Wrath of the Lion

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“I had lost all belief or interest in right or wrong. In the end you believe only in your friends, the comrade who had his throat cut the previous night. That was what six years in Algeria had done for me.”

Raoul Guyon stood by the small barred window gazing into the night. When he turned he looked tired.

“And this is why you joined the O.A.S.?” Mallory said.

Guyon shook his head. “I was in Algiers in 1958. So much blood that I was sickened by it. There was a young Moorish girl. For a little while we tried to shelter from the storm together. They found her on the beach one morning, stripped, mutilated. I had to identify the body. The following day I was badly wounded and sent back to France to convalesce. When I returned my comrades seemed to have the only solution. To bring back de Gaulle.”

“You took part in the original plot?”

Guyon shrugged. “I was on the fringe. Just one more junior officer. But to me de Gaulle stood for order out of chaos. Afterwards most of us were posted to other units. I spent five months on patrol with the Camel Corps in the Hoggar.”

“And did you find what you were looking for?”

“Almost,” Guyon said. “There was a day of heat and thirst when I almost had it, when the rocks shimmered and the mountains danced in a blue haze and I was a part of it. Almost, but not quite.”

“What happened after that?”

“I was posted back to Algeria to one of the worst districts. A place of barbed wire and fear, where violence erupted like a disease and life was no longer even an act of faith. I was wounded again last year just before General Chile’s abortive coup. Not seriously, but enough to give me a legitimate excuse to put in a request to be placed on unpaid leave. The night before I left, Legrande visited me in my hotel room. Offered me work with the Deuxieme Bureau.”

“And you accepted?”

“In a strange way it offered me some sort of escape. Later, in Paris, I was approached by O.A.S. agents. As an ex-paratroop officer and supporter of the original coup which had placed de Gaulle in power, I must have seemed an obvious choice.”

“And you informed Legrande?”

“As soon as I could get in touch with him. That was the funny thing. I didn’t even have to make a choice. It was almost as if it had been made for me. He told me to accept the offer. From his point of view an agent with contacts in that direction would obviously be valuable.”

“And yet we were informed that the Deuxieme had no real suspicions about de Beaumont. Surely you must have had some sort of lead on him through your Paris connections with the other side?”

“Not really. I was only on the edge of their organisation. De Beaumont’s name was mentioned as one sympathetic to their aims. On the other hand, his political opinions are well known in France. There was certainly never any hint that he might be an active worker.”

“And all this time you were completely accepted?”

“I certainly thought so. As a new recruit to the Deuxieme, it was obvious that my sources would be limited, but I passed on selected information of Legrande’s orders. I certainly never managed to get close to any of the really big men, but I was working towards it. On two occasions he even allowed me to warn some of the lesser fry when their arrest was imminent.”

“What about L’Alouette?”

“That was the thing which puzzled us from the beginning. The complete absence of information as to her whereabouts, even in O.A.S. circles. Because of that Legrande told me to inform my Paris contacts that I had been assigned to the Channel Islands merely to run a routine check on de Beaumont, just to make sure that he was behaving himself. Legrande felt that at least it would prove once and for all whether a definite link existed.”

“Something he didn’t see fit to inform us at our end.”

“I’m sorry about that, but Legrande never lives in the present – only the future. He envisaged a possible situation in which my other activities could prove useful. Under the circumstances it seemed wiser to present myself merely as Raoul Guyon, an accredited agent of the Bureau and nothing more.”

“I see the old fox is still a believer in playing his cards as they fall,” Mallory said. “It shows in his poker game.”

“A remark strangely similar to one he made about you just before I left.”

Mallory grinned. “One thing at least has come out of all this. De Beaumont definitely does have a link with the O.A.S. in Paris because he was warned that you were coming. The one thing I don’t understand is why he didn’t think it strange that you hadn’t told them about L’Alouette affair.”

“The first thing he asked me coming across on the boat. A difficult question to answer.”

“And how did you?”

“Told him the Bureau believed the whole business to be the work of an independent group. That this was confirmed for me personally by the obvious ignorance of the affair in O.A.S. circles. That as an ex-paratroop officer who had taken part in the coup of June “58, only to be betrayed by de Gaulle, I would much prefer to work with him.”

“And he accepted that?”

“He seemed to at the time.”

“It all sounds pretty shaky to me.”

“It obviously did to de Beaumont.” Guyon grinned wryly. “On the other hand, I didn’t have time to think up anything better and I did make my own move against you just before they did, remember?”

“That was quick thinking.”

The young Frenchman shrugged. “When I saw what they had done to the radio telephone it seemed logical to assume they were still on board, that we were under observation. It seemed wise to establish my credentials while I still could and I remembered seeing you put the transmitter in the table drawer earlier in the afternoon.”

“And you’d never met him previously?”

Guyon shook his head. “As I told you before, only as one of a crowd. Naturally, I knew a great deal about him. He was one of the really great paratroop officers, you know.”

