Grey Wolves (26 page)

‘Do you think she had any clue what you were up to?’ Henderson asked.

‘No,’ Boo said. ‘I won’t tell you where we’ve moved to.’

Henderson nodded. ‘Absolutely not. We’ve got drop boxes, fall-backs and the safe house if there’s a real emergency.’

‘According to this morning’s signal,
Madeline II
’s making good progress. PT should be back at Porth Navas tomorrow.’

‘The latest load of equipment was well above expectations,’ Henderson said. ‘According to Luc, the biggest problem they’re having at Kerneval is finding where to hide everything. We’ve got explosives, mines, silenced pistols, plus money and plenty of chocolate and cigarettes to keep our friends happy.’

‘Will Luc stay with you like Marc did?’

‘No,’ Henderson said. ‘It might seem odd if I took another boy in, especially with Bauer keeping an eye on me. Madame Mercier has found him his own room a couple of doors from my place. Once Luc knows his way around I’ll arrange for him to collect Joel’s messages and drop them for Paul. The less direct contact I have with people at the moment, the better.’

‘I could use some money,’ Boo said.

‘No problem,’ Henderson said, as he drained his coffee and threw a few francs into his saucer. ‘I’ll give the OK to Joel. Rosie can collect a couple of thousand francs from the café at Kerneval tomorrow.’

‘And I suppose I’d better get home,’ Boo said. ‘Always good catching up.’

They exchanged a friendly kiss before walking off in opposite directions. If either Boo or Henderson was being tailed by the Germans, the meeting provided an opportunity for them to begin following the other party, so Henderson took unnecessary turns and doubled back a couple of times to ensure that he wasn’t being followed.

It was on the last of these diversions that Henderson spotted a black Mercedes convertible parked illegally on the pavement in a narrow alleyway. Oberst Bauer was taking a break, sitting in the front passenger seat, drinking milk, with a half-eaten peach and some Mamba Noir apple pie sitting on the glove box flap in front of him.

Henderson didn’t turn back because it would seem suspicious. He kept walking, passing less than two metres from Bauer, who remained cheerfully engrossed in the pie he’d been given for Marc. If Henderson had a gun he would have happily shot Bauer, but instead he quickened his pace and walked home, ashamed to find himself close to tears.

Before heading to his own rooms to get changed ready for his Saturday night shift, Henderson stopped by Luc’s place. The house was similar to the one where Henderson was staying, but the loft had been converted into living space and Luc had a cramped but well-furnished room under the eaves.

‘Looks like you’ve landed on your feet,’ Henderson said.

Luc eyed Henderson suspiciously. ‘Have you been crying?’

‘Spot of hay fever,’ Henderson lied. ‘Paul, Rosie and Boo all said to welcome you to France. Do you think you’ll be OK on the job tonight?’

‘I hang the tray round my neck and sell cigarettes,’ Luc said. ‘How hard can it be?’

‘It’s Saturday,’ Henderson said. ‘So expect to work hard and
always
be polite, even when some Nazi arsehole thinks it’s a big lark to strike his match off your trouser leg.’

‘Gotcha,’ Luc said. ‘I’ll start getting changed and I’ll meet you over there?’

‘Sounds about right,’ Henderson said. ‘But I’ve got another job for you. I’m more certain than ever that Bauer is lying to me about Marc. The only way we’ll know for sure is to take the bull by the horns.’

‘Getting something on Bauer?’ Luc asked.

Henderson nodded. ‘I need to know everything about him. In particular, where he lives and what he does when he’s off duty. Do you think you can manage that?’

‘I’ll figure something out,’ Luc said.

Henderson heard footsteps coming up behind as he turned the key in his front door. By the time he’d looked back, a burly lad with a scarf tied over his face had bundled him into the hallway. As Henderson slipped on polished floorboards and stumbled towards the staircase, the lad was followed inside by Edith and the pair who’d abducted her two hours earlier.

‘Mouth shut,’ the big lad ordered. ‘We’re just here to talk.’

One of the women who lived on the ground floor stuck her head out of her doorway. ‘What’s all this racket?’

‘Mind your business,’ the big lad shouted, before shutting the door in her face.

