Guillaume, Cécile’s aged husband, had emerged from the keeper’s lodge by the gate to see what the fuss was about. Madame de Salignac sent him off at once to the village to fetch the doctor. But by the time he returned with the man, Lord Oakford was dead.
‘I think we need to call the police, Madame,’ said the doctor, surveying Constance and Lord Oakford, whom he had confirmed were both dead.
‘Let’s wait until my guests have left,’ said Madame de Salignac.
The doctor, a squat man of about sixty, raised his eyebrows.
‘That woman shot the gentleman,’ said the old lady.
‘And who shot her?’
‘I did,’ said Madame de Salignac. ‘In self-defence.’
‘And your guests? Are they not witnesses?’
‘I am sure they did not see anything, doctor.’
‘But, Madame…’
‘We have known each other a long time, doctor. You must trust me on this. For France, and for her ally.’
Conrad and Veronica were back on the road within half an hour, Conrad wearing one of his own clean shirts, and a suit belonging to the late Monsieur de Salignac, which was too short and too wide for him. His own was ruined with his father’s blood. They were heading back towards the main road.
‘I’m sorry, Conrad,’ said Veronica, who was driving.
Conrad closed his eyes, trying to sort out in his head what had just happened. ‘Do you think it was the head injury? Or the shotgun wound?’
‘The shotgun wound,’ said Veronica. ‘Without a doubt.’
‘How can you know?’ said Conrad. ‘How will I ever know that it wasn’t me who killed him?’
‘He was talking coherently, and he lost a massive amount of blood.’
‘I can’t be sure.’
‘Conrad, listen to me,’ Veronica said. ‘You have two choices. You can fall apart. Blame yourself. Blame your father. Or you can assume that Constance killed him. You can remember your father’s last words and do what you have to do.’
Conrad was listening.
‘Your father was right, this is a beastly war, and he was one of its casualties. But it’s a beastly war we have to win. So let’s win it.’
Conrad closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Veronica had a point. He needed to focus.
‘All right.’
‘So, Lord Oakford, pull yourself together.’
‘Lord Oakford?’ Conrad was confused.
‘Like it or not, you are the third Viscount Oakford now.’
‘I don’t like it,’ Conrad muttered.
‘No,’ said Veronica. ‘It’s absolutely beastly. Look! We are coming up to the junction. Do we turn right for Paris, or do we turn left for Biarritz?’
‘I need to get back to London to do what I can to stop Alston,’ Conrad said. ‘But we also need to prevent the duke from returning to Britain. Now my father is…’ He hesitated. ‘…is gone, Alston might send someone else. Or he might persuade the duke over the telephone.’
‘I’ll go to Biarritz,’ said Veronica.
‘But how can you stop him?’
‘I’ll think of a way.’ Veronica smiled. ‘I can always think of a way.’
Conrad examined the map and, after judging that the chance of him getting a seat on an aeroplane in the current chaos were nil, decided that a boat from Bordeaux was his best bet. So when they hit the main road, they turned left.
Pall Mall, London
It was a pleasant stroll across St James’s Park to Alston’s club. Britain, or at least the British ruling classes, were panicking, and Alston was relishing it. The news from France was bad; no one believed anything would come of the British and French counter-attacks which were supposed to nip off the neck of the advancing German panzer divisions. According to the Newspaper Proprietor, it would be only a matter of days before the panic seeped down to the general populace. There were rumours that the General was about to get the sack: dismaying for him, no doubt, but it would leave him angry and free to help the cause. Alston had heard from Constance two days before in Paris that she had caught up with Arthur Oakford, but that the duke had left for Biarritz. They would follow him there in a borrowed car. No sign of de Lancey yet. Alston needed to arrange for an aeroplane to fetch the duke from Biarritz back to England.
The timing should be just about perfect. In a few days the pressure on Churchill would become intolerable, and the duke’s sudden appearance in Britain demanding peace would break him. Alston and his colleagues would be ready.
But Oswald Mosley would not. He and Maule Ramsay had been arrested the day before under the new Regulation 18B, leaving Alston and his friends a clear shot at power.
Alston greeted the porter at the lodge. His guest was waiting for him in the library, and there was also a message for him. The message was from Lindfors. Both your requests have been accepted. Good luck.
Alston smiled. That meant Hitler had agreed to give the BEF some breathing space to allow peace negotiations, and that he would refuse to do business with a government including Churchill.
He climbed the stairs to the club library, where the Civil Servant was waiting for him with the latest information on the War Cabinet meetings.
Not long now.
53
Extract from Lieutenant Dieter von Hertenberg’s Diary
25 May
Boulogne captured. 10th Panzer fighting in Calais. Asked British to surrender, but they refused: ‘The answer is no, as it is the British Army’s duty to fight, just as it is the German’s.’ Fair enough. Perhaps I am getting overconfident, but I don’t give them more than a couple of days.
Still forbidden to advance on Dunkirk.
Biarritz, 25 May
Theo identified a choice of two cafés opposite the Hôtel du Palais, Biarritz’s grandest hotel, where the British royal family always stayed on their visits to the resort. He had had little difficulty with the French officials at Hendaye on the Spanish frontier — there were very few travellers entering the country, and a mass of unruly people of all nationalities trying to leave it. They hadn’t searched his luggage, so the pistol he had stowed in the false bottom of his suitcase had remained undetected. Biarritz was only twenty kilometres north of the frontier. It was much easier to get a seat on a train heading north than south.
Once in Biarritz, Theo had solved the problem of whether the duke had arrived by asking English tourists leaving the hotel. He had, in fact, joined his wife the night before. What English tourists were doing in Biarritz in the middle of a war, Theo had no idea, but they were there in some numbers, and willing to chat to a friendly young Yugoslav.
So Theo was too late to divert Otto Langebrück with his story that the duke and duchess were actually on their way to Antibes. But it was possible that Otto had not yet had a chance to speak to the duke himself. Theo’s plan was to find a seat at a café and watch out for him.
And there he was! Sitting at a table outside one of the two cafés himself, checking the entrance to the hotel. Theo strolled past. Otto spotted him, smiled and stood up. The amateur! Theo caught his eye for a second and then looked away. It was unlikely that he or Otto were under surveillance, but not impossible, and Theo wasn’t about to abandon his most basic tradecraft, even though it was clear Otto had never been taught it.
But Otto was quick enough to realize what Theo was doing — out of his peripheral vision Theo could see him looking down at his coffee. Theo walked slowly past and strolled along the beachfront road. The hotel was a grand building of red and white plonked on a little headland between the town’s two beaches. Theo walked the length of the southernmost beach towards the cliffs at the end. He found a path down to the sand, checking behind him to make sure that Otto was following. He was, at a discreet distance, but not really discreet enough if he were under professional surveillance. Oh, well. There was nothing Theo could do about that.