"Only at the cinema, sweetheart." He gave her a cigarette. "In real life everybody does it."
"We've got a problem," she said. "At one point when we were in the water I spoke to Guido in English."
"Good God!"
She put up a hand defensively. "It was pretty confusing out there to put it mildly. Anyway, he speaks good English himself. It seems he went to Winchester."
"Stop!" Martineau said. "It gets worse."
"Not really. After we were saved he told the officer commanding the ship that I only spoke French. And he knows about the Walther and kept quiet about that."
"You have been careless."
"He's no Fascist, Hany. He's an Italian aristocrat who doesn't give a damn about politics, stuck here because he happened to be in the wrong place when the Italian government capitulated."
"I see. So why should he go to all this trouble to lay himself on the line for you?"
"He likes me?"
"Likes you? He only met you last night."
"You know what these Latins are like."
She smiled mischievously and Martineau shook his head. "Nineteen they told me. More like a hundred and nineteen."
"Another thing, Harry, Guido's billeted on Aunt Helen at de Ville Place. Apparently a number of naval officers are. He was going to take me up there if you hadn't arrived."
"Perfect," Martineau said. "As for the other business, we'll tell him your mother was English. YouVe kept quiet about this during the Occupation years in case it caused you problems."
"Will he believe it?"
"I don't see why not. Are you going to be all right for clothes?"
"Yes. IVe got a coat, shoes, hat, everything I need in the large case. A good job it traveled with you on the E-boat."
They went up the companionway. Muller was standing on the bridge talking to Feldt and Orsini. Below, Kleist and Greiser were shepherding the French seamen ashore.
Martineau said to Orsini in French, "Anne-Marie tells me you are billeted in most congenial circumstances. Some country house called de Ville Place?"
"That's right, Colonel."
Martineau turned to Muller. "It sounds as if it would suit my needs exactly. Would there be any objection?"
Muller, eager to please, said, "None at all, Standarten-fiihrer. It has, by tradition, been allocated to officers of the
Kriegsmarine, but Mrs. de Ville, the owner, is seven or eight below her complement."
"That's settled then."
Orsini said, "I'll take you up there now, if you like. I have a car parked at the end of the pier."
"Good," Martineau said. "I suggest we get moving then."
They went down the gangway to the pier, and a Kriegsmarine rating, standing by the E-boat waiting, picked up the two suitcases and followed. Orsini and Sarah walked in front, Martineau followed with Muller at his side.
"Naturally once I'm settled in, I'll return to town to pay my respects to the military commandant. Colonel Heine, isn't it?"
"That's correct, Standartenfiihrer. I understand he's leaving for Guernsey first thing in the morning for a weekend meeting with General von Schmettow."
"I need to see him only to present my compliments," Martineau told him. "One thing 1 will need is a vehicle. A Kubelwagen would serve my purposes best in case I wish to use it over rough country."
The Kubelwagen was the German Army's equivalent of the jeep, a general purpose vehicle that would go virtually anywhere.
"No problem, Standartenfuhrer. I will also be happy to provide one of my men as a driver."
"Not necessary," Martineau said. "I prefer to do things for myself, Muller. I'll find my way about this little island of yours, believe me."
Muller said, "If I could have some idea of the purpose of your visit."
"I am here on special instruction from Beischfuhrer Himmler himself, countersigned by the Fiihrer. You have seen my orders," Martineau told him. "Are you querying them?"
"Certainly not."
"Good." They had reached Orsini's Morris sedan, and the sailor was stowing the suitcases. "When the time comes, you will be informed, if and when necessary. I'll possibly call in on you later today. Where are your headquarters?"
"Silvertide Hotel. Havre des Pas."
"I'll find it. In the meantime have the Kubelwagen delivered to me."
Sarah was already in the back, Orsini behind the wheel. Martineau got into the front passenger seat beside him and the Italian moved away.
As they drove along Victoria Avenue, the military railway tracks between them and the bay, Martineau wound down the window and lit one of the Gitanes he'd got from the Cressons. "You like it here?" he asked Orsini.
"There are worse places to wait out the end of a war. In the summer it's particularly beautiful."
Martineau said. "I believe there's a misunderstanding to be cleared up. Anne-Marie has a Breton father, but an English mother She felt it sensible to keep quiet about this in case it caused problems with the occupying powers. In fact it was one of my own people who first made the discovery, a happy one for me as it brought us together. Isn't that so, my love?"
"An intriguing story. Colonel," Orsini said. "You may rely on my discretion in the matter. The last thing I would wish to do is embarrass Mademoiselle Latour in any way."
"Good," Martineau said. "I felt sure you'd understand."
Back in his office at the Silvertide. Muller sat behind his desk thinking about things. After a while, he flipped the intercom. "Have Inspector Kleist and Sergeant Greiser come in."
He went to the window and looked out. The sky was clear now, suddenly blue, and the tide, still advancing, blanketed the rocks on the shore with white foam. The door opened and the two policemen entered.
"You wanted us, Herr Captain?" Kleist asked.
"Yes, Willi." Muller sat down, leaned back in his chair, lit a cigarette and blew smoke to the ceiling.
"What is it?" the Inspector asked.
"Remember old Dieckhoff, Chief of Detectives in Hamburg?"
"How could 1 forget him?"
"1 always recall his number-one rule when I was a young detective. Dieckhof'f's Law, he called it."
"That it doesn't matter how good an egg looks. If it smells, there's something wrong," Kleist said.
"Exactly." Muller nodded. "And this smells, Willi." He got up and paced around the room. "Nothing to do with evidence or appearance. Just every instinct I have as a detective tells me things aren't as they seem. I'd like to know more about Standartenfuhrer Vogel."
