V for Vengeance (34 page)

Picking the clippings up, he glanced swiftly through them, and soon he saw that they were of various dates from papers issued in the past few months, but that each was concerned with General de Gaulle's activities. This struck him as strange, seeing that he was in a pro-Nazi household, so going over to the bed he loosened the woman's gag and said to her:

‘May I enquire,
Madame
, the reason for your interest in General de Gaulle?'

For the first time a spirit of fight showed in the woman's eyes, as she said: ‘I don't know who you are, and I suppose you're one of these Nazis; but all the same you might as well hear the truth for once. General de Gaulle is a great man, and he represents the real spirit of France, however much people like Monsieur Ferrière may kowtow to you. The time will come when the General will land here with the English, and you'll get much more than you bargained for.'

‘If those are your views,
Madame
,' said the Russian, ‘may one ask why you've continued to serve such a master as Monsieur Ferrière?'

She made an expressive grimace. ‘One must live,
Monsieur
, and beggars cannot be choosers. I have kept house for Monsieur Ferrière for twenty years, and where else would an old woman like myself find employment?'

Kuporovitch smiled down at her. ‘In that case, I can give you some consolation for the uncomfortable night that you are about to spend. I, too, am a de Gaullist, and while I must protect myself by leaving you tied up like this you may rest assured that it is only on account of the good work and that
Monsieur le Maire
is about to spend a much more uncomfortable night than yourself.'

‘Bless you, then!' she exclaimed, her lips twisting into a smile. ‘If that is so, anything that I may suffer is suffered willingly.'

‘Well done!' smiled Kuporovitch, and having replaced her light gag he patted her shoulder, switched out the lights and left the room.

Downstairs he installed himself in the Mayor's sitting-room, where, having switched off the light, he sat down in an armchair to wait.

There was now nothing else that he could do as the question of Madeleine's release lay on the knees of the gods, so he endeavoured to stifle his consuming anxiety as well as he could and pray that all would go well.

His dealings with the housekeeper had occupied about twenty minutes, and a further three-quarters of an hour dragged slowly by before he heard the sound which he had been so anxiously awaiting. The front door banged, and there were steps in the hall. Although he strained his ears to their utmost capacity he could not determine whether there were one or two sets of footsteps, and it required all his control to remain seated in the chair instead of rushing out to discover without the loss of an instant if Monsieur Ferrière had brought Madeleine back with him. The sound of voices raised his hopes. A moment later the light clicked on, and they both walked into the room to find him seated there with his pistol pointed at them.

Madeleine gave a cry of joy, while the Mayor gasped with amazement and consternation. ‘What—what is the meaning of this?' he stammered awkwardly.

‘Simply, my friend, that the time has come for me to reveal the little trap into which I led you,' beamed the Russian.

‘Do you mean that you are not—not …'

‘Exactly,' Kuporovitch purred, ‘I am not, as you thought, an agent of the Gestapo, I am on the
other
side, and I simply used you to get Mademoiselle Lavallière out of prison.'

The Mayor's long hands began to flutter in helpless consternation. ‘But—but, in that case, the most frightful things may happen to me. They made me prove my identity at the prison and take full responsibility for Madeleine. I signed the book for her. They will believe that I am a saboteur, who willingly entered into a plot to rescue one of their prisoners! Oh, what have you done! What have you done!'

‘Nothing—so far,' replied the amiable Russian, standing up; ‘except involve you in far less trouble than you rightly deserve. To-morrow morning—to-night perhaps—the Gestapo people, and a very angry Major Schaub, will come here to demand explanations. That is why we have no time to waste; but if you keep your head I don't think anything very serious will happen to you.'

The Mayor was wringing his hands and glancing fearfully from side to side as, pocketing his gun, Kuporovitch went on: ‘I am about to tie you up, so that when they arrive here they will find you bound and gagged. For appearances' sake, it would be better too if I employ a little violence so that it will seem to them that you put up as good a struggle as possible. Then, when they question you, all you'll have to do is to tell them the simple truth about how I tricked you into getting Mademoiselle Lavallière released and say that when you got back here I set upon you and rendered you powerless before you had any chance to call in the police.'

