Dennis Wheatley - The Black Baroness

'Good God!' Gregory interjected. 'For days I've been living on the belief that you've been shipping over from Algiers and Morocco every man who can hold a rifle, to form behind Paris a great army of manoeuvre which can be rushed up into the battle when the time is ripe.'

Lacroix shook his head. 'No. Every man, every gun that we can get hold of, is being thrown in upon the Somme to hold that portion of the line which the British should have held. According to my latest information the Germans will launch their attack tomorrow and the battle for Paris will be on.'

'What chance d'you think we've got?'

The Colonel hunched his shoulders eloquently. 'Fifty-fifty— not more. The British still have a few thousand men at their main depots in Le Havre and Rouen, but they are a mere bagatelle—they simply do not count. For all practical purposes Britain is just as much out of the game as Belgium or Holland. In this great land-battle, which may well prove decisive, France stands alone; and she has neither the numbers nor the weight of arms possessed by her enemies.'

'The situation is, then, absolutely critical?'

'Yes. All we can do now is to hope and pray. But tell me about yourself. What was it that you wished to see me about so urgently?'

'I have an account to settle with the Baroness de Porte. Having lost track of her I came to you, feeling sure that you would be able to inform me of her present whereabouts—or at least how I could get on her trail.'

'Mon ami, you are wasting your time,' said the Colonel gravely. 'There is nothing evil that you can tell me about La Baronne Noire which I am not prepared to believe. Had any ordinary person been responsible for one-tenth of her acts during the past few years I should have had her locked up in a fortress long ago.

But she is not an ordinary person, and her protectors are so powerful that even I, with all my resources as the Supreme Chief of the Deauxieme Bureau, cannot get under her guard. No warrant against her would ever be executed, because someone to whom there could be no answer would intervene.

However much evidence might be collected against her, no charge could be substantiated; pressure would be exerted from above. If resignations were offered by way of protest they would be accepted; witnesses would be bribed, intimidated or eliminated; the case would never come into open court. That woman is above and beyond the law.'

'Above human law, perhaps,' murmured Gregory.

'Do you mean'—Lacroix leant forward ever so slightly— 'that you are prepared to kill her?'

Gregory drew heavily on his cigarette. 'However black her record may have been when she was first mentioned to me, I would have much preferred that somebody else should be her executioner, but eight days ago she shot a woman who means more to me than anything else in the world.'

'Erika von Epp?'

'Yes—Erika. I managed to get her off at Dunkirk, but it's still uncertain as to whether she'll live or die on account of her injuries; so, although she doesn't yet realise it, the Black Baroness has started a party out of which only one of us will emerge alive.'

Lacroix slowly nodded his head. 'Whatever may be said for or against her motives, it is Madame de Porte's avowed intention to destroy the French Republic as it is at present constituted, and she is utterly unscrupulous in the means she employs to further her end. I am the servant of the French Republic as it is at present constituted, therefore I will give you every assistance in my power; but great discretion must be used, otherwise I shall find myself dismissed, and then I should no longer be able to render any help either to you or to France.'

'Merci, mon Colonel. Do you know where she is at the moment?'

'She is in Italy; and you can guess what she is trying to do there.'

'To make Mussolini screw up his courage to the point of stabbing France in the back now that on land she has lost the aid of Britain and is fighting for her very existence?'

'Sans doute! Mussolini still wavers. He would never have dared to come out against us in the open, face to face, but now he is greedy to snatch a cheap triumph from us while our backs are turned; yet he knows how terribly vulnerable his new Empire is. Italy's African Colonies contain a considerable portion of her Army, which would be cut off from the homeland by the Mediterranean in the event of war; since, whatever may happen in France, Mussolini would still have to reckon with the British Navy. If wise counsels prevail there is still a chance that he may not come in, but if La Baronne Noire is left a free hand to pour her poison into the ears of all his satellites it is almost certain that Italy will enter the war against us. If you are prepared to kill the Baronne you may prevent that; therefore, such an act would be the highest service that you could render at the present time to both our countries.'

'All right.' Gregory smiled grimly. 'Time is obviously of immense importance. I'm game to start for Italy at the earliest possible moment.'

'Does the Baronne know you?'

'Hardly. She saw me face to face only for a few seconds, just after she shot Erika.'

'Even so, the odds are that she will recognise you again. You must adopt some form of disguise; otherwise immediately you enter her presence she will take alarm and, perhaps, shoot you first. Also, she guards herself very carefully so you will not find it by any means easy to approach her unless you can do so with special credentials which will cause her to believe that you are a friend.'

'What d'you propose?' Gregory asked.

After a moment's thought the little Colonel replied. 'I think it would be best if you assumed a new identity. Have you ever heard of the Reverend Eustace Arberson?'

'No.'

'He was a prominent member of the Nordic League and is one of Britain's most dangerous Fifth Columnists. He is about your height and age, and although there is no real resemblance between you I think you could be made up to look passably like him. As his hair is dark and he wears it a la Hitler that would hide the old scar on your forehead. A full, black moustache such as Pere Arberson's would alter the appearance of your mouth, and if your eyebrows were plucked to resemble his they would no longer tend to turn up at the corners. To my certain knowledge the Baronne has not been in England for the past four years and, as far as I know, the Reverend Eustace has never travelled on the Continent, so it is most unlikely that the two have ever met, but they would almost certainly know of each other, and it is quite possible that if the Reverend Eustace were in Rome he would take the opportunity to meet her. Time, as you so rightly say, is now a vital factor, so during the course of the night I will have a letter forged which you can use by way of introduction, and the signature on the letter will be that of the ambitious Mayor of Bordeaux, one of Madame la Baronne's most trusted friends.'

Gregory nodded. 'Good. I shall be able to start for Rome tomorrow, then?'

'Yes. You will also require a passport in the Reverend Eustace's name, but I have a photograph of him which can be touched up to make it appear not unlike yourself, and I will then have it re-photographed for passport purposes. The Baroness's headquarters in Italy are the Villa Godolfo, in the Alban Hills, just outside Rome, and I expect you will find her there. In any case, you will first go to Antoine Collimard, in Rome. He is a barber and has a shop; Numero 25 Via Veneto. Collimard is a master in the art of make-up and he is also one of my best agents, so you may safely leave yourself in his hands, and he will give you all the help he can. The passport, the forged letter of introduction and a line to Collimard will all be ready by midday. As the matter is urgent I shall place a pilot and a plane at your disposal to take you to Rome; and in view of the risk that you are running they had better wait there to get you out of the country immediately your job is done. Have an early lunch and your old friend Ribaud will call for you at one o'clock; he will deliver the papers to you personally and will run you out to the private aerodrome a few miles south of Paris from which you will start.'