Jargeau
Dalgliesh watched as Stefan and his cousin embraced briefly. Then, after short conversation, Denis walked briskly away to his bicycle. He barely glanced at the new arrivals.
"He will not betray us." Stefan's comment echoed Dalgliesh's concerns. "He has left food in the barn for us and two bicycles. He says it will not be safe to bring the camion into the town – the Germans will confiscate it if we don't have a permit."
"How far are we from Jargeau?"
"About 8 or 9 kilometres."
Dalgliesh looked at his watch. "Enough time to have a look-see. Actor, Chief, let's go."
Stefan philosophically watched the three head out, the two older men on the ancient bicycles, Actor's robes threatening to tangle with the wheels, Chief walk-jogging to keep up. The priest would have liked to go with them, but he knew he'd have been unable to keep up.
Goniff slipped inside the barn to see what culinary delights had been left for them. He emerged carrying a glass bottle with a swing stopper. It was filled with a light red liquid which, as he hoped, proved to be wine. He took a swig, thought about it, then took another.
"It gets better the more you drink... and it is one thing we have a lot of." Stefan took control of the bottle, sniffed the contents then took a small mouthful before handing it over to Casino to sample. "It needs to be chilled. I suggest you put it in the well bucket for an hour."
Casino grimaced as the somewhat acidic, warm liquid hit his mouth. He held the bottle high, just out of Goniff's reach. "The Ward... Dalgliesh... won't be happy if you get sick like you did on the potato juice last year." The safecracker kicked himself for the slip. Garrison was back in England.
Reluctantly, Goniff ceded control of the bottle. The mention of the Lieutenant had stopped him in his tracks too. "Yeah, perhaps he's right. It would be better cold." He watched as Casino retrieved the other bottles and sent them down the well.
The cockney turned his attention to Stefan. "Whatcher do to your leg? Were you born like that?"
"No, I broke it when I was young, and it didn't heal properly." The story wasn't quite true, but it was the one he always told. Maurice had pushed him off a wall, then threatened to break the other leg if he told his father what had actually happened.
Stefan changed the subject quickly. "What about your group? You're not soldiers, any of you."
Casino gave a sharp bark of laughter. "You're right there, babe. We're cons, hoods, expendables. Him..." Casino pointed at his cockney friend, "he's a thief. That's what Goniff means, ya know. Me, I'm a safecracker. The tall guy, Actor, he's our conman and Geronimo's an ace with a switch."
The farmer/priest stored away the words he was unfamiliar with. He didn't need to understand them all though to get the message. These were dangerous men... and very good at what they did.
"What about Corbeau? You were about to call him something else."
"Dalgliesh? Nah, he's just a stand in. Our regular officer took a hit. He's recuperating. Forgot he wasn't here with us."
That explained, thought Stefan, why the men tended to look to Actor to confirm any orders.
In Jargeau town, the man in question abandoned his bicycle, handing it to Chief, adjusted his garments and stood aloof. The persona of a catholic priest flowed over him like a film. He walked along, head held high, glancing to left and to right.
They came to a small church, and Actor hesitated. A small man, not wearing vestments, scurried out and gestured to the conman, encouraging him to accompany him into the building. Actor glanced briefly at the Scot and received the smallest of nods of approval.
The building was cool, quiet and peaceful. Actor was puzzled why a man he didn't know would be so keen to make his acquaintance. Still, he bade his time. If he had learned anything in his years, it was to be patient.
The man was nervous but determined as he led the 'priest' to the confessional before sliding into the other booth.
Dalgliesh and Chief stayed out in the daylight, watching, waiting.
"Any idea what that's all about?"
The Scot shook his head. "You know him better than I do. What's your guess?"
Chief looked at Dalgliesh in surprise, then considered more carefully. It was a question the Warden wouldn't have had to ask... but Warden was back in England. "I think the locals have heard the cavalry have arrived."
Dalgliesh, to his surprise, laughed.
GGG
Actor emerged from the confessional better educated but concerned. He walked to the entrance and ignored the two 'peasants' standing in close proximity.
