Heider was beside himself with joy. “An honor, Herr Field Marshal. I can move into Hinguette for the night wi^h my second in command.”
“I’m sure you can find us a decent cook among your men.”
“No problem, Field Marshal.”
Baum turned to Necker. “You see, my dear Necker, all taken care of. This will suit me very well indeed. Impregnable on this side and Captain Heider and his boys guarding the front. What more could one ask for?”
“It was hoped you might join us for dinner at the officers’ club at Bagatelle,” Necker said diffidently.
“Another time. It’s been a long day and frankly, I’d welcome an early night. Call for me in the morning. Not too early. Let’s say at ten, and we can do the other side of the island.”
“At your orders, Heir Field Marshal.”
They all went around to the front of the house where there was a general leavetaking. Heider took Baum and Hofer inside and showed them around. The living room was large and reasonably well furnished.
“It was like this when we moved in,” Heider said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get my things out of the bedroom. Field Marshal, then I’ll arrange a cook.”
He went upstairs. Baum turned to Hofer. “Did I do well?”
“Superb,” Hofer said, “And this place is perfect. Just the right amount of isolation. You’re a genius, Berger.”
The evening meal had already started at de Ville Plac-e when Martineau got bark. He peered in at the window and saw Sarah sitting with Guido and half-a-dozen other naval officers at the table. He decided not to go in and, instead, went round to the back door and let himself into the kitchen. Helen was washing dishes at the sink and Gallagher was drying for her.
“How did things go?” the Irishman demanded.
“Well enough. Absolutely no problems, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did you see the great man?”
“As close as I am to you, but he made it clear the SS is not exactly his favorite organization.”
Helen poured him a cup of tea, and Gallagher said, “We’ve been making decisions while youVe been away.”
He told him how they’d decided to move Kelso. When he was finished, Martineau nodded. “That makes sense to me. We’ll make it later though. Say around eleven.”
“Should be safe enough then,” Gallagher said.
Martineau went upstairs and lay on the bed of the room he shared with Sarah. Although they slept in the same bed he had not made love to her again since that first night. There was no particular reason. There just didn’t seem to be the need. But no. He wasn’t being honest. It wasn’t Sarah, it was him, something inside, some old wound of the spirit that made him afraid to give himself fully. A morose fear that it would all prove to be just another disappointment or perhaps simply the fear that this strange, enchanting, tough young woman was forcing him back into the real world again. Bringing him back to life.
He lay on the bed smoking a cigarette, staring at the ceiling, strangely restless, thinking of Rommel and the energy of the man-and what a target he was. He got up and put on his belt with the bolstered PPK, then he opened his suitcase, found the Carswell silencer and put it in his pocket.
When he went downstairs, they were still eating in the great hall. He went back to the kitchen. Helen looked up in surprise. “You’re going out again?”
“Things to do.” He turned to Gallagher. “Tell Sarah I’ll be back soon.”
The Irishman frowned. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
“Not in the whole wide world,” Martineau assured him. “I’ll see you later,” and he went out.
There was a half moon again and in its light, he saw the line of white houses high overhead on the ridge above the trees. He turned the Kubelwagen into La Haule Hill and parked in a track where it joined with Mont de la Rocque. For a while, he sat there thinking about it, and then he got out and started up through the trees.
It was nonsense, of course. Shoot Rommel and they’d have the island sewn up tight within an hour. Nowhere to go. On top of that they’d probably take hostages until the assassin gave himself up. They’d done that in other countries. No reason to think Jersey would be any different. But in spite of all reason and logic, the thought titillated, would not go away. He kept on climbing.