Henderson had ended up spread-eagled over the bottom of the stairs. He used the distraction to deliver a two-footed kick. As the bulky teenager doubled over clutching his guts, Henderson sprang up and gave him a two-handed punch to the back of the head, which left the lad sprawled out, unmasked and flat on his face.

As Henderson stepped around his body, ready to deal with the other pair, the girl pulled an ancient flintlock pistol out of a bag and pointed it at Henderson’s chest.

‘I’ll kill you,’ she shouted.

The girl was all nerves and, with their leader flat out on the floor, she had no clear idea what to do. It was the kind of situation where triggers get pulled for no good reason.

‘Easy,’ Henderson said, as he backed up to the stairs with his hands raised. ‘You be careful with that gun. I’m moving away, so why don’t you point it up at the ceiling? Then there won’t be any accidents.’

Down on the floorboards, the big fellow rolled over clutching his side. He was older than the other two, but still spawned teenage acne.

‘Help him up,’ the girl ordered.

The lad shook his head as he sat up. ‘Let me get my breath first.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Hortefeux,’ Edith shouted from down the hall. ‘They threatened to blind the horses.’

‘Shut
up
,’ the younger boy said, shoving Edith against the front door.

‘Edith, don’t worry,’ Henderson said, keeping a nervous eye on the gun still pointing at him from less than two metres. ‘Done is done. Now tell me what you people want?’

‘Up in your room,’ the big lad said, leaning on the wall as he found his feet. ‘We need to talk.’

Henderson led the way upstairs, with the girl holding the gun to his back and the others behind.

‘Edith,’ Henderson said, ‘knock on Madame LeBras’s door and apologise for the disturbance. Tell her everything is OK now.’

‘You’re not in charge,’ the girl said angrily.

Henderson stopped walking and looked back at her. ‘Do you want the old ladies to run out into the street and shout for a gendarme?’

The girl looked back and nodded to the younger boy. ‘Let her.’

Henderson stepped into his apartment, which soon felt cramped with five bodies inside.

‘Sit on the bed,’ the girl ordered.

The big lad peered into the bedroom to make sure nobody was in there, as the younger boy told Edith to sit at the table.

‘So, here we are,’ Henderson said. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘You got hold of the powder that Edith brought to the laundry,’ the big lad began. ‘And my people think your group was involved in the train explosions too.’

Henderson didn’t know how much Edith had given away. If they saw that the first answer he gave was a lie, he’d have problems getting them to believe anything he said afterwards, so he sidestepped the question.

‘And who are
your people
?’ he asked.

The big lad smiled. He was good-looking in a wholesome sort of way, but the zits ruined it. ‘I ask the questions, Mr Hortefeux.’

Again, Henderson avoided a direct answer. ‘I work behind the bar at Mamba Noir. A gentleman approached me about the matter.’

Henderson left this hanging in the air. When the big lad didn’t react violently to his fabrication, he elaborated.

‘He asked me if I knew of anyone who worked in the laundries. I told him that I didn’t, but I mentioned Edith because she takes the table linens from Mamba Noir to the laundry.’

‘I told you,’ Edith shouted. ‘Nobody knows anyone else. That’s how they keep secure.’

Henderson felt more confident as he sensed that Edith hadn’t given much away.

‘When do you see this man?’ the big lad asked forcefully.

‘Not any more,’ Henderson said. ‘Mamba Noir is no longer open to French people.’

‘Shit!’ the girl shouted. ‘He’s just a barman. It’s a dead end.’

‘Shut your mouth and let me think,’ the big lad told her, before turning back to Henderson. ‘You must have known this man well to have trusted him. Is there no way you’d be able to get back in touch?’

‘Why would you want to?’ Henderson asked.

‘Since the invasion of the Soviet Union it’s the duty of every member of the proletariat to assist in her righteous struggle against Hitler.’

Henderson smiled a little. ‘So you’re communists. Do you have a particular target in mind?’

The big lad thought he’d caught Henderson out. ‘Aren’t you a humble barman?’

‘I obviously have certain anti-German sympathies,’ Henderson said. ‘My job at Mamba Noir means I occasionally meet others who feel the same way.’

‘So you can contact these people?’

‘Not easily, but it’s possible,’ Henderson said. ‘People in our situation must fight the occupiers, not each other. Kidnapping little girls, waving guns around and threatening to kill horses! What kind of people are you? Why is this aggression even necessary?’

