Ken Follett - Jackdaws

Michel was locked in the windowless room where the stationmaster kept the cash. The corporals went away and reappeared with Michel between them. His hands were tied behind his back and his ankles were hobbled so that he could not run. He had not been told what had happened at Sainte-Cecile. All he knew was that he had been captured for the second time in a week. There was little left of his buccaneering persona. He was trying to maintain an air of bravado, to keep his spirits up, but the attempt was a failure. His limp was worse, his clothes were dirty, and his face grim. He looked defeated.

Dieter took Michel's arm and walked him closer to the train. At first, Michel did not understand what he was looking at, and his face showed only mystification and fear. Then, when he made out the begging hands and understood the piteous voices, he staggered, as if he had been struck, and Dieter had to hold him upright.

Dieter said, "I need some information."

Michel shook his head. "Put me on the train," he said. "I'd rather be with them than with you."

Dieter was shocked by the insult and surprised by Michel's courage. He said, "Tell me where the Jackdaws' plane will land-and when."

Michel stared at him. "You haven't caught them," he said, and hope came back into his face. "They've blown up the chateau, haven't they? They succeeded." He threw back his head and gave a whoop of joy. "Well done, Flick!"

Dieter made Michel walk the length of the train, slowly, showing him the numbers of prisoners and the scale of their suffering. "The plane," he said again.

Michel said, "The field outside La Chatelle, at three a.m."

Dieter was almost certain that was false. Flick had been scheduled to arrive at La Chatelle seventy-two hours ago but had aborted the landing, presumably because she suspected a Gestapo trap. Dieter knew there was a backup landing place, because Gaston had told him so; but Gaston had known only its code name, Champ d'Or, not its location. Michel, however, would know the exact place. "You're lying," Dieter said.

"Then put me on the train," Michel replied.

Dieter shook his head. "That's not the choice-nothing so easy."

He saw puzzlement and the shadow of fear in Michel's eyes.

Dieter walked him back and stopped at the women's car. Their feminine voices begged in French and German, some invoking the pity of God, others asking the men to think of their mothers and sisters, a few offering sexual favors. Michel bowed his head, refusing to look.

Dieter beckoned to two figures standing in the shadows.

Michel looked up, and a terrible dread came over his face.

Hans Hesse walked out of the shadows, escorting a young woman. She might have been beautiful, but her face was ghastly white, her hair lay in greasy strands, and she had sores on her lips. She seemed weak, walking with difficulty.

It was Gilberte.

Michel gasped.

Dieter repeated his question. "Where will the plane land, and when?"

Michel said nothing.

Dieter said, "Put her on the train."

Michel moaned.

A guard opened the gate of a cattle car. While two others kept the women in with bayonets, the guard pushed Gilberte into the car. "No," she cried. "No, please!"

The guard was about to close the gate, but Dieter said, "Wait." He looked at Michel. Tears were pouring down the man's face.

Gilberte said, "Please, Michel, I beg you." Michel nodded. "All right," he said.

"Don't lie again," Dieter warned.

"Let her out."

"The time and place."

"The potato field east of Laroque, at two a.m."

Dieter looked at his watch. It was twelve-fifteen. "Show me," he said.

Paul said, "I'm single." He looked at Flick.

She shook her head. "I intended to ask Michel for a divorce… but how could I, in the middle of an operation?"

"So we'll wait until after the war to get married," Paul said. "I'm patient."

Typical man, Flick thought. He slips marriage into the conversation like a minor detail, on a level with buying a dog license. So much for romance.

But in truth she was pleased. It was the second time he had mentioned marriage. Who needs romance? she thought.

She looked at her watch. It was one-thirty. "time to go," she said.

Dieter had commandeered a Mercedes limousine that had been outside the chateau grounds and so had survived the explosion. The car was now parked at the edge of the vineyard next to the potato field at Laroque, camouflaged with leafy vines torn from the ground. Michel and Gilberte were in the backseat, bound hand and foot, guarded by Hans.

Dieter also had with him the two corporals, each armed with a rifle. Dieter and the riflemen looked into the potato field. They could see clearly in the moonlight.

Dieter said, "The terrorists will be here in the next few minutes. We have the advantage of surprise. They have no idea that we're here. But remember, I must have them alive-especially the leader, the small woman. You have to shoot to wound, not kill."

One of the marksmen said, "We can't guarantee that. This field must be three hundred meters wide. Let's say the enemy is a hundred and fifty meters away. At that distance, no one could be sure of hitting the legs of a running man."

"They won't be running," Dieter said. "They're meeting a plane. They have to form a line, pointing electric torches at the aircraft to guide the pilot down. That means they'll be standing still for several minutes."

"In the middle of the field?"

"Yes."

The man nodded. "Then we can do it." He looked up. "Unless the moon goes behind a cloud."

"In that event, we'll turn on the headlights of the car at the crucial moment." The Mercedes had huge dinner-plate lamps.

The other marksman said, "Listen."

Five kilometers from from Laroque, the village of L'Epine was asleep. Bright moonlight silvered the big church. Behind the church, Moulier's meat van was parked inconspicuously next to a barn. In the deep moon shadow thrown by a buttress, the surviving Jackdaws sat waiting.

"What are you looking forward to?" said Ruby.

Paul said, "A steak."

Flick said, "A soft bed with clean sheets. How about you?"

"Seeing Jim."

Flick recalled that Ruby had had a fling with the firearms instructor. "I thought…" She stopped.

"You thought it was just a casual shag?" Ruby said. Flick nodded, embarrassed.

"So did Jim," Ruby said. "But I've got other plans." Paul laughed softly. "I'll bet you get what you want." "What about you two?" Ruby asked.

They fell silent. A motor vehicle was approaching. They all knelt. Despite the moonlight, they would not be visible against the dark mass of the vines, provided they kept their heads down.

A van came along the road from the village with its lights off. It pulled up by the gate to the potato field. A female figure jumped out and swung the gate wide. The van pulled in and its engine was silenced. Two more people got out, another woman and a man.

"Quiet, now," Dieter whispered.

Suddenly the hush was shattered by the blare of a car horn, incredibly loud.

Dieter jumped and cursed. It came from immediately behind him. "Jesus!" he exploded. It was the Mercedes. He leaped to his feet and ran to the open window of the driver's door. He saw immediately what had happened.

Michel had sprung forward, leaning across the front seat, and before Hans could stop him he had pressed on the horn with his bound hands. Hans, in the front passenger seat, was now trying to aim his gun, but Gilberte had joined in, and she was lying half over Hans, hampering his movements so that he kept having to push her away.

Dieter reached in and shoved Michel, but Michel resisted, and Dieter's position, with his arms extended through the car window, was too awkward for him to exert much force. The horn continued to sound a deafening warning that the Resistance agents could not fail to hear.