Clandestine (44 page)

‘Sell that boart and get the money to her and those other
Banditen,
but how?'

‘We're working on it, but they've been using her, Kriminalrat, just as you and the colonel have been.'

‘She would have had no other choice but to obey,' said Hermann, reaching for Ludin's cigarettes and lighter only to have a hand laid on them.

‘Your weapon, Kohler, and yours.'

‘Not with what we have to do. You need us, Kriminalrat. She won't deal with anyone else and neither will those who are telling her what to do.'

But how
could
that girl have gone to such a public place and not have been spotted and arrested? wondered Ludin. Blonde, blue-eyed, a little taller than most, and very Aryan, attractive too, and fluent in the language.

Of course. That had to have been it. And as for these two, they had been constantly evasive, even to lying about those damned shoes. Rocheleau—hadn't that been the name of that rural policeman and didn't he now work for Mérode and this one to whose son she had given that dried herb?

‘Kriminalrat …' called out Hector Bolduc, hustling that former fiancée of his toward them, she resisting, her overcoat undone and hat askew. ‘
Ach
, but I'm glad to have found you. Jacqueline has something you need to know. The Jardin des Plantes …'

Scheisse!
thought Kohler. Now it was all going to come out.

But Kleiber followed, and wearing a black armband to honour those who had been lost at the tannery, didn't hesitate.

‘Kriminalrat, you're finished. Mistake after mistake, I tell you. The Reichssicherheitshauptamtchef is furious and is demanding your immediate recall, so I've taken the liberty of booking you onto the early morning Lufthansa. Here are the necessary papers.'

Out on the street, sitting in the Citroën he'd been allowed and enveloped in the darkness, Ludin said to himself, A student. The Left Bank, the Sorbonne, the boulevard Saint-Germain. Places she would know only too well, yet a uniform, a
Blitz
. No one would have thought to look for that, Kleiber least of all.

The storeroom to which they were shown was yet another Ali Baba's cave, felt Kohler, this one obviously also having had Hector Bolduc's help, for chagrin clouded the banker's expression, malicious delight that of the former mistress. But photos had been secretly taken of Annette-Mélanie Veroche, both when alone and not. Later they'd been deliberately burned, along with the Mademoiselle Lemaire's file on that girl, and Louis had made a point of telling Kleiber not only why that had happened but by whom and when.

Angrily tossing a fist, Bolduc said, ‘
Sacré nom de nom
, that was not how it was. Who am I to tell my bank's overseers what they can and cannot do? It was
they
who had those photos taken, not myself who has never even
looked
at any of them, but when Jacqueline heard of it, of course she wanted prints for her file on that girl. Tell them,
chérie
. You must.'

Be forceful and I'll take you back—was that it, eh? wondered Jacqueline. Yet if Hector could be convinced, would his having ‘begged' her to return not wipe away rejection's shame and cause Nicole Bordeaux and the others to admit they'd been wrong to have said such hateful things? Nicole who had bought that girl the dress, the shoes and had suggested time and again that what Annette-Mélanie really needed was
une sacrée bonne baise
. ‘Hector is absolutely correct. I did mention the snapshots, but we were in a hurry and he said he would look at them later but never did.'

Trust a woman scorned to have said it, thought Kohler. ‘And Hauptmann Reinecke and Leutnant Heiss have been recalled, I gather.'

‘And sent to Russia, I think,' said St-Cyr, ‘but as to my not having gone to the Jardin des Plantes to look for the source of that rosemary, I had had it in mind.'

‘But not now, Louis. You'd only tip them off. We'll have to leave it until after we've made the exchange and the dust has settled.'

‘What exchange?' asked Kleiber. ‘Surely you don't think I'm going to agree to …'

There had been no time to talk to Louis about it, but something would have to be said. ‘The boart for the cash in fivers.
Ach
, don't worry, Standartenführer. It can be done and will get you everything the
Sonderkommando
needs, including that girl.'

‘Let Rudy de Mérode and me take care of her,' said Lebeznikov. ‘We have the men and know the city far better even than those two.'

‘Later,' said Kleiber. ‘First, let's hear what Kohler has to say.'

