Spook's Gold (30 page)

----

It was thirty minutes before the soldiers returned to the train and by the time that they were aboard and settled they were once again calling and joking with one another.

“Incredible,” muttered Lemele.

“What is?”

“That men can be so stupid. They have just seen that sight and they are going into the same battle and perhaps to an even worse fate, yet they joke and laugh as if it is some game. Are you men just stupid, or does testosterone and desire for war render you blind?”

“I think that the simple truth is that they are
scared
stupid. But they cannot show it and they cannot do anything about it. Like the majority of men in uniform, they do not believe in the point of war in general or this one in particular. But the system has power of life and death over them. This is to say, if those soldiers do what is truly logical and so refuse to go into battle, the only certainty is a firing squad. Therefore they do what they need to do to bolster up their bravado, to keep moving forward, whilst hoping and praying that they will be spared.”

Lemele looked into his eyes and saw that he was being open and honest with her. She relaxed, having been prepared for an argument. “As I told you, my father is a doctor and he served during the Great War. He saw first-hand the battles, the men going forward into machine guns. He never spoke much about it, but he said one thing that I remember; that on some days and some battles the injury rate was nearly a hundred percent. At least those going to the firing squad could be certain of a quick death.”

“My father also fought in that,” replied Marner. “He never spoke about it. Ever. No matter how many times people asked or cajoled him. Oddly though, he supported this war and the Nazi party. I wonder what he thinks now, with my brother dead and Berlin being bombed.”  He stared out of the window and into the distance. Lemele was simply too fatigued to reply and left him in peace with his thoughts.

----

Marner was startled when the train lurched to halt and jerked him awake. It was dark, and he could hear whistles and voices outside the train, also dogs barking. Where they at Caen?

“We’ve arrived at a station, a town called Evreux,” Lemele informed him. “It seems as though we might be stopping here. Look, the soldiers are getting out.”

The other officers with whom they had claimed possession of this carriage were also confused and when the guard strode past the door, one of them leapt up and called him back. “What’s going on?  How much longer until we reach Caen?”

“The train is stopping here for the night. We cannot continue due to the risk of running into damaged track. Night time is when they come out and blow up the track, sir.”

“So what do we do?” yelled the indignant officer.

“You can sleep on the train if you like, though it’ll be pulled out of the station and into the tunnel back there for protection. Or you can go and find a hotel, there are a few close to the station.”

The officer turned back to his fellow travellers and threw up his arms in exasperation, but there was nothing that they could say or do to change the situation. Whilst the others got down from the train and onto the platform, Marner hung back slightly, wanting to see if there were opportunities to get off the train without being seen. The platform that they were supposed to step out onto was guarded at each end by soldiers with dogs, and the platform on the opposite side of train was also patrolled. This left no possibility of jumping down from the other side of the train and melting away into the darkness of the rail yards. Cornered, they had no option but to follow the other passengers onto the platform and be funnelled with them out through the station hall.

They were both dismayed to see a group of SD officers blocking the exit through the main hall. The troop of soldiers who had been on the train was waved through in marching ranks with their officers. The individual travellers were held back until last on the platform, under the watchful eye of the soldiers with dogs, and then finally allowed through to the security check.

When it was their turn to present their papers, he was ready for the obvious questions: “What is your business and where is your travel pass or orders?”

“We have urgent orders to get to Caen. There was no time to wait for them to be typed up and so they are due to be waiting for us at Caen.”

“And her?” asked the officer, suspiciously eyeing Lemele’s police identity card.

“A translator. Even I do not know the exact nature of what she is required for, I am just required to deliver her to SD in Caen,” responded Marner, raising his eyebrows in a conspiratorial manner, as if to insinuate that it must be something very out of the ordinary.

“A translator, eh?” smirked the officer, eyeing Lemele up and down and nudging his companion to join in the joke, “Is that what we are calling them now?”

