‘Hermann, if I have to break his arm, I will!’
‘VERFLUCHTER FRANZOSE HAU AB!’
Cursed Frenchman, fuck off. Louis had yet to notice the memorial to Weber’s dead sister on that desk, the swastika-bedecked photo a constant reminder.
The arm was released, the gun came up, but so did a sûreté’s forefinger.
‘Orders are orders, Untersturmführer. We are here on those of the Kommandant von Gross-Paris and those of Gestapo Bömelburg, Head of Section IV.’
The Gestapo in France and two old acquaintances, but how deep was this thing going to go? wondered Kohler.
‘Sit down and let’s talk,’ said Louis. ‘For myself, I’m sorry I didn’t first ask your permission to withdraw the Fräulein from your lineup but things were moving too quickly and the need to settle matters had become paramount.’
‘I have letters that prove everything,’ seethed Weber. ‘Letters, Fräulein.’
Again the safe was opened: three turns to the right to land between the 52 and the 58, thought Kohler, two to the left and between the 27 and the 35, and then back around to the 11 or thereabouts. ‘The First American Army again, Louis. Another leftover.’
One by one the anonymous letters were thrown down, the door to the safe left open.
‘Do you deny what they say?’ demanded Weber. He’d show these two who ran things here. He’d not have them going over his head.
Becky knew he was going to send her to a concentration camp. There was now no longer any hope. ‘My name is Becky Torrence, Herr Untersturmführer, not Frau Rebecca Tarance or Torance, and the room number is 3-38 not 2-38 or 3-28.’
Would he hit her again or shoot her? she wondered. ‘I think if you look closely, Herr Untersturmführer, you will see that those which use my correct name have largely been written by Madame de Vernon, a few of the others by girls in the Vittel-Palace, yes. One gets blamed all the time for things they never did in that hotel you people keep us locked up in, and one has to defend oneself against unwanted advances, too, so hatred is born. But the other letters. . especially those who have called me Rebecca and not spelled my last name correctly, have been written by girls and women in the Hôtel Grand. Again perhaps because I fiercely rejected their advances. Was Léa Monnier, who insists on looking at me the way she does, among your letter writers? She’s been here a lot. I’ve had to line up next to her time and again and suffer her closeness, and you know this!’
‘And you, Fräulein? You? Kohler, this is the lover of a Jew. She helped the boy to escape to the free zone that no longer exists. Antoine Rochon, mademoiselle? I have the proof.’
And Becky, her enemies, sighed Kohler inwardly. Again Weber went to that safe of his. An unopened tin of fifty Will’s Gold Flake cigarettes rolled out, another of Woodbines and then one of. . Ah, merde, fine-cut pipe tobacco.
The telex on the regional office-to-office paper contained but a single line of heavy type and the name of none other than the Obersturmführer Klaus Barbie, Head of Section IV Lyon, and another old acquaintance they would rather not have met.
Kohler, having seen the name, thought Weber, had given that partner of his a warning glance.
SUBJECT ANTOINE ROCHON ARRESTED LYON EINSATZKOMMANDO 22 NOVEMBER 1942, DEPORTED MAUTHAUSEN KZ. HEIL HITLER.
Becky was going to go all to pieces on them. Louis had extended a steadying hand. Obviously she had got Jill Faber to teach her a little Deutsch, yet still, one had best try to be gentle. ‘He’s in Austria, Becky. Working in a factory.’
‘Not a stone quarry and a concentration camp? Isn’t KZ the short form for Konzentrationslager?’ she asked, letting the tears fall freely.
‘Look, don’t do anything crazy, eh?’
‘Like throwing myself down an elevator shaft?’
Schiesse, what the hell was this?
‘Maybe Mary-Lynn didn’t want to live, Inspector. Maybe she felt having a child here was just too much. Maybe Nora had convinced her that trying to reach her father was simply stupid.’
‘And Caroline Lacy?’ asked Louis.
‘Caroline. .?’ she asked, startled and turning to face him.
‘Did she know about Antoine, mademoiselle?’
Ah, no. . ‘Jill did, Nora did, and Marni, too.’
‘But not Caroline?’
‘Not unless Madame de Vernon had somehow found out.’
‘The bodies, Untersturmführer,’ said Louis firmly. ‘Have Corporal Duclos bring a stretcher to the Chalet des Ânes first, and one other to assist him. This young woman will identify each victim, as is necessary, you to be a witness.’
The snow was everywhere and through the trees the Chalet des Ânes looked as if it could never have been the site of a murder. To the northeast, Becky could see right across the Parc Thermal to the boundary fence beyond the soccer field the British insisted on calling the football field as if all Americans were simply ignorant of such fine distinctions.
To the west and northwest, and much nearer, were the casino from which they’d just come, then the Grand and the Vittel-Palace. The Établissement Thermal, whose round pavilions at either end marked the fountains that gave forth the waters of La Grande Source and La Source Salée, was but a short walk from the Vittel-Palace. These pavilions were joined by the covered promenade that was always popular. There were lots of internees about now, some even peering in through the spa’s windows in hopes of catching a glimpse of something to alleviate the boredom even though the Fermé sign was clear enough and they must have looked in there countless times. Surely the Germans could have opened that up, giving the girls such pleasure and employment too, but no, and as for Jill getting the swimming pool filled this coming summer, they’d best forget it. With Herr Weber advising him, the new Kommandant would never agree.
‘Inspector, do I really have to do this?’
‘A glimpse, that’s all,’ said Kohler. ‘I’ll be right with you.’
Had he thought she would bolt and run, a Gentile who had had a Jewish fiancé, a girl who had inadvertently kept the Star of David she had removed from his coat? ‘Caroline would have felt the chalet offered no threat, Inspector. Corporal Duclos was to have met her. On Friday afternoon I. . I only followed her from the room to see that he did.’
‘And then?’ he asked.
He was watching her closely now because those brief moments when Brother Étienne had left Caroline and walked the petrolette over to Duclos and Sergeant Senghor for repairs were critical. ‘I was satisfied they had seen her. I. . I turned away and went back to our hotel.’
‘Meeting Nora on the way?’
He’d be sure to ask Nora. ‘I. . I didn’t see her then. I. . I don’t know where she went. She must have been cold, had been out a long, long time, walking the perimeter fence. Always she gets as far away from everyone and everything as she can, but. . but I didn’t meet up with her.’
And maybe did. ‘Went back to the room, did you?’
He wasn’t going to leave it. ‘I went into the shops on the Terrace of the Grand.’
‘Weren’t they closing?’
In time for the curfew for visitors and shopkeepers. ‘We had about an hour.’ There was nothing in his eyes now, absolutely nothing.
‘“We”? Who was we?’
Ah, merde! ‘I meant me. Collectively the others. British and. . and Americans, and some from the Hôtel de la Providence. They’re now allowed only the last hour once a week, on Fridays. Colonel Kessler used to let them go there just like the rest of us but Herr Weber, he. . he made the times for them far more restricted.’
‘Can you name any of them who could vouch for you?’
‘Me? For obvious reasons I tried always to keep my distance. I had to, didn’t I?’