Chapter 36
CHAPTER 36
L izzie passed the café where she had met the Resistance member on her first mission. How long ago it seemed now.
She entered the hotel lobby and said the general was expecting her. The French receptionist gave her a knowing look and Lizzie blushed, realising the woman must presume she was the Nazi’s mistress and a traitor by default.
Lizzie resisted the urge to say something.
What was there to say?
She followed the woman down the carpeted corridor until she opened a panelled door to reveal a luxurious private dining room. It was like stepping back in time to before the war.
The general sat at a table in an alcove by the window, smoking a cigarette and reading a German newspaper. He stood as she entered—his manners were impeccable as usual. ‘Mademoiselle, how good of you to come. Please be seated.’
The receptionist had already left.
Lizzie sat down, her heart thundering in her chest as she studied the elegant dining room. There were empty spaces on the gold wallpaper where the occupiers had helped themselves to paintings, but there were still some beautiful pieces on show.
Pierre had told her that it was well-known the Nazis favoured this hotel for its central location and grand rooms. They hadn’t looted the place entirely. Yet.
With a flourish of the arm, the general filled two glasses from a bottle of premium champagne chilling in an ice bucket, the likes of which Lizzie hadn’t seen since they threw lavish birthday parties at Seagrove.
He raised his glass and chinked it with hers. ‘To you,’ he said.
Lizzie took a sip of the sparkling champagne and the bubbles caught in her throat and she coughed. The general leaned over and patted her back solicitously. It was an act of dangerous familiarity, as if he was letting her know this wasn’t the only time they would have dinner together.
Lizzie steeled herself not to show her real feelings.
‘Let us order food,’ he said. ‘I am ravenous.’
He rang the bell on the table vigorously until a young serving girl scurried in. The general ordered for them both. ‘I bet you won’t have had a meal as fine as this for some time,’ he said. He was neither arrogant nor modest about his power. It just was.
‘I am grateful, Herr General,’ Lizzie said, hating every word that came out of her mouth, but playing the part of the submissive young French woman.
She glanced at the clock that was ticking far too slowly.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said, topping up her bubbles.
This is what Lizzie had been dreading, but she was prepared for his questions. She had rehearsed on the way over.
In a casual tone, she told him more of Marie LeClair’s packaged cover story, keeping it as basic as possible .
‘I’m curious. Why did you come to Reims?’ he asked, in between mouthfuls of the finest steak.
She told him she wanted to start afresh after her parents died. ‘It was just too painful near our old home.’ She lowered her head as if she was close to tears, hoping he would take the hint and stop questioning her.
He did, and they ate the remainder of their meal in silence.
‘That was delicious,’ she said. ‘You were correct, Herr General, I haven’t eaten a meal of that quality in a long time.’
It wasn’t a lie. The Nazis ate like revelling Romans whilst the rest of France barely survived on near starvation rations.
As delicious as the food was, each bite lodged in her throat. She was fraught with thinking about whether Jack had succeeded in the operation. It was an effort to pretend to enjoy the meal, but she pulled it off somehow.
The clock on the wall chimed loudly when the hour reached 8 p.m. Lizzie had to get away before news of the sabotage broke.
‘It has been wonderful, Herr General. Thank you for the hospitality. I’m afraid I must go now, or people will talk even more than they are already.’
‘Mademoiselle. I appreciate your company this evening and hope we might repeat this again soon.’
Lizzie smiled and nodded, trying not to show how relieved she was that he wasn’t being aggressive and making her stay. That was what she had been most worried about. He had been courteous and polite at the office, but that didn’t mean he would be the same in private.
Lizzie’s heart pounded as he looked at her.
Then the phone rang. ‘Wait one moment, mademoiselle. I will see you to your door, but I must take this call as it is most unusual for me to be disturbed in the dining room.’
There was a hurriedly barked exchange and by his heated response, she guessed he was being informed of the attack on the airfield. He frowned, and she stood there wishing she could just slip out, but then she would defy his order.
They must part on good terms so there would be no suspicion that she was in any way connected to the sabotage operation.
She couldn’t let him walk her to the door of her supposed living quarters, but how could she stop him? Her thoughts raced furiously as she tried to figure out how to respond.
The general ended the call and turned to face her. ‘There has been a terrible explosion at the airfield. I must go. These damn French resisters.’
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ she said, jubilation leaping through her. ‘You must go immediately. I will see myself home.’
‘No, I will walk with you. It is near to here, is it not?’
‘It is just off the square. Honestly, it is no problem for me to walk alone before curfew sets in.’
The general grabbed his coat. ‘I won’t hear of it. What kind of gentleman doesn’t see his lady home?’
Her stomach turned over at his words. Despite his charming fa?ade, he was marking her as his, like a Tom cat pissing to mark its territory.
He held the door open for her and walked beside her towards the hotel lobby. Lizzie wished she could disappear into the floor before anyone else saw her with him, but the lobby was empty. They called women like her Jerry Bags, and she was mortified at being classed as one, even when it wasn’t true.
He reached for her arm and steered her out of the hotel and down the steps into the square. ‘Which way, Marie?’
‘I must get my bicycle.’
