“Yes!” Dieter said, and he thumped the dashboard with his fist in satisfaction. His strategy had been proved right-Helicopter had led him to the heart of the local Resistance.
But he had not been expecting this degree of success. He had thought a messenger might come, and the messenger might take Helicopter-and Dieter-to Michel. Now Dieter had a dilemma. Michel was a very big prize. Should Dieter arrest him right away? Or follow him, in the hope of catching even bigger fish?
Hans replaced the manhole cover and got into the van. “Contact, sir?”
“Yes.”
“What next?”
Dieter did not know what to do next-arrest Michel, or follow him?
Michel stood up, and Helicopter did the same.
Dieter decided to follow them.
“What shall I do?” Hans said anxiously.
“Get out the bike, quick.”
Hans opened the back doors of the van and took out the moped.
The two men put money on the caf‚ tables and moved away. Dieter saw that Michel walked with a limp, and recalled that he had taken a bullet during the skirmish.
He said to Hans, “You follow them, I’ll follow you.” He started the engine of the van.
Hans climbed on the moped and started pedaling, which fired the engine. He drove slowly along the street, keeping a hundred meters behind his quarry. Dieter followed Hans.
Michel and Helicopter turned a corner. Following a minute later, Dieter saw that they had stopped to look in a shop window. It was a pharmacy. They were not shopping for medicines, of course: this was a precaution against surveillance. As Dieter drove by, they turned and headed back the way they had come. They would be watching for a vehicle that made a U-turn, so Dieter could not pursue them. However, he saw Hans pull behind a truck and turn back, remaining on the far side of the street but keeping the two men in sight.
Dieter went around the block and caught up with them again. Michel and Helicopter were approaching the railway station, with Hans still following.
Dieter asked himself whether they knew they were being followed. The trick at the pharmacy might indicate that they were suspicious. He did not think they had noticed the PTJ’ van, for he had been out of their sight most of the time, but they could have spotted the moped. Most likely, Dieter thought, the reversal of direction was a precaution taken routinely by
Michel, who was presumably an experienced undercover operator.
The two men crossed the gardens in front of the station. There were no flowers in the beds, but a few trees were blossoming in defiance of the war. The station was a solidly classical building with pilasters and pediments, heavyweight and over decorated, no doubt like the nineteenth-century businessmen who had built it.
What would Dieter do if Michel and Helicopter caught a train? It was too risky for Dieter to get on the same train. Helicopter would certainly recognize him, and it was even possible that Michel might remember him from the square at Samte-C‚cile. No, Hans would have to board the train, and Dieter would follow by road.
They entered the station through one of three classical arches. Hans left his moped and followed them inside. Dieter pulled up and did the same. If the two men went to the booking office, he would tell Hans to stand behind them in the queue and buy a ticket to the same destination.
They were not at the ticket window. Dieter entered the station just in time to see Hans go down a flight of steps to the tunnel beneath the lines that connected the platforms. Perhaps Michel had bought tickets in advance, Dieter thought. That was not a problem. Hans would just get on the train without a ticket.
On either side of the tunnel, steps led up to the platforms. Dieter followed Hans past all the platform entrances. Sensing danger, he quickened his pace as he mounted the stairs to the station’s rear entrance. He caught up with Hans and they emerged together into the rue de Courcelles.
Several of the buildings had been bombed recently, but cars were parked on those stretches of the road that were clear of rubble. Dieter scanned the street, fear leaping in his chest. A hundred meters away, Michel and Helicopter were jumping into a black car. Dieter and Hans would never catch them. Dieter put his hand on his gun, but the range was too great for a pistol. The car pulled away. It was a black Renault Monaquatre, one of the commonest cars in France. Dieter could not read its license plate. It tore off along the street and turned a corner.