Marner stiffened and made to respond but was cut off by the icy voice of the officer, who continued speaking in German but spoke down to Lemele’s papers so that it was not obvious that he was addressing her, “So what exactly is it that you translate, mein fraulein?”

“Whatever I am told to,” she snapped in her perfect German. “I just go where my bureau sends me. I was instructed to go with this officer to Caen, so that’s where I am going. They have not told me what for, but that is not unusual. ‘Need to know’ is what I think you military people call it.”

The officer raised his eyes not to Lemele, but to Marner. “A real translator! Very good, Herr Lieutenant. I wish you a pleasant evening.”

Marner was on the verge of demanding an apology, since he had effectively been accused of being a liar by a subordinate rank. Just as he was about to open his mouth, however, Lemele stepped behind and past him and gave him a surreptitious but firm nudge in the back with her elbow. She was right; they were through and there was no point in pushing their luck, no sense in aggravating the officer sufficiently that he decided to look further into their lack of travel permits. Fuming, he took back their papers and followed her out into the still warm evening air beyond the station entrance.

Chapter Thirty

On the opposite side of the road were two hostelries. The windows were darkened by black-out curtains and they both noted the tape across the glass panes, a sight that was seldom seen now in central Paris where the quiet years of occupation had led to relaxation against such precautions. In front of the hotels all seemed perfectly normal and peaceable; the tables were full of soldiers, eating and drinking by lamp light. Fortunately, the large troop of soldiers who had been on their train were not stopping in the hotels; the tail end of their marching crocodile was disappearing into the gloom along the road, so presumably they were heading off to billeting somewhere in the town.

As they were about to cross the road, the owner of a horse and cart parked in the turning space in front of the station informed them that the hotels were full. He stepped away from where he was leaning against the side of the cart and approached. “They are always the first to fill up. They emptied out for a few days when the Panzers moved north, but now they are busy again with the number of military passing up and down the line. There are some guesthouses nearby that have spaces. I can take you to one of those if you like,” and with that he turned and went to lean against his cart again, without waiting for their response and seemingly uninterested in whether they accepted his offer or not.

“We need to eat,” called Marner. “Do you know of one that will provide food, or that is close to a restaurant?”

The man nodded affirmatively but proffered no details; he simply climbed onto the bench in front and sat waiting expectantly for them. They clambered up into the rear of the buggy and sat down on the hardwood benches. It took three increasingly hard flicks of the reins for the man to coax his tired old horse into motion. When finally it did, it seemed to them that they could have walked at a much faster pace and also have saved the poor horse the trouble. As they clanked onto the road, Marner asked about the Panzers that the man had mentioned. Their driver explained that there had been two divisions of them stationed in the town for months. The tanks and support equipment had been permanently loaded onto train carriages in sidings close to the station, ready to roll out to whichever part of the coast the invasion landed on.

“So you knew that there was going to be an invasion?” asked Lemele.

“It seemed to be an open secret. The Boche, err...sorry, the Germans knew it; they were building up their forces here for months. We had plenty of Allied planes flying over, so we were worried that they were going to bomb the station and area along the track. Lots of people living near the sidings where the Panzer trains were parked moved out of their houses, they were so scared. But in the end the trains moved off after the Allies landed and no attacks came. Mind you, we were pleased when they left because the soldiers were getting pretty bored, drinking and raising hell in the town.”

The cart moved slowly along an ascending road leading away from the station, running parallel to the track which was gradually falling away below them. After five hundred metres they turned right and crossed a bridge over the top of the track. Marner and Lemele both looked at each other in amazement when their driver reined the horse to a standstill after just fifty metres more and jumped down; they had reached their destination. They truly could have walked; from up here on this elevated position they could easily see the dark outline of the station roof just a short distance away.

