V for Vengeance (46 page)

Von Geisenheim took the papers and nodded. ‘You're absolutely right. As national states both Germany and Britain would cease to exist, and it's better even that one of us should emerge from this blood-bath intact than that both should perish utterly. I need hardly say how much I appreciate your having come to me. In any case, I should naturally
honour my word, so you will leave this building a free man. In addition, to give you a chance to get clear of any of these people with whom you may be involved, I shall not take any steps against them for some hours. You realise, of course, that should you be caught later I shall not be able to do anything for you, because you are very definitely an enemy agent; but, personally, I have the highest respect for you, and I hope very much that you will succeed in getting home safely.'

‘Thank you,
Herr General
,' said Gregory, as he stood up, and they shook hands. ‘Doubtless you have your ways of communicating with London, and Boodle's Club will find me when I am in England. If at any time you feel that the stalemate is going a bit too far, let me know, and I'll always take a chance on coming over to see you. We might be able to start the ball rolling for some form of peace by which Germany could save her face before the structure cracks.'

‘I don't think Germany is likely to crack,' von Geisenheim laughed; ‘but if at any time Britain feels like packing up on reasonable terms, and you care to let me know, I shall always be happy to provide you with a safe conduct to come and see me, wherever I may be.' He pressed a bell on his desk, and the orderly returned to take Gregory downstairs.

As Gregory left the Crillon he was extremely pleased with himself. Whether the huge bomb which he had slung under Hitler's bid for world power would have its desired effect it was still quite impossible to say, but he felt that he had planted it pretty skilfully and that his lies had been convincing. Actually, he was the last person in the world to desire any peace of compromise.

He had an unshakable conviction that this was our last chance to beat the Germans once and for all. Even for Hitler and the Nazis to go was not enough. The whole power of the German race ever to fight again in a big-scale war must be destroyed. Otherwise, within a few years of any patched-up peace the people of Britain would have fallen into their usual lethargy again; our armaments would be reduced once more almost to vanishing point, and when the Germans attacked us under some new warrior leader we would no longer be given that breathing-space to mobilise our man-power and resources
which had already saved us from annihilation in two World Wars.

The French were out now—for good and all. Whatever future alliance might be made, they could never again be relied on to hold the Germans for a number of months while we prepared for battle. Next time the Germans would go all out direct for Britain herself in the very first hour of the war, and we should not stand a dog's chance. Only by the utter destruction of the sources of power by which the German people might wage any future war could the people of Britain hope for any permanent security in the future.

Yet his line that the war had reached a deadlock, and that only a peace compromise could save both Britain and Germany from gradual exhaustion and finally disintegration, had been necessary. It was the only logical cover for a British agent betraying to a German General the fact that a conspiracy existed in France and elsewhere for the massacre of the German garrisons when they had been weakened by some great new undertaking.

At quarter past eight Gregory rejoined Kuporovitch at Maxim's, and as he sat down the Russian could see from his face that all had gone well.

Being an optimist by nature, Kuporovitch had ordered two portions of his second course—a saddle of hare—in the hope that Gregory might have time to join him in a quick meal before they left for the Professor's house. He had also ordered a bottle of champagne, and as they toasted each other they thought how fitting it was that they should dine in that famous restaurant, so expressive still of the old spirit of Paris, on this, as they hoped, their last night in the French capital.

They had no time to linger, so by twenty to nine they left the restaurant, and at nine o'clock they reached the secret rendezvous.

The big drawing-room at the back of the house was more crowded than they had ever seen it, as nearly sixty people were now gathered there. Both of them expected to find Madeleine and Pierre in the crush, but with increasing uneasiness while they searched they found after a few moments that the other two were not present. They had been due to arrive at eight o'clock, and it was now just after nine. That
they should be a whole hour late for such a vital appointment seemed absolutely inexplicable. Really anxious now, Kuporovitch sought out the Communist Deputy, Léon Baras, who was in charge of the whole party, to ask if he had seen their two missing friends or received any message from them.

Baras expressed great surprise. He said at once that they were not expected as they were not included in his party and had been ordered to make their own way out of Occupied France by one of the underground channels that morning.

‘I know,' interrupted Gregory hastily. ‘I'm afraid I'm responsible for altering those arrangements; but I had excellent reasons for doing so, and I felt certain that two additional members to such a large party would not make the slightest difference. I told them to ignore their previous orders and report here at eight o'clock.'

‘What could have happened to them, then?' said Baras, anxiously. ‘You can see for yourself that they are not here, and had any message arrived from them I should certainly have been informed of it.'

‘I'd better telephone at once,' muttered Kuporovitch. ‘At least we shall know then if they have been detained at Luc Ferrière's house for some unexplained reason.'

The three of them went into the small library and Kuporovitch grabbed up the telephone. When he was put through Luc Ferrière answered him. On Kuporovitch asking him if Madeleine and Pierre were there he replied:

‘No. They told me a little after seven o'clock that they were both going out and went upstairs to get their things on. I have not seen them since.'

Kuporovitch thanked him, hung up, and repeated what the Mayor had said.

Gregory heaved a sigh of relief. ‘At all events, the place has not been raided. But, dammit, they wouldn't take two hours to get across Paris. What the hell can have happened to them?'

‘They may have been involved in a street accident,' the ex-Deputy suggested. ‘And if they're not badly injured they'll arrive here later. Nearly everyone else has assembled, but there are still a few members to come in. It's arranged that we should start at ten o'clock, and I do not want to delay our
departure, but that gives your friends the best part of an hour's grace.'

They returned to the other room, where Baras mingled with his charges, making a fuss of several children who had been brought with their parents; but Gregory and Kuporovitch stood a little apart, now prey to the blackest forebodings. Even if Madeleine and Pierre had only been involved in a bus smash one or both might have been seriously injured; but there was nothing whatever they could do about it—only wait and hope.