‘Yes, let's,' said Rheal Lachance, ‘since it is through Munimin-Pimetex that such a purchase must be made.'

‘Reichsmarschall Göring will okay it,
mes amis
,' said Girandoux. ‘We'll telex him tonight and by 0700 hours tomorrow will have the necessary via the early-morning Lufthansa or an ME 109.'

The fivers, and one could have relied on Girandoux to have said it, thought Horst Lammers. ‘The Todt would still like to come in on it. Two organizations will lend weight.'

‘Oh for sure, we'll be only too glad to convey your interest,' said Lachance, ‘but will have to let the Reichsmarschall decide.'

Göring? Was Lachance crazy? wondered Kohler. If the Fat One couldn't get his hands on those black diamonds, no one else was going to. ‘Three medium-size suitcases, Standartenführer, each to be packed with fifteen thousand of the notes, and all with a little something else.'

‘What?'
demanded Kleiber.

Now for the crunch. ‘Didn't I hear somewhere that the Philips Works in Eindhoven had come up with a very small but powerful transmitter?'

‘One that's easily concealed,' said Kleiber, lifting a forefinger in pause. ‘Preset, I think, to something in the range of 3,000 to 4,000 kilocycles per second.
Ach
, I like it, Kohler. Wherever those suitcases are taken, the locations can be pinpointed by our wireless tracking vans.'

And just like clandestine wireless sets, thought St-Cyr. To give Hermann his due, he had tried, but this … How could they possibly work for and with the enemy yet ensure that Anna-Marie and others of her
équipe
weren't arrested? ‘Surely those suitcases will have to be opened and the cash payment examined before the boart is handed over, Hermann?'

‘
Ach
, don't argue. The pitch is far too high for anyone to actually hear it. All three of the transmitters will be sounding away in unison and allowing the tracking vans to lock onto them right from the start. We do the exchange with no one else near, Colonel. Everyone to be held well back until I give the sign, since we don't want to scare them off. Just let that girl come in to hand over the boart and take the fivers, which will then nail down whatever safe house or houses they've been taken to, just as you've stated.'

Apart from broadcasting all of this to Lebeznikov of all people, and the others, Hermann had forgotten entirely about Heinrich Ludin who would be furious about having been so summarily dismissed. Then, too, there was the leader of that
équipe
and what
he
might think of such a scheme.

But Hermann wasn't quite finished.

‘With all that cash, Louis and me can't be expected to carry­ it around in the Citroën. We'll need one of your bank vans, Chairman Bolduc. You to drive it and that one—yes, you, Lebeznikov—to ride up front. That'll see that the cash gets to where the exchange is to be made and the boart then safely taken to the avenue Foch first and later to Munimin-Pimetex.'

Unfortunately Hermann had to be flying on those damned pills and wouldn't have listened anyway.

‘We'll do it toward the end of the day tomorrow,' said Kohler. ‘Let's say 1830 hours and still lots of light.'

‘And where?' asked Kleiber.

‘The Vaugirard horse abattoir. It's currently empty and is out of the way enough not to arouse suspicion and give lots of routes of escape if needed, which will ease her mind. She'll arrive, Louis and me will make the exchange, and when all of that's been done, you can then track those suitcases or move in with the troops. Better still, why not ride in the back of that bank van so as to be right near the action and judge things for yourself? You can then check the boart and either be the one who grabs or follows her.'

Lebeznikov could shoot Kohler and St-Cyr and put an end to them, thought Kleiber, the girl to be given a reinforced interrogation and then executed. A clean slate, just as the Reichssicherheitshauptamtchef­ had demanded, including every one of those
Banditen
who had been associated with her. More diamonds, though, than could ever have been imagined, Herr Frensel and Herr Uhl to return to the Reich with them, the Führer not just grateful.

A Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords for sure.

^*
Now the rue Léon-Maurice Nordmann.

^*
Boche coward, be cursed!

^*
Victor Hugo uses the area several times in the novel.

^*
The trigger element.

^*
Known at war's end as Operation Bernhard, more recently as the Bernhard Pounds.

