Cross of Fire (76 page)

'Let us assume he is carrying a weapon for self-protec
tion. What weapon would that be?'

'A Smith & Wesson .38 Special,' Tweed said quickly.

'I'm sorry to question you so closely but I had to be
certain of your claim to be an associate. Paula Grey is no longer here. No one is except myself. They drove off about
half an hour ago.'

'I see.' Tweed was careful not to alarm her. 'They have been staying at a hotel,' he said, testing her.

'I know. The Atlantique. But when they return they will stay here. In two or three days' time. You have my number,
so do not hesitate to call me again.'

'May I suggest you stay in your apartment as much as
you can?'

'Bob - Mr Newman - has already told me that. Please do not hesitate to call me again,' she repeated.

'We are going to have to do something drastic, Rene.'
Tweed said as he put down the phone. 'I'm alarmed - very alarmed. Because my whole team is heading for the Landes. Tell me, that map you're studying. It's festooned with crosses. Do they indicate areas where de Forge's troops are manoeuvring?'

'Exactly. From reports received so far...'

'And there are crosses in the Landes region.'

'You can read upside down. Ah! I see your point. Your
people are moving straight into the danger zone. I am afraid so.'

'I repeat, we are going to have to do something drastic. I have another idea. Are the drivers of French petrol tankers likely to be sympathetic to de Forge?'

'My God, no! They're an independent gang. Very tough. They didn't even like de Gaulle. They loathe de Forge. Any breath of military rule is their idea of hell.'

'And the farmers,' Tweed went on. The farmers in the centre and north of France. Do they think de Forge is a
saviour of France - like their compatriots in the south?'

'No. They deeply mistrust the Army. De Forge has suc
cessfully cultivated the farmers in the south by helping them
to bring in their harvest. Fanners further north would chase
a soldier off their land with a pitchfork. Why? Ideas seem to
be tumbling out of your head.'

I'm an owl.' Tweed said with a dry smile. 'Are you still
worried that de Forge has a network of informants here in
Paris reporting back to him?'

'Yes. I told you. I know he has. I just can't locate his
network.'

Then tomorrow I will accept Josette de Forge's invitation to see her again.'

'And your references to petrol tankers, to farmers?'

'This is what I suggest you do with lightning speed ...'

Chapter Forty-Nine

'Get down the ladder quick!' Newman ordered.

Paula almost slid down it from the loft, followed by Stahl
and Newman. The loft would hardly be the safest place
when the tank crashed into the barn. They ran to the side window overlooking the carnage which had been a farm
house. Paula kept to one side of the window with Newman, Stahl stayed on the other side.

Like the others, Paula felt she had to see what was
happening before they ran for it. Ran where? She had a
horrible vision of the walls toppling from a great height, caving in and burying them. They heard someone shouting in French as the young tank tearaway aimed his metallic monster at the barn.

A second tank appeared, broadside on, almost scraping the wall of the barn. Peering up, Paula saw the tank com
mander, a lieutenant. He had torn off his headset, was
roaring at the top of his voice, waving his clenched fist.
Through the glass of the window they could hear every
word he said:

'I'll have you up on a charge. No! It will be a court
martial. You crazy idiot! You have wantonly destroyed a
farmer's property. We need the farmers on our side. You
will also be accused of attempting to smash down the barn. You are relieved of command of your tank, Sergeant! My
own NCO will take control. Get down immediately. You
will be a prisoner in my tank...'

The engines of both machines had stopped. Inside the
barn they froze, gazed at each other in disbelief. Outside
they heard the sound of boots descending - presumably the
sergeant leaving for the other tank. Newman gestured and they withdrew from a window, sliding back along the
roughened wall.

Paula looked at Nield who had remained at the other
side of the barn, cool as a cucumber, holding his handgun.
With his other hand he gave her the thumbs-up sign and
winked. She managed a smile.

The roar of the tanks' engines was resumed, the grinding
clatter of their caterpillar tracks. Newman held up a warning
hand to ensure everyone kept still. He waited until the
sounds had receded some distance, then dived back up the
ladder with Paula at his heels.

From a skylight he surveyed the landscape. It was not
encouraging. The tanks were coming together in compact
formations, manoeuvring across the distant terrain, conduct
ing some mock battle. He shook his head.

'We're not out of the woods yet.'

'So how long do you think we may have to stay here?'

'Until we're very sure the coast is clear. And I see Pete is
munching a sandwich. I hope you kept some for me ...'

