Cross of Fire (63 page)

'And.' he coaxed her when she was silent, 'you said you
were expecting your husband to arrive in Paris with an
army.'

'You newspaper men are wicked.' She gently slapped his
knee, let her hand linger. 'You asked me that question. I
hadn't answered.'

'And your answer?'

'He will come to Paris, of course. At the right moment.
When France is crying out for a strong man to save her.
And maybe an army will come with him - he inspires great loyalty and may not be able to prevent them following him.'

Which was a pretty damned devious approach, Tweed
thought as he went on scribbling. He could see now how
the coup could be justified. Her revelation had already made
his visit worthwhile. Immensely so. Her hand began to
wander. He clamped his own hand on hers. He was finding her the most dangerously attractive woman. He decided to face her
with it.

'Supposing your husband walked in and found us like
this now?'

'The door is locked.'

'You know what I mean.'

'Oh, Charles finds his amusement elsewhere. He has a
long-term mistress. English, as it happens. Then he has other
feminine sources of relaxation. Don't you ever relax?'

She had turned over her hand under his, entwining their
fingers together. She tugged gently to draw him closer.
Tweed asserted his considerable will power. He reminded
himself that de Forge was probably responsible for the
cold-blooded murder of his agent, Francis Carey, in Bordeaux. And was she just feeling playful - or did she see this
as a golden opportunity to spread de Forge's propaganda
across the Channel? He took a deep breath.

'If we don't continue this interview I could lose my job.'

'Fire away, Mr Prentice. Then we can relax later.'

'I have heard rumours of some kind of high-level club which is planning to take over France. Even a rumour that one of the club's members is a foreign armaments manufac
turer who is secretly supplying General de Forge with new
weapons.'

He had shaken her, but she was a clever woman. Her
reaction was unexpected. She stretched out her exposed leg
and laid it across his lap. He perched his notebook on the
leg, smiled, waited for her answer.

'I can't imagine where you heard such a melodramatic
idea. Of course, as you will have seen from the guests
outside, very influential people attend my salons. They
wish to keep up with the latest developments. Events are close to a climax.' She wiggled her leg. 'Talking about
climaxes...'

'Your weakness,' Tweed said brusquely, 'is you haven't any political support.'

'You think not!'

She removed her leg, jumped up. He had struck a nerve. Straightening her dress, she walked over to a wall mirror to
make sure she was decent. Then she beckoned to him as she
unlocked the door. Tweed followed her back into the salon.
Josette took his arm, used her other hand to point to a man
talking non-stop to a small brunette, chopping a hand up
and down to emphasize what he was saying.

'There,' Josette said, 'is your - our - political support.
Emile Dubois. Leader of the
Pour France
party. Thousands
flock to his banner every day.'

Tweed studied Dubois. Of medium build, running to fat, he would be in his fifties. He had a mass of shaggy hair, a straggly moustache above thick lips. With his dinner jacket
he wore an ordinary white tie which looked a trifle soiled. A thoroughly unsavoury-
looking character who reminded
Tweed of pictures he had seen of Pierre Laval, wartime
collaborator.

'You certainly have the big guns on your side.' Tweed
remarked, wishing to leave Josette in a satisfied frame of mind.

'And the big guns always win. Why don't you come to
see me tomorrow evening? I have no salon and will be
alone. Let me give you my card. Phone me to say when you
will arrive so I can be ready for you ...'

Josette opened the drawer of an escritoire standing by the wall. She took out an engraved card with a red rose
above the lettering. Her smile was inviting as she gave it to
him.

'My personal card, my private number. Given only to a
few.'

Tweed thanked her, said good-night and the flunkey brought his coat. As he left the building Tweed patted his
jacket pocket to check the small tape recorder was safe. He had been careful to collect that off the table before moving back into the salon.

'There is a taxi waiting across the road, Mr Prentice.' the flunkey advised him, ever-helpful now.

Prentice. It was the cover name Monica had chosen before having the card printed, and she had told Tweed's close friend, the editor of
Daily World,
that this was the name Tweed would be using. Inside the cab Tweed took out the tape recorder, looked at it and smiled to himself.

*

You think not!

Josette de Forge's voice came clearly out of the recorder
as Tweed stood up, switched it off, looked at Lasalle in
Navarre's office at the Ministry of the Interior. Navarre, who
had retained the portfolio of the ministry when he became
Prime Minister, was spending time in another building.
Lasalle had just listened to Josette's whole conversation with
Tweed.

