Bomber (21 page)

When she had left, Stearley had a smug smile on his lips. ‘I’ll bet you a week’s pay, yours against mine, she’ll come round before we get to the Pyrenees. All these opportunities …’

Harry saw red. Despite the fact that Stearley was maybe eight inches taller, he threw himself at him. ‘Are you totally crazy?’ he shouted, his anger getting the better of him.
Taken by surprise, the lieutenant was knocked to the floor. Harry grabbed him by the lapels. ‘They’ll kill you, didn’t you hear that? And if your stupid behaviour gets us all arrested, then Natalie will be executed …’

Harry let go, expecting Stearley to say something conciliatory. But this unexpected attack had riled him. In an instant he swung a fist up and hit Harry on the side of the face, sending him sprawling across the floor.

They both lay there for a few moments. Harry noticed the side of his face was beginning to ache and winced when he touched it. Already it had started to swell.

Stearley stood and offered him a hand. ‘I’m sorry, Harry,’ he said. ‘All this being cooped up is getting to us. Come on, let me bathe that.’

Harry sat on the side of the bath while Stearley squeezed out a dishcloth and gave it to him to press against his bruise. Then he left him on his own.

When Harry looked in the mirror he could see a purple bruise just beneath his left eye. It no longer throbbed as much as it had done, but it made him look like a hood who had been in a fight. When the apartment door opened they expected to see Natalie all ready to take them. It was her, but she was wide-eyed with fear. ‘Look out of the window,’ she said. ‘The Gestapo are out on the street, I’m sure of it.’ The doorbell buzzed before she said another word.

She ignored it. There was a persistent series of buzzes.

She peered cautiously out of the window. Three
men wearing leather coats were gathered around the apartment entrance. A squad of Wehrmacht soldiers stood behind them.

They heard other buzzers in the apartments around them. Someone was going to let them in at any moment.

‘Quickly,’ said Natalie, and they followed her out and headed up to the roof.

There was a skylight at the very top and a little wooden ladder leading up to it. She vaulted up and immediately began to force it open. Before she squeezed out she said, ‘We must stay on the rear side of the roof. Otherwise they’ll see us from below.’

She beckoned impatiently for the airmen to follow. Stearley gestured for Harry to go next. Below came the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs. As Harry squeezed out he heard the crash of splintering wood. They would be into that apartment in seconds. Stearley followed as soon as Harry had gone through. He had the presence of mind to shut the skylight behind him.

The roof was a dizzying height above the streets and the skylight had brought them out on to curving tiles that sloped down to a shallow parapet. ‘Go slowly,’ said Natalie. They gingerly picked their way down the steep curve of the roof. Harry lost his grip on the tiles, which were still damp from the afternoon rain, and slipped down, lurching alarmingly as his feet made contact with the parapet. Stearley, right behind him, grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back from the edge.

‘We have to jump to the next building,’ said Natalie. ‘Just do it. We have only a few seconds to get away.’

They edged over, keeping their backs to the wall, trying not to look down at the back street far below. Natalie went first, throwing her bag across, then leaping over the gap with barely a second thought.

Harry flinched at the size of the gap. It must be at least four feet. ‘Hurry,’ she snapped. He took a short run-up and launched himself across; his foot just about reached the parapet on the far roof. She grabbed his hand and they both fell over against the sharp sloping slates. Harry heard a tile crack and thought maybe wood in the eaves had split. Stearley followed and made the jump easily enough.

There was no skylight. Instead there were roof windows. Natalie wasted no time edging up to one and peering through. She opened her bag and took out a revolver, carefully smashing a small pane of glass and flipping open the handle.

The noise drew the attention of the residents of the rooftop apartment, and when Harry and Stearley reached the window they could see Natalie standing there, pointing her gun at two elderly occupants. Harry thought they were sisters by the look of them.

She spoke to them rapidly in French. Harry could not understand, although he did pick up the word ‘Gestapo’.

They looked at her, frozen with fear. She spoke again, waving her hand impatiently.