Nothing indicated that this non-descript semi-detached house in a residential road was a guest-house, or even that anybody was inside behind the closed heavy drapes covering the windows. The driver walked up to the door, thumped on it twice and within seconds it opened to reveal a smiling homely woman, introduced as Madame Pinault, who beckoned them in. As they passed through the narrow front yard of weeds encircled by iron railings, the driver stood to one side with his cap in one hand and the other held palm up for payment. Marner had no clue what the rate was, so he handed over a couple of low denomination notes which the man pocketed without even looking at it. “Thank you Sir, Madame,” he bowed as they stepped inside and their host closed the door behind them.

Madame Pinault enquired without any sign of embarrassment as to whether they required one room or two. Lemele assured her that it was two single rooms that were needed and they were led up a creaking staircase to the third floor and assigned bedrooms on opposite sides of the landing, with a shared bathroom at the end of it. Marner’s room was far too chintzy for his taste but it was spotlessly clean. Whilst Lemele was shown the workings of the hot water system, of which he could hear the clanking and banging pipes from his room, he tested the bed and was engulfed in a mass of flowery quilted bedspread covering a lumpy mattress filled with exhausted springs.

With the tour completed they trooped back down the stairs to the kitchen. Madame Pinault explained that the dining room had been converted into a bedroom for her and Monsieur Pinault, so as to create the maximum number of bedrooms for guests. The kitchen was of a reasonable size enabling it to accommodate a large table and to double as the dining room. The evening meal was long finished, but for Marner and Lemele she was happy to provide supper as a special service.

No sooner had they seated themselves at the table than the identity of Monsieur Pinault was revealed; their buggy driver stepped in through the kitchen door from the rear yard, nodded good evening to them and hung his cap and jacket on the hook on the door. Marner and Lemele smiled whilst Monsieur and Madame went through their marital routine as if oblivious to their audience. Madame gave Monsieur a slap on the wrist and an admonition to wash his hands first as he reached to tear off some bread from a loaf. He complained about the fact that the horse had thrown a shoe and so he would need to go and see the blacksmith first thing in the morning. When he turned to offer his apologies that he would be unable to take them back to the station in the morning, Marner assured him that really, it would not be an inconvenience. Lemele stifled her giggles.

Supper was onion soup which for some reason also had some potato pieces swirling around in it, perhaps to make up for the lack of onion. The bread was well past its best but had been revived by a few minutes in the oven and some cheese melted over it. A slam from the front door and raised German voices indicated that other residents had returned for the evening and so Madame went to greet them. When she returned a minute later she took some visible satisfaction from the way that her guests had wolfed down the food and this seemed to inspire Monsieur Pinault, who produced a bottle of clear liquor from behind the curtain that was draped across the recess under the sink. He stated that this was ‘eau-de-vie’; Marner had no idea what it was but partook out of politeness, although Lemele declined. Whilst Marner tentatively sipped his, which turned out to be almost tasteless due to the high alcohol content, Monsieur Pinault drained his own in one swift gulp and reached to refill his glass. The bottle was deftly swiped away from his grasp by Madame and re-secreted in its hiding place.

Despite the contentment of the hosts and guests, there was no conversation other than the minimal required to navigate passing of plates and bowls back and forth. Following a polite pause after the eau-de-vie was consumed, Lemele let out a big yawn that was not entirely false and so they bade the Pinaults goodnight and made their way back up the creaking stairs and past the snoring doors. On the landing outside their opposing rooms they paused to look at each other and Lemele seemed on the verge of saying something, but settled instead for bidding him goodnight. Marner seemed unwilling to part, feeling that something extra needed to be said, but could not actually define why or what. So he simply stated that they should rise early and get back to the station to be sure to get a place on the first train leaving. She nodded, looked at him again and then stepped forward on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek whilst her hand squeezed his bicep, though this may have been for support. He stood stunned and frozen, not sure what to interpret from this and not wanting to make a blundering reciprocation. He sought desperately to make eye contact to give him some aid, but she turned smartly and disappeared into her room, leaving him standing there wondering what had really happened.