Lizzie set out slowly, wheeling her bicycle and buying time as she thought about what to do. Her fake address was in an alley just off the square. In barely more than a minute, they would reach the door.
Her heart thudded as they turned the corner and she felt like she was walking to her execution.
‘Are you alright? You look awfully pale.’
‘Thank you, Herr General. I am merely alarmed to hear of the explosion at the airfield. It brings back painful memories.’
‘Of course, of course,’ he said, touching her shoulder. ‘I should have known.’
‘Not at all. I will be fine when I rest. It’s been a long day, and I think the champagne has gone to my head.’
Lizzie laughed prettily, flashing her white teeth, and she saw the admiration in his eyes as he looked down at her. He wanted to kiss her.
She turned hastily, and said, ‘Goodnight, Herr General. I trust you will find the perpetrators of the attack. I feel safer knowing you are in Reims doing what needs to be done.’
He preened like a peacock strutting its feathers. ‘I understand. You must be ashamed by how the French army retreated like little boys and collaborated with the enemy who killed your parents. It is a sorry state of affairs, indeed, that now they behave like terrorists.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Goodnight, Herr General. This is me,’ she said, pointing to the building and trying once again to extract herself.
Thank God he had to go to the airfield, or she feared he would press to come in for a nightcap. She had thought of this too and was prepared to kill him, if necessary, but it would be so much better if he left quietly. Her cover may be intact for another mission, if needed.
The fact that even though she was inwardly shaking with terror, her mind was considering future missions, surprised her .
She turned and wheeled her bicycle towards the side lane that presumably led to the back of the house.
‘Why not through the front door?’ he asked.
She pointed to her bicycle as if it spoke for itself and resumed walking.
The general shrugged his shoulders and turned. He called, ‘ Bonne Nuit ,’ after her and she replied with the same, her thoughts colliding as she moved away from him resolutely.
He believed her.
She had lured him away from the airfield and now she was free.
Lizzie rested her head against the wall at the back of the house, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. It was growing darker, so she couldn’t make out much, but she guessed there was a backyard. She counted slowly to sixty. Then she counted again. And once more.
That would give him plenty of time to be on his way.
She swung her bicycle around and walked back along the path. As she reached the front of the house, she looked from side to side to check no one would see her. It was deserted. In the distance, she heard sirens, no doubt on their way to the airfield.
Lizzie inhaled deeply and released a long breath, her heart gradually resuming a steady beat as she walked along another dark alley ready to flee the city on the off-road way to the farm.
‘Mademoiselle.’
The general’s voice was low and ominous.
She thought her heart would stop. Then she turned to see where he stood.
He stepped out in front of her and grabbed her arm. His grip was so tight it made her cry out.
‘I fear you have made a fool of me. You lied.’
Lizzie said, ‘No.’ Her voice came out like a squeak .
‘In these times of duplicity and betrayal, I must ask myself why you would lie to me, mademoiselle, after we shared a perfectly lovely evening. Why would that be?’
Lizzie gulped for breath. She hadn’t prepared or rehearsed for something like this.
‘Herr General, forgive me. I was suddenly worried about one of my friends and hurried to visit her before curfew sets in. That is all. I meant nothing disrespectful by it.’
Her breath was laboured as she tried to sound calm, but she was terrified.
The general bent down and peered at her. Blackout had not yet begun, and she could see part of his face in the light from the square. ‘I’m afraid I do not believe you, mademoiselle. A beautiful and pleasant woman like yourself—I want to believe you, of course. But in war, one develops a sixth sense, a certain intuition around what is true and what is false.’
‘I speak the truth, Herr General. I apologise for not telling you I was going to my friend’s.’
The general coughed, still gripping her wrist. Her pale skin was bruising, and her heart banged as she waited to hear what his verdict would be.
‘I cannot let you delay me any further now. I must get to the airfield, but I find myself not wanting to let you out of my sight. You will come with me.’
Lizzie stammered, ‘But it will be curfew soon. I must not be out later.’
‘Believe me. That is the least of your worries,’ he said, releasing her wrist. ‘Leave your bicycle here and come with me.’
The blood rushed to her head. Her cover was blown or would be as soon as he questioned her further. She had no choice.
‘Quick now,’ he snapped .
Lizzie raised her arm and touched his face as if she were overcome with desire and longed to kiss him.
His expression softened in the dim light, and his breathing quickened as she touched him. Lizzie found her lipstick in her pocket with her free hand, and clicked to open the case, just as his lips moved closer to hers.
Then she seized her chance and scratched his neck with the poison pin as deeply as she could. He made a surprised sound and touched his neck.
‘What is that?’ he asked, as if a bee had stung him.
‘What, Herr General?’
By this time, she heard him making gargling noises, and he tottered to one side as if he was losing balance.
‘What is wrong?’ she asked.
Now he was groaning and clutching his chest.
Lizzie nudged him, and he fell over, his head hitting the thick stone wall.
He lay there gurgling, and then there was silence.
In the distance, she heard more sirens. Lizzie looked down at her hand that still clutched the lipstick case with the pin. She had been careful not to let the pin touch her, and now she pushed the tiny button, and it clicked back into place in the case.
Lizzie retrieved her bicycle, jumped onto the seat, and peddled like her life depended on it.