Page 82 of Whispers At Dawn
‘What I’m saying is he is not a distant relative from St. Malo. He is Monsieur Luc’s nephew.’
Armand blinked as his thoughts whirled and the significance of this detail shifted his chess pieces around the board until he could see how he would move to a checkmate.‘If this is true, it changes everything, madame.’
‘It’s true,’ she said, sounding smug. ‘The father had some kind of factory in London, but I remember hearing he died quite young. There was gossip in the village, and if my memory serves me correctly, that’s around the time when they stopped visiting.’
Armand slugged down the rest of his brandy, his heart beating fast with the thrill of victory in his sights. Finally, his initiative would pay off handsomely.
‘And you are quite certain this man, Michel Dubois, is Luc’s nephew?’
‘I am. As I said, it’s those eyes. I would know them anywhere.’
‘Then, madame, we have British spies lording it up at the château, right under our noses!’
Now the woman looked jubilant. ‘I’m happy I could be of service. Is there anything else you would like me to do?’
Armand thought for a minute. Von Schneider was well on his way to Paris by now. The commissaire would spend the day with his family. Soon Armand’s delusions of grandeur gripped him as he imagined the glory of orchestrating this great arrest himself.
He could imagine the newspaper headlines now:British spies captured single handedly by Armand Abadie, a distinguished war veteran.
There was a glow in his chest as he fantasised about the promotion and recognition that would surely be his. He would be a hero in France, and everyone would know his name.
He pictured the mortification on the commissaire and the Gestapo officer’s faces when they learnt they had been so easily fooled by British spies. The commissaire had dinner with the couple twice and presumably didn’t suspect a thing! What an embarrassment for the Vichy police. And the Gestapo, the infamous political police force whose speciality it was to spot signs of opposition and resistance to Nazi rule.
A beatific smile spread across Armand’s face as he contemplated the extent of his superiors’ failure. If he pulled off the capture of the British spies, this would be proof for all to see that he deserved a promotion to the top of the Legion. Once there, it was just a few stepping stones to being recognised by the Reich.
‘Monsieur,’ the woman interrupted his thoughts, snapping him back to reality. ‘What would you have me do next?’
Armand lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘Nothing. Don’t tell anyone what you told me. And I meananyone.This must remain a secret just between you and me, or we will lose the element of surprise. You have done well and will be rewarded appropriately. Thank you, madame.’
The woman insisted on his authorising her reward on the spot, and he did so quickly to get rid of her. Once she had left, he put his feet up on the desk, poured himself another large brandy, and began planning exactly how he would capture the British spies in action.
CHAPTER 42
The hands on the clock crawled by as Lizzie and Jack waited for the pickup that night. Lizzie was always uptight when she had a rendezvous with a British plane, whether to take her home at the end of a mission or drop in equipment. There was so much that could go wrong and the implications of being caught were terrifying for all involved. The responsibility of knowing their actions affected Luc and all the residents of the château and perhaps even the village, weighed heavily on her conscience.
Lizzie’s nerves were on edge as they waited for news of Marguerite’s contact. There would not be time to go into the city to meet them if they didn’t receive a note soon.
Jack had been to the cellars and checked on the airmen. He returned an hour later, and Lizzie could see by his expression that the situation had not improved.
‘He’s hanging on by a thread,’ Jack told Lizzie when he found her sitting on the sofa, reading a book from Luc’s extensive library, with all the windows wide open.
‘It’s a miracle he’s made it this long.’
‘Any word from Marguerite?’ he asked.
‘Nothing yet,’ she said. ‘I feel so impotent, waiting around like this when so much is at stake.’
‘By dawn, this should all be over. The airman will be on his way to hospital, the doctor and his family on their way to St. Girons, and we can make plans to escalate operations. I’ve been thinking we only need a couple more weeks to get Lev up to speed, and we can go home.’
‘That makes me happy and sad simultaneously,’ Lizzie said. ‘I love it here. I love living with you as my husband, but I also miss my family. Hopefully, they received a postcard by now to let them know I’m well.’
Jack stroked Lizzie’s cheek. ‘They will have done. Val takes keeping agents’ families updated very seriously.’
‘What am I supposed to be doing again?’ Lizzie pulled a comical face. ‘Oh yes, I remember. I’m working in Oxford.’
‘My darling wife. I dread living apart from you. I’ve grown so used to being with you almost every minute of the day, and us falling asleep and waking up together.’
‘Me too,’ Lizzie said, moving to sit on his knee and running her fingers through his hair. ‘Being demoted to plain old Lizzie Beaumont instead of your wife, Isabelle Dubois, won’t suit me at all.’
