V for Vengeance (3 page)

Kissing him swiftly she stood up. Without bothering to get her hat she went on to the landing and ran downstairs.

The nearest call-box was round the corner about two hundred yards away. The street was quite deserted, as upon this grim evening of the occupation the citizens of Paris who had remained had locked their doors and were gathered gloomily within their own homes, lest by their very presence in the streets they should seem to be paying homage to their conquerors.

Georges' Uncle Luc was the Mayor of Batignolles, and Madeleine wondered if at this time of emergency he would be at the Town Hall; but she decided first to try his own home. The telephone was still working, although on a restricted service; it was over twenty minutes before she could get through. When she did it was Uncle Luc's house-keeper who answered, and the poor woman was in a great state of distress. A party of Germans had arrived at the house about a quarter of an hour before. They had spent some ten minutes
questioning
Monsieur le Maire
and had driven off, taking him with them. Madeleine thanked her, endeavoured to reassure her fears, and hanging up fled back down the street towards her own apartment.

When she reached it Georges was just coming out of the bathroom, his dark hair now smooth, his clothes brushed, and looking much more like his normal cheerful self than when he had first arrived.

Breathless from running up the stairs, Madeleine panted out her news, and Georges' face immediately became grave.

He was not greatly attached to his uncle and only rented a room in his house for convenience as a permanent place to keep his most cherished belongings and to sleep in on his occasional visits to Paris. There had, in fact, been a certain coldness between them for some time past, on account of a divergence of their political opinions.

‘I don't think the old boy will come to any harm,' he said after a moment, ‘because he's a member of the
Croix de Fer
, and the Nazis are sure to endeavour to establish good relations with our Fascists, as they're the most likely people to give them the co-operation they will need to keep order in Paris. It's a possibility that they're pulling in all the mayors as a temporary measure, or to give them their instructions collectively. On the other hand, there's just a chance that the Nazis went to Batignolles in the hope of finding me there, and that they've taken Uncle Luc off to question him.'

‘He doesn't know that you're here, though,' said Madeleine, striving to reassure herself; ‘and even if he did he wouldn't give you away, would he?'

‘Not deliberately; but he has no idea that I work for the
Deuxième Bureau
, and the Germans wouldn't be fools enough to tell him that if they caught me they meant to kill me. They'll probably put up a plausible yarn about wanting to see me on some formality, and the old boy might fall for that. If so, he'd give them certain addresses where they might look for me; and this one among them. I'll have to throw overboard any idea of recovering my clothes and just drift round as I am until I can get others. In any case, it isn't safe for me to stay here any longer.'

Going up to him she put her arms round his neck and exclaimed: ‘Oh, my darling! I've seen you only for such a little time! But of course you must go if there's the least chance that they might come here—and go at once. At once!'

For a moment they remained embraced while he kissed her very tenderly; then she said: ‘You'll manage to let me hear from you, won't you? You must,
chéri.
I shall be half-crazy with anxiety.'

He nodded. ‘I'll do my best, but you mustn't worry if you don't hear for a few days.'

‘Perhaps, later on, I can help you in your work?'

‘I don't want to involve you in that. It will be dangerous.'

‘I don't care.'

His quick smile came again. ‘To hear you say that comforts me more than anything that anyone could say on this tragic day. It seems almost as though our poor France has been like a man afflicted with blindness who is stricken down by some brutal unseen enemy; yet, thank God, there are still some of her children who can see clearly. Those of us who can must never waver in our faith, and whatever the cost to ourselves fight on until France is once more free.'

‘I will fight with you, Georges,' she smiled up at him. ‘You know that, don't you? To the bitter end—if need be.'

He stooped his head and kissed her, then letting her go he moved towards the door.

‘Wait!' she called after him. ‘You said that you had very little money. I have some here. Wait, and I will get it.'

