Gypsy (31 page)

The Sturmbannführer had come to the château to witness the conclusion of that nothing murder which had brought Jean-Louis and her together. But now, she asked as her plate was set before her, now what was to happen to them all?

‘Enjoy,' said Boemelburg, gruffly indicating the roast. ‘Try the sauce. You'll find it superb.'

Furious with them and with how things had gone, he had to ask himself what he was to make of these two? Von Schaumburg and von Srülpnagel were yelling their heads off about the dynamite and the cyanide capsules; Oberg, Head of the SS in France, was demanding an immediate end to things, as was Gestapo Mueller in Berlin. Everyone wanted the loot. Everyone was being greedy. He'd be the laughing stock of Paris and of Berlin if the débâcle continued and the Gypsy escaped.

‘One would have thought you would have left well enough alone and kept out of trouble,' he grumbled, referring to the murder.

‘But I
have
, Sturmbannführer,' replied Gabrielle earnestly. ‘Every night until five o'clock in the morning I sing for your troops. I do it out of loyalty and the goodness of my heart. They'll have missed me. Personally I hope they will not be too upset and that their morale will still be cheered on by my recordings.'

Verdammt
! how could she persist? ‘Don't tamper with me, Mademoiselle Arcuri. It's serious. You've been under surveillance for some time.'

What did he want from her? A full confession over dinner with her throwing up all over the place? ‘It wasn't right of your people to have bugged my dressing-room at the club.' They hadn't been following her, too, had they?

Sauce dribbled from his fork. ‘Wireless signals were being picked up repeatedly and not just by Gestapo Paris.'

‘
Pouf
!' exclaimed Suzanne-Cécilia. ‘
Quelle folie
, Sturmbannführer! They found nothing –
nothing
, you understand, and yet they still persist in accusing me? Why did they not ask of the comings and goings I and our gatekeeper have heard at night? Oh
bien sûr
, some do try to find a place to bed down. Are we to have thrown those poor unfortunates out at such an hour and in such terrible weather?'

‘Transients?' he asked, bemused.

‘
Exactement
!' she exclaimed, blood trickling from her broken lips as she cut into her venison. ‘Sometimes I have to remain in my surgery overnight. A zebra with bronchitis, a wart hog with appendicitis but is this a reason to accuse me of terrorism?' She used her napkin to staunch the bleeding.

‘Those transients …'

‘How were we to know they had a wireless set? Ah
maudit
, Sturmbannführer, please ask how many of your soldiers I have given conducted tours to? And then … why then …' She caught a breath. ‘Ask, please, would I
knowingly
have taken them into a place where there was a hidden wireless set?'

‘Would I have reported the theft of my car and the presence of those explosives had I been a terrorist?' asked Gabrielle earnestly. ‘The ones who stole my car must have been the same as had the wireless set.'

He ate in silence and he could see that they were worried they had offended him. He had to go carefully. Sympathies were running high, what with the constant attention of the press. Gabrielle Arcuri, particularly, had a tremendous following and not just here in Paris but all over the Axis world. Three women.
Verdammt
! what was he to do?

At least one of them had to be broken. That would then cause the other two to confess. With full confessions there could be no questions from von Schaumburg or any of the others. Short of this, the whole affair would have to be handled very carefully.
Sonderbehandlung
. Berlin would demand no less. An end to them.

He set his knife and fork down and took a sip of the Vouvray
demi-sec
that had been taken from the cellars of the Château Thériault not two weeks ago. ‘These days people are dropping out of sight all the time. Everyone questions where they've gone but no one dares to ask.'

He'd arrange it – was this what he was telling them? wondered Suzanne-Cécilia. Letting her anger get the better of her, she said bitterly, ‘Is it true what people say about Marguerite Vilmorin?'

More sauce was taken. Potato cakes were a side dish and he took another of these and some carrots and peas. ‘And what, precisely, do they say of that one?' he asked and there was a lifelessness in his voice which made her shudder.

‘That … that when presented with what they were about to do, she bared her breasts herself and that her interrogator then talked of philosophy and music while he burned her breasts and ribs and then her vertebrae with a red-hot poker and questioned her for hours. That … that he then served her real coffee which she could neither taste nor feel since he had also torn out all her fingernails.'

