Read Online Cross of Fire by Colin Forbes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colin Forbes
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Action & Adventure, Political, Large Type Books, Intelligence service, Terrorists
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inside. The tables had clean red check cloths. The waiters' green aprons were also spotless. He wandered among the ferns and stopped. She fitted her description, but again he was surprised - she was so attractive and well dressed. Could this be her?
'Isabelle Thomas?' he enquired politely in French.
'Yes.' Her tone was guarded.
'Good, I'm Alain Dreyfus,' he went on, giving the code name Paula had arranged with her from London. 'May I sit down?'
'Certainly, Mr Robert Newman. And we can speak in English,' she continued in that language.
It was his third surprise. She smiled as she saw his expression when he was sitting opposite her.
'Actually, I recognize you from pictures I've seen in the foreign press. You are Robert Newman, aren't you? And your profession?'
She was covering herself again, wondering if she had made a bad mistake. He smiled reassuringly. Inwardly he felt annoyed she had penetrated his real identity so quickly.
'I am Robert Newman, foreign correspondent. Is it safe to talk here?'
'That is why I chose this rendezvous. It early. We are almost the only people here. And, as you see, the heavy lace curtains conceal us from the street.'
She was more than attractive, she was beautiful, New man was thinking. She had a mane of titian hair, a slim, tall neck, good bone structure, greenish eyes, and a dear com plexion. Very little make-up: just a touch of red lipstick on her firm mouth. She struck him as a woman of character. In her late twenties. And what she said about the place was true - there was no one else anywhere near them.
'An aperitif?' he suggested as a waiter hovered.
'Why don't we go straight on to a bottle of wine? You choose. Doesn't matter what we decide to eat as far as I'm concerned.'
'We'll have a 1979 red Bordeaux,' he told the waiter in French. 'Leave the menu. We'll order later.'
'Pushing the boat out a bit, aren't we?' she teased him.
'I've had a long day.'
'Do you mind if I start talking about what happened?'
'I wish you would. But first, let me ask you something. Was Henri your first serious boyfriend?'
'No.' Her expression changed, became intense. 'I was engaged to be married to a soldier with the Third Army Corps. A tank commander. It ended tragically.'
'You want to tell me how?'
'Someone should know about General Charles de Forge.' Her tone dripped contempt. 'Joseph Roux was his name, would have become mine - Roux. I have never told this to anyone. As a foreign correspondent you might like to add to your experience. It's a pretty horrific story. I don't want to spoil your meal.'
'I've developed a pretty strong stomach. Go on.'
'Joseph was very independent-minded. De Forge has what he calls the punishment well...'
'I've heard some details about it.'
'You have? Your contacts must be pretty good. Joseph was among a group of troops addressed by the General one day. De Forge likes the sound of his own voice. He was damning the Jews, said they ought to be eliminated from French life. After he'd finished speaking he asked if there were any questions. You're not supposed to react to that. Joseph did.'
'What did he say?'
'That he thought he was in the Army. That politics was nothing to do with the military. And in any case he had two good friends who were Jews. He said that anti-Semitism was a curse, that it was anti-French. De Forge was livid. He gave the order at once.'
She paused, drank some wine, her hand trembled slightly. She tightened her grip on the glass, was careful to stand it back on the table without trembling.
'What order?' Newman asked quietly. 'If you want to go on with this.'
'Now I've started,' she said firmly. 'They took him to the punishment well immediately. Joseph was hung in the well by his thumbs.' She leaned forward, her gaze intense. 'Can you imagine hanging for six hours by your thumbs? And Joseph was a big man.'
'Quite horrible - and barbaric.'
'That's how de Forge maintains what he likes to call iron discipline. Some of his officers call him
'Isabelle Thomas?' he enquired politely in French.
'Yes.' Her tone was guarded.
'Good, I'm Alain Dreyfus,' he went on, giving the code name Paula had arranged with her from London. 'May I sit down?'
'Certainly, Mr Robert Newman. And we can speak in English,' she continued in that language.
It was his third surprise. She smiled as she saw his expression when he was sitting opposite her.
'Actually, I recognize you from pictures I've seen in the foreign press. You are Robert Newman, aren't you? And your profession?'
She was covering herself again, wondering if she had made a bad mistake. He smiled reassuringly. Inwardly he felt annoyed she had penetrated his real identity so quickly.
'I am Robert Newman, foreign correspondent. Is it safe to talk here?'
'That is why I chose this rendezvous. It early. We are almost the only people here. And, as you see, the heavy lace curtains conceal us from the street.'
She was more than attractive, she was beautiful, New man was thinking. She had a mane of titian hair, a slim, tall neck, good bone structure, greenish eyes, and a dear com plexion. Very little make-up: just a touch of red lipstick on her firm mouth. She struck him as a woman of character. In her late twenties. And what she said about the place was true - there was no one else anywhere near them.
'An aperitif?' he suggested as a waiter hovered.
'Why don't we go straight on to a bottle of wine? You choose. Doesn't matter what we decide to eat as far as I'm concerned.'
'We'll have a 1979 red Bordeaux,' he told the waiter in French. 'Leave the menu. We'll order later.'
'Pushing the boat out a bit, aren't we?' she teased him.
'I've had a long day.'
'Do you mind if I start talking about what happened?'
'I wish you would. But first, let me ask you something. Was Henri your first serious boyfriend?'
'No.' Her expression changed, became intense. 'I was engaged to be married to a soldier with the Third Army Corps. A tank commander. It ended tragically.'
'You want to tell me how?'
'Someone should know about General Charles de Forge.' Her tone dripped contempt. 'Joseph Roux was his name, would have become mine - Roux. I have never told this to anyone. As a foreign correspondent you might like to add to