Malloy slept only fitfully. He was a city boy and the rustling of birds and small animals in the woods kept him awake, It was already light when Boudin shook him awake with a cup of coffee. “We’ll be moving on in ten minutes. We’ll be travelling on a farm vehicle.” He paused. “Are you a Catholic?”
“Yes. Not a very good one but …”
“That’s no problem but you’ll be staying with the priest. He’s got a converted village hall next to the church where he looks after old people. You’ll be with them, as his assistant.”
“When can I meet the railway people?”
“You’ll have to wait until we contact Parish to confirm that you’ve arrived.”
“How long will that take?”
“About a week. Maybe a bit more. Just have to see how it goes.”
Ten minutes later Boudin led Malloy down a narrow track in the woods to where an ancient truck was parked in a narrow lane, its engine running. Boudin pointed to a space between the bales of straw and Malloy climbed aboard. Boudin sat in front with the driver.
It took nearly an hour to get to the church on the outskirts of the village. The priest was waiting for them and after a few words with Boudin the priest took Malloy into the church, walking up the aisle and then over to an open door to a corridor which led to the priest’s quarters.
The priest was a small man with a round smooth face, red cheeks and bald at the front. He wore a pair of granny glasses with thick lenses. He pointed to an armchair. “Do sit down, my boy.”
When Malloy was sitting the priest said, “My name’s Père Levêque. Henri Levêque. You are welcome to stay here but I want to warn you to be very discreet—very careful. All we Frenchmen want the Germans to go but not all Frenchmen feel that the Resistance is helpful. They think that perhaps it brings trouble for innocent people and gives the Germans an excuse for revenge and brutality.”
Maybe it was tiredness or tension that made Malloy say waspishly, “And how do those Frenchmen think the Germans will go without the Resistance?”
The priest smiled. “My friend, I don’t defend them. I am just warning you for your own sake.” He paused. “And for the sake of those who are helping you.”
Malloy smiled and shrugged. “I apologise, Father. It was a foolish comment.”
“I think the British captain will be coming to meet you in the next few days. Have you met him already?”
“No. What’s he like?”
“About the same age as you. Quiet but very tough. The French respect him and his network is very successful. They don’t cause trouble except for a good reason.”
“Tell me about the people in the place where I’ll be staying.”
“It’s just next door. Used to be the village hall but we’ve turned it into a refuge for old people who have no relations to care for them.” He smiled. “Some of them are rather disturbed. Mentally disturbed. Some of them are just senile and some are just old and lonely. We shall say that you are the janitor, the caretaker. There are two rooms put aside for you.”
“Thank you for your help. I hope I can help you in some way.”
“Maybe. Maybe. Just send the Germans back to Germany and that will be more than enough.”
Malloy had not been allowed to bring maps with him but there were pre-war maps in the priest’s small library and Malloy studied them again, refreshing his memory of the main lines of the French railway system, SNCF. He had been given a Walther PPK pistol and fifty rounds and he cleaned and oiled it thoroughly, wrapped it in an oily rag and buried it in the garden the first night at the church.
He was reading a week-old newspaper when the man walked into his room on the fourth night. There was no need for passwords, they had both seen photographs of each other.
The man smiled and held out his hand. “Glad to see you.” He glanced around the room. “You seem to have settled in OK. Was it a good flight?”
Malloy smiled. “Yes. But it seems a long time ago. I can barely remember it.”
“You want to talk about your mission?”
“Sure. I’ll talk all night if you will.”
“London didn’t tell me much for security reasons, but I understand your main concern is the railways.”
“That’s correct.”
“Tell me a bit more so that I can put you in touch with the right people.”
“Right. My orders are to build up a network that can provide us with the fullest possible picture of what’s moving on the rail system so far as the Germans are concerned. Troop movements, movements of strategic equipment and materials. Repair facilities, use of rail in communications with Italy, Germany and Switzerland. Some interest in traffic to and from Spain. Then a sabotage and target map. Bridges, marshalling yards, strategic switching points, telegraph system, repair shops, locomotive sheds, fuel stores—anything that could hinder German troop movements.”
“My God, that’s some task. What kind of people are you looking to recruit?”
“Just people who work on the railways. We need specialists in control and admin, people who can give us overall inside information. But most of what we need can come from low-grade employees—secretaries, typists, signalmen, drivers, station staff and clerks. They don’t need to do anything. Just keep me informed.”
“I’m afraid what I’d planned to support you just won’t work. I imagined that most of the time you’d be based here or at least
