“Your friend Gallagher in Jersey uses me as a postman now. I don’t know what’s in it and I don’t want to, but he expects an answer when I return. We sail tomorrow at noon. I’ll be back.” He swallowed his cognac and left.
She came round the counter and called to one of the customers, “Heh, Marcel, look after the bar for me.”
She approached her husband who had stopped playing and was lighting a cigarette. “What was that all about?”
“Let’s go in the back and find out.”
She pulled his wheelchair from the piano, turned and pushed him along the bar to the sitting room at the rear. Gerard Cresson sat at the table and read Gallagher’s letter, then pushed it across to her, face grave.
She read it quickly, then got a bottle of red wine and filled two glasses. “He’s in a real mess this time, our friend the General.”
“And then some.”
Between them they had controlled the Resistance movement from Granville to Avranches and St. Malo for three years now. Gerard provided the organizing ability and Sophie was his good right arm. They were a very successful team. Had to be to have survived so long.
“You’ll radio London?”
“Of course.”
“What do you think?” she said. “Maybe they’ll ask us to try to get this Yank out of Jersey.”
“Difficult at the best of times,” he said. “Not possible with the state he’s in.” He held out his glass for more wine. “Of course, there is a rather obvious solution. Much better for everyone in the circumstances, I should have thought.”
“And what’s that?”
“Send someone across to cut his throat.”
There was silence between them. She said, “It’s been a long war.”
“Too long,” he said. “Now take me to the storeroom and I’ll radio London.”
Major Speer turned from the sink, toweling his hands. Sister Bernadette was already mixing the plaster of Paris, and he crossed to the operating table and looked down at Kelso who was still unconscious.
“An excellent piece of work,” George Hamilton said.
“Yes, I must say I’m rather pleased with it myself.” Speer reached for his greatcoat. “I’m sure you can handle the rest. I’m already late for dinner at the officers’ club. Don’t forget to let me know how he progresses, Herr Professor. General.” He saluted and went out.
Hamilton stood, looked down at Kelso, suddenly drained as he stripped off his gloves and gown. Kelso moaned a little as he started to come round and said softly, “Janet, I love you.”
The American accent was unmistakable. Sister Berna-dette appeared not to have noticed, but the older woman glanced sharply at Hamilton and then at Gallagher.
“He seems to be coming around,” Hamilton said lamely.
“So it would appear,” she said. “Why don’t you and General Gallagher go to my office. One of the nuns will get you some coffee. We have some of the real stuff thanks to Major Speer. Sister Bernadette and I will put the cast on for you.”
“That’s very kind of you, Sister.”
The two men went out and along the corridor, past the kitchen where two nuns worked, to the office at the end. Hamilton sat behind the desk and Gallagher gave him one of his Gitanes and sat in the window seat.
“The moment he came through that door will stay with me forever,” the Irishman said.
“As I told you, he’s not a bad sort,” Hamilton commented. “And a damn fine doctor.”
“You think Kelso will be all right?”
“I don’t see why not. We should be able to move him in an hour or so. We’ll have to watch him closely for the next few days. The possibility of infection mustn’t be discounted, but there were some ampules of this new wonder drug, penicillin, in that emergency kit from his life raft. I’ll start him on that if he gets the wrong sort of reaction.”
“Sister Maria Teresa-she knows things aren’t what they seem.”
“Yes, I feel rather bad about that,” George Hamilton said. “As if I’ve used her. She won’t tell, of course. It would be contrary to every belief she holds dear.”
“She reminds me of my old aunt in Dublin when I was a lad,” Gallagher said. “Incense, candles and the Holy Water.”