Part 4 (2/2)

'General Malaport told me. That is, he spoke of a woman,' I replied obliquely, taking my lead from my interlocutor.

His thin lips creased into a bitter smile.

'I like your answer,' he said. 'I can only hope to G.o.d that Malaport has chosen wisely. I will not hide it from you, I would have preferred a . . .'

'French magistrate?' I interrupted him.

'What else?' he answered quickly. 'But that is hardly the point. Get this fixed firmly in your mind, monsieur. My only concern is for results. I asked the general for a man who knows Prussia and understands the Prussians. Malaport has sent you to me. I had no voice in the matter. My work is being hampered, I want the obstacle removed. I will not permit interference with my plans. If you are not successful, you'll be sent packing. They can send me someone else, or I'll do the job myself.'

I felt the urge to smile, though I was careful to conceal it. How would such a man manage to ingratiate himself with a nation of Prussians who hated the occupying forces on sight?

'You, sir?'

'Me, sir. Or someone like me. A man whose only aim is the good of France. A man who will stop at nothing to achieve success.' He made no effort to hide his pride, or his single-minded drive. 'Do you understand what I want from you?'

He looked up suddenly, glanced over to the table where wine was being consumed in quant.i.ty, then back at me.

'Did you tell them why you were coming here?' he asked.

I shook my head.

'I do not discuss the emperor's business with the first man that I meet,' I replied.

'Keep it that way,' he said, as if the declaration had won me some sort of grudging consent. 'You will reveal your findings to me alone. They will discover the motive for your presence here soon enough. They are mechanics. They have more important tasks to occupy their thoughts. I will keep them busy. They must only know what is necessary.'

'Different tasks, nothing in common,' I summed up.

'On the contrary, monsieur,' he snapped. 'All of you have one aim in common. Your roles may differ, Herr Magistrate, but all of you must strive to make Nordcopp a place which is safe and efficient.' He lowered his voice a key. 'Murder and commerce do not make good bedfellows.'

He stared at me in silence for some time.

'I want to show you something,' he said, turning to the desk behind him.

Something that might have been a child's game had been roughly tipped from a box. The pieces were distributed higgledy-piggledy over a board painted yellow and blue, as if a careless boy had knocked the models over, then gone to bed without bothering to set them in place again.

'These are my dreams,' he announced quietly.

At my back, the welcome party grew louder. Gla.s.s clinked on gla.s.s, more drinks were poured, conversations were eagerly pursued with mouths full of bread and cheese.

'What do the pieces represent?' I asked.

His eyes darted in my direction, dancing in the lamplight, apparently amused by the naivety of the question. They spoke of a sharp intelligence, but little kindness. He looked down, moving the pieces carefully, placing some on the broad blue field, s.h.i.+fting others onto the narrow yellow one. There was a fixity in his concentration, a gentle care in his handling of those frail objects which surprised me. His large head inclined over the table, carefully surveying the positions that he had chosen. The silvery hair on his head had been cut back almost to the bone. The dark stubble on his jaw was longer, as if he had forgotten to shave that day.

'Those toys would delight my son,' I said.

He picked up one of the pieces as if it were a precious jewel.

'The real pleasure is to see them grow,' he said. 'Soon the game will begin. For the moment, we are content to plan. But the work goes ahead and nothing must delay it. No one. This coast will never be the same again.'

He set the model down, and gazed at me.

'Herr Magistrate, I want you to do something for me.'

I nodded, expecting to receive some further peremptory order.

He paused for a moment. 'Go over to that table. Help yourself to a gla.s.s of red wine. A very large gla.s.s. Drink it off in a single draught. Then drink another. As soon as you've done that, monsieur, you must follow me.'

I looked at him in disbelief. Was this some sort of bizarre joke?

'I am not a great drinker of wine,' I began to say.

His forefinger appeared in a flash in front of my eyes. It was stubby, strong, the fingernail black and broken.

'Drink it!' he hissed. 'You'll be needing it. They will start their work tomorrow, but you will start tonight.'

7.

I OBEYED WITHOUT a word of protest.

Something in his manner warned me that it would be futile to resist.

I walked across to the table where the French officers were eating and drinking, took a firm grip on a warm bottle of red wine, filled an empty gla.s.s to the brim, then poured the contents straight down my throat. I took a deep breath, poured out another draught, then drained it off in the same fas.h.i.+on. On the far side of the room, les Halles nodded slowly, as if some ritual of initiation had been carried out to his liking.

I studied his face for a moment, defiantly poured myself a third gla.s.s of wine, and emptied it off just as quickly.

The French officers watched with indifference. I might have been a condemned man, availing himself of a final request before the sharp axe fell. The colonel's staff must have known what was in store for me, yet no one uttered a word to warn me what it was. One of the officers who had travelled up from Lotingen took a pace towards me, his mouth full of bread, his eyes round with surprise.

A voice spoke out, and stopped him in his tracks.

'This way, Herr Stiffeniis,' the colonel called.

He swept a lantern from its hook on the wall, and threw open the door.

As I walked towards him, he addressed the men in the room.

'By the time I return, you will be in your bunks, messieurs,' he said. 'My adjutant will show the new men where to sleep.'

No one said a word. They were going to bed, whether they liked the idea, or not. Colonel les Halles had decided.

'If you are tired today,' he added, 'you'll be exhausted tomorrow. I intend to work you to the bone.'

He stepped back, and ushered me out of the door.

The fog was as thick as a fire burning damp peat.

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