^*
The siege lasted from 8 September 1941 until 14 January 1944, though Moscow didn't announce its relief until the 27 January.

^*
Predates the Musée de l'Homme, which has since been torn down and replaced by the Musée des Arts et Traditions Populaires.

12

The comings and goings at that
Lokal
on the boulevard Saint-Michel were clearly in view, Hermann having drawn the Citroën over to the side of the boulevard Saint-Germain not far to the west of its intersection with the other. It was Wednesday, 6 October, and they'd been on this investigation since the first of the month, yet it seemed a lifetime, felt St-Cyr. It was almost 1000 hours, and in but a moment he was going to have to do what that girl had asked, yet there was still this huge uncertainty over Giselle and Oona and it clouded everything. ‘Hermann, she will at
least
have tried to free them.'

‘Or been arrested. Had you even thought of that?'

‘Constantly.'

‘Just remember that if you
are
met, you tell her that she has to come alone and with that bike's trailer.'

‘
Ah mon Dieu
, but why?'

‘How else is she going to cart away three suitcases?'

‘You've thought of everything, have you?'

‘What I have in mind might just work.'

‘Yet you've not had the guts to fill me in on the details or even to discuss it!
Bonne chance, mon vieux
.
Bonne chance!
'

Having had but another terrible night in that house of Louis's mother's, they were both bitchy, felt Kohler, Louis out of the car before anything further could be said and quickly losing himself among the pedestrians, the foot-traffic the usual for this time of day and midweek. Students, too, of course. Lots of those on bikes and on foot, but mostly female, the boys either dodging the forced labour or having already gone into hiding. ‘But it's coming, isn't it?' he called out. ‘The end, eh, and they all look as if they can hardly wait.'

‘“Spring,”
n'est-ce pas
?' said an urgent female voice. ‘Floor it and pull over where suitable.'

Ach,
she had ducked into the car so quickly, he hadn't even heard her open the door. ‘Aren't you supposed to be meeting Louis?'

‘This is safer.'

Ramming the accelerator to the floor and leaning on the horn, he didn't say another thing, just headed straight to the Halle aux Vins which wasn't far and just off the rue de Jussieu, next to the Jardin des Plantes. The rue de Bordeaux was busy, that, too, of the Côte d'Or. Settling on the rue de Bourgonne, he found a quiet place, and turning in and out of sight of most, left the engine running and said, ‘Now tell me what the hell you meant.'

‘Something—I don't honestly know what—told me not to go in there, and when I saw him hurriedly leave the car, that same instinct told me not to call out, but to speak to yourself.'

Had Louis walked right into it? If so, how could he possibly be freed? ‘Did you manage Oona and Giselle?'

‘The shop Enchantement. Madame Van der Lynn said to tell you Muriel and Chantal would hide them.'

Giving but the deepest of sighs, Herr Kohler very quickly told her where and how the exchange would be made, and how very tight the timing would have to be. And when he said, ‘You've a trailer for that bike of yours. Be sure to use it,' she knew that he could only have seen it in those photos that had been destroyed.

He didn't ask where she was staying, simply said, ‘I'll drop you off at the Jussieu
métro
station. In that uniform you'll ride free and the sooner you vanish from this quartier, the better. Louis may need me.'

Fewer and fewer were in the
Lokal
, the increasing emptiness seeming only to focus attention on himself, felt St-Cyr. No one had come to tell him where to meet Anna-Marie. Believing they were meeting, Hermann would have gone on to the Porte de Versailles to connect with Werner Dillmann, but was that whole house of cards of his to now fall in on them?

Emptying his pipe—making sure no little fire remained—he tucked it away, and forcing himself to do so, decided to wait another two minutes. Had she seen that their meeting here was out of the question? Had she been arrested?

Cold, hard, heavy and well known but not his own, the muzzle of a Lebel Modèle d'ordonannce was pressed to the back of his head. ‘Hands flat on the table, Sergeant.'

‘Ah, Rocheleau, and here I thought you would be busy elsewhere, but if you're intending to cause trouble again, let me remind you of the consequences.'

The blow must be excruciating, felt Rocheleau, the suddenness of oblivion instant!