The elder of the two sisters began to babble and held out a key.

Natalie snatched it from her and they took the stairs two at a time, not even thinking to be quiet.

There was a door to the back alley and it opened as soon as Natalie turned the key. Peering cautiously up the street she beckoned them out and told them to walk fast. ‘If the Gestapo notice a running figure, they will know at once who to chase,’ she said with impeccable logic.

But one of the Gestapo was already out on the roof and a shot rang out, shattering a cobblestone right by Harry’s foot.

They ran out through the back alley and into a maze of small streets. Natalie obviously knew the area well, for she seemed to be running with a clear purpose. After a couple of minutes she knocked on the door of a house on a side street. After a few moments a young woman answered.

Natalie spoke rapidly in French; it sounded to Harry as though she was pleading to be let in. He recognised the word ‘Gestapo’ again.

The door slammed in their faces.

They hurried on until they reached a park. The keeper’s bell was ringing, letting everyone know it was time to leave for the evening.

‘Perfect,’ said Natalie, surveying the empty gardens. There was a large evergreen close to the entrance and, when they were sure no one was watching them, they dived in there.

‘Now don’t even breathe,’ she said. ‘We must be very patient.’

They crouched still and silent in the prickly lower branches of the tree. After a couple of minutes they heard running footsteps and the barking of angry dogs. Peering through the foliage, Harry could see several German soldiers running past the gates, accompanied by men in leather overcoats. He hoped those dogs hadn’t picked up a scent. That would be it for all of them.

But the running men didn’t stop and the sound of barking dogs vanished into the distance.

Then the park keeper locked up for the night and left.

‘Why did they raid the apartment?’ whispered Harry. ‘How did they know?’

‘Maybe one of the neighbours got suspicious,’ she said. ‘We should not have kept you there so long. Especially after the lieutenant’s attack on the soldier.’

In an instant he thought of the fight he and Stearley had had. He had done the shouting, although their scuffling must have been noticed by the downstairs neighbours at least.

‘But why would the French betray us to the Nazis?’ asked Harry.

Natalie looked at him impatiently. ‘Come, monsieur, there are fascists everywhere. In France before the war we had our own Action Française party. Just like the British had their Blackshirts and you Americans had your German American Bund. There are always people who will support fascism. I’m pleased to tell you most of us despise the Milice and the Vichy collaborators. They will pay when this is all over.’

Then she said, ‘You’ve bruised your face. Did that happen just now?’

‘No,’ said Harry, then immediately felt like he was telling tales. He shook his head and said no more. She could draw her own conclusions.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Stearley. Harry sensed he was anxious to change the conversation.

She eyed him coolly. ‘We cannot take the train. We will go to another safe house. We will go when I think it’s safe.’

She looked at her watch. ‘We can’t wait too long here. Certainly we need to be away before the eleven o’clock curfew.’

Hours passed and it was only after the local clock struck ten that the street was empty enough for them to emerge from their hiding place. As they clambered over the park railings Stearley picked up Natalie by the waist to help her up, as if she weighed no more than a bag of shopping. Natalie accepted this help matter-of-factly.

Their new safe house was a ten-minute walk away in another apartment in a side road off one of the grand boulevards. As before, they walked apart but keeping one another in sight, so that no one would think they were together. Harry was completely lost and couldn’t imagine what he would do if he became separated from Natalie.

The two airmen watched her enter and then followed through the door she had left ajar. They hurried up three flights of stairs and the elderly couple who opened the door looked immediately fearful.

‘
Vite, vite
,’ said Natalie, picking up on their unease.

Harry and Stearley were shown into the living room and stood there awkwardly as they overheard uneasy conversation in the kitchen. The couple were tight-lipped, not remotely like Madame and Monsieur Laruelle. They were obviously very unhappy about having the two Americans in their apartment.

Natalie came into the room. She spoke to them quickly under her breath. ‘You will stay here one night only. Now,
we need new tickets and permits.’ Then, without a further word, she left them.