"Did you learn anything?"
The Italian didn't look round. "Perhaps." His expression was closed.
He walked away.
Chief glanced at the Commando. "Go with it."
It was two blocks later when the conman finally stopped. He glanced briefly at the building to his left. "We need to be closer." He walked on, giving beneficence to people he passed. Dalgliesh nodded as required. Chief remained stony faced.
It took almost an hour for the three men to complete their tour of the town and return to where the bicycles were stowed.
Dalgliesh waited until they reached open countryside before dismounting.
He looked at Actor, and stood back, folding his arms. "Cough up."
Chief smirked but didn't intercede.
The Italian bristled briefly, then acquiesced. "It would seem our arrival was monitored this morning. The women of this parish are more efficient than the Gestapo."
"So, what did the man in the church have to say?"
Actor sighed deeply. "They might know we are here, but they don't know who or what we are and that concerns them. Most of the people interned in Jargeau are Roma. Those who are not are mostly vagrants and prostitutes. The locals have little sympathy with any, and have few concerns over policing the camp. We are not dealing with Nazis here; we are dealing with the French."
"Conditions on the camp are known to be dire. The water is polluted, there have been outbreaks of measles, diphtheria and typhoid, but nothing has been improved."
"What was he looking for?"
The conman looked thoughtful. "To be honest, I'm not certain. He asked for nothing, but he has offered us an alternative accommodation in the town which will, I think, be more flexible."
He looked at Dalgliesh in open way. "I think we need to take a risk. We are tasked with extracting our target. If we are to do that, we need to get into the camp, and I think we can best do that as Germans. The French will not openly oppose us." The conman held his gaze.
Dalgliesh matched the eye contact for a short time. "You need a uniform, but I don't think we'll get anything around here. What do you think?"
Actor nodded. "It will be easier in Orleans. We have two bicycles. I suggest Chief and I go there in the morning to procure transport and new identities. Then it should be possible to gain access to the camp."
The Scot concurred.
GGG
Actor and Chief left early the next morning. Meanwhile, the others sat, chilled and waited. Casino and Goniff spent the time, much as they would at the Mansion, playing poker and solitaire. Dalgliesh, excluded, partly watched them play, partly stared at the skies and kept his frustrations in check. He had not asked for this mission, and he was happy to let the men take the initiative where they could.
Stefan was more sanguine. "They are strong as a team, but if you were not here, they would not stay together."
It was early afternoon when the growl of a vehicle engine disturbed the peace of the retreat. Casino was first to his feet, grabbing his Sten gun and taking cover behind the woodwork of the front door, where he could see the yard but have some degree of protection.
Dalgliesh had been by the well when he heard the engine note. Armed only with an automatic, he took cover in the trees.
The vehicle that pulled to a halt in front of the barn was a large, black Mercedes saloon. At the wheel was a Wehrmacht corporal and seated in the rear was a tall, dark, elegant Nazi officer. The man extracted himself and stood aloof, the quintessential Aryan.
Dalgliesh relaxed, he had to admit, this man was good. He stowed the revolver in his jacket and returned to the group
Chief took the soft side-cap from his head and tucked it into his belt then retrieved the two bicycles from the trunk and propped them against the trees then went to join the other three who had bunched together, waiting to see what would happen next.
Stefan drifted close... part of but then again not part of the team.
'What would Garrison do?' The words reverberated in Dalgliesh's head. 'Time to take control again', counselled his inner voice.
"Gather round." The Scot said it in a tone that said 'don't prevaricate'. To his relief, all five men complied.
"OK. I'm going to recap..." Part of his reasoning was to brief Stefan, but not all. He knew there were details he hadn't as yet divulged to the others. It was time to reveal a little more. "Our goal is to extract a woman named Adeline Dufours from Jargeau. She is being held as a prostitute, which she is not. From what I was told, she is a French national who was recruited to work for OSS in '42. Of late she's been managed unofficially by a member of Allied Intelligence."
Dalgliesh looked around the men to check he still held their attention.
