"Are you expecting a train from Paris with prisoners tonight?"
"Yes, at eight o'clock, as usual."
"When it comes, hold it here until you hear from me. I have a special prisoner I want to board."
"Very good. If I could have written authorization.."
"Of course. I will arrange it. Do you do anything with the prisoners while the train is here?"
"Sometimes we hose out the cars. Cattle trucks are used, you see, so there are no lavatory facilities, and frankly it becomes extremely unpleasant, without wishing to criticize-"
"Do not clean the trucks tonight, you understand?"
"Of course."
"Do you do anything else?"
The man hesitated. "Not really."
He was guilty about something, Dieter could tell. "Come on, man, out with it, I'm not going to punish you."
"Sometimes the railway men take pity on the prisoners, and give them water. It's not allowed, strictly speaking, but-"
"No water will be given tonight."
"Understood."
Dieter turned to Hans. "I want you to take Michel Clairet to the police station and lock him in a cell, then return here to the station and make sure my orders are carried out."
"Of course, Major."
Dieter picked up the phone on the stationmaster's desk. "Get me the chateau of Sainte-Cecile." When he got through he asked for Weber. "There's a woman in the cells called Gilberte."
"I know," said Weber. "Pretty girl."
Dieter wondered why Weber sounded so pleased with himself "Would you please send her in a car to the railway station in Reims. Lieutenant Hesse is here, he will take charge of her."
"Very well," said Weber. "Hold the line a moment, will you?" He moved the phone away from his mouth and spoke to someone in the room, giving orders for Gilberte to be moved. Dieter waited impatiently. Weber came back on the line. "I've arranged that."
"Thank you-"
"Don't hang up. I have some news for you."
This would be why he was sounding pleased. "Go on," Dieter said.
"I have captured an Allied agent myself."
"What?" Dieter said. This was a lucky break. "When?"
"A few minutes ago."
"Where, for God's sake?"
"Right here in Sainte-Cecile."
"How did that happen?"
"She attacked a Militian, and three of my bright young people happened to witness it. They had the presence of mind to capture the culprit, who was armed with a Colt automatic."
"Did you say 'she'? The agent is a woman?"
"Yes."
That settled it. The Jackdaws were in Sainte-Cecile. The chateau was their target.
Dieter said, "Weber, listen to me. I think she is part of a team of saboteurs intending to attack the chateau."
"They tried that before," Weber said. "We gave them a hiding."
Dieter controlled his impatience with an effort. "Indeed you did, so they may be more sly this time. May I suggest a security alert? Double the guards, search the chateau, and question all non-German personnel in the building."
"I have given orders to that effect."
Dieter was not sure he believed that Weber had already thought of a security alert, but it did not matter, so long as he did so now.
Dieter briefly considered rescinding his instructions about Gilberte and Michel but decided not to. He might well need to interrogate Michel before the night was over.
"I will return to Sainte-Cecile immediately," he told Weber.
"As you wish," Weber said casually, implying he could manage perfectly well without Dieter's assistance.
"I need to interrogate the new prisoner."
"I have already begun. Sergeant Becker is softening her up."
"For God's sake! I want her sane and able to speak."
"Of course."
"Please, Weber, this is too important for mistakes. I beg you to keep Becker under control until I get there."
"Very well, Franck. I will make sure he doesn't overdo it."
"Thank you. I'll be there as fast as I can." Dieter hung up.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Flick paused at the entrance to the great hall of the chateau. Her pulse was racing and there was a cold sensation of fear in her chest. She was in the lions' den. If she were captured, nothing could save her.
She surveyed the room rapidly. Telephone switchboards had been installed in precise parade-ground rows, incongruously modern against the faded grandeur of the pink-and-green walls and the pudgy cherubs painted on the ceiling. Bundled cables twisted across the checkerboard marble floor like uncoiled ropes on the deck of a ship.
There was a hubbub of chatter from forty operators. Those nearest glanced at the new arrivals. Flick saw one girl speak to her neighbor and point to them. The operators were all from Reims and the surrounding district, many from Sainte-Cecile itself-so they would know the regular cleaners and would realize the Jackdaws were strangers. But Flick was gambling that they would say nothing to the Germans.
She oriented herself quickly, bringing to mind the plan Antoinette had drawn. The bombed west wing, to her left, was disused. She turned right and led Greta and Jelly through a pair of tall paneled doors into the east wing.
One room led to another, all palatial reception rooms full of switchboards and equipment racks that buzzed and clicked as numbers were dialed. Flick did not know whether the cleaners normally greeted the operators or passed them in silence: the French were great people for saying good morning, but this place was run by the German military. She contented herself with smiling vaguely and avoiding eye contact.
In the third room, a supervisor in German uniform sat at a desk. Flick ignored her, but the woman called out, "Where is Antoinette?"
Flick answered without pausing in her stride. "She's coming." She heard the tremor of fear in her own voice and hoped the supervisor had not noticed.
The woman glanced up at the clock, which said five past seven. "You're late."
"Very sorry, Madame, we'll get started right away." Flick hurried into the next room. For a moment she listened, heart in her mouth, for an angry shout calling her back, but none came, and she breathed easier and walked on, with Greta and Jelly close behind.
At the end of the east wing was a stairwell, leading up to the offices or down to the basement. The Jackdaws were headed for the basement, eventually, but first they had preparations to make.
They turned left and moved into the service wing. Following Antoinette's directions, they found a small room where cleaning materials were stored: mops, buckets, brooms, and garbage bins, plus the brown cotton overall coats the cleaners had to wear on duty Flick closed the door.
"So far, so good," said Jelly.
Greta said, "I'm so scared!" She was pale and trembling. "I don't think I can go on."
Flick gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine," she said. "Let's get on with it. Put your ordnance into these cleaning buckets."
Jelly began to transfer her explosives into a bucket, and after a moment's hesitation Greta followed suit. Flick assembled her submachine gun without its rifle butt, reducing the length by a foot, to make it easier to conceal. She fitted the noise suppressor and flicked the switch for single-shot firing. When using the silencer, the chamber had to be reloaded manually before each shot.
She pushed the weapon under her leather belt. Then she put on an overall coat. It covered the gun. She left the buttons undone for quick access. The other two also put on overalls, concealing the guns and ammunition stuffed into their pockets.
They were almost ready for the basement. However, it was a high-security area, with a guard at the door, and French personnel were not allowed down there-the Germans cleaned it themselves. Before entering, the Jackdaws were going to create a little confusion.
They were about to leave the room when the door opened and a German officer looked in. "Passes!" he barked.