Even seconds were precious, as Major Schaub might even now be at the
Cherche-Midi
or in a car following Madeleine to the house, so without more ado Kuporovitch set about the unhappy Mayor.

Seizing him by the collar, he tore it away from its studs so that it gaped open at the neck. He then knocked off the Mayor's spectacles and gave the cringing man a light but well-aimed punch sufficient to provide him with a good black eye. Having pushed him on to the floor, he bound and gagged him far more tightly than he had the house-keeper, so that when he had done Ferrière resembled a trussed turkey,
with his wrists and ankles knotted up behind his back. Next Kuporovitch scattered the things off the desk and wrecked some of the lighter furniture with a few kicks, as though a violent struggle had taken place in the room. Then he grabbed Madeleine by the arm and hurried her out of the house.

On reaching the street they turned south-westward along the Rue Cardinet at a rapid pace, while Madeleine gave unstinted praise to the Russian for his splendid resource, and gasped out her intense relief at having been rescued before seeing the inside of a Gestapo torture chamber.

Kuporovitch who was in a high good humour, made light of the matter; but as they walked on towards the Bois de Boulogne, and he told her how he had managed to get the order for her release out of Major Schaub, he could not altogether conceal his anxiety about the future. They were now both hunted and homeless. It was a sure thing that by morning a description of them would have been circulated to all the hotels in Paris, so that they dared not put up at one of them for the night. It was early November, and even for the time of the year the weather was exceptionally cold; yet there seemed no alternative to spending a night in the open.

After thirty minutes' brisk walking they reached the Porte de Neuilly and entering the Bois penetrated some way into it until they found a bench in a secluded spot, where they sat down. For some time they continued to relate their recent experiences to one another in more detail and to speculate anxiously as to whether Lacroix and Gregory had got away and what had happened to the other residents of the nursing-home who had managed to evade capture.

Madeleine felt fairly certain Pierre was among these, as she had seen him dash upstairs on the first alarum, so it was unlikely that he had been killed later in the basement, and he was definitely not among the prisoners who had been taken to the
Sûreté
with her after the whole house had been searched. During the weeks that she had acted as matron at the home Pierre had been almost constantly in her company. He had served her well and faithfully, so that he was now something more than an old friend, and she had developed a genuine
affection for him, It comforted her a little to believe that he had probably evaded the clutches of the Gestapo for the moment; but the young artist was not a very practical or resourceful person, and it worried her considerably to think of him as a bewildered fugitive.

Kuporovitch reassured her as best he could, remarking lightly that they were in no better case themselves, and she then said something which warmed his heart as nothing else could have done:

‘Yes, Stefan dear; but he is alone, and we at least have each other.'

There were so many things that he would have liked to have replied, but he knew this was no moment to give free rein to his thoughts, and without doing that he could not think of anything adequate to say, so he sat there like a shy schoolboy, completely tongue-tied.

Madeleine also seemed to have no more to say, so they stayed silent for a while, until he found that she was begining to shiver. Standing up, he took off his overcoat and was about to drape it round her shoulders, but she protested quickly and would not let him.

For a few minutes they argued while he sought to persuade her, then she said between chattering teeth: ‘No, Stefan. The cold's awful enough as it is, and you'd be absolutely frozen without your overcoat; but I'll tell you what we'll do, if you like. If we cuddle up together we shall keep a little warmer; then we can have the coat on top of us and share it.'

As they lay down on the bench Kuporovitch was trembling, Madeleine thought it was the cold, but actually it was from the happiness of being able to take her in his arms. Having made themselves as comfortable as they could with the coat pulled well up round them, she rested her smooth cheek against his rough one, and they settled down for the night.