"Two months ago, Adeline was still in Orleans, as the mistress of SS-Oberst Koenig. She was passing small amounts of intelligence to her handler. Nothing of great importance, until she forwarded a new set of codes. GI5 were initially totally sceptical. This was a Nazi double cross. Adeline was a double agent."
"Our man in Britain remained unconvinced. He tried hard to persuade his superiors to extract his agent but failed. However, an opportunity presented itself and our group were asked to extract Miss Dufours. Unfortunately, Koenig must have tired of her in the meantime and had her sent to the camp here in Jargeau."
Dalgliesh took a breath before continuing. "We don't know if she is still alive... and if she is, what her situation is. We need to gain access to the camp and find what is happening. The guards are mostly French gendarmes, some local, some from Paris, along with a few customs officers from the south west."
Dalgliesh paused. "Actor, you're SS sturmbhanfuhrer... who are you?"
Actor pulled a set of papers from his breast pocket and looked at them. "Tyschen," he read. "I am better looking than him, but otherwise it is not a bad resemblance."
"Right, well your job is to identify any men that could be sent to Germany as part of the draft. You are also unofficially on the lookout for attractive young women to staff the brothels. Chief, you're his driver. Keep him safe."
Chief smiled and tapped one finger gently against his knife sheath. "Sure will."
"Stefan. Medically the camp is a disaster zone. Disease is rife, the regional commander has vetoed sanitation improvements. Most of the internees are Catholics. See what you can find out. Goniff, you go with Stefan."
The Scot looked at Casino. "That leaves you with me."
The safecracker tipped his head to one side and looked curiously at the Commando.
Dalgliesh smiled that slightly evil smile the four had begun to recognise as his trademark. "Casino, we'll set up camp in town then see what's making the locals so nervous."
The New Yorker hesitated, then shrugged. It sounded preferable to going into the camp.
Dalgliesh nodded. "Let's see what we can find to eat. It might be the last meal we get for a while."
GGG
An elderly broiled chicken with potatoes and cabbage was a filling, if not exciting, last supper.
Afterwards, Stefan took Goniff to one side. "We can get around your lack of French language by saying you are undergoing a penance of silence. It is not uncommon, but I must teach you the basics of the sign language we use. It is quite simple, I am sure you will master it easily."
GGG
Stefan and Goniff were the first pair to leave in the morning, cycling the three miles or so to the camp. The French supervisors were surprised to receive an unexpected visitation from a pair of priests from Orleans but were easily persuaded by the lame man and his attentive, silent acolyte, to let them give the sacrament to any inmates that wished to receive it.
His heart pounding, Goniff followed the erstwhile farmer/priest towards the camp. The smell hit him first. Sewerage, unwashed humanity... even for a man that had spent the earliest years of his life in the East End, it assaulted his senses.
Together, the two men passed through the 2m high perimeter fences, reinforced with rolls of barbed wire, into the compound itself. Wooden huts were packed cheek by jowl. Between them was a sea of mud, churned by the passing of feet. Children, wearing threadbare clothes, played between the huts, watched by dark-haired mothers dressed in foreign-looking clothing.
"The Roma," said Stefan quietly. "They are not liked hereabouts." Outside another hut, a man stood, flanked by a woman of similar age and ten or so children, ranging from adolescent males to babes in arms. "He's probably a showman or a travelling merchant. He would have had a good business until the law was changed. Now he's considered a vagrant and interned here."
One of the guards had accompanied the two men as they'd entered the compound. Whether it was to protect the priests from the internees or vice versa, Goniff couldn't tell. The guard moved closer, preventing any further conversation.
"The whores are in hut 15. Don't suppose you're interested in them, being churchmen and all that." The man's accent was heavy, Parisian dialect.
Goniff picked up a few words. Whore and fifteen. He watched Stefan closely.
"We are shepherds and each of our flock must be nurtured."
The French was beyond the cockney, but he mimicked the conciliatory pose adopted by his companion and smiled gently.
Hut 15 was probably no different from the other huts in the camp, apart from its occupants. Single women, a handful of babies. Most were relatively young and would have been considered attractive had they not been half starved.
