J. Janes - Dollmaker

‘Schultz will only tell the others, Jean-Louis. Hélène has no chance and neither have Yvon and the child.’

‘But Schultz will not say anything? Please, he’s far too intelligent and far too loyal to his captain. He’ll keep the secret so that U-297 can put to sea with their Dollmaker. Only then will they stand a chance of coming back.’

It was Kohler who said drily, ‘He’ll also make a bundle, Louis. Unless I’ve missed my guess, our cook put all his money on the Préfet.’

The lark’s glimmer was there. Schultz fanned out the betting slips he took from a pocket. ‘That’s good,’ he said, ‘but I still want our money back or it’s no deal.’

‘Hermann, shoot him. I’ll kill Kerjean and we’ll say it was a toss-up. Doenitz won’t care so long as he has the Captain.’

They would do it too, thought Angélique. She just knew they would. ‘Messieurs,’ she managed, ‘is the rest of the money not in Monsieur le Préfet’s car?’

The kid should become a detective, thought Kohler but he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not these days. Schultz just wasn’t going to budge. Ah damn.

Pulling out his wad of bills, Kohler peeled off a few thousand francs for possible expenses and reluctantly slid the rest across the table.

Schultz pocketed everything and said, ‘Now take care of him.’

Kerjean hesitated. He got up and lunged for the pistol. He had his hand on it. The shot rang out. The child shrieked. The stepmother yanked her close. The pianist held the woman.

Blood ran from the Préfet’s forehead as he lay on the table before them.

‘Madame, I am sorry it could not have happened outside,’ breathed the Sûreté. ‘He was a good man, caught in a vice, and I will regret for the rest of my life that I had to be the instrument of his death.’

So might the Resistance. ‘ Merde , Louis I need a drink.’

Hermann always had to have the last word and it would be unkind to remind him that it was not a day for alcohol. Or was it?

The train to Paris was again delayed. St-Cyr, his feet up on the opposite seat next to Hermann, eased his back and shut his eyes. One slept when one could. Hermann unfortunately was a resonant snorer. The Benzedrine had finally worn off.

‘He mustn’t take any more of it,’ he said softly. ‘He’ll never make it through this lousy war if he does.’

U-297 had not put to sea on Thursday as scheduled and they had had to wait a full twenty-four hours after that before the boat had gone out with the tide to disappear at last beneath the waves.

Though far from the complete sum, the money had put the cook back into favour with the men. The C.-in-C. Kernével had accepted their report as had Doenitz. Perhaps they liked its tidiness, perhaps Herr Freisen simply was relieved at not having to go to sea and the Admiral pleased that the Dollmaker would.

They hadn’t seen Kaestner, and the Captain hadn’t bothered to find them. With luck U-297 would go down with man and mouse and the woman and her husband and the child could at last live in peace. For now, though, all they could do was wait. They could not go back to Paris in hopes of losing themselves in the crowd, they dare not ask to leave the Forbidden Zone for fear of arousing suspicion.

Like so many these days they were trapped, never knowing if and when the rifle butts would smash against the door to cries of, ‘ Raus! Raus! ’

The Bavarian’s eyes half opened at some sudden thought and he murmured, ‘Is it really okay, Louis? Is the kid happy?’

‘Yes. She’s with the stepmother and her father, Hermann. They’re together at last.’

‘Good.’

Hermann took a deep breath. He sighed and said, ‘I can hardly wait to get home. I hope Giselle hasn’t left me. I hope Oona’s still there.’

He drifted off and was lost to him again, and St-Cyr had to wonder about his partner’s use of ‘home’.

‘Paris has become that to him,’ he said to himself. ‘The divorce will go through. His wife will leave him for another. His sons are dead.’ He paused.

‘The megaliths remain.’

He let his mind linger on them but they had not been the dawn of European civilization. For that, one had to go back in time much further to the caves of the Dordogne and to those of Spain, to Lascaux and Altamira and other places. Yes, other places.

And a shabby trunk full of artefacts that had been discovered by an all-too-willing buyer in a shop in Paris.

And a woman of thirty-five and a boy, a young man of twenty — had he been twenty? One spoke of both boys and young men in the same breath — bathing at twilight beneath a waterfall and all but hidden by the trees.

Naked, the woman had reminded him of Marianne. An absolutely gorgeous figure but … but a sensuousness, an earthy desire, a hunger that had troubled deeply for he had never thought of Marianne as being like that. Never.

Yet his dead wife had revealed it with another, though that had happened a little later on and he had been too busy and away too much to have noticed that the sands of his second marriage were rapidly sinking under him.

Again he thought of that woman and the boy. Like forebears of another time, they had welcomed the water to their splendid bodies and had let it pour over them, laughing, kissing and fondling each other until, up from the ground, the smell of old leaves and mould had grown damp.

Then he had heard them making love in the cave and again it had made him think of Marianne who was now but a memory.

When he awoke with a start, it was just as a stone hand-axe was descending on his forehead. He cried out, ‘ Hermann!’ , scaring the hell out of his partner.

‘Last summer,’ he gasped. ‘That business of the cave and the film crew. That actress.’

‘ Verdammt! You don’t want to give me a heart attack, do you?’

‘No.’

‘Then go back to sleep. How many times must I tell you that business is over and done with and best forgotten?’

But it would not leave. Had they arrested the right person? Had they settled it as they should have? A stone-killer … a stonekiller …

Rudely he was shaken awake and frantically he searched for his ticket only to be confronted with a telegram.

Swallowing, he read it.

SANDMAN STRIKES AGAIN. BODY OF HEIRESS FOUND IN BIRDCAGE AMONG DOVES NEAR CLAY-PIGEON SHOOT BOIS DE BOULOGNE. REQUEST IMMEDIATE ACTION. REPEAT ACTION. IMPERATIVE VILLAIN BE APPREHENDED. REPORT 0700 HOURS DAILY. STURMBANNFÜHRER BOEMELBURG CONCURS AND PLACES YOU BOTH DIRECTLY UNDER MY ORDERS.

HEIL HITLER.

My orders …

It was from General Ernst von Schaumburg, Kommandant von Gross-Paris. Old Shatter Hand himself. Rock of Bronze to his staff. A Prussian of the old school.

A birdcage, sighed St-Cyr. Was it coincidence or simply God laughing at him?