In the late morning of the same day Tweed arrived at the
Passy home of Josette de Forge. He had phoned in advance,
using the same pseudonym, Prentice of the
Daily World,
explaining that his editor was enthusiastic for more
information.

'Information,
Mr Prentice?' she had purred, giving the word an ambiguous inflexion. 'If you come now I shall be
available for you...'

Available? When she opened the door herself she wore a
fluffy housecoat, open at the front, and underneath a flimsy chiffon slip which was very revealing. As she led him upstairs her housecoat swung wider while she mounted the curving steps, exposing a magnificent long leg. Tweed was relieved when she led him into a bedroom at the front. She turned to face him, taking his Burberry, her dark eyes peering at him through long lashes. She looked towards a large canopy bed draped with the most expensive and laced-edged linen.

'I thought we would be more comfortable up here. And we shall not be bothered by the servants. Just a pleasant
tete-a-tete.'

'I do have some questions to ask.' Tweed insisted.

He walked over to
a chaise longue
and perched at one end. Not the piece of furniture he would have chosen but
there was no chair in the elaborately furnished room. Hanging his Burberry in a dressing room, she came and sat close to him, crossing her legs.

'Do we have to waste time on boring questions? And
when will your long article on my husband appear in your
so respected paper?'

'Soon. That is a very fine bust over there.'

In case she was tempted to interpret the word 'bust' in
another way he pointed. On a half-round table against one
wall was a head-and-shoulders bust of Napoleon. He
thought, apart from other factors, his visit had been worthwhile to observe the presence of the bust. He waited for her
reaction.

'Charles brought that here. Maybe at the moment he is
only Bonaparte, but in the future ...'

'I heard a rumour that General de Forge's army is nearing Paris. Will Navarre permit that?'

'A delicious question,
cheri.
Navarre is a nobody who will
be swept aside by the tidal wave of history.'

'You mean you expect your husband to occupy the
Elysee?'

She patted his right cheek. 'Now, I did not say that.'

'But he is a clever man. I hear he has extraordinary Intelligence sources here in Paris. When I was last in this house for your salon I observed some influential guests.
General Masson, for example. It occurred to me that your
salons would be ideal occasions for passing Intelligence
from GHQ Third Army to Paris, and the other way
round.'

She was inserting a cigarette into an ivory holder as he
spoke. Her hand slipped, broke the end of the cigarette. Her
full lips tightened and for a moment she didn't look at him
while she recovered her poise.

'You do have a lively imagination,' she retorted with an edge to her voice.

'Have I? Most of your important guests have been linked
with de Forge's views.'

'It was a mixed gathering. Artists, intellectuals ...'

'Together with generals and other key officers.'

'My salons are artistic gatherings ...'

'Which would be excellent camouflage for Intelligence-gathering operations.'

'You are not putting these lies in your paper, I hope?'

'Only the truth, Madame de Forge,' Tweed replied.

'We are wasting time.' She dropped a fresh cigarette and the holder into a crystal ashtray. Turning to him, she leaned forward and he caught the aroma of expensive perfume as
she wrapped her long bare arms round his shoulders.

He smiled, reached up, removed her hands just before
she embraced him. Standing up, he walked to the front
windows, draped with heavy net curtains. He moved one
as though peering into the street, let it drop.

'What is it?' Josette asked, her expression bleak and cold.

'No one is watching this house, if that is what worries you.
I thought I'd told you. My husband has his own dalliances. So why shouldn't I?'

She had left the door slightly ajar and suddenly there
was a continuous ringing of the bell accompanied by non-stop hammering of the bronze knocker. Tweed went swiftly to the door.

'Excuse me, Madame.'

He ran down the staircase as a woman wearing a black shawl over her head and a black dress which draped her
ankles appeared in the hall. The housekeeper. Brushing past
her, he turned the security handle as he had observed Josette close it, flung open the door. There were six men in business
suits and open trenchcoats outside. Beyond them two black limousines were parked at the kerb.

'The front bedroom upstairs,' Tweed said.

Lasalle and three men rushed up the staircase. As he
entered the room Lasalle saw Josette holding an old-
fashioned gold telephone to her ear, working the cradle up
and down furiously. He placed a hand on her arm.

'DST. You have to come with us. And the phone wire has
been cut. Please, we must leave at once, even if we have to carry you. Which would be undignified.'

They hustled her down the stairs, protesting. In the
marble-floored hall two more men stood by the house
keeper. Lasalle walked up to her, excused himself politely,
removed
her black shawl. Turning, he wrapped it round
Josette's head.

'What are you doing, you shit?' she screamed.