Those that were in the hallway watched suspiciously as the two priests darkened their doorway. One woman, slightly older and less cowed than the others faced up to the two men. "What do you want? If you intend to break your vows, there are better places than this."
Stefan smiled and shook his head. "We simply come to offer succour and the support of our Lord where we can. Are there any in need?"
The woman huffed. "We're beyond help, father. Even if we weren't before, we are now."
Another woman appeared from one of the rooms, concern written on her face, and spoke briefly to the woman in the corridor before ducking back out of sight.
"Wait outside," the older woman snapped. "If any want to see you they'll come to you." She stood and watched briefly, before following the woman that had vanished.
GGG
Half an hour after Goniff and Stefan had entered the camp, a black Mercedes drew up to the guard house. The men on duty looked in concern as a tall SS officer climbed out of the car and headed their way.
"Who is in command here?" the man snapped, his French heavily overlaid with a German accent. He rapped a baton on the desk to emphasise his demand.
The two guards looked at each other nervously. "Commander Chanlot," the smaller man stuttered.
"Where is he?" The German officer looked around, knowing Chanlot would not be found anywhere nearby.
The taller man shrugged. "In Orleans? He does not bother himself with somewhere as unimportant as this."
Actor positively bristled. "Well, he will regret this. If you can contact him, you can tell him that. In the meantime, I am here to interrogate Mademoiselle Dufours. Have her brought to me." The conman paused and looked around himself. "I will need somewhere less public than this. Take me to the Commander's office. I will wait for her there."
It took thirty minutes before the guard returned. In the meantime, the Italian and the Navajo had made themselves comfortable in Chanlot's office. Chief picked up the bottle of brandy sitting on a side-table, removed the stopper and sniffed, before replacing both. "Not stintin' himself, is he." It was a statement, not a question.
Actor smiled gently. "Why should he?" He relaxed back into Chanlot's seat and steepled his fingertips.
Chief, in his turn, took a hard-backed chair at the perimeter of the room, and sank down. The knife slipped into his hand, as the Indian caressed the blade and waited.
Eventually, the office door was opened, and a skeletally thin woman was ushered into the room by a guard. Behind her hovered two robe-clad priests. She was wearing a heavy cotton skirt under which were layers of mud-stained flannel petticoats. Above, a white-grey peasant-style blouse that hung on her narrow shoulders.
"You can leave," Actor instructed the guard. The man hesitated. "If you are concerned for her virtue, these men..." he used his eyes to indicate the two robed churchmen, "will protect all that remains to her."
The guard hesitated, but finally backed down and retreated to phone the Commander.
"Adeline Dufours?"
The woman pulled herself to her full height and looked as haughtily as she could at the German officer facing her across the desk. "Yes."
"Mistress to SS-Oberst Koenig and British agent." Actor's question was in English.
The woman replied in French. "Yes to the first. No to the second."
Actor smiled. "No, you are right to correct me. You are an American, not a British agent."
A flicker of uncertainty passed across the woman's face. She became aware, as the lame priest who had accompanied her to this interrogation stepped forward, that maybe all was not as it seemed.
"Acteur," the priest spoke in English, but pronounced the word as if it were French. "You are not a cat, and she is not a mouse. Ask her what you need to know and let us be done with this."
There was a hint of irritation, but it vanished almost immediately. "I apologise mademoiselle. I merely wished to be sure I was speaking to the correct person." He paused. "I will come to the point. Do you wish to leave this place?"
The woman's expression changed. Hope. Suspicion. Each emotion presented itself then was erased by the next. Finally, she looked questioningly at the priest.
Interesting, thought the Italian, she only met Stefan half an hour ago, but already he has her trust.
Goniff's cockney accent swept across the room. "Look, love, make your mind up quick. If you wanna come wiv us, that's fine, or you can stay 'ere. Eiver way, we're not 'anging around." The pickpocket looked at the other two cons for agreement. He knew he'd spoken out of turn, but also that it would bring matters to a head.