Blood poured from the
salaud
's head. ‘Was that hard enough, Inspector, or do you want another?'

Not being able to understand more than a few words of French, Ludin impatiently said in Deutsch, ‘Remove that pistol of his and hand it to me, then use his handcuffs.'

‘
Ah bon
, the bracelets. Those will teach him another lesson.'

Two
Blitzmädchen
had collected Kohler's women last night, Ludin now knew, the one with papers that had given her name as Annette-Marie Schellenburger. She'd been blonde, blue-eyed and younger than the twenty-eight those papers had stated, but beyond that it hadn't taken much to figure out where she might well be wearing that uniform and meeting with St-Cyr. Not only was there a
Blitzmädchenheim
on the rue Saint-Séverin and just off the boulevard Saint-Michel, there was a
Lokal
on the latter and not far from a
Soldatenheim
on the boulevard Saint-Germain, and with lots of students from the Sorbonne as a reminder. But he had needed help, and there really had been only one person he could have used.

‘Kriminalrat, this turtle will tell us everything. Just give me a few moments with him at Rudy de Mérode's.
Les joyeuses, n'est-ce pas
,
then the bathtub with iced water and he'll soon cough up the answers, if not, a few lessons with the rawhide to mark him like that partner of his.'

Virtually all of what had just been said made little sense. ‘Just clamp a handkerchief to his head and get him into the car. Kohler can't be intending to collect him. He'd have been on top of us by now, but we'll take no chances.'

Lying on a table in the
Lokal
, amid scattered cigarette ashes, saccharine and a wash of acorn water, were the bloodstains and a flat, almost full and forgotten bottle of Jägermeister.

Pocketing this last, Herr Kohler didn't hesitate. ‘And this Frenchman who hit him?' he demanded.

‘Owlish with black Bakelite specs, a broken, sticking-plaster covered nose, new suit, fedora, tie and topcoat, and relish at what he'd just done.'

One of the Wehrmacht's career losers, this unshaven, un-anything­ fifty-year-old ‘cook' was waiting for a handout. ‘Now tell me where they were taking him since that Kriminalrat was supposed to be on his way back to Berlin.'

While that was interesting, felt Karl Ludwig Hoefle, all he really could do was to give a shrug and then … ‘
Ach
, after I had helped the frog to get your partner into the backseat of that car, he scribbled something down and handed it to me. Now what the hell did I do with it?'

‘What?'

‘A scrap of paper with an address.
Ach
, he said that his wife was now working there and needed lessons, and that if I would give her “the works,” I was to tell the boss-madam he would pay for it.'

‘His wife?'

‘Évangéline.'

‘What house?'

Now this
was
far more interesting and haste was, of course, necessary but …

Peeling off a 500-franc note, Herr Kohler finally handed it over, and when told a 1,000-franc note would help, uncovered the answer. ‘My French isn't too good but I think it was the
Lupanar des garennes
.'

The brothel of the wild rabbits and one of the forty that were reserved for the Wehrmacht's rank and file but obviously also owned by none other than Rudy de Mérode.

‘Apparently the house is on the rue Vignon,' said Hoefle.

Known as Hookers' Alley, and just off
place
de la Madeleine and its boulevard, which all too soon became
place
des Capucines and home to a certain bank. Were things coming full circle? Heinrich Ludin wouldn't dare take Louis there and would have to find a place where no one would bother them, but could Louis hold out and stall them long enough to get what needed to be done before the search for him could begin? ‘Tell no one you've given me that address,
mein Freund
. Mention it to anyone and I'll find you.'

Another 500-franc note was handed over, but to seal such a bargain, a further 500 was found.

Louis would have to be taken somewhere, but where, since Ludin was now disobeying Kaltenbrunner's orders and that could only mean one thing.

Fumes were what had finally brought him round, felt St-Cyr. Gasoline fumes, not the voices he now heard, but he'd keep his eyes shut. The engine had been switched off, a side window rolled well down—the driver's side: Heinrich Ludin's. Rocheleau was the one who was rapidly talking and therefore still feeling his oats.

‘Kriminalrat, if you don't want to take him to Rudy's, let's find a quiet spot in the Bois de Vincennes.'

