J. Janes - Clandestine

Gut! ‘Nothing but scatterings of female underclothes, an extra blouse or two, a toothbrush that must have been shared-that sort of thing. And the bicycle, of course. A Belgian one, which is curious in itself, as was the city’s name on it. Did that truck happen to come through Liege?’

There was nothing for it but to beg. ‘Let him go, Werner. Handing him over will only complicate what I have in mind.’

‘And that is?’

Did he need to hear it again? ‘The boart for the cash.’

‘But he’s insurance, my Hermann, and I will need such a release in writing from you, stating, of course, that you have indeed checked his papers most thoroughly and have ordered me to release him, or is it that you …’

The son of a bitch. ‘How much?’

That was better, considering the risk. ‘Two of those three suitcases you mentioned, the last for yourself to do with exactly as you please.’

‘And still to pay Rudi Sturmbacher out of my share? Ach , I think I’ve got it.’

‘ Gut . Just don’t try to cross me.’

‘ Liebe Zeit , how could I even think of such a thing? Just be there when needed. No sooner, no later than that 1830 hours and over and done in such a rush, no one but us will be the wiser.’

Downing three of the Benzedrine, spitting out the pocket fluff, he got back into the car.

Eighty-four avenue Foch was busy: cars and motorcycles out front, armed men in uniform and not and going to and fro, orders being given, and upstairs in that temporary office of Kleiber’s, the billiard table as nerve centre.

Enlarged, a detailed street map of the eastern half of the Vaugirard clearly showed the abattoirs, arrows pinpointing the entrance off the rue des Morillons, but there was also a photo of the two life-size bronze bulls that still marked it in spite of the Reich’s incessant scrap-metal actions. Apparently nothing was to be left to chance. The routes in by foot, and the rail line which ran along the southern edge, were all indicated, the fences too, for it wasn’t a place for the casual. Another enlargement detailed the sewers and pointed out suspected and known caverns, caves and tunnels in the Left Bank’s bedrock that had supplied so much of Paris with its building stone, but had Kleiber thought of everything? He was using a cue to point things out to Johannes Uhl and Ulrich Frensel. And at the far end of the table was one of the suitcases: alligator leather, not inexpensive, and with the LV monogram of none other than Louis Vuitton.

By the travel stickers alone, its former owner had had a penchant for taking the waters: the Friedrichsbad in Baden-Baden, the Grand at Italy’s Montecatini Therme, the Hotel du Palais in Biarritz, Vichy, too, and Vittel’s Parc Thermal where last February Louis and he had come up against nearly 1,700 British and a 1,000 American females in that internment camp.

‘Kohler, ach you’re just in time. Two of the suitcases are being fitted with their transmitters. That was an excellent idea of yours. The Reichssicherheitschef was most impressed and has given his full support. We are to let those verdamte Banditen believe they are getting away and will track them with the wireless-listening vans. Already those are in place, others on patrol, and still others on foot with the hidden listening devices up the sleeve or in the fedora for the close-in work. Already, too, and I must inform you of this, we have located one enemy wireless which will be taken out as soon as our Mausefalle has sprung.’

Louis would have sadly shaken his head and said of the irony, Didn’t Hector Bolduc use freshly baited mousetraps in that garage of his? But real coffee, schnapps and Lebkuchen had been laid on, the warmers holding sausages, with mustard, sauerkraut and dill pickles to the side, and another with no less than strudel: the cherry, the plum and the apple-and-raisin. Freshly whipped cream, sweetened with real sugar, was to help that last one go down and stay there.

‘Those were for that traitorously incompetent Kriminalrat,’ said Uhl. ‘Herr Frensel and myself were unaware of his having been recalled in such disgrace.’

‘There will be no more of his mistakes, Kohler,’ said Frensel. ‘Now we are to accomplish the inevitable seizure of the black diamonds those filthy Juden tried to hide from such as myself. Mein Gott , you’d think they might have learned. Ach , they even tried to use their children, thinking that I wouldn’t know where to look!’

In bundles of one-hundred notes, and piled in a heap, even with some still in the pale green linen packets they had come in, the fivers were near that suitcase. Each packet had been sealed with red wax, stamped with the swastika signet and labelled Geheime shy; Reichssache.

Stark white against the flowing dark black script, each note had Britannica on a throne in its upper left, the signature of K. O. Peppiatt, chief cashier, in the lower right, and in those and elsewhere would be the hidden security checks that would expose the counterfeit. Additionally, of course, there were all the marks and signs of having been well used: those of the banks each had passed through, the shops, the scribbled signatures, et cetera, and the consequent shy; wear.

All the packets were addressed to Munimin-Pimetex and though Goring must have had them sent, all had come directly from none other than Heinrich Himmler. But even knowing of these, if not of the privileged, would carry the death sentence, to which Louis would have said, And didn’t I tell you we were digging a bottomless hole for ourselves?

‘You’ll be checking in with Bolduc, will you, Kohler?’ asked Kleiber. ‘Be sure to tell him that the van, with himself as driver and Serge de Lenz as assistant, is to be here and ready at no later than 1500 hours. I must be absolutely certain that everything is in order. We’ve clocked the route several times and will be using the Pont d’Iena and an average of seven minutes, thirteen seconds. French traffic police are already stationed at every interchange to clear the way, the speed not too fast, you understand, so as to avoid unnecessary attention.’

Given the repeats and the traffic flics , lots would be sure to watch.

‘I’ll have the suitcases for you, Kohler, and right inside the rear door of that van. I’ll hand them out and take the boart in, you then closing that door and handing them the cash.’

‘A kilo,’ said Uhl. ‘It’ll be in a white cotton bag with the usual tie.’

‘Only one of those suitcases will need to be opened for checking, Kohler-that one,’ said Kleiber. ‘Here’s the key. You can tell them it will open the others.’

If bought at the same time, Louis would have said. Also, une souriciere du diable .

‘Doubtless they’ll be using the same car as at place de l’Opera when they executed that fool of an actor Kriminalrat Ludin insisted on using,’ said Kleiber. ‘A Ford Model C Ten, the same as were made in the Reich from 1935 to 1940.’

‘The Eifel accelerates from zero to 80.5 in 18.2 seconds, Kohler,’ said Frensel. ‘Cruises at no less than 106.2.’

‘Has three forward gears and a four-stroke, side-valve, four-cyclinder shy; engine,’ added Uhl.

‘Witnesses have sworn that the car’s wheels were not wire-spoked, Kohler, like those of the British models,’ said Kleiber.

A probable guess and nothing more, though a terrific car, but it was now all but 1200 hours and there was still far too much to do. ‘I’d better be getting over to Hector Bolduc’s bank, Colonel. Louis will be wondering where I am.’

‘Eighteen thirty hours, Kohler, and make sure Lenz is with Bolduc. Since I’ve decided to bring Merode and the rest of his gang in on this, they’ll be watching the flank areas. Sealed, I tell you, Kohler. This whole area and the rest of the city as well.’