Dieter was now sitting in such a car, a long black Citro‰n parked on the outskirts of Reims. With him were three Gestapo men experienced in wireless detection. Tonight the help of the Paris center was not required:
Dieter already knew the frequency Helicopter would use, and he assumed Helicopter would broadcast from somewhere in the city (because it was too difficult for a wireless operator to lose himself in the countryside). The car’s receiver was tuned to Helicopter’s frequency. It measured the strength, as well as the direction, of the broadcast, and Dieter would know he was getting nearer to the transmitter when the needle rose on the dial.
In addition, the Gestapo man sitting next to Dieter wore a receiver and an aerial concealed beneath his raincoat. On his wrist was a meter like a watch that showed the strength of the signal. When the search narrowed down to a particular street, city block, or building, the walker would take over.
The Gestapo man in the front seat held on his lap a sledgehammer, for breaking doors down.
Dieter had been hunting once. He did not much like country pursuits, preferring the more refined pleasures of city life, but he was a good shot. Now he was reminded of that, as he waited for Helicopter to begin sending his coded report home to England. This was like lying in the hide in the early dawn, tense with anticipation, impatient for the deer to start moving, savoring the thrill of anticipation.
The Resistance were not deer but foxes, Dieter thought, skulking in their holes, coming out to cause carnage in the chicken house, then going to earth again. He was mortified to have lost Helicopter. He was so keen to recapture the man that he hardly minded having to rely on the help of Willi Weber. He just wanted to kill the fox.
The driver immediately turned west, and the signal began to strengthen. “Got you,” Dieter breathed.
But five minutes had elapsed.
The car raced west, and the signal strengthened, as Helicopter continued to tap on the Morse key of his suitcase radio in his hiding place-a bathroom, an attic, a warehouse-somewhere in the northwest of the city. Back at the chƒteau of Sainte-C‚cile, a German radio operator had tuned to the same frequency and was taking down the coded message. It was also being registered on a wire recorder. Later, Dieter would decrypt it, using the one-time pad copied by Stephanie. But the message was not as important as the messenger.
They entered a neighborhood of large old houses, mostly decrepit and subdivided into small apartments and bed sitting rooms for students and nurses. The signal grew louder, then suddenly began to fade. “Overshoot, overshoot!” said the Gestapo man in the front passenger seat. The driver reversed the car, then braked.
Ten minutes had passed.
Dieter and the three Gestapo men sprang out. The one with the portable detection unit under his raincoat walked rapidly along the pavement, consulting his wrist dial constantly, and the others
It was a fine summer evening. The car was parked at the northern end of the city. Reims was a small town, and Dieter reckoned a car could drive from one side to the other in less than ten minutes.
He checked his watch: one minute past eight. Helicopter was late coming on air. Perhaps he would not broadcast tonight… but that was unlikely. Today Helicopter had met up with Michel. As soon as possible, he would want to report his success to his superiors, and tell them just how much was left of the Bollinger circuit.
Michel had phoned the house in the rue du Bois two hours ago. Dieter had been there. It was a tense moment. Stephanie had answered, in her imitation of Mademoiselle Lemas’s voice. Michel had given his code name, and asked whether “Bourgeoise” remembered him-a question that reassured Stephanie, because it indicated that Michel did not know Mademoiselle Lemas very well and therefore would not realize this was an impersonator.
He had asked her about her new recruit, codenamed Charenton. “He’s my cousin,” Stephanie had said gruffly. “I’ve known him since we were children, I would trust him with my life.” Michel had told her she had no right to recruit people without at least discussing it with him, but he had appeared to believe her story, and Dieter had kissed Stephanie and told her she was a good enough actor to join the Com‚die Fran‡aise.