The '44 Vintage

murmured.

The hard mask returned instantly. 'It does not suit me at all—it suits me very badly,' De Courcy snapped. 'A week ago we had men in this area, both sabotage teams working with British and American officers, and our own combat units. But since then we have been moving them every night to the southwest, to the German supply routes, to support the invasion of the South. When Boucard's messenger reached me during the night . . .' The hands rose again. 'You are not far from the truth, Sergeant. Children and greybeards—they are the best men I have at short notice. Children and greybeards!'

Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

'And the Communists?' Audley made the question sound oddly polite.

'They are not . . . amenable to orders. But there were not many of them here—until two days ago.' De Courcy looked at Audley candidly. 'A week ago we could have prevented the arrival of the larger group.

And when they did arrive ... we thought they were moving in support of our own units—to the south.”

'Huh!' Sergeant Winston crammed a world of bitterness into a small sound. 'A week ago you could keep them out—and in two weeks' time you expect the French Army. Looks like they hit the motherlode first time, the only chance they got!'

De Courcy stared at Audley. 'I do not think it was luck: they were here before you arrived. I fear they have an agent in your Intelligence operation, David.'

Audley closed his eyes. 'And I fear—I fear it's worse than that, sir. Or at least more humiliating.' He sat back, opening his eyes and staring into space. 'Much more humiliating.'

'What d'you mean?' Winston turned towards him. 'Humiliating for who?'

'For our Intelligence. They've been fooled right down the line— that's my guess.'

'What's new about that? Jesus, Lieutenant—half the guys that buy it out here, it's because some clever sonofabitch back in headquarters wasn't clever enough. They got a man in your outfit somewhere and they knew you were coming. Surprise, surprise.'

'No, I don't mean that—and I don't think that was quite how it was.' Audley shook his head. 'I think these French Communists—or whoever's running their show—I think they boxed smarter than that.'

'In what way—smarter?'

Audley sat forward. 'It's the timing of the thing. It never did seem quite right, even at the beginning.' He glanced at Butler. 'You remember when Colonel Clinton briefed us in the barn—'speed and surprise, and no truck with the French'?' Butler nodded.

Audley nodded back. 'It started to smell then, but I smelt the wrong answer. I thought the French knew where the loot was, and we were simply making sure we got in first to take it.'

'Yeah—but they don't know where it is,' said Winston.

'Quite right. Or at least they don't know exactly. ... It wouldn't surprise me one bit if they knew it was somewhere in the Pont-Civray chateau—'

Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

'Uh-uh.' Winston shook his head. 'You're forgetting the reception committee in the wood. They didn't know where we were going.'

'So they said. But they could just as easily have been there to make sure we got through—to keep the Germans off our backs and to help us on our way. While keeping a discreet eye on us, of course.'

Audley paused. 'But all that's beside the point . . . which is the whole timing of the Chandos Operation.'

Winston frowned at the subaltern. 'What's with the timing?'

'It's all wrong, Sergeant. If this loot is so damn well hidden that the Germans didn't find it in four years of occupation, sitting right on top of it, and the French Communists don't know exactly where it is themselves, then what the blue blazes are we doing trying to unearth it now, when so many things could go wrong? We're like the chap who insisted on trying to make love to his host's daughter standing up in a hammock in broad daylight, when all he had to do was to wait until night came and he could crawl into her bed in comfort. We could have waited a fortnight—or a month—or a year, and it would have been perfectly safe. But we had to go and try it now!'

In the moment of silence which followed Audley's bitter complaint Butler heard the swish of bicycle tyres skidding on gravel once more. Jean-Pierre had returned.

Winston shrugged. 'So you timed it wrong. But the jails are full of guys who did that—and the morgues.'

Audley shook his head. 'I don't think we timed it at all, Sergeant. I think the Communists timed it for us

—I think they just simply fed our Intelligence with the false information that they already knew where the loot was, and they were getting all set to pick it up themselves as soon as the Germans had moved out. Then all they had to do was to sit back and wait for us to turn up—'

There came a crunch of footsteps on the road outside, followed by a heavy blow on the rear doors of the ambulance.

'Patron?'

' Attends un moment,' commanded De Courcy. 'Go on, David.'

' Patron!' the voice insisted.

' Je te dis d'attendre!' shouted De Courcy. 'Go on.'

'That's really all there is to it. Our job may have been to lead them to it, I don't know. But what they're waiting for is for us to find it—to actually find it. All they've done is to make sure we do that at exactly Price, Anthony - [David Audley 08] - The '44 Vintage

the right moment for them, when they have the muscle to take it off us.'