‘
Verfluchter Franzose, Sei still!
Kohler has to have gone somewhere.
Ach
, my gut! Has it burst?'

A moment of quiet was needed, flecks of dark blood perhaps seen on a hastily clutched handkerchief, Rocheleau irritably finding himself another cigarette but crying out when the match either broke or showered sparks into his face.

It was Ludin who again gasped and, doubtless signaling, said in Deutsch, ‘See if there's another bottle of that stuff, then check to see if you haven't killed him.'

Ah bon
, felt St-Cyr, the wrists had been linked in front, but
merde
the bracelets were far too tight. Danger that he was, Rocheleau continued to suck on that cigarette, disregarding entirely the fumes and that the prisoner's face was still crammed uncomfortably against what could only be a hastily filled jerry can of gasoline, apparently one of three or four.

Holding the cigarette well away from himself, his nervous fingers probed for a pulse, that hand being grasped and yanked hard, the head being butted by an already wounded one, Rocheleau yelling so hard his face hit the jerry can, blood erupting from his nose and lips, the cigarette having thankfully fallen to the road.

Slamming him down yet again, took care of him, but now a Walther P38 was threatening from the driver's seat.

‘Shove him out,' said Ludin, ‘and lock that door and the other one.'

Good riddance, was it? ‘No one will touch him, Kriminalrat, because of yourself and this car, but he does need medical and dental attention.'

‘Where the hell are we?'

‘Is it that you're wondering about all those blacks?'

‘Just tell me.'

‘Certainly. All are French citizens, the men veterans of that other war and many of those, the Chemin des Dames and the ruins at l'Abbaye de Vauclair, the absent younger males now prisoners of war in your country and/or enduring the forced labour. Quite by accident, you've turned south, and having crossed
place
de Jussieu and driven right past the back of Halle aux Vins and that also of the Jardin des Plantes, are on the rue Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire and all but at the entrance to the Turkish baths that are in the cellars of the Paris mosque.'

‘What's Kohler got in mind?'

‘Hermann? Believe me, if I knew I would gladly tell you.'

‘Where's the Bois de Vincennes?'

‘Make a left at the corner and I'll guide you.'

That Louis would be needing him was all too clear, felt Kohler, but it was already 1047 hours and the Porte de Versailles was still so busy there had to be another high-priority. Long lines of heavily laden farm wagons, gazo trucks and a few cars awaited entry, while over to the east and nearest the Parc des Expositions, cyclists and foot traffic were also being given the thorough. No one was going to get into or out of Paris, but had Kleiber grabbed that girl and called for a clamp-down or was it simply random?

Scanning the entrance, taking the time when such was no longer available, the cause of the trouble continued to elude him, but over to the west was a little something. Right in Werner Dillmann's territory was a faded red, 3.5-tonne Renault whose canvas tarp had been flung aside to reveal nothing but an apparent emptiness.

That broad, carefully combed moustache, the shrapnel scars, missing fingers, deceitfully wary blue eyes, and all the rest were the same, the look one also of knowing a little but wanting to know a lot more and expecting everything.

‘
Ach
, Hermann,
mein Lieber
, am I glad to see you. Corporals Mannstein, Weiss and Rath, take over. It's another of those controls. Like the power outages and the raids on the unlicensed brothels, they never tell us until it's too late, but where is that partner of yours?'

Had he heard something or was he just fishing? ‘Busy as usual and preparing for the pay-off at 1830 hours sharp and not a moment too early or late, understand?'

‘Of course, but is the Vaugirard horse abattoir still necessary?'

Now what the hell had happened? ‘Isn't it the most perfect of places?'

‘Most certainly, but the boys tell me there are others who are showing a decided interest in it, though those have yet to approach it too closely.'

Kleiber hadn't listened. Already he must be getting men into position, but the location couldn't be changed, not with Anna-Marie having been told of it. ‘Just remember the time. In and out, and faster than fast.'

A cigarette was necessary, and after three deep drags, handed over.
‘Dank,'
said Hermann whose gaze, it had to be admitted, had repeatedly flicked to that empty truck.