‘I didn’t threaten to kill the horse,’ the girl said angrily. ‘Just stab its eye.’

Edith rose up from her seat angrily. ‘Dot’s an old horse. If you blinded her, you’d as good as sentence her to death.’

‘Everyone needs to stay calm and keep their voices
down
,’ Henderson said firmly. ‘Why don’t we let Edith make us some coffee while we have a sensible discussion.’

‘Agreed,’ the big lad said, as he motioned for the girl to put the gun away.

‘Do you people have names?’ Henderson asked.

The lad shook his head, and sounded aggressive again. ‘You don’t need our names.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Henderson said, pleased that they were making some attempts at security even if it was half-arsed. ‘What is it you want, more of the itching powder?’

‘We want explosives,’ the younger lad said.

Henderson looked shocked. ‘That might be a lot harder.’

‘He knows more than he’s letting on,’ the girl blurted angrily.

Henderson sensed that his façade of lies about a mysterious man he’d met while working in the bar was crumbling, but kept the strain out of his voice.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘If you give me some details of what you want, I
may
be able to help. You say you want explosives, what for?’

The big lad gave the younger one a nod.

‘Quarantine,’ the younger lad began. ‘The night before any U-boat sails, the crews have to report to a new crew bunker inside the base at Keroman.’

Henderson had learned about this system from Joel. It had been implemented because several U-boats had missed departures after vital crew members turned up late or went AWOL.

‘One of our comrades knows the facility well.’

Henderson laughed. ‘You’d need truckloads of explosive to blow up a reinforced bunker. They’re designed to take a direct hit from RAF bombs.’

The big lad smiled. ‘We’re not talking about blowing up the bunker, just the men inside it. Our contact thinks we’ll be able to sneak into the secure compound and drop explosives through the ventilation shafts.’

Henderson found this concept fascinating, but couldn’t let on. ‘I see,’ he said coldly. ‘You’d need to know when the U-boats were sailing to inflict a decent number of casualties.’

The big lad nodded. ‘We’d pick a night when several boats were leaving port on one tide. Then you could kill the crew of several boats.’

‘We got talking to a young sailor when he was drunk,’ the younger lad said. ‘Apparently the Germans have got a few new U-boats up in the Baltic Sea, but training crews takes months. So if we blow up a boat, they’ll send another. But if we blow up men, training replacements will take months.’

‘I understand, but have you considered the consequences?’ Henderson asked. ‘If the crews of several U-boats were killed, you could expect revenge attacks on an unprecedented scale. The Krauts would execute hundreds – if not
thousands
– of people. Others would be rounded up and tortured. Women and children.’

The girl smiled. ‘Conflict and violence are inevitable in a capitalistic society. Long-term harmony will only be achieved after the communist revolution has reached every country on earth.’

Henderson resisted the urge to laugh, knowing that it wouldn’t go down well with the young communists.

‘Well, thank you for the lesson in political theory, young lady,’ he said. ‘But the reality is, if you kill that many Germans there
will
be savage reprisals. The local population will be terrorised, you’ll have no popular support, someone will snitch or break under interrogation and your people will end up being tortured to an agonising death in a Gestapo cell.’

‘Suddenly you’re an expert,’ the girl said.

‘Not really,’ Henderson said. ‘It’s common sense. I’m all for fighting the Germans, but there’s no point getting yourselves and a whole bunch of innocent people butchered, is there?’

‘So we just sit back and let Hitler take over the world?’ the girl asked.

‘What would you suggest we do?’ the big lad asked simultaneously.

‘First of all, take a step back and don’t rush into anything,’ Henderson said. ‘I’ll put out some feelers. I can probably get back in touch with the people who supplied the powder. They’re the real experts.’

‘How long will that take?’ the big lad asked.

‘Hard to be certain,’ Henderson said. ‘A few days, maybe a week. I’ll need a way of getting in touch with you.’

The girl shook her head. ‘You don’t need to know who we are. We’ll contact you, and if you’re lying to us, or messing us around, we
will
kill you.’

Henderson smiled as the younger lad opened the door. ‘I’ll consider myself suitably threatened.’

The girl led the trio of teenaged communists downstairs, just as the water boiled for the coffee.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Edith said, scared of how Henderson would react now they were alone. ‘I know Dot is only a horse, but—’