give me your pistol. I’ll make a dash for the general with that and the Welrod. If I get back, we leave as planned. If I go down, you leave alone. Don’t hang about.”

Another half hour passed. It was getting quite dark. They inched the door of the building just ajar and listened carefully for any whistle from the surrounding streets. There was nothing.

And then it all started to happen.

The first two Gestapo men appeared at the theater doors. Moving swiftly, they went over to the staff car while the driver leaped to open the door. The policemen gazed placidly from in front of their bus. The two Gestapo men looked around to make sure the streets were clear.

And then Müller and his two companions stepped out.

“Now,” said Max.

It happened so fast that the men in front of the theater hardly knew what hit them. Charlie raked the policemen with the Sten gun and the air filled with noise. He saw half a dozen of them go down. Others were trying to take cover and return his fire. They hardly even noticed Max, his hat pulled down over his face, sprinting toward the Gestapo general.

Before Charlie’s first burst of fire was completed, an uproar arose from the streets all around. There were shots, explosions, huge flashes. This was the Dalou boys and their friends putting on a show.

Both the police and the Gestapo men were totally distracted now. Max was face-to-face with Müller.

And then Müller screamed.

“We’re French. It’s a trap!” And his two companions were shouting as well. And Charlie saw Max stare at them and then swivel, bob his head down and double back toward him. As he came closer, Charlie saw one of the two Gestapo men still in the theater run around the theater door and take aim at Max, but he managed to bring the Sten gun around and got him with a short burst.

Then Max was crashing through the doorway, and Charlie smacked it shut and locked it behind him, and then both ran down the passage and out through the window at the back. And they kept running into the narrow alleyway, and got over a garden wall, and burst into the building beyond.

Max was panting as they reached the doorway that gave out into the street beyond. They looked out. There was nobody there except the small form of Thomas Gascon, at the edge of the trees, a hundred yards away, signaling to them that the coast was clear.

They had just caught up with him, and were running up the slope when they heard the sound of boots in the street behind them. Four or five police were on the roadway. They were taking aim. Charlie heard a rattle of fire, felt something thud into him. The next moment he felt Max pulling the Sten gun out of his hands. The Sten gun chattered into life. He heard a scream. Max’s arm was under his left arm, Thomas Gascon’s under his right. The old man was amazingly strong. He felt himself stumbling forward. Max glanced back.

“They won’t follow,” he said. “But within the hour, they’ll be searching house to house. We’ve got to get Charlie somewhere safe. Can you walk a bit, Charlie, if we help you?”

“I think so.”

“Well,” said Max to Thomas, “do you know a place we can hide around here?”

“Yes,” said Thomas, “I do.”

When Luc saw Thomas and his companions at his door, he was horrified.

“We’ve got to get him out of sight,” Thomas whispered.

“What do you mean?” Luc whispered back.

“You know.” Thomas turned to Max. “We’re going into the garden at the back.”

Luc seized Thomas by the arm and pulled him to one side.

“Are you insane?” he hissed urgently. “That’s my hiding place. That’s just for you and me.”

“It was a trap. He’s been shot. We have to hide him,” Thomas answered.

Luc moaned.

“You don’t understand. They’ll know my hiding place.”

“Not if we’re quick. We left them back at the bottom of the hill. They’ve hardly started searching yet. Open the back door, for God’s sake.”

“Oh, brother, you’ve just killed me,” Luc told him.

But Thomas took no further notice.

“We’ll need a lamp,” he said.

It was a long night. At about midnight, the police rapped on the door of the house. Luc, half asleep, opened the door. He seemed puzzled, and asked them what it was all about. They searched the house, went into the garden at the back, opened the shed. But Luc had done a good job. There was no sign of people hiding or of any disturbance to the place at all. After searching the other buildings nearby, the police abruptly left.

For Thomas and Max, alone with Charlie in the cave, the hours passed slowly. They hadn’t taken Charlie all the way down to the chamber at the end, but found a place around the first bend where there was enough room for him to lie comfortably. Some of the food supplies that Luc had stored were stacked just a few feet away.

Max had looked carefully at the wound in Charlie’s back. Charlie was shivering a little.

“Can we get a doctor?” Thomas asked.

“Difficult now. Maybe in the morning,” said Max.

“I just thought …”

“I was in the war in Spain,” said Max quietly. “I saw a lot of people get hit. Just trust me.”

A little after midnight, Charlie’s mind seemed to wander. He started
murmuring. He said the name of Louise. Then Esmé. Then he grew quiet. He was breathing with difficulty.

“Mon ami,”
said Max, “you know who I am?”

“Yes, Max,” said Charlie.

“We were betrayed tonight. Could it have been Corinne?”

“Never. She would never …”

“One can never be sure, Charlie. What if the Gestapo threatened her family?”

“She came from England. She’s no family here, except for her son, Esmé.”

“Where’s he?”

“Down in the country with his grandparents. The Germans think they’re Vichy.” He paused. “Max, I’d better tell you I’m his father.”

“Ah.” Max considered. “She wouldn’t betray the father of her son. No, I don’t believe that. But if she didn’t betray us deliberately, then she must have been used. Someone planted the information on her.” He nodded. “I have to warn her, Charlie. I’d better do it fast.”

“Yes. Don’t be seen.”

“I’ll take care. But remember, Charlie, Corinne’s your contact. We just get the messages at the safe house. You’ll have to tell me who she really is.”

“Madame Louise. She owns L’Invitation au Voyage.”

“Ah. I know of it, of course. It might have been one of her girls, then.”

“Perhaps … Or someone else.”

“Maybe I can find out if I talk to her.”

“Maybe. Can you protect her?”

“Yes, Charlie. I’ll protect her. I promise.”

“That’s important.”

“Don’t worry about a thing.” He gazed at the aristocrat. “How do you feel now?”

“Cold.”

“All right. Nothing to worry about.”

There was a long pause. Charlie looked strangely gray.

“Max.”

“Yes, Charlie.”

“Would you hold my hand.”

Max took it. A minute later, Charlie gave a shudder, and his head fell to one side. Then Max closed his eyes.

“Did you know he was dying?” Thomas asked, after a long pause.

“Yes.”

“Have you any idea who betrayed us?”

“Not yet,” said Max.

Thomas was thoughtful.