'How did you manage it?' he asked. 'You said that she
switched off the recorder.'

'She thought she had. The Engine Room at Park Crescent
are ingenious. They structured it so the stop button starts it,
and the start button simply creates a whirring noise as
though the tape is running - when it isn't. When the tape is
really running it's completely silent.'

'But supposing she'd agreed to your using it and hadn't
stopped it?'

'I'd
have said it didn't sound right, fiddled with it, arid
operated a concealed lever which starts the tape running.'

'We could use a few of those ourselves. But the critical
result of your visit is her vague
reference to de Forge
arriving in Paris with an army. That is vital data. You have
heard that de Forge has been appointed temporary com
mander of the Third
Army?'

'No. Navarre approved that?'

'Didn't get the chance. General Masson announced the appointment publicly without reference to him. Navarre's only remedy would be to dismiss both his Army Chief of
Staff and General de Forge. That could provoke an uprising.
He can't do it.'

At that moment Navarre himself strode into the office
with a brisk step. His lean face was grim and determined.
Lasalle explained about Tweed's visit and Navarre asked to listen to the recording.

He sat behind his desk, quite relaxed. He stared at the
tape recorder, listening intently as it played back all Tweed's
conversation with Josette. As he switched it off Tweed made
his observation.

I'm very glad you retained the portfolio of the Ministry
of the Interior when you became Prime Minister.'

Navarre grinned. 'My trump card. Control of the DST,
the police, above all of the CRS, our paramilitary units. The
question is when to play that trump card. I need hard
evidence of de Forge's treachery.'

The phone rang, Navarre listened, handed it to Tweed.

'Robert Newman for you ...'

Chapter Forty-One

General de Forge was also up late, pacing his office at GHQ
as he listened to Major Lamy reporting the success of
Kalmar. Lamy found it disconcerting to have his chief
prowling round, often behind him as he spoke. It was a
psychological trick de Forge was fond of - to put a visitor at a disadvantage. He interrupted Lamy's flow of words.

'The bottom of your coat and your shoes are caked with
mud.'

'It's muddy in the countryside.'

'Even so, before you come to see me you should clean
up. You are expected to give an example of smartness at all times to any soldier who may see you.'

'My apologies. I was anxious to let you know what
Kalmar confirmed over the phone. Jean Burgoyne is dead.'

'One spy eliminated. And I'm considering developing the
present manoeuvres into Operation Marengo - the march
on Paris. After you've activated Operation Austerlitz - to throw Paris into chaos. And the cross of fire must appear
everywhere from now on.'

While talking another part of de Forge's mind considered
his conviction that there was a traitor at GHQ. Paris was
being fed information - the informant at the DST in the rue des Saussaies had confirmed this. It had to be a member of his inner circle. Lieutenant Berthier? Major Lamy himself?
He had to be detected quickly, liquidated. An essential
condition before he ordered Austerlitz and then Marengo.

'The cross of fire was used both in the Marseilles and Toulon riots.' Lamy assured him hastily. 'The newspapers will be full of pictures tomorrow. You wish me to set in motion Austerlitz?'

'Not just yet. Timing is everything in a successful cam
paign. You said Berthier phoned you, that he was sure he caught a glimpse of Paula Grey inside a car with two men
in Arcachon. She is Kalmar's next target. He must finish her
off within the next twenty-four hours.'

'That doesn't give Kalmar much time. He's a meticulous
planner.'

'Then he'll have to speed up his meticulous planning. I
am equally concerned with your contact with the mysterious
Manteau.'

'He phoned me, told me to put the two million Swiss
francs in a cloth bag, to deposit the bag behind an isolated
telephone box outside a village south of Bordeaux. I did so.
Then drove away.'

'But what else did he say?' de Forge asked over Lamy's
left shoulder.

The General was a devil, Lamy thought. How could he have guessed there was more?

'Manteau
told me I was to drive back towards GHQ for half an hour, then I could return. That if I felt inclined to
return earlier that was all right by him, but I'd be shot
through the head.'

Yes, de Forge ruminated, that sounded like typical
Man
teau
language. Not a bit like Kalmar.

'Anything else?' he rapped out.

'Yes. He said he'd deal with Paula Grey. And any
other people you needed extinguished. The very word he
used.'

Well, at least the payment should stop any further
attempts on his own life, de Forge decided. He felt relieved:
the bullet which had penetrated his limousine had come
rather too close for comfort.