Jackdaws

Dieter said to Becker, “It is often a good idea to break a leg early in the interview. The pain is quite excruciating, especially when the broken bone is struck again.” He selected a sledgehammer from the umbrella stand. “Just below the knee,” he said, handing it to Becker. “As hard as you can.”

Becker took careful aim and swung mightily. The crack as the shin broke was loud enough to hear. Bertrand screamed and fainted. Becker picked up a bucket of water that stood in a corner and threw the water in Bertrand’s face. The young man came to and screamed again.

Eventually, the screams subsided to heartrending groans. “What do you want?” Bertrand implored. “Please, tell me what you want from me!” Dieter did not ask him any questions. Instead, he handed the steel crowbar to Becker and pointed to the broken leg where a jagged white edge of bone stuck through the flesh. Becker struck the leg at that point. Bertrand screamed and passed out again.

Dieter thought that might be enough.

He went into the next room. Gaston sat where Dieter had left him, but he was a different man. He was bent over in his chair, face in his hands, crying with great sobs, moaning and praying to God. Dieter knelt in front of him and prized his hands away from his wet face. Gaston looked at him through tears. Dieter said softly, “Only you can make it stop.”

“Please, stop it, please,” Gaston moaned.

“Will you answer my questions?”

There was a pause. Bertrand screamed again. “Yes!” Gaston yelled. “Yes, yes, I’ll tell you everything, if you just stop!”

Dieter raised his voice. “Sergeant Becker!”

“Yes, Major?”

“No more for now.”

“Yes, Major.” Becker sounded disappointed.

Dieter reverted to French. “Now, Gaston, let’s begin with the leader of the circuit. Name and code name. Who is he?”

Gaston hesitated. Dieter looked toward the open door of the torture chamber. Gaston quickly said, “Michel Clairet. Code name Monet.”

It was the breakthrough. The first name was the hardest. The rest would follow effortlessly. Concealing his satisfaction, Dieter gave Gaston a cigarette and held a match. “Where does he live?”

“In Reims.” Gaston blew out smoke and his shaking began to subside. He gave an address near the cathedral.

Dieter nodded to Lieutenant Hesse, who took out a notebook and began to record Gaston’s responses. Patiently, Dieter took Gaston through each member of the attack team. In a few cases Gaston knew only the code names, and there were two men he claimed never to have seen before Sunday. Dieter believed him. There had been two getaway drivers waiting a short distance away, Gaston said: a young woman called Gilberte and a man codenamed Maréchal. There were others in the group, which was known as the Bollinger circuit.

Dieter asked about relationships between Resistance members. Were there any love affairs? Were any of them homosexual? Was anyone sleeping with someone else’s wife?

Although the torture had stopped, Bertrand continued to groan and sometimes scream with the agony of his wounds, and now Gaston said, “Is he going to be looked after?”

Dieter shrugged.

“Please, get a doctor for him.”

“Very well… when we have finished our talk.”

Gaston told Dieter that Michel and Gilberte were lovers, even though Michel was married to Flick, the blond girl in the square.

So far, Gaston had been talking about a circuit that was mostly destroyed, so his information had been mainly of academic interest. Now Dieter moved on to more important questions. “When Allied agents come to this district, how do they make contact?”

No one was supposed to know how that was handled, Gaston said. There was a cut-out. However, he knew part of the story. The agents were met by a woman codenamed Bourgeoise. Gaston did not know where she met them, but she took them to her home; then she passed them on to Michel.

No one had ever met Bourgeoise, not even Michel.

Dieter was disappointed that Gaston knew so little about the woman. But that was the idea of a cut-out.

“Do you know where she lives?”

Gaston nodded. “One of the agents gave it away. She has a house in the rue du Bois. Number eleven.”

Dieter tried not to look jubilant. This was a key fact. The enemy would probably send more agents in an attempt to rebuild the Bollinger circuit. Dieter might be able to catch them at the safe house.

“And when they leave?”

They were picked up by plane in a field codenamed Champ de Pierre, actually a pasture near the village of Chatelle, Gaston revealed. There was an alternative landing field, codenamed Champ d’Or, but he did not know where it was.

Dieter asked Gaston about liaison with London. Who had ordered the attack on the telephone exchange? Gaston explained that Flick—Major Clairet—was the circuit’s commanding officer, and she had brought orders from London. Dieter was intrigued. A woman in command. But he had seen her courage under fire. She would make a good leader.

In the next room, Bertrand began to pray aloud for death to come. “Please,” Gaston said. “A doctor.”