“I’ve been going over everything he said to me upstairs,” Mallory said. “None of it really makes sense. In the end he must lose. The murder of a fine old man like Henri Granville on its own will be sufficient to lose him, and those who think like him, a great deal of sympathy, and yet he goes on. I wonder why?”

“He was always a strange, ascetic man. A cross between religious fanatic and soldier. The surrender at Dien-Bien-Phu, the humiliation of the Viet camps and our subsequent withdrawal from Indo-China were a source of lasting shame to him. Like many of his kind, he swore it would never happen again.”

“And in spite of everything he could do it did.” 140

Guyon nodded. “De Beaumont is the last of one of our most noble families, his only heir a brother who is a professor of political history at the Sorbonne. A man with pronounced left-wing sympathies. One of his ancestors was one of the few nobles to give wholehearted support to the revolution in 1789, another was a general under Napoleon. For one hundred and fifty years the de Beaumonts have been one of the greatest of French families.”

“Something of a national calamity if he had to be arrested.”

“Exactly. The government was more than happy when he chose to reside in the Channel Islands. At the time it seemed to dispose of him as an immediate problem.”

“Which he has now become,” Mallory said, “and in more ways than one.”

“You are thinking of his threat to dispose of de Gaulle during his visit to St. Malo next month?” Guyon shook his head, lay on the other bed, pillowing his head on his hands. “I’m not too worried about that. They won’t get de Gaulle. He’s indestructible, that one. Like one of those rocks out there on the reef after a storm. A little more weathered, but still standing.”

“Which leaves us with the Granville affair,” Mallory said. “And the hell of it is there doesn’t seem to be a damned thing we can do about it.”

He lit a cigarette and lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling, going over the events of the previous couple of hours in his mind. After a while he said softly: The first rule in this game is that the job must come before everything else. Most men I’ve worked with, in your position, would have played along with de Beaumont, would even have executed me if necessary.”

“Perhaps I saw the situation differently,” Guyon said.

"You moved so fast you didn’t even notice the difference in weight the blanks made. Why?”

“Something I’ve been asking myself on and off for the past hour or more. It’s not easy to explain. Let’s just say that suddenly people have become important to me again and leave it at that.”

He turned his face to the wall and Mallory lay there, smoking his cigarette, thinking how strange it was that a young man, all feeling burned out of him by the flames of two savage wars, should be brought back to life by that oldest and most elemental of human emotions – love.

He was cold and stiff and his limbs ached. He pulled the blanket over his legs and checked his watch. It was almost 5 a.m. and he lay in the darkness listening to the rain and the wind. After a while he drifted into sleep again.

He became aware that someone was prodding him and opened his eyes. Raoul Guyon squatted beside him. Grey light seeped into the room through the barred window and Mallory swung his legs to the floor.

“Still raining?”

Guyon nodded. “Hasn’t let up all night. It’s almost eight.”

Mallory walked to the door and peered through the iron grille into the corridor outside. A young sailor sat in a chair reading a book, a heavy service revolver in the holster at his waist.

Mallory crossed to the window. The casement opened easily enough, but the bars set in the ledge on either side were strong and firm. He looked into the grey morning, out along the reef to lie de Roc. Rain slanted down and visibility was poor, a cold mist drifting close to the surface of the water.

“I wonder what they’re doing over there?” Guyon said at his shoulder.

“They must have realised by now that something’s gone wrong.” Mallory shrugged. “If they’ve any sense at all they’ll have brought in Owen Morgan and gone to Guernsey for help in your launch.”

“Surely de Beaumont will have considered that possibility?”

“He probably has. That’s what’s worrying me.”

There was a rattle of bolts and the door opened. As they both turned, Marcel entered and stood to one side, a revolver in his right hand. The young sailor followed, carrying a tray which he placed on the bed. They withdrew without saying a word, bolting the door again.

The food was simple, bread and cheese and hot coffee, and Mallory suddenly realised how hungry he was. They sat on either side of the tray to eat and finished off by sharing his last cigarette.

Afterwards he lay on the bed waiting for something to happen, while Guyon paced restlessly up and down the cell, the rain hammering against the window. It was almost ten o’clock when the door opened again and de Beaumont entered, Marcel at his back.

He seemed in a good humour and smiled cheerfully. “Good morning, gentlemen. I trust you spent a good night? Your quarters are adequate?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Mallory admitted.

“Anything I can get you?”

“The condemned man’s last wish?” Mallory shrugged. “We could do with some cigarettes. That’s about all.”

Marcel took a packet of Gauloise from his pocket and threw them on the bed. “Anything else?” de Beaumont said politely.

Mallory put a cigarette in his mouth and tossed the packet to Guyon. “I don’t think so.”

“Then you will excuse me? You’ll be interested to know that Jacaud and his men left for Pointe du Chateau fifteen minutes ago as scheduled. Under the circumstances I think it’s time I paid a visit to our friends on fie de Roc.”