She had just remembered that, in addition to the nursing fees and a handsome present which Gregory had given her, she had the
mille
notes which he had thrust into her hands to ensure Kuporovitch a decent burial. Hurrying into her bedroom she got her bag, and she had no hesitation in taking the notes, as well as her own money, from it. In times like these the living were infinitely more important than the dead, and she felt too that Gregory himself would approve her action.

As she came back into the sitting-room she saw Georges' face intent with listening, and a second later she caught the
tread of heavy feet upon the stairs. Halted in her tracks, she stood there, grasping the banknotes in her hand, her mouth half-open. The door-bell rang.

Georges swiftly waved her away and drew an automatic from a holster that was strapped under his left armpit. The bell rang again; then a voice came:

‘Madeleine! Are you home? It is Luc Ferrière.'

With a gasp of relief she started forward to open the door, but Georges grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her back. In her relief at learning that it was his uncle she had forgotten that Uncle Luc had been taken from his house by the Germans and so might not be alone.

For a moment there was a deathly silence, then outside a gruff voice muttered something. The sound of shuffling steps came clearly, then a thud as a heavy boot crashed against the lock of the door; the wood splintered, and it flew wide open.

A group of black-uniformed German S.S. men stood there; with them was Uncle Luc. One of the men pushed him inside, and the rest made to follow.

‘Stand back!' shouted Georges. ‘Stand back, or I fire!'

Uncle Luc was a tall, fair man with a narrow head; he wore a bowler hat and pince-nez. He waved his hands vaguely in protest.

‘Georges, my boy: please do not do anything foolish. Put away that gun. It is not permitted for French citizens to carry arms any more in Paris; but do not be afraid. The officer here and his men only wish to question you.'

The blood had drained from Madeleine's face. She, stared at the elderly mayor for a second. Suddenly she burst out:

‘You brought them here! How could you? How could you?'

He shrugged and waved his hands again. ‘
Ma chère
Madeleine, please do not excite yourself. There is no cause for that. They do not mean to do Georges any harm.'

‘Oh, how—how could you!' she repeated, choking on her words as her terrified glance took in the armed Germans grouped in the tiny hall and Georges standing tense with his pistol levelled. But the Mayor of Batignolles seemed to have no appreciation of the heinousness of his act, and replied quite calmly:

‘They called at my house in search of him, and they insisted that I should take them to various places where he might be. No one is more conscious than myself of the unpleasantness of such duties, but in my official position I had no option.'

‘So you've already gone over to the enemy,' Georges' voice held a bitter sneer. ‘I thought you would, but not quite so soon or so openly.'

‘My boy, you are overwrought by our misfortunes and have lost your sense of proportion.' Uncle Luc drew himself up and went on with unctuous pomposity: ‘We have defended our country to the best of our ability. That we have suffered defeat is no fault of ours, and it behoves us all now to cooperate with the invader for the sake of keeping order. We must accept our defeat with calm and dignity. Yes, calm and dignity—that must be our watchword in this tragic hour. Come, Georges, be sensible and put down that pistol.'

The German officer, a Schwartz Korps major, was standing just behind Luc Ferrière. He was a blue-chinned, knobbly-faced man, and in his hand he held an automatic, but he addressed Georges in stilted French politely and even in a friendly tone.

‘
Monsieur
, the advice which your uncle gives you is excellent. I beg of you not to make our duty more unpleasant than it need be. My orders are to bring you in for questioning. If you will come with us you will have nothing to fear. Put your weapon on the table behind you, please.'

Madeleine's heart was beating so fast that her breath came in little gasps. What would Georges do? He had said so definitely that if the Germans once caught him they would shoot him. Knowing that, would he surrender and allow himself to be taken away, or would he make a fight for his life here and now? If he did, how could she help him? The four S.S. men were all armed and one of them had a tommy-gun resting on his hip.

‘Come now,' said the major. ‘We waste time.'

Georges moved his pistol slightly to cover the man who held the tommy-gun, since the officer was partly protected by the fact that he was standing just behind Uncle Luc.