Kleist was obviously worried. "But, Herr Captain, his background is impeccable. You can't very well ring up Reichsfuhrer Himmler and ask him to nil you in on his personal envoy."
"No, of course not." Muller turned. "But there is another possibility. Your brother used to work at Gestapo headquarters at Prince Albrechtstrasse in Berlin, Ernst?"
"Peter? Yes, Herr Captain, but now he's at Stuttgart Headquarters. Criminal records," Greiser said.
"He must still have connections in Berlin. Book a call through to him Ask about Vogel. I want to know how important he is."
"Shall I telex? It would be quicker."
"I want a judicious inquiry, you fool," Muller told him wearily. "Not a public one."
"But I would remind you, sir, thai calls for Germany are routed, as you know, via Cherbourg and Paris. They've been taking fifteen or sixteen hours recently, even at priority level."
"Then book one now, Ernsl." The young man went out, and Muller said to Kleist, "See about a Kubelwagen. Have it delivered to de Ville Place. Let's keep him happy for the time being."
In the kitchen, Helen was rolling out the pastry made from potato flour when Gallagher came in. "Good, you can clean the fish for me," she said.
There were some plaice on the marble slab beside the sink. Gallagher took a knife from his pocket. The handle was of yellowing ivory. When he pressed one end, a razor-sharp double-edged blade sprang into view.
"You know 1 loathe that thing," she said.
"When my old grandfather. Harvey Le Brocq, was twelve he made his first trip in a schooner, all the way from Jersey to the Grand Banks off Newfoundland for cod. This knife was his father's gift to him. He left it to me in his will. Knives, guns-it's how they're used that's important, Helen."
"What do you want me to do, applaud?" she asked as he started to clean the fish. At that moment there was the sound of a car drawing up outside. "Probably Guido. I wonder what kind of a run they had?"
There were steps in the passageway, a knock on the door, and Guido came in carrying two suitcases. He put them down and straightened. "A good passage?" Helen asked.
"No, the Hugo was torpedoed. Savary missing, three crew members dead and four of my gun crew." Sarah stepped in through the door followed by Martineau, and Orsini carried on, "This is Anne-Marie Latour. She was a passenger on the Hugo. We were in the water together." He nodded to Martineau. "Standartenfiihrer Vogel."
Helen looked bewildered. "What can I do for you?"
"Put us up, Mrs. de Ville," Martineau spoke in English. "I'm in the island for a few days. We need quarters."
"Impossible," Helen told him. "This is a billet for officers of the Kriegsmarine only."
"And you are well short of your complement," Martineau told her. "However inconvenient, the matter is an accomplished fact. If you would be kind enough therefore to show us to a suitable room."
Helen was angrier than she had been in years. The ice-cold assurance of the man, the SS uniform and the silly little tart traveling with him, with the tousled hair almost swallowed up by the huge reefer coat.
Guido said hurriedly, "Right, I'm going to have a bath and catch up on a little sleep. I'll see you all later."
The door closed behind him. Gallagher still stood by the sink, the knife in hand. Helen turned, pushing him out of the way angrily, washing the potato flour from her hands under the tap. She was aware of the SS officer still at the door with the girl.
Very softly, a voice said, "Aunt Helen, don't you know me?" Helen went quite still. Gallagher was looking over her shoulder in astonishment. "Uncle Sean?" And then, as Helen turned, "It's me, Aunt Helen. It's Sarah."
Helen dropped the cloth, moved forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, gazing at her searchingly. With recognition, there were sudden tears in her eyes. She laughed unsteadily and ran her fingers through the girl's hair.
"Oh, my God, Sarah, what have they done to you?" And then they were in each other's arms.
Hugh Kelso said, "So what happens now? You two have obviously had one hell of a trip just getting to Jersey, so where do we go from here?"
"1 know where Sarah goes. Straight into a hot bath," Helen de Ville said. "You three can carry on talking as long as you like."
As she moved to the door. Gallagher said, "I've been thinking. Mrs. Vibert's due this afternoon. It might be an idea to give her a few days off."
"All right," Helen told him. "You can take care of it."
They went out and Kelso said, "What does happen now?" There was impatience in his voice.
Martineau said, "I just got here, my friend, so give me time to catch my breath. When it's time to go, you'll be the first to know."
"Does that include a bullet in the head, Colonel?" Kelso demanded, "If that's the decision, do we gel to talk about it or just do it?"
Martineau didn't bother to answer. He simply went downstairs and waited in the master bedroom for Gallagher. The Irishman closed the secret door and shrugged. "He's had a hard time and that leg gives him a lot of pain."
"We're all in pain one way or another," Martineau said.
As he was about to open the door, Gallagher put a hand on his shoulder. "Could he be right? About the bullet in the head, I mean?"
"Maybe," Martineau said. "We'll have to see, won't we? Now I think I'll have a bath as well."
In London, Dougal Munro was just finishing breakfast at his flat when Jack Carter came in. "Some mixed news, sir, about Jerseyman."
"Tell me the worst, Jack."
"WeVe heard from Cresson Everything went according to plan, and Martineau and Sarah left Granville for Jersey last night."
"And?"
"We've had another message from Cresson to say the word is the convoy ran into trouble. Attacked by MTBs. They don't have any hard facts."
"Have you?"
"I've checked with Naval Intelligence. Apparently MTBs of the Royal Dutch Navy operating out of Falmouth last night did hit that convoy, and they claim one merchantman sunk. They were driven off by the escorts."
