Jelly began to sweep the floor.
Greta hesitated.
Flick said, “Don’t let me down.”
Greta nodded. She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and said, “I’m ready.”
Flick entered the kitchen, and Greta followed. The fuse boxes for the building were in a cupboard off the kitchen, beside the large electric oven, according to Antoinette. There was a young
German man at the kitchen stove. Flick gave him a sexy smile and said, “What have you got to offer a hungry girl?”
He grinned at her.
Behind his back, Greta took out a stout pair of pliers with rubberized handles, then opened the cupboard door.
THE SKY WAS partly cloudy, and the sun disappeared as Dieter Franck drove into the picturesque square of Sainte-C‚cile. The clouds were the same shade of dark gray as the slate roof of the church.
He noticed four guards at the chƒteau gate, instead of the usual two. Although he was in a Gestapo car, the sergeant carefully examined his pass and his driver’s before opening the wrought-iron gates and waving the car in. Dieter was pleased: Weber had taken seriously the need for extra security.
A cool breeze blew as he walked from the car to the steps of the grand entrance. Passing into the hall and seeing the rows of women at their switchboards, he thought about the female secret agent Weber had arrested. The Jackdaws were an all-woman team. It occurred to him that they might try to enter the chƒteau disguised as telephonists. Was it possible? As he passed through the east wing he spoke to the German woman supervisor. “Have any of these women joined in the last few days?”
“No, Major,” she said. “One new girl was taken on three weeks ago, and she was the last.”
That put paid to his theory. He nodded and walked on. At the end of the east wing he took the staircase down. The door to the basement stood open, as usual, but there were two soldiers instead of the usual one standing inside. Weber had doubled the guard. The corporal saluted and the sergeant asked for his pass.
Dieter noticed that the corporal stood behind the sergeant while the sergeant checked the pass. He said, “The way you are now, it’s too easy for someone to overpower you both. Corporal, you should stand to the side, and two meters away, so that you have a clear shot if the sergeant is attacked.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dieter entered the basement corridor. He could hear the rumble of the diesel-fueled generator that supplied electricity to the phone system. He passed the doors of the equipment rooms and entered the interview room. He hoped to find the new prisoner here, but the room was empty.
Puzzled, he stepped inside and closed the door. Then his question was answered. From the inner chamber came a long scream of utter agony.
Dieter threw open the door.
Becker stood at the electric shock machine. Weber sat on a chair nearby. A young woman lay on the operating table with her wrists and ankles strapped and her head clamped in the head restraint. She wore a blue dress, and wires from the electric shock machine ran between her feet and up her dress.
Weber said, “Hello, Franck. Join us, please. Becker here has come up with an innovation. Show him, Sergeant.”
Becker reached beneath the woman’s dress and drew out an ebonite cylinder about fifteen centimeters long and two or three in diameter. The cylinder was ringed by two metal bands a couple of centimeters apart. Two wires from the electric shock machine were attached to the bands.
Dieter was accustomed to torture, but this hellish caricature of the sexual act filled him with loathing, and he shuddered with disgust.
“She hasn’t said anything yet, but we’ve only just started,” Weber said. “Give her another shock, Sergeant.”
Becker pushed up the woman’s dress and inserted the cylinder in her vagina. He picked up a roll of electrician’s tape, tore off a strip, and secured the cylinder so that it would not fall out.
Weber said “Turn the voltage up this time.”
Becker returned to the machine.
Then the lights went out.