Jackdaws

Christian looked terrified. Flick could tell that he wanted with all his heart to back out. But he hardly could, after his big talk about the Resistance.

Jean-Marie was calmer. "It will work," he said. "They won't be suspicious of police officers in uniform."

Ruby climbed back into the carriage. "Flick!" she said. "That poster-"

"I know. The gendarmes are going to march me through the checkpoint in handcuffs and release me later. If things go wrong, you're in charge of the mission." She switched to English. "Forget the railway tunnel, that's a cover story. The real target is the telephone exchange at Sainte-C‚cile. But don't tell the others until the last minute. Now get them back in here, quickly."

A few moments later they were all crowded into the carriage. Flick told them the plan. Then she said, "If this doesn't work, and I get arrested, whatever you do, don't shoot. There will be too many police at the station. If you start a gun battle you'll lose. The mission comes first. Abandon me, get out of the station, regroup at the hotel, and carry on. Ruby will be in command. No discussion, there isn't time." She turned to Christian. "The handcuffs."

He hesitated.

Flick wanted to scream Get on with it, you big-mouthed coward, but instead she lowered her voice to an intimate murmur and said: "Thank you for saving my life-I'll never forget you, Christian."

He took out the cuffs.

"The rest of you, get going," Flick said.

Christian handcuffed Flick's right hand to Jean-Marie's left; then they stepped down from the train and marched along the platform three abreast, Christian carrying flick's suitcase and her shoulder bag with the automatic pistol in it. There was a queue at the checkpoint. Jean-Marie said loudly, "Stand aside, there. Stand aside, please, ladies and gentlemen. Coming through." They went straight to the head of the line, as they had at Chartres. Both gendarmes saluted the Gestapo officers, but they did not stop.

However, the captain in charge of the checkpoint looked up from the identity card he was examining and said quietly, "Wait."

All three stood still. Flick knew she was very near death.

The captain looked hard at Flick. "She's the one on the poster."

Christian seemed too scared to speak. After a moment, Jean-Marie answered the question. "Yes, captain, we arrested her in Chartres."

Flick thanked heaven that one of them had a cool head.

"Well done," said the captain. "But where are you taking her?"

Jean-Marie continued to answer. "Our orders are to deliver her to avenue Foch."

"Do you need transport?"

"There is a police vehicle waiting for us outside the station."

The captain nodded, but still did not dismiss them. He continued to stare at Flick. She began to think there was something about her appearance that had given away her subterfuge, something in her face that told him she was only pretending to be a prisoner. Finally he said, "These British. They send little girls to do their fighting for them." He shook his head in disbelief.

Jean-Marie sensibly kept his mouth shut.

At last the captain said, "Carry on."

Flick and the gendarmes marched through the checkpoint and out into the sunshine.

CHAPTER 33

PAUL CHANCELLOR HAD been angry with Percy Thwaite, violently angry, when he found out about the message from Brian Standish. "You deceived me!"

Paul had shouted at Percy. "You deliberately made sure

I was out of the way before you showed it to Flick!"

"It's true, but it seemed best-"

"I'm in command-you have no right to withhold information from me!"

"I thought you would have aborted the flight."

"Perhaps I would have-maybe I should have."

"But you would have done it for love of Flick, not because it was right operationally."

There Percy had touched Paul's weak spot, for Paul had compromised his position as leader by sleeping with one of his team. That had made him more angry, but he had been forced to suppress his rage.

They could not contact Flick's plane, for flights over enemy territory had to observe radio silence, so the two men had stayed at the airfield all night, smoking and pacing and worrying about the woman they both, in different ways, loved. Paul had, in his shirt pocket, the wooden French toothbrush he and Flick had shared on Friday morning, after their night together. He was not normally superstitious, but he kept touching it, as if he were touching her, making sure she was okay.

When the plane returned, and the pilot told them how Flick had become suspicious of the reception committee at Chatelle, and had eventually dropped near Chartres, Paul had been so relieved he almost wept.