"Why didn't you say so before?" The accent was pure Texan.
After that, things happened quite quickly. Actor stormed out of the office. Chief hard on his heels, with the woman held in a tight armlock, shunted before him. The two priests trailed behind, making ineffective protestations.
The guard, returning from his abortive attempt to speak to Chanlot, was swept aside by the convoy and could only watch helplessly as the prostitute was bundled into the Mercedes and driven away. He looked to the lame priest who was staring angrily at the departing car.
"He says she is a spy."
The guard laughed. "Why didn't he just say he needed a woman like everyone else does?" He turned away to return to the guard room, glad that this was an end to the matter.
GGG
Casino and Dalgliesh had headed into town, making for the derelict-looking building Actor had pointed out the previous evening. The door appeared secured with a padlock, but it was just an illusion.
Inside, the ground floor rooms were empty, but the loft area, in the pitched roof, held blankets and pallets.
Casino dropped the bag of supplies he'd been carrying to the floor, with a thud. "How come the little Limey gets it so easy."
Dalgliesh dropped his own load more gently. "Because he can blend into the background."
The safecracker thought about it briefly. "Yeah, I'll give him that." He picked up the bag again and began to decant its contents. "What's better about this place than the barn? Seemed better to me."
At heart, Dalgliesh agreed, but kept his opinion to himself. "It's used by one of the escape routes for allied flyers heading to Spain. They don't want it compromised by our operation."
"How'd you find that out?"
"Stefan told me. While you and the 'little Limey' were playing cards it would seem we had a visitor. Probably the same man that intercepted Actor at the church. We seem to have landed in a small Resistance cell that Allied Intelligence knows nothing about."
It had filled in a few blanks for Dalgliesh, such as how MI6 had heard Dufours was in Jargeau when Johns still thought she was in Orleans.
GGG
The Mercedes pulled up briefly alongside the derelict house, just long enough for Actor to get out, accompanied by a woman wearing tattered, muddy clothing. She tried to hang her arms drunkenly around his neck, then abandoned the effort and let herself be escorted somewhat roughly into the building.
Once the two were out of sight, Chief drove slowly away. He would find somewhere safe to stow the vehicle then slip back via the gardens.
Once the front door closed behind the pair, Adeline pushed Actor away. "Who the hell are you?"
"Allied Intelligence." The voice from the foot of the staircase could almost have belonged to Garrison, thought Actor, even the accent sounded American. "Someone told us there was a lady needed rescuing."
"Liar." There was anger in the woman's voice. "Who are you really?"
"Allied Intelligence," Dalgliesh repeated, this time with a thick Scottish brogue. "You must be pretty special to warrant this much effort." He turned his back on her and climbed the stairs to the first floor.
After a short hesitation the others followed him.
GGG
The rest of the morning passed slowly. First Chief, then Stefan and Goniff returned. Conversation was stilted, with neither side willing to trust the other. Stefan took it upon himself to put together a snack from the bits and pieces available, after which Adeline retreated to one of the pallets and lay down, her back to the room.
After a brief conversation with Dalgliesh, Actor left the house, clad in his workman's clothing. It was a couple of hours before he returned. "They'll have the documents for us before dark," he supplied, somewhat tiredly. He glanced over at Adeline, then looked more closely. "Has she been like that since I left?"
Casino looked up from the game of gin rummy he was playing with Goniff. He hadn't really thought about it much, but yeah, it was odd that the woman hadn't moved a muscle since she'd lain down.
The Italian moved closer to the sleeping woman and put his hand on her shoulder, expecting her to wake instantly, but there was no response. Gently, he pulled her over, so she lay on her back and the sunlight from the skylight fell on her cadaverous face. She was burning with fever. He could feel the heat.
Stefan returned from a visit to the 'shed' in the garden. "The guards said measles is sweeping through the camp again. It can be very dangerous if you are undernourished and pregnant, as she is." He moved in closer to get a better look.
Now the priest had pointed it out, Actor was surprised he hadn't noticed. The thick petticoats and the way she had stood hunched, had disguised the small swelling of her stomach.