Boemelburg threw down his knife and fork. ‘
How dare you? Now either you co-operate or you go to Buchenwald where the axe will take that silly head of yours from your shoulders
!'

She ducked. She cringed. She blurted, ‘Forgive me. I … I'm so ashamed. The meal …'

‘
Quit being a
faux jeton,
madame! Use that brain of yours which is so capable
.'

He was going to kill her.

‘Now have a little wine. Drink it down and Georges, here, will refill your glass.'

Dear Jesus help them.

Boemelburg oversaw the Bickler Unit, a school which trained informers and infiltrators who then penetrated the Resistance. Tshaya? wondered Gabrielle. Had Henri Doucette sent her to such a school or had he simply put her to work, she needing no training in those arts whatsoever?

And what of Nana? she asked herself. Could Nana hold out long enough to say the right things? Everything depended on her doing so. Everything …

‘Now look, you two, I'm giving you both the opportunity to avoid such treatment,' said Boemelburg. ‘If we could trap the Gypsy perhaps things would be better for you.'

Berlin would be appeased – was this what he was saying? ‘Are you offering us a deal?' managed Gabrielle.

‘Betray the Gypsy and you will let us go free?' asked Suzanne-Cécilia. ‘But … but how could we possibly do such a thing when we do not even know him and have had no contact with him other than for me to be tied up in bed – yes,
bed
, Sturmbannführer – while he
boiled
dynamite the terrorists had given him?
The terrorists
!'

She burst into tears and, shoving her plate aside, put her head down on her arms and wept.

He was having none of it. ‘Think of your Marguerite Vilmorin if you wish. Think of baring your own breasts. Those robberies were all targeted, madame, and well beforehand. He had help. Your friends can be connected to at least two of the robberies. More, if persuaded.'

There was silence from him. He took up the carving knife and fork. He … ‘They did say something about a meeting-place, Sturmbannführer,' blurted Gabrielle. ‘Those terrorists who stole my car talked of it with De Vries. A place where gypsies used to camp. A ruin near a forest, I think, but it's all so hazy. I was terrified, you understand, and thought they were going to kill me.'

Tears streamed from her. Had he finally broken the two of them? ‘A ruin … A forest …' he said.

‘Near Paris, I think.'

‘And what of your friend, Nana Thélème? Would she know of this meeting-place?'

‘Tshaya would,' blurted Suzanne-Cécilia. ‘Ask her, why don't you? Perhaps
then
you will find what you're looking for!'

The stench of bitter almonds, of potassium cyanide, emanated from the corpse, from its folds and creases, its cavities especially. The skin was lividly pink and cold, the fingernails a midnight blue. ‘
I didn't poison him! I didn't
!'

The sound of Nana Thélème's shrieks reverberated about the swimming pool. Gripped by the back of her neck and by the hair – drenched repeatedly and still on her hands and knees at the side of the pool – she tried to hold herself away from that thing but Herr Max was too strong for her. Her lips touched Hans's chest. Her face was crammed into an armpit. ‘
You betrayed him
!' shrieked Engelmann. ‘
He kneiv you had betrayed him
!'

She vomited, jerked, coughed and panicked as he yanked her up to shove her head under water again.

Hermann cried out, ‘
Dead she's useless, damn you
!'

‘
You … you
…' The echoes rang as bubbles burst from her nostrils and mouth and her eyes began to widen again in terror.

Others helped. Others held her under too. ‘
She'll drown this time
,' cried St-Cyr. ‘
Idiot, why must you do this when she may not even be involved
?'

Held back, restrained and at gunpoint, all he and Hermann could do was to object. Suddenly her legs began to thrash, her arms to give those final spasms. Evacuating herself, the stench of this was mingled with that of the cyanide and the pool's chlorine. Yanked up and out, she tried to breathe but couldn't seem to and began to black out only to be hit hard on the back.

Vomiting water, choking, coughing, she lay in her swill, fighting desperately for air.

Engelmann screamed at her to tell him everything.