“I wouldn’t count on anyone being there to meet you.”

“Oh, they’ll be there, all right. I can assure you of that.”

De Beaumont smiled faintly as if enjoying some private joke, nodded to Marcel and passed outside. The door closed and the bolts were rammed home with a harsh finality.

Guyon turned with a gesture of despair and Mallory motioned him to silence. When he went to the door the young sailor was back on his chair reading a magazine.

Mallory crossed to the window and looked outside. A minute or two later he heard the sound of an engine and Foxhunter came into view, running alongside the reef towards lie de Roc.

“There he goes.”

Guyon moved to the window, peered out and frowned. “But why has he taken Foxhunter?

“Easier to handle than Fleur de Lys on the short run and there’s too much sea for the speedboat.”

Guyon, thinking of Fiona, dropped his cigarette and stamped on it viciously. “I didn’t like his last remark. He sounded far too sure of himself. As if he knew for certain that the General and the girls would still be on the island.”

“I imagine he does/ Mallory said. “It’s been a long night. He could have been up to anything, but that isn’t important at the moment. He probably only intends to bring them back here for safe custody until he’s ready to move out.”

“You may be right.”

“It’s Henri Granville I’m thinking about, sitting in the middle of the Gironde Marshes not knowing that sometime after noon there’ll be a knock at the door. I can see the smile on Jacaud’s face now.”

“And nothing we can do about it.”

“Plenty, if we could get out of here. There’s always the radio room in the tower, or the Fleur de Lys would be a better bet. A boat of that size is bound to have a radio telephone.”

Guyon shook his head. “Those marshes are one of the most isolated places on the entire coast. Even if we managed to contact my people in Paris it would still be too late for Henri Granville. They’d never reach him in time.”

“But we could,” Mallory said. “L’Alouette will have to make the entire run submerged. That will take her a good three hours.”

“It’s almost an hour since she left,” Guyon pointed out.

“Fleur de Lys has twice the speed. We could still beat Jacaud to the punch.”

“Only if we get out of here within the next half-hour,” Guyon said. “And I stopped believing in miracles a long time ago.”

“We don’t need a miracle. Just a little luck,” Mallory pulled him down on the bed. “Now listen carefully.”

It was cold in the passage and the young sailor shivered and got to his feet. He stamped vigorously to restore his circulation and walked a few paces away from the chair. He was bored. He was also a little afraid. In the beginning the whole affair had seemed like a great adventure, a crusade. Now he was not so sure. He turned to move back to his chair and a muffled cry sounded from inside the cell.

He stood there, a puzzled frown on 1m face. There was another cry, followed by the crash of a bed going over. He arrived at the grille in time to see Guyon drive his fist into Mallory’s face, knocking him against the wall.

“You got me into this, you bastard!” the young Frenchman cried. Til kill you! I’ll kill you!”

He flung himself forward and Mallory ducked under another blow, moved in close and tripped him. A moment later and he was kneeling on Guymon’s chest, hands twisted into his collar as he throttled him expertly.

The young sailor gave a cry of alarm. He pulled back the bolts and moved into the cell, revolver ready in his right hand. He reached for Mallory’s collar and to his amazement Guyon erupted from the floor, grabbed his wrist savagely and twisted the revolver from his grasp. The sailor’s mouth opened in a cry of alarm that was cut short as Mallory’s fist moved in a short arc against the side of the jaw.

Mallory picked up the revolver, nodded to Guyon and they went outside quickly. All was quiet. Guyon bolted the door and they hurried along the passage.

A strange quiet reigned until they reached the main corridor when they heard voices in the distance and the clatter of pans from the kitchen. They passed along to the far end and Mallory opened the door cautiously and stepped on to the landing at the top of the steps which led down to the cave.

The jetty was deserted and Fleur de Lys and the speedboat were the only craft moored to the wall. They went down the stone steps quickly, paused for a moment at the bottom, then hurried across to Fleur de Lys.

When they went into the wheelhouse they saw at once that the radio telephone had been removed from its housing on the wall. Mallory grinned tightly. “He’s a cautious bastard, I’ll say that for him.”

“Only to be expected.” Guyon shrugged. “A good soldier tries to foresee every eventuality.” He looked around and shook his head. “This looks one hell of a size for two of us.”

“We’ll manage,” Mallory said. “We’ll have to. There’s plenty of fuel in the tank, which is the main thing. Go get those lines off the jetty and we’ll move out.”

Guyon went forward quickly and untied the first line. As he started aft there was a harsh cry. When he glanced up he saw a sailor standing on the landing at the top of the steps. He ran along the deck and cast off the other line. The sailor drew a revolver and fired two wild shots as he came down the steps.

He was too late. The engines were already roaring into life and Mallory took Fleur de Lys out through the entrance. Spray splashed against the window, waves breaking over the deck as he turned through the lee-side of the reef and set course for Pointe du Chateau.