Martineau picked up another glass of champagne and walked away. Sarah was surrounded by the naval officers and Guido was taking a photo. She waved and Martineau joined them.
“Please, Max,” she said. “We must have a photo together.”
264.
He laughed lightly and handed his glass to Bruno. “Why not?”
The others moved to one side and he and Sarah stood there together in the sunshine. She felt strange, remembering what Helen had said, her hand tightening on his arm as if trying desperately to hold on.
Guido smiled. “That’s fine.”
“Good.” Martineau retrieved his champagne from Bruno. “And now I must speak to the field marshal. You’ll look after Anne-Marie for me, Lieutenant?” he said to Guido and walked away.
He’d noticed Muller arrive, rather later than everyone else. He was standing talking to Necker, and behind him, a military police motorcycle drove up with Greiser in the saddle. Martineau paused, watching. Greiser got off, pushed the motorcycle up on its stand and approached Muller, who made his excuses to Necker and moved away, listening to what the sergeant had to say. After a while, he looked around as if searching for someone. When he found Martineau, he crossed the grass toward him.
“I wonder if I might have a few words in private, Stan-dartenfuhrer?”
“Of course,” Martineau said, and they moved away from the others, walking toward the trees. “What can I do for you?”
“My man Kleist was killed last night. A messy business. His car went over a cliff at La Moye.”
“Not good,” Martineau said. “Had he been drinking?”
“Perhaps,” Muller replied cautiously. “The thing is we can’t think of any convincing reason for him having been there. It’s a remote sort of place.”
“A woman perhaps?” Martineau suggested.
“No sign of another body.”
“A mystery then, but what has it to do with me?” Martineau knew, of course, what was to come.
“We ran a routine check with the military police patrols in that sector in case they’d noticed his car.”
“And had they?”
“No, but we have got a report that you were stopped in your Kubelwagen on Route du Sud at approximately two o’clock this morning.”
“Correct,” Martineau told him calmly. “But what has that to do with the matter in hand?”
“To get to the area of La Moye where Kleist met with his unfortunate accident it would be necessary to drive along Route du Sud, then take the Corbiere road.”
“Do get to the point, Muller, the field marshal is expecting me.”
“Very well, Standartenftthrer. 1 was wondering what you were doing there at two o’clock in the morning.”
“It’s quite simple,” Martineau said. “I was about my business, under direct orders of the Reichsfuhrer, as you well know. When I return to Berlin he will expect a report on what I found here in Jersey. I’m sorry to say it will not be favorable.”
Muller frowned. “Perhaps you could explain, Standar-tenfuhrer.”
“Security for one thing,” Martineau told him. “Or the lack of it. Yes, Muller, I was stopped by a military police patrol on Route du Sud this morning. I left de Ville Place at midnight, drove through St. Peter’s Valley, up to the village and along to Greve de Lecq. Just after one o’clock I reached L’Etacq at the north end of St. Ouen’s Bay, having taken a back lane around Les Landes. A defense area, am I right?”
“Yes, Standartenfuhrer.”
“And the places all have important military installations?”
“True.”
“I’m glad you agree. I then drove along the bay to Cor-biere lighthouse and was eventually stopped in Route du Sud by two military policemen who appeared to be having a smoke at the side of the road. You do get the point, don’t you, Muller?” His face was hard and dangerous. “I drove around this island in the early hours of the morning close to some of our most sensitive installations and only got stopped once.” He allowed his voice to rise so that officers nearby turned curiously. “Would you say that was satisfactory?”
“No, Standartenfuhrer.”
“Then I suggest you do something about it.” Martineau put his glass down on a nearby table. “And now I think IVe kept the field marshal waiting long enough.”