‘Ah bon, Hermann, the well-spoken one from the second car to have followed us this morning.’
‘Serge de Lenz a votre service, Inspector.’
‘It’s chief inspector, and it’s Sergei Lebeznikov, Hermann. Ex-inspector of the Paris Police, dismissed and sent to prison in disgrace in 1934. Me, I knew I had seen him before. The newspapers, of course. A good photo since it left an indelible impression.’
‘And the crime, mon vieux?’
No guns or weapons of any other kind had yet been drawn, Rudy having slightly raised a hand to still any such outburst. ‘Morphine and cocaine from Marseille. There was simply far too much of both for temptation to ignore, which is why some was unaccounted, but me, I unfortunately had absolutely no part in the subsequent investigation and arrest and still remain envious of those who had the courage to overcome his superior officer’s objections and put them both away.’
‘My girlfriend got careless,’ snorted Lenz.
‘Which can only have meant yourself,’ countered Hermann. ‘Now before anything further happens, Rudy, take one of those fountain pens of yours and write down the names of all ten here who felt they could do such a thing as to manhandle two lovely old ladies and my Oona and Giselle.’
Kohler didn’t just have both barrels. He had extras clutched in his left hand and would likely reload so quickly, the effort of stopping him would just not be worth the trouble.
The pink tie with nesting stork that Merode was wearing was hardly suitable for a suit like that, felt Kohler, the side whiskers a bit too long, that jet-black hair so well greased and tightly combed back, the light was reflecting from it.
To be edgy with a shotgun was not wise. ‘Lulu, ma chere,’ said Merode, ‘be so good as to offer our friends a cognac. Nothing but the best, cherie, and straight from its little trolley.’
‘The Remy Martin Vieille Reserve, and for yourself, mon tigre?’ asked the blue-eyed, beautifully made-up blonde in the fabulous emerald-green Dior pique dress with matching drop-earrings and bracelets from Cartier.
‘Rudy, mon etalion, let me,’ pleaded the one in the superb black crepe, off-the-shoulder from Paul Poiret, her jet black hair and dark-grey eyes perfect, the Chanel No. 5 maybe a bit too much, but the rest sensational, and so much for the same cognac as a certain banker had offered early this morning.
‘Mes amis, relax, eh?’ said Rudy. ‘Certainly, Kohler, those boys from the PPF got a little carried away, but they were under orders.’
‘From Heinrich Ludin and that SD colonel who’s with him?’
‘Ah oui, oui, mon ami, but we still haven’t a name for that one.’
‘Your girls were quickly covered, Kohler,’ interjected Lenz. ‘I draped each of them in a blanket. Rudy’s Lulu and Suzette found slippers for them.’
‘And bandages, eh?’
It was St-Cyr who said, ‘He means, were they raped?’
‘Ah, mon Dieu, of course not,’ insisted Rudy. ‘That wasn’t ordered.’
‘Those PPF boys were only to have a look,’ said Lenz. ‘Surely, that would have been natural, refreshing, even?’
The son of a bitch!
‘Hermann, don’t!’
‘The names, then, Louis, of this little hit squad.’
‘Why not be reasonable since no further harm has come to them?’ went on Rudy, gesturing open-handedly. ‘Me, I will personally see to the needed repairs and losses. Could we not …’
‘Hermann, please!’
‘Louis, I told you to leave this to me.’
Lingerie was dangling from the stuffed coat pockets of some, and it was to one of them that Hermann now went, having borrowed a pen from Rudy. ‘Write down the names of your little squad in my notebook, mon ami. Spell everything carefully and truthfully, and when, after you’ve added your own, sign and dot it, and then gather up the papers of each of them, so that I can check your honesty.’
‘And if I don’t?’
A smart-ass. ‘You won’t even hear the sound this makes.’
‘Unfortunately, mes amis, my partner really does mean it. Never shy; have I seen him so angry.’
‘Flat tires, smashed headlights and now this, Rudy?’ objected Lenz.
It was Lulu who wheeled the cognac in, but Hermann who let its spigot constantly empty onto the floor as he said, ‘Now, you little plaything, I’m going to borrow your cigarette lighter-yes, that’s the very one, Herr Lebeznikov, and if I don’t get the answers I need, this place and all that’s in it, is going to go up.’
‘Give him the names and the I.D. papers,’ sighed Rudy. ‘It won’t matter. Not with these two. Not when Karl Oberg is through with them.’
‘That’s a threat we’ve had lots of times,’ said Hermann, using the Purdey’s muzzle to lift Rudy’s chin, having moved so swiftly even Merode had been caught off guard. ‘There’s gasoline in those jerry cans out in the foyer, Louis. Get two of them and we’ll show him I really do mean business.’
‘The list,’ snapped Rudy, and when he had run his gaze over it, he handed it and the identity papers to Kohler. ‘Now maybe, mon ami, you would tell us what this whole thing is about. A girl with a badly festering wound perhaps on the back of a hand or forearm and desperately needing a Wehrmacht first-aid kit with its sulphanilamide antibacterial powder, a gazogene truck hauling goods to sell on the marche noir and a Sonderkommando only Kaltenbrunner could have sent? What the hell does she know that we don’t and they need?’
And so much for the silence of a certain Oberfeldwebel Werner Dillmann who should have known better. ‘That Kriminalrat from Hamburg is just crazy. We don’t know damn all yet but when we do, you and this lot had better not be involved. Now these, mes amis,’ he lifted the papers, ‘you can collect from the Kommandant von Gross-Paris himself.’
‘Kohler …’
‘Don’t even say it, Rudy.’
It wasn’t until they had withdrawn that Hermann emptied both barrels into the PPF engines and then, reloading, into the windscreen of the other cars.
‘You’re really good at making friends, aren’t you?’
‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’
The villa was surrounded by a tall, wrought-iron fence under cloud-shadowed moonlight. Trees, bushes and shrubs all but hid the place. Access was by a walkway gate with lock and interconnecting speaker off the boulevard Victor Hugo; the one for the cars, Black Marias, and delivery vans being around the corner on the rue de Rouvray. But at 2310 hours, it was ominously quiet, even though more than 4,000 of the Occupier lived in Neuilly, having taken over the flats and houses of the deported or otherwise absent, and requisitioning still others.
‘Hermann …’
‘Louis, the “guests” in this place of Boemelburg’s aren’t even allowed to see or speak to one another. Oona needs Giselle. She’ll hang herself or do something equally crazy if I don’t go in there to see that she’s not left alone.’
A man no longer in doubt and convinced that Oona was the one for him, but … ‘Those who guard this prison of Walter’s will have been forewarned of our imminent arrival.’
‘Good!’
‘I’ve Gabrielle and her son to think of. If we can convince those guards to let Giselle and Oona share a room, should we not also consider that the heat has momentarily been turned down a little?’
‘Back off-that it?’
‘How many more of those pills of Benzedrine have you taken?’
‘Four.’
‘Ah mon Dieu, mon vieux, that’s twenty milligrams. Did you not think of your blood pressure? It’ll be sky-high and will bring on the heart attack I’ve been dreading.’