Jackdaws

“None at all. There is only one hotel in town, and at present it has no guests. My men visited the bars and restaurants at lunchtime, as they do every day, and saw nothing unusual.”

Captain Bern said hesitantly, “Is it conceivable, Major, that the report you received, of an attack on the tunnel, was some kind of deception? A diversion, as it were, to draw your attention away from the real target?”

That infuriating possibility had already begun to dawn on Dieter. He knew from bitter experience that Flick Clairet was a master of deception. Had she fooled him again? The thought was too humiliating to contemplate. “I interrogated the informant myself, and I’m sure she was being honest,” Dieter replied, trying hard to keep the rage out of his voice. “But you could still be right. It’s possible she had been misinformed, deliberately, as a precaution.”

Bern cocked his head and said, “A train is coming.”

Dieter frowned. He could hear nothing.

“My hearing is very good,” the man said with a smile. “No doubt to compensate for my eyesight.”

Dieter had established that the only train to have left Reims for Marles today had been the eleven o’clock, so Michel and Lieutenant Hesse should be on the next one in.

The Gestapo chief went to the window. “This is a westbound train,” he said. “Your man is eastbound, I think you said.”

Dieter nodded.

Bern said, “In fact there are two trains approaching, one from either direction.”

The Gestapo chief looked the other way. “You’re right, so there are.”

The three men went out into the square. Dieter’s driver, leaning on the hood of the Citroën, stood upright and put out his cigarette. Beside him was a Gestapo motorcyclist, ready to resume surveillance of Michel.

They walked to the station entrance. “Is there another way out?” Dieter asked the Gestapo man.

They stood waiting. Captain Bern said, “Have you heard the news?”

“No, what?” Dieter replied.

“Rome has fallen.”

“My God.”

“The U.S. army reached the Piazza Venezia yesterday at seven o’clock in the evening.”

As the senior officer, Dieter felt it was his duty to maintain morale. “That’s bad news, but not unexpected,” he said. “However, Italy is not France. If they try to invade us, they’ll get a nasty surprise.” He hoped he was right.

The westbound train came in first. While its passengers were still unloading their bags and stepping onto the platform, the eastbound train chugged in. There was a little knot of people waiting at the station entrance. Dieter studied them surreptitiously, wondering if the local Resistance was meeting Michel at the train. He saw nothing suspicious.

A Gestapo checkpoint stood next to the ticket barrier. The Gestapo chief joined his underling at the table. Captain Bern leaned on a pillar to one side, making himself less conspicuous. Dieter returned to his car and sat in the back, watching the station.

What would he do if Captain Bern was right, and the tunnel was a diversion? The prospect was dismal. He would have to consider alternatives. What other military targets were within reach of Reims? The château at Sainte-Cécile was an obvious one, but the Resistance had failed to destroy that only a week ago-surely they would not try again so soon? There was a military camp to the north of the town, some railway-marshaling yards between Reims and Paris…

That was not the way to go. Guesswork might lead anywhere. He needed information.

He could interrogate Michel right now, as soon as he got off the train, pull out his fingernails one by one until he talked-but would Michel know the truth? He might tell some cover story, believing it to be genuine, as Diana had. Dieter would do better just to follow him until he met up with Flick. She knew the real target. She was the only one worth interrogating now.

Dieter waited impatiently while papers were carefully checked and passengers trickled through. A whistle blew, and the westbound train pulled out. More passengers came out: ten, twenty, thirty. The eastbound train left.

Then Hans Hesse emerged from the station.

Dieter said, “What the hell…?”

Hans looked around the square, saw the Citroën, and ran toward it.

Dieter jumped out of the car.

Hans said, “What happened? Where is he?”

“What do you mean?” Dieter shouted angrily. “You’re following him!”

“I did! He got off the train. I lost sight of him in the queue for the checkpoint. After a while I got worried and jumped the queue, but he had already gone.”

“Could he have got back on the train?”

“No-I followed him all the way off the platform.”

“Could he have got on the other train?”

Hans’s mouth dropped open. “I lost sight of him about the time we were passing the end of the Reims platform…

“That’s it,” said Dieter. “Hell! He’s on his way back to Reims. He’s a decoy. This whole trip was a diversion.” He was furious that he had fallen for it.

“What do we do?”

“We’ll catch up with the train and you can follow him again. I still think he will lead us to Flick Clairet. Get in the car, let’s go!”

CHAPTER 49