Fifty minutes drifted by, but neither Pierre nor Madeleine appeared, and there was no message from them. At ten o'clock Léon Baras called for silence and addressed the assembly.

‘
Messieurs et Mesdames
, you know that tonight we strike a great blow for Freedom. Even I do not know as yet what form that blow will take. That is our Chief's secret; but as part of the plan it was necessary that we should abandon our work here, temporarily at least. Since there are too many of us to have any hope of getting over the border into Unoccupied France in one night, without arousing the suspicions of our enemies, it was decided that for the time being we should go into exile.

‘Many of you will wish to ask how, if such a large party could not get safely into the unoccupied territory, it is possible to transport them in reasonable safety right out of France. We owe the idea to the genius of our great Chief. It is simple and, I believe, quite practicable. As you are aware, largely through our own efforts the railway system has become increasingly more difficult and dangerous for our enemies to operate. In consequence, they are now transporting as much as they can of their heavier supplies by water. Each week big convoys of barges are made up in Paris with the munitions that our workers are forced to make under the tommy-guns of the German soldiers. These convoys go down the Seine and are then taken north along the coast, either to the ports of Belgium, Holland or Germany, where they can be more easily transported to their destinations.

‘One of the captains of a sea-going tug which tows these chains of barges is a trusted member of our organisation. For his next trip he has managed to arrange that all the members
of his crew should also be de Gaullists, and we have other friends among the wharf-hands who load the barges. Each tug takes a tow of five, and on this occasion only four of the barges with have been loaded with munitions. One of them has been left empty, except for a good supply of stores to feed you during your journey and a certain amount of rough-and-ready bedding. The trip will take a week, or perhaps longer, so I fear you will have to put up with a period of considerable discomfort, because once you are in the barge you must remain there and only come up for a breath of air at nights, until you are released.

‘Where you will be when that happens I cannot at present say, but I have good hopes that it will be among friends. I must ask you not to question me further upon our plans, but to act like the well-disciplined patriots that you are, and place your faith in myself, as your immediate leader, and in our great Chief, who has the safety of us all very near his heart.'

As he finished there was a little subdued applause, followed by an excited murmur of conversation, when the little groups of families and friends began to discuss these first particulars that they had been given of the manner in which they were to be smuggled out of France. It was no news to Gregory and Kuporovitch, as the originators of the coup which necessitated this whole evacuation. They had played a part in planning the escape with Lacroix and Ribaud, and neither of them had been looking forward to a week or ten days cooped up in the dark in the bottom of a barge, but it had seemed the only way in which such a number of people could be conveyed out of Paris on the same night without arousing suspicion.

At the present moment they were much too worried about Madeleine and Pierre to concern themselves with the dreary and uncomfortable days which lay ahead of them. Kuporovitch would not have minded going into this dark voluntary prison for a month if he had Madeleine beside him, but he could not even guess what had happened to her, and his heart was now heavy with an agonising fear.

Baras came shouldering his way through the crowd towards them and said: ‘I'm terribly sorry about our two friends, but
as they haven't turned up I'm afraid we really must go now.'

‘No, no!' Kuporovitch protested. ‘Give them a little longer. Even if there's been an accident it's unlikely that both of them would have been badly hurt, so the other will turn up to let us know what has happened.'

‘That's all very well,' the ex-Deputy replied, ‘but we must adhere to our time-table.'

‘You're quite all right for time,' Gregory said firmly. ‘You can afford to give them another half-hour anyway.'

‘Well, I'll wait until a quarter past,' Baras conceded reluctantly: ‘but if they're not here then we really must start.'

It was already five past ten, and the next ten minutes seemed to go terribly quickly. Then Baras came across to them and said: ‘I'm sorry, but time's up.'

Again Gregory remonstrated: ‘It's only a quarter past. As I said just now, you could well afford to give them till the half-hour.'

The ex-Deputy shook his head, but Kuporovitch jumped up on a chair and, calling for silence, addressed the crowd.

‘My friends! I appeal to you in a great difficulty! Madeleine Lavallière and Pierre Ponsardin, two of our stoutest-hearted comrades, who have been with us from the beginning, have failed to reach this rendezvous. They should have been here at eight o'clock, but we have telephoned their house, and we know that it was not raided. They were quite free when they left to come here. We can only suppose that a street accident must have delayed them. They may be injured or they may have been detained for questioning in connection with one; but in any case it is almost certain that one or both of them will get here as soon as they can. If we start without them they will never be able to find us. The night is still young; so will you not give them a little longer in the hope that they may yet be able to join us before we set out?'

Léon Baras' booming orator's voice rang out as that of the Russian ceased: ‘
Messieurs et Mesdames
, I am the leader of this party, and it is the order of our Chief that all here should obey me. I am as distressed as any of you can be at the non appearance of these two friends of ours, but I resent having my authority questioned. We were due to leave here at ten o'clock. I have already voluntarily delayed our departure on
this account for twenty minutes. As your leader I say that we cannot now delay any longer.'

‘One minute,' Gregory raised his voice. ‘None of us disputes the leadership of Monsieur Baras, but we are all free people here. We are fighters for Freedom. Again and again we have imperilled our lives in the cause of Freedom. Therefore I maintain that we have the right to decide the limitations of the authority which we are prepared to allow Monsieur Baras to exercise over us. I was partly responsible for making the plans for your escape, and I give you my word that by waiting here another twenty minutes or so you will not jeopardise it in the least. I cannot think that any of you would willingly leave Madeleine and Pierre, now homeless and without any refuge to which they may go in Paris, behind. Let's have a show of hands. Those in favour of leaving our friends in the lurch!'