‘Herr Max …' began Louis only to see rage cloud the visitor's eyes as he flung the woman down to charge at him.

‘
Bastard
!' shrieked Kohler.

Ah
nom de Jésus-Christ
! Engelmann had torn a pistol from one of the SS. He was going to shoot Hermann …

‘Put that down.'

Jackboots came together at attention, here, there and all along and around the pool.

‘General, this is idiocy. That woman knows nothing,' seethed Kohler, straining at those who held him.

St-Cyr … St-Cyr and Kohler again. Must they always bring trouble? wondered von Schaumburg. ‘There are rumours, whispers, Herr Engelmann, that the city's drinking-water supplies are to be poisoned and if not those, then the food that is being rationed and that, also, of every officer under my command and that of the General von Stülpnagel.'

‘
General, this woman knows everything
!'

‘And you?' asked the Kommandant von Gross Paris icily. ‘What of yourself who let the Gypsy out of jail and who is still responsible for him?'

‘
Herr Himmler will hear of this
!'

‘He already has. Not fifteen minutes ago I spoke with the Führer.'

The greatcoat's shoulders and back betrayed none of von Schaumburg's advanced years. Taller, bigger even than Hermann, he looked at Engelmann with scorn. ‘
Gestapo
,' he said scathingly. ‘SS idiots. What did you think you were doing by releasing a man like that? Safe-cracking is a criminal offence and Paris is not your jurisdiction. Let these two handle it and then ask the questions of them if any are left.'

Himmler would be furious. A Prussian of the old school, a pious bachelor and hypocrite, von Schaumburg was still a power to be reckoned with, and through him, the High Command.

Engelmann wiped water from his face. Released, Louis reached Nana even as Kohler did, and together they helped her to a
chaise
.

Though it took her time to find her voice, and she was still in agony and very weak, she managed to say, ‘General, let me have some dry clothes. I will tell you everything.'

Coffee came with little white tablets Gabrielle and Suzanne-Cécilia thought at first were saccharin but then as Gestapo Boemelburg, still watching them, held his breath, they hesitated and thought the worst. Each of them set the tablet carefully aside with a spoon. They both said a faint, ‘
Merci
,' to Georges who had served them and turned to gaze emptily into the fire which threw its heat at them in the
grand salon
.

Georges thrust the poker more deeply into the coals. Georges tidied things. Boemelburg swirled cognac. A cigar was brought and lighted for him using the poker.

The veterinary surgeon shuddered at the sight of that thing. ‘Cigarettes?' asked Georges, his voice startling them both. The chanteuse quickly shook her head, the other one quavered, ‘No … No, I … I had to give them up due to the shortages and … and do not wish to start again.'

‘Why not be reasonable?' chided Boemelburg gregariously. ‘No one will ever hear of it, I assure you. Help me and, in turn, I will help you both. You have my word.'

How kind of him. ‘If we can, we will,' said Suzanne-Cécilia, setting her coffee aside untouched. ‘But you might as well consult the pages of
je suis partout
for their address. Neither of us know where the Gypsy and his woman are hiding.'

‘But … but Mademoiselle Arcuri said they could be holed up in some ruins, in a forest near Paris? A former encampment of the gypsies?'

Georges had not left the room. Georges stood with his back to the innermost wall, the ever-present but ‘unseen' butler.

An Alsatian, Gabrielle told herself. Somehow she found her voice. ‘
Je suis partout
publishes the whereabouts of those the authorities are looking for. That was all she meant, and you must know of it in any case.'

The brandy glass was lifted in signal. Georges immediately disappeared. Flames curled about the poker. Scales of iron were flaking from its cherry red surface. A cup rattled, a saucer fell, Suzanne-Cécilia crying out, ‘Ah no …' as it struck the carpet and bounced, but did not break.

‘Now listen, you two, my patience is gone,' said Boemelburg.

‘It is to be the poker now?' shrilled Suzanne-Cécilia in despair. ‘Is this what you want?'

She ripped open the front of her dress and pulled down the brassiere. Angrily Boemelburg shrieked at her to cover herself. ‘Don't be such an idiot! Just give me answers!'

Georges came back to say, ‘She was right, Sturmbannführer.'