bed. Maude was crying and Diana was comforting her. Dieter watched carefully. Diana’s broken right wrist rested in her lap. With her left hand she stroked Maude’s hair. She was talking in a low voice, but Dieter could not hear the words.
How close a relationship was this? Were they comrades in arms, bosom friends… or more? Diana leaned forward and kissed Maude’s forehead. That did not mean much. Then Diana put a forefinger on Maude’s chin, turned the girl’s face to her own, and kissed her lips. It was a gesture of comfort, but surely too intimate for a mere friend?
Finally Diana poked out the tip of her tongue and licked Maude’s tears. That made up Dieter’s mind. It was not foreplay-no one could have sex in such circumstances-but it was the kind of comfort that would be offered only by a lover, not by a mere friend. Diana and Maude were lesbians. And that solved the problem.
“Bring the older one again,” he said, and he returned to the interview room.
When Diana was brought in the second time, he had her tied to the chair. Then he said, “Prepare the electrical machinery.” He waited impatiently while the electric shock machine was rolled in on its trolley and plugged to a socket in the wall. Every minute that passed was taking Flick Clairet farther away from him.
When everything was ready, he seized Diana by the hair with his left hand. Holding her head still, he attached two crocodile clips to her lower lip.
He turned the power on. Diana screamed. He left it on for ten seconds, then switched off.
When her sobbing began to ease he said, “That was less than half power.” It was true. He had rarely used full power. Only when the torture had gone on a long time, and the prisoner kept passing out, was full power used in an effort to penetrate the subject’s fading consciousness. And by then it was generally too late, for madness was setting in.
But Diana did not know that.
“Not again,” she begged. “Please, please, not again.”
“Are you willing to answer my questions?”
She groaned, but she did not say yes.
Dieter said, “Bring the other one.”
Diana gasped.
Lieutenant Hesse brought Maude in and tied her to a chair.
“What do you want?” Maude cried.
Diana said, “Don’t say anything-it’s better.” Maude was wearing a light summer blouse. She had a neat, trim figure with full breasts. Dieter tore her blouse open, sending the buttons flying.
“Please!” Maude said. “I’ll tell you anything!” Under her blouse she wore a cotton chemise with a lacy trim. He took hold of the neckline and ripped it off. Maude screamed.
He stood back and looked. Maude’s breasts were round and firm. A part of his mind noticed how pretty they were. Diana must love them, he thought.
He took the crocodile clips from Diana’s mouth and carefully fastened one to each of Maude’s small pink nipples. Then he returned to the machine and put his hand on the control.
“Au right,” Diana said quietly. “I’ll tell you everything.”
DIETER ARRANGED FOR the railway tunnel at Manes to be heavily guarded. If the Jackdaws got that far, they would find it almost impossible to enter the tunnel. He felt confident that Flick would not now achieve her objective. But that was secondary. His burning ambition was to capture her and interrogate her.
It was already two o’clock on Sunday morning. Tuesday would be the night of the full moon. The invasion could be hours away. But in those few hours Dieter could break the back of the French Resistance-if he could get Flick in a torture chamber. He only needed the list of names and addresses that she had in her head. The Gestapo in every city in France could be galvanized into action, thousands of trained staff. They were not the brightest of men, but they knew how to arrest people. In a couple of hours they could jail hundreds of Resistance cadres. Instead of the massive uprising that the Allies were no doubt hoping for to aid their invasion, there would be calm and order for the Germans to organize their response and push the invaders back into the sea.
He had sent a Gestapo team to raid the Hotel de la Chapelle, but that was a matter of form: he was certain Flick and the other three would have left within minutes of the arrest of their comrades. Where was Flick now? Reims was the natural jumping-off point for an attack on Marles, which was why the Jackdaws had originally planned to land near the city. Dieter thought it likely Flick would still pass through Reims. It was on the road and rail routes to Marles, and there was probably some kind of help she needed from the remnants of the Bollinger circuit. He was betting she was now on her way from Paris to Reims.
He arranged for every Gestapo checkpoint between the two cities to be given details of the false identities being used by Flick and her team. However that, too, was something of a formality: either they had alternative identities, or they would find ways to avoid the checkpoints.
He called Reims, got Weber out of bed, and explained the situation. For once Weber was not obstructive. He agreed to send two Gestapo men to keep an eye on Michel’s town house, two more to watch Gilberte’s building, and two to the house in the rue du Bois to guard Stephanie.
Finally, as the headache began, Dieter called Stephanie. “The British terrorists are on their way to Reims,” he told her. “I’m sending two men to guard you.”
She was as calm as ever. “Thank you.”
“But it’s important that you continue to go to the rendezvous.” With luck, Flick would not suspect the extent to which Dieter had penetrated the Bollinger circuit, and she would walk into his arms. “Remember, we changed the location. It’s not the cathedral crypt any more, it’s the Cafe de la Gare. If anyone shows up, just drive them back to the house, the way you did with Helicopter. Then the Gestapo can take over from that point.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure? I’ve minimized the risk to you, but it’s still dangerous.”
“I’m sure. You sound as if you have a migraine.”
“It’s just beginning.”
“Do you have the medicine?”
“Hans has it.”
“I’m sorry I’m not there to give it to you.”
He was, too. “I wanted to drive back to Reims tonight, but I don’t think I can make it.”
“Don’t you dare. I’ll be fine. Take a shot and go to bed. Come back here tomorrow.”
He knew she was right. It was going to be hard enough getting back to his apartment, less than a kilometer away. He could not travel to Reims until he had recovered from the strain of the interrogation. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get a few hours’ sleep and leave here in the morning.”
“Happy birthday.”
“You remembered! I forgot it myself.”
“I have something for you.”
“A gift?”
“More like… an action.”
He grinned, despite his headache. “Oh, boy.”
“I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I love you.”
The words I love you, too, came to his lips, but he hesitated, reluctant from old habit to say them, and then there was a click as Stephanie hung up.
CHAPTER 39
IN THE EARLY hours of Sunday morning, Paul Chancellor parachuted into a potato field near the village of Laroque, west of Reims, without the benefit-or the risk-of a reception committee.
The landing gave him a tremendous jolt of pain in his wounded knee. He grit his teeth and lay motionless on the ground, waiting for it to ease. The knee would probably hurt him every so often for the rest of his life. When he
