Russia can destroy us.'
'You're not suggesting that groups of marching and demonstrating students could destroy our authoritarian forces?'
'That is exactly what I am suggesting. I have had a warning of such things. Of stock-piling of arms, and various forms of chemical warfare and of other things. I have had reports from some of our eminent scientists. Secrets are known. Stores — held in secret — weapons of warfare have been stolen. What is to happen next, I ask you. What is to happen next?'
The question was answered unexpectedly and with more rapidity than Monsieur Grosjean could possibly have calculated. The door opened and his principal secretary approached his master, his face showing urgent concern. Monsieur Grosjean looked at him with displeasure.
'Did I not say I wanted no interruptions?'
'Yes indeed, Monsieur le President, but this is somewhat unusual –' He bent towards his master's ear. 'The Marshal is here. He demands entrance.'
'The Marshal? You mean –'
The secretary nodded his head vigorously several times to show that he did mean. Monsieur Poissonier looked at his colleague in perplexity.
'He demands admission. He will not take refusal.'
The two other men in the room looked first at Grosjean and then at the agitated Italian.
'Would it not be better,' said Monsieur Coin, the Minister for Home Affairs, 'if –'
He paused at the 'if' as the door was once more flung open and a man strode in. A very well-known man. A man whose word had been not only law, but above law in the country of France for many past years. To see him at this moment was an unwelcome surprise for those sitting there.
'Ah, I welcome you, dear colleagues,' said the Marshal. 'I come to help you. Our country is in danger. Action must be taken, immediate action! I come to put myself at your service. I take over all responsibility for acting in this crisis. There may be danger. I know there is, but honour is above danger. The salvation of France is above danger. They march this way now. A vast herd of students, of criminals who have been released from jails, some of them who have committed the crime of homicide. Men who have committed incendiarism. They shout names. They sing songs. They call on the names of their teachers, of their philosophers, of those who have led them on this path of insurrection. Those who will bring about the doom of France unless something is done. You sit here, you talk, you deplore things. More than that must be done. I have sent for two regiments. I have alerted the air force, special coded wires have gone out to our neighbouring ally, to my friends in Germany , for she is our ally now in this crisis!
'Riot must be put down. Rebellion! Insurrection! The danger to men, women and children, to property. I go forth now to quell the insurrection, to speak to them as their father, their leader. These students, these criminals even, they are my children. They are the youth of France . I go to speak to them of that. They shall listen to me, governments will be revised, their studies can be resumed under their own auspices. Their grants have been insufficient, their lives have been deprived of beauty, of leadership. I come to promise all this. I speak in my own name. I shall speak also in your name, the name of the Government, you have done your best, you have acted as well as you know how. But it needs higher leadership. It needs my leadership. I go now. I have lists of further coded wires to be sent. Such nuclear deterrents as can be used in unfrequented spots can be put into action in such a modified form that though they may bring terror to the mob, we ourselves shall know that there is no real danger in them. I have thought out everything. My plan will go. Come, my loyal friends, accompany me.'
'Marshal, we cannot allow — you cannot imperil yourself. We must…'
'I listen to nothing you say. I embrace my doom. Bay destiny.' The Marshal strode to the door. 'My staff is outside. My chosen bodyguard. I go now to speak to these young rebels, this young flower of beauty and terror, to tell them where their duty lies.'
He disappeared through the door with the grandeur of a leading actor playing his favourite part.
'Bon dieu, he means it!' said Monsieur Poissonier.
'He will risk his life,' said Signer Vitelli. 'Who knows? It is brave, he is a brave man. It is gallant, yes, but what will happen to him? In the mood les jeunes are in now, they might kill him.'
A pleasurable sigh fell from Monsieur Poissonier's lips It might be true, he thought. Yes, it might be true.
'It is possible,' he said. 'Yes, they might kill him.'
'One cannot wish that, of course,' said Monsieur Grosjean carefully.
Monsieur Grosjean did wish it. He hoped for it, though a natural pessimism led him to have the second thought that things seldom fell out in the way you wanted them to.
Indeed, a much more awful prospect confronted him. It was quite possible, it was within the traditions of the Marshal's past, that somehow or other he might induce a large pack of exhilarated and blood-thirsty students to listen to what he said, trust in his promises. End insist on restoring him to the power that he had once held. It was the sort of thing that had happened once or twice in the career of the Marshal. His personal magnetism was such that politicians had before now met their defeat when they least expected it.
'We must restrain him,' he cried.
'Yes, yes,' said Signer Vitelli, 'he cannot be lost to the world.'
'One fears,' said Monsieur Poissonier. 'He has too many friends in Germany , too many contacts, and you know they move very quickly in military matters in Germany . They might leap at the opportunity.'
'Bon dieu, bon dieu,' said Monsieur Grosjean, wiping his brow. 'What shall we do? What can we do? What is that noise? I hear rifles, do I not?'
'No, no,' said Monsieur Poissonier consolingly. 'It is the canteen coffee trays you hear.'
'There is a quotation I could use,' said Monsieur Grosjean, who was a great lover of the drama, 'if I could only remember it. A quotation from Shakespeare. 'Will nobody rid me of this –''
''— turbulent priest,'' said Monsieur Poissonier. 'From a play from Becket.'
'A madman like the Marshal is worse than a priest. A priest should at least be harmless, though indeed even His Holiness the Pope received a delegation of students only yesterday. He blessed them. He called them his children.'
'A Christian gesture, though,' said Monsieur Coin dubiously.
'One can go too far even with Christian gestures,' said Monsieur Grosjean.
Chapter 14
CONFERENCE IN LONDON
In the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street , Mr Cedric Lazenby, the Prime Minister, sat at the head of the table and looked at his assembled Cabinet without any noticeable pleasure. The expression on his face was definitely gloomy, which in a way afforded him a certain relief. He was beginning to think that it was only in the privacy of his Cabinet Meetings that he could relax his face into an unhappy expression, and could abandon that look which he presented usually to the world, of a wise and contented optimism which had served him so well in the various crises of political life.
He looked round at Gordon Chetwynd, who was frowning, at Sir George Packham who was obviously worrying, thinking, and wondering as usual, at the military imperturbability of Colonel Munro, at Air Marshal Kenwood, a tight-lipped man who did not trouble to conceal his profound distrust of politicians. There was also Admiral Blunt, a large formidable man, who tapped his fingers on the table and bided his time until his moment should come.
'It is not too good,' the Air Marshal was saying. 'One has to admit it. Four of our planes hi-jacked within the last week. Flew ' em to Milan . Turned the passengers out, and flew them on somewhere else. Actually Africa . Had pilots waiting there. Black men.'
'Black Power,' said Colonel Munro thoughtfully.
'Or Red Power?' suggested Lazenby. 'I feel, you know, that all our difficulties might stem from Russian
