“At least one mystery is solved,” Muller said.
“What’s that?”
“The reason for Vogel being here. The whole thing ties in now.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Necker said. “Anyway, never mind that now. I’ll see you at the airport.”
He put down the receiver, hesitated, then picked it up again and told the operator to connect him with de Ville Place. Martineau and Orsini had just returned, and it was Helen who answered the phone in the kitchen.
“It’s for you,” she said to Martineau. “Major Necker.”
He took the receiver from her. “Vogel here.”
“Good morning,” Necker greeted him. “I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you to know that Field Marshal Rommel arrives at the airport in just over half-an-hour.”
Martineau, concealing his astonishment, said, “I see.”
“Naturally, you’ll wish to greet him. I’ll see you at the airport.”
Martineau put the phone down slowly as Sarah and Gallagher came in from the garden. “What is it, Harry?” Sarah demanded. “You look awful.”
“I should,” he said. “I think the roof just fell in on me.”
At the Silver-tide, Muller was hurriedly changing into uniform in the bathroom next to his office. He heard the outside door open and Kleist called, “Are you there, Herr Captain? You wanted us.”
“Yes, come in,” Muller called.
He went into the office buttoning his tunic, picked up his belt with the bolstered Mauser and fastened it quickly.
“Something up?” Kleist asked. He looked terrible. The bruising around the eyes had deepened, and the plaster they had taped across his nose at the hospital didn’t improve things.
“You could say that. IVe just heard Rommel’s flying in on what looks like a snap inspection. I’ll have to get up to the airport now. You can drive me, Ernst,” he told Greiser.
“What about me?” Kleist asked.
“With a face like that? I don’t want you within a mile of Rommel. Better take a couple of days off, Willi. Just keep out of the way.” He turned to Greiser. “Let’s get moving.”
After they had gone, Kleist went to the cupboard where the captain kept his drink, took out a bottle of cognac and poured a large one into a glass. He swallowed it in one quick gulp and went into the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror. He looked awful and his face hurt. It was all that damned Irishman’s fault.
He poured himself another cognac and said softly, “My turn will come, you swine, and when it does…” He toasted himself in the mirror and emptied his glass.
As the Citroen moved past the harbor and turned along the esplanade, Greiser said, “By the way, that call I had booked to my brother in Stuttgart last night.”
“What did he have to say?”
“He didn’t. He was on leave. Due back today on the night shift. I’ll speak to him then.”
“Not that it matters all that much now,” Muller said. “Nothing very mysterious about friend Vogel any longer. He obviously came here in advance of the field marshal, that’s all.”
“But what does Rommel want?” Greiser asked.
“If you consider the beach fortifications, strongpoints and batteries for the entire French coast south from Dieppe, exactly half are in these islands alone,” Muller told him. “Perhaps, with the invasion coming, he thought it was time to see what he was getting for his money.” He glanced at his watch. “But never mind that now. Just put your foot down hard. WeVe only got about ten minutes.”
At the airport, Martineau paused briefly to have his pass checked by the sentry. As he was in uniform, it was the merest formality. Several cars were parked outside the main entrance, drivers standing by them, obviously the official party. The big black Austin limousine in front carried the military commander’s pennant.
Martineau parked the Kubelwagen behind Muller’s Citroen. Greiser was at the wheel, the only driver in civilian clothes. Martineau ignored him and went inside the airport building. There were uniforms everywhere, mainly Luftwaffe. He felt a sense of detachment as he walked on through, no fear at all. He would have to do the best he could with the cards fate had dealt him.