"Probably three or four months gone." Though not a doctor, Stefan had been a frequent visitor at the 'lying-in' hospital in Paris, seeing to the spiritual needs of the unwed women. He was more familiar than most with pregnancy in the underprivileged. "Is Dalgliesh back yet?"
Actor shook his head. Their commander had returned to the barn with Chief to retrieve the van and their remaining supplies. Assuming the two men didn't hit any trouble, they wouldn't be long. The sound of a vehicle outside confirmed that as first the Scot, then shortly afterwards Chief, rejoined the others.
Dalgliesh could tell immediately that something had happened in his absence. He looked quickly at his men, but all seemed well enough with Casino and Goniff. Their card game seemed to be on hold, but that was all. Actor and Stefan though were standing guard over Adeline. He looked enquiringly at his second in command.
"She's in a coma. Stefan thinks it is likely a case of the measles."
"Yeah, and she's pregnant too," added Goniff. "What're we gonna do now?"
The Scot let the information sink in while he thought. Could she be moved? Were they all now infectious? "OK, anyone not had it as a child?"
There was a general shaking of heads from everyone except Chief. "Don't know. Not sumthin' I remember."
"You'll've had it, guaranteed," Casino volunteered. Everyone he'd known as a child had had it. It would have swept through children's homes like wildfire. He'd been old enough to remember getting it from one of his sisters. He'd got over it quickly, but she'd taken a lot longer to recover.
"Can she be moved?" Dalgliesh's second question was directed at Actor. He was the closest thing they had to a doctor.
"I would say yes, providing the journey isn't too long. There is little we can do for her except keep her hydrated and try and lower the fever."
The commander looked around the attic room. It wasn't suitable for nursing a sick woman, far too cramped, no privacy, no bathroom... the list of negatives went on.
Stefan interceded. "May I suggest we return to Courbouzon? We will be safe at the farm, and there is plenty of space. If, as you say, this woman is important, we should not stay in Jargeau a moment longer than we have to."
"Are you sure you want to take the risk? You'll be risking Bella."
Stefan nodded.
"In that case, let's get out of here. Chief, get the Mercedes. You, Actor, Casino and Goniff take that. If we get into a firefight we can't win, scarper. I'll drive the van. Stefan, would you travel with Adeline, do what you can for her?"
"Of course."
Quickly, the men rounded up their things and stowed them in the two vehicles. Subterfuge was abandoned, time was now of the essence. A makeshift stretcher was fashioned from two washing-line props and a length of rope, Adeline secured to it, then with Chief taking the weight at the top and Casino at the bottom she was slid ignominiously down the steep stairway and bundled into the van.
Fifteen minutes after the evacuation began, the two vehicles were on their way.
Across the road, an old woman watched through a crack in the shutters. Her even older husband reached over and pulled her away. "Don't get involved. The best way to stay safe is to be deaf and blind."
GGG
Keeping to the smaller towns well to the south of the Loire, the small convoy made good progress until they reached Lailly-en-Val where they pulled over.
"I suggest we cross the river at Beaugency. The vehicle will be inspected, but the guards will not want to come close to our patient."
Dalgliesh agreed. He climbed down and walked back to where the Mercedes waited a little way down the road. "Actor, I'm told this is a regular con for you. You're escorting two captured airmen back to Orleans for questioning."
The conman nodded and sat up a little straighter, slipping instinctively into the role. "It will be my pleasure."
"Yeah, well we can do without any of the physical stuff this time," muttered Goniff.
Stefan's prediction was spot on. The bridge was policed, but a quick glance into the back of the van quickly had the men backing way. Dalgliesh caught some of the words. 'Deadly infection, taken home to die', before the side door was quickly slammed shut and they were waved on their way.
Just outside the town and a small black dot in the Scot's rear-view mirror quickly revealed itself to be the Mercedes. The powerful car had quickly caught them up once it had been let across the river. The local men had no wish to antagonise the arrogant German officer by delaying his journey.
Two hours after they had left Jargeau, the two vehicles turned down the track to Stefan's farm.