‘Louis, when you were up in the gods of that factory and calling down to them and to our Bonze, you knew Schlacht would compromise and save face by saying Oona had to stay in Paris. You knew he’d let those two go, at least for the time being.’
‘By keeping Oona here, Herr Schlacht still believes he has a hold over us, Hermann, should we ever think to let the Kommandant von Gross-Paris know what’s really been going on. I admit, however, that I also had self-interest at heart, for with Oona here, I can depend on you to be the person you are. Giselle as well, of course, for she’d give you up in an instant if she felt you had become at all loyal to the Occupier.’
‘Then read these!’
Je Suis Partout’s and Le Matin’s thin and heavily controlled newspapers shrilled outrage in bold black letters: TERRORISTS DYNAMITE HEADQUARTERS OF QUARTIER DU MAIL ET DE BONNE-NOUVELLE MILICE. FOUR DEAD, FIVE TERRIBLY INJURED.
‘It’s those gazogéne lorries, Louis. Their lousy gas tanks invariably leak. Smoke a careless cigarette or cigar near one of them and you damn well know what’s likely to happen.’
‘Candles … They say the lorries were loaded with them and that the fire volatilized — that’s a big word for the Occupation’s Le Matin, but no matter — volatilized the beeswax causing it to explode as well as …’
‘As the dynamite their fertile imaginations felt must have been necessary. Mein Gott, don’t those idiots in the press know anything about wax? Now read this little item my boss so thoughtfully ripped out of yesterday’s rags.’
‘I didn’t know Walter had the time.’
‘It’s Gestapo Boemelburg to you, mon fin, and don’t ever forget it even if you did work with him on international police business before the Defeat!’
Paris welcomes the General Unruh, the Hero’s Friend, who has set up offices in the Hôtel Majestic.
Unruh meant, literally, trouble!
‘He’s already begun a thorough review of the Palais d’Eiffel, Louis. Apparently the Führer has had his eye out for slackers for some time.’*
‘And Schlacht?’
‘Is still looking for his little badge and now trying to explain to the authorities how honey and wax could have been stolen by him from under the noses of armed Wehrmacht guards and air-raid sirens that shouldn’t have sounded. He’ll just have to go along with the rest of the staff. After all, there’s a war on.’
And the Führer is always right.
‘Now read this.’
It was a telex from Pierre Laval, no less. The Premier, in Vichy, the internationally famous spa and home of the Government of France in these terrible times and since June of 1940.
Flykiller slays mistress of high-ranking Government employee in Hall des Sources. Imperative you immediately send experienced detectives who are not from this district. Repeat, not from this district.
‘Not from his jurisdiction?’
‘Outsiders. Of course it smells just like one of those lousy waters they insist are so good for you, Louis, but who the hell can be killing flies in winter? There aren’t any!’
But apparently there were.
* Early in 1943 General Unruh arrived in Paris and within a few weeks had disbanded the staff of the Procurement Office and closed it.