Kuporovitch knew that in the morning they would have to face all sorts of difficulties and perils, but he resolutely put the morning out of his mind. To-night was his, even if he never lived to see another. Had Heinrich Himmler appeared in person beside him and offered him a safe conduct out of France, together with the bed of the President in the Elysée Palace for that night, he would not have exchanged it for that
hard park bench with the fair face of the girl he loved so desperately pressed against his own. To-morrow was another day in which all his courage, strength and ingenuity would be exerted to keep her free from the malignant power of their enemies.

After a time Madeleine slept fitfully with her head pillowed on Kuporovitch's broad chest, but he did not sleep at all. He did not want to; every moment was far too precious for him to let it be lost even in drowsing, and during the long night he had ample opportunity to consider their situation from every possible angle. His musings at last produced a plan. Its very audacity gave him strong hopes that it might be successful; but the first and all-important step in it hung entirely upon the Gestapo's attitude to Luc Ferrière.

In the cold grey light of the November dawn Madeleine woke fully. After she had tidied herself as best she could they walked up and down to ease their cramped limbs and restore their circulation; but he said nothing of his project for the time being as he did not wish her to suffer too great a disappointment if it failed to materialise. Instead, he just told her that he had thought of a place where they might possibly remain hidden, but that he would not be able to find out for certain until about nine o'clock.

Her confidence in him was so strong that she did not even question him further, and having warmed themselves a little they sat down on a bench again until full daylight had come. They then left the Bois and, going out into the Boulevard Maillot, found a small eating-house where they were able to get a rough-and-ready, but satisfying, breakfast.

Until nine o'clock they took advantage of the steamy heat of the little place by remaining there on the excuse of reading through a paper. The news was mainly about the new Graeco-Italian war which had opened in the previous week,
and the Greeks seemed to be putting up an unexpectedly strong resistance. Army leave had been stopped in Turkey, as it was feared that the war might suddenly spread right through the Balkans. Little news was given of British activities, but in small paragraphs it was admitted that the R.A.F. had bombed Naples on October the 31st and Berlin the following night, so in spite of the Germans' oft-proclaimed wiping-out of the Royal Air Force it was evidently still very much in being.

Having discussed the news in guarded tones, Kuporovitch left Madeleine in the café and went along to a call-box, from which he rang up Luc Ferrière's house. To his great satisfaction the Mayor answered the telephone personally, and Kuporovitch, having made himself known, asked him how he had got on the previous night.

Ferrière was extremely sarcastic at this unexpected concern for him, but between bursts of abuse it emerged that the Gestapo had arrived shortly before midnight, and on untying the Mayor had accepted his story; which, after all, was the truth.

Stefan ignored the angry sarcasm and, speaking with the geniality of an old friend, said he was so glad to hear that everything was all right and was only sorry that he had had to put Monsieur Ferrière to so much inconvenience. He then rang off.

On returning to the café he told Madeleine that things promised well but they would be unable to take any further steps until the coming night, so they must devise some means for passing the day.

As it was Sunday Madeleine suggested that they should go to High Mass and give thanks for their miraculous preservation. Kuporovitch willingly agreed, and, considering it wisest to keep away from the centre of the city, where the Germans were always more numerous, they decided to make their devotions at the Church of St. Augustus, near the Gare Saint Lazare. On approaching the church they noticed the statue of Joan of Arc which stands before it, and it seemed almost as though they had been directed there, as an omen that the Patron Saint of France would give them her protection.

They lunched in a small restaurant behind the station and
planned to spend the afternoon in the Musée Cernuschi near by, as, although all the heating in the public buildings had been turned off, it would at least be warmer indoors than out. Many of the most valuable pieces in the great Paris museums had been evacuated for safe-keeping at the beginning of the war, and since the Occupation Hitler and his colleagues had openly stolen a number of others, removing them to Germany. But as one of the lesser known museums the Cernuschi had not yet been despoiled, and most of its treasures of Chinese and Japanese art were still on show; so they spent an interesting but rather tiring three hours in the galleries.