Natalie returned at 2 p.m. the next day, not before Harry and Stearley had spent an uncomfortable morning. No more was said about their fight, and Harry even thanked the lieutenant for saving him on the roof. But there was an unease between them now, a trust that had been broken.

The couple they were staying with made it clear they had no food for them, but they did bring a change of clothes – rough workmen’s apparel. At least it was freshly laundered. The old lady beckoned for them to throw their old clothes in her laundry basket.

‘Today we make a short journey – to Le Mans from Gare Montparnasse,’ said Natalie. ‘On the train we must sit apart of course. When it is time to get off, I will stand up and check my hair in the mirror in the carriage, yes? You get off at the next stop, even if I don’t get off. It’s very important that you remember this.

‘And don’t for a second make any gesture or contact that would let someone know we are all travelling together. Sit opposite each other, not together. When one of you goes to sleep, then the other should stay awake. If you start talking in your sleep, you will give yourself away. So wake them, yes?’

Harry wilted when he heard this. He was so tired he could have slept on a marble floor or in a puddle of water. Stearley looked exhausted too. He bet he’d pull rank if they
discussed who would fall asleep first. Harry resolved to be sly and not even mention it. As soon as they sat down, then that would be it. Over and out.

She fished into her bag and brought out two news-papers. ‘You can have one each. Read them throughout the journey. It’ll discourage any conversation from your fellow passengers.’ One paper was German, the other Dutch. It was a good move, unless someone Dutch or German was sitting next to you.

Stearley took the German paper, which was brave. With so many German soldiers around, the chances of a German starting a conversation with you were far higher.

As they prepared to leave, the atmosphere in the apartment lightened considerably. The old lady wished them ‘
Bonne chance
’ and pressed a paper bag into Natalie’s hands. Even the old man gave them a hearty handshake. Their relief was palpable.

Out in the street they walked alone, in sight of each other. Harry hoped it was not too far to the station and tried his best not to look anxious and lost. Stearley was walking behind Natalie and Harry was appalled at one point to hear him wolf whistle at a small group of French girls, sitting in their fur coats, enjoying a coffee and cigarette outside a café.

As they waited for their train in the towering station concourse, a sprightly young man in a smart suit came up to Harry and began to chat away. Harry froze. The language was not one he recognised. It was certainly not French or
German. Then he realised the man was probably Dutch, and had assumed Harry was too, because of the newspaper he carried. As he talked, Harry wondered whether to whisper, ‘I’m American, go away!’ But in an instant he calculated that anyone this healthy and smart was almost certainly a Dutch collaborator, here in Paris to do business with the Nazis and their French supporters.

Harry shook his head and waved the man away. A couple of German soldiers walked by, clearly taking an interest in what looked like the start of an argument, or even a fight. Harry felt himself go hot and cold with fear.

Natalie rushed up to him. ‘Hendrick! Hendrick van Houten!!!
Mon cher ami!!! Venez, vous avez le temps pour un café avant le départ de votre train?
’

With that she whisked him away to one of the cafés on the side of the concourse. She bought him a coffee and ten minutes later they were in the queue with Stearley, two or three people apart, waiting to board the train alongside hundreds of impatient passengers. Harry had begun to realise that big queues and impatient people were the fugitive’s friend. The platform inspectors, and the German sentries who watched over them, waved them through with only the slightest glance at their passes.

If they were lucky, they would get to Le Mans by mid-evening. If not, it could be early the next morning. Either way, it was going to be a long night.

Jean-Pierre, Natalie’s controller in the Resistance, had come down to Le Mans that very morning, shortly after meeting with her. There was work to do with the local Resistance – contacts to make after the last Nazi round-up of the Resistance cell there. Four of his friends here had recently been executed. And Jean-Pierre had messages to transmit to the Special Operation Executive back in England – the branch of the British Secret Service that worked closely with Resistance groups in occupied Europe. It was safer in Le Mans, he always felt. There were too many Nazi signal-tracking vans in Paris. He’d heard of friends there getting that ominous knocking at the door five minutes into a transmission. Things were slacker here.