The major spoke again: ‘I do not wish to take harsh
measures, but I shall have to do so if you refuse to obey me.'

‘If you only want to question me you can do so here,' Georges said abruptly.

‘That will not do,' the officer signed to his men, and the fellow with the tommy-gun took a step forward.

‘Halt, or I fire!' cried Georges, and his voice now rang with menacing determination.

There was a moment of tense silence, then it was broken by Madame Lavallière's shrill tones as she cried from her bedroom:

‘What is it, Madeleine? What is happening out there?'

Instinctively they all looked towards her bedroom door, and at that instant Madeleine had an inspiration. From the kitchen window of the apartment the wire cables of a small goods lift ran down into a courtyard in the centre of the block. If Georges could only get to the window and climb out of it while she flung herself in the path of the Germans he might be able to swarm down the cables and get away before they could reach the window to shoot at him. She had no means of conveying her plan to Georges in detail, but he knew the geography of the apartment well, and she felt certain that a hint would be enough. Turning, she sprang forward, and grasping the handle of the kitchen door, flung it wide open.

Madame Lavallière's voice came again.

‘Madeleine! Madeleine! Why do you not come? What is going on out there?'

Her cries were half-drowned by an order shouted in German by the major. His men raised their weapons and came rushing forward. The tommy-gun began to spit fire and suddenly a deafening series of explosions shook the room.

Georges fired twice, hitting the man with the tommy-gun. He gave a stifled curse, stumbled and fell. Dodging round the table, Georges leapt backwards and reached the kitchen door. He had hardly done so when there was a second crash of shots, as the other S.S. men, firing over their fallen companions, let fly at him with their automatics.

The reports were deafening. Blue smoke eddied from the barrels of the guns, and for a moment Madeleine could see nothing clearly. Georges' pistol cracked again, but he had
now fallen back against the jamb of the door, and she knew that he was badly wounded. Slowly he slid to the floor, but his hand still gripped his gun, and he made one last effort to raise it.

Madeleine threw herself forward in a desperate attempt to cover him with her body, but Uncle Luc seized her and dragged her aside to prevent her being shot. As she strove to break free she swivelled round just in time to see the major level his pistol, pointing it downwards at the prostrate Georges. He fired at point-blank range, and where Georges' left eye had been a second before there appeared a ghastly black hole, from which a trickle of blood was running.

Madeleine gave a piercing scream and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Hours later that night Madeleine Lavallière knelt, dry-eyed and still stunned, at the foot of the bed in the narrow spare room of her apartment. On the bed Georges now lay rigid in death.

In the interval Luc Ferrière, shocked out of his stupid complacency, had roused the neighbours and with them performed the last rites for his nephew. A white sheet now covered the torn body and disfigured face; around the still form tall, tapering candles which burned with a steady flame were set, and a crucifix reposed upon its breast. In the living-room outside Madame Bonard and another woman were sitting up, but the distraught girl had refused their endeavours to persuade her to lie down. She had insisted that she must watch and pray through the night by her dead fiance's side.

At last, as the early dawn was creeping through the closed shutters to make the candlelight wan and pale, something stirred inside her. Great spasmodic sobs began to tear her breast, then tears brought relief to her over-burdened heart; but with tears of sorrow tears of bitter, burning anger were mingled, and as she prayed she now cried aloud:

‘Beasts! Murderers! Assassins! O God, give me the chance to avenge this wrong. Support me. Strengthen me so that I may never tire, until—until France shall be free of this pollution which—which Thou hast seen fit to inflict upon our soil.
No matter what becomes of me! But before I die let me have vengeance for this—this brutal death that my dear love has suffered. Vengeance I beg of Thee, O Lord! Vengeance! Vengeance! Vengeance!'

In the days that followed, Madeleine knew little of France's agony. Her own tragedy was so near, and her mind so numbed by the horror and shock of having seen her lover butchered before her eyes, that she hardly took in the bulletins which came, hour by hour, over the now German-controlled Paris radio.