Robert Harris - An Officer and a Spy

I say, ‘You see, that’s how a soldier learns to hide! Would you like me to teach you?’

They look at me as if I have gone mad.

Anna says irritably, ‘Where in heaven’s name have you been?’

One of the children starts to cry.

At precisely ten o’clock on the morning of Tuesday 1 September, I present myself in General Boisdeffre’s outer office, carrying my briefcase.

Pauffin de Saint Morel says, ‘You can go straight in, Colonel. He’s expecting you.’

‘Thank you. Would you make sure we’re not disturbed?’

I enter to find Boisdeffre leaning over his conference table, studying a map of Paris and making notes. He acknowledges my salute with a smile and a wave and then returns to the map. ‘Excuse me, Picquart, will you? I shan’t be a moment.’

I close the door behind me. Boisdeffre is tracing the route of the Tsar’s ceremonial parade, marking it on the map in red crayon. For security reasons, their Imperial Majesties will pass through a succession of wide-open spaces — the Jardins du Ranelagh, the Bois de Boulogne, the Champs-Élysées and the place de la Concorde — where all the houses are screened by trees and stand well back from the road. Nevertheless, every occupant is being given a background check: the Statistical Section has been brought in to advise; Gribelin has been busy with our lists of aliens and potential traitors. Given our urgent need for an alliance with the Russians, if the Tsar were to be assassinated on French soil it would be a national disaster. And the threat is real: it is only fifteen years since his grandfather was blown in half by socialists, only two years since our own president was stabbed to death by an anarchist.

Boisdeffre taps the map and says, ‘It’s this initial stretch here, between the Ranelagh railway station and the porte Dauphine, that causes me most concern. The First Department tells me we shall need thirty-two thousand men, including cavalry, simply to keep the crowd at a safe distance.’

‘Let’s hope the Germans don’t choose that moment to attack us in the east.’

‘Indeed.’ Boisdeffre finishes writing and looks at me with his full attention for the first time. ‘So, Colonel, what do we need to talk about? Please.’ He sits, and indicates that I should take the chair opposite him. ‘Is it about the Russian visit?’

‘No, General. It’s about the matter we discussed in the automobile on your return from Vichy — the suspected traitor, Esterhazy.’

It takes him a moment to search back through his memory. ‘Ah yes, I remember. Where do we stand on that?’

‘If I could just clear some space. .’

‘By all means.’

I roll up the map. Boisdeffre takes out his silver snuff box. He places a pinch on the back of his hand and takes two quick sniffs, one in either nostril. He watches as I open my briefcase and extract the documents I need for my presentation: the petit bleu , a photograph of the bordereau , Esterhazy’s letters requesting a transfer to the General Staff, the surveillance photographs of Esterhazy outside the German Embassy, the secret dossier on Dreyfus and my four-page report on the investigation to date. His expression grows increasingly astonished. ‘Good heavens, my dear Picquart,’ he says, half amused, ‘what have you been doing?’

‘We have quite a serious problem to confront, General. I feel it’s my duty to bring it to your attention right away.’

Boisdeffre winces and casts a wistful look at the rolled map: plainly, he would prefer not to be dealing with this. ‘Very well, then,’ he sighs. ‘As you wish. Proceed.’

I take him through it step by step: the interception of the petit bleu , my initial enquiries into Esterhazy, Operation Benefactor. I show him the pictures taken from the apartment in the rue de Lille. ‘Here you can see he takes an envelope into the embassy, and here he leaves without it.’

Boisdeffre peers short-sightedly at the photographs. ‘My God, the things you fellows can do nowadays!’

‘The saving grace is that Esterhazy has no access to important classified material: what he offers them is so trivial even the Germans want to sever their connection with him. However,’ I say, sliding over the two letters, ‘Esterhazy is now trying to turn himself into a much more valuable agent, by applying for a position in the ministry — where of course he would have ready access to secrets.’

‘How did you get hold of these?’

‘General Billot instructed his staff to give them to me.’

‘When was this?’

‘Last Thursday.’ I pause to clear my throat. Here goes , I think. ‘I noticed almost immediately a striking similarity between Esterhazy’s two letters and the writing of the bordereau . You can see it for yourself. Naturally, I am no handwriting expert, so I took them the next day to Monsieur Bertillon. You remember. .’

‘Yes, yes.’ Boisdeffre’s voice is suddenly faint, dazed. ‘Yes, of course I remember.’

‘He confirmed that the writing is identical. It then seemed to me, in the light of this, that I should review the rest of the evidence against Dreyfus. Accordingly, I consulted the secret file that was shown to the judges at the court martial-’

‘Just a moment, Colonel.’ Boisdeffre holds up his hand. ‘Wait. When you say you consulted the file, do you mean to tell me it still exists ?’

‘Absolutely. This is it.’ I show him the envelope with ‘D’ written on it. I empty out the contents.

Boisdeffre looks at me as if I have just vomited over his table. ‘My God, what have you got there?’

‘It’s the secret file from the court martial.’

‘Yes, yes — I can see what it is. But what is it doing here ?’

‘I’m sorry, General? I don’t understand. .’

‘It was supposed to have been dispersed.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Yes, of course! The whole episode was highly irregular.’ He pokes gingerly at the pieced-together letters with a long, slim forefinger. ‘There was a meeting in the minister’s office soon after Dreyfus was convicted. I was present with Colonel Sandherr. General Mercier specifically ordered him to break up the file. The intercepted letters were to be returned to the archive, the commentaries destroyed — he was absolutely clear about it.’

‘Well, I don’t know what to say, General.’ Now I am the one who is bewildered. ‘Colonel Sandherr didn’t disperse it, as you can see. In fact he was the one who told me where to find it if I ever needed it. But if I may say so, perhaps the existence of the file is not the main issue we have to worry about.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Well, the bordereau — the handwriting — the fact that Dreyfus is innocent. .’ My voice trails away.

Boisdeffre blinks at me for a few moments. Then he starts gathering together all the papers and photographs that are spread across the table. ‘I think what you need to do, Colonel, is to go and see General Gonse. Don’t let us forget he is the head of the intelligence department. Really you should have gone to him rather than me. Ask his advice on what needs to be done.’

‘I shall do that, General, absolutely. But I do think we need to move quickly and decisively, for the army’s own sake. .’

‘I know perfectly well what’s good for the army, Colonel,’ he says curtly. ‘You don’t need to worry on that account.’ He holds out the evidence. ‘Go and talk to General Gonse. He’s on leave at the moment, but he’s only just outside Paris.’

I take the papers and open my briefcase. ‘May I at least leave my report with you?’ I search through the bundle. ‘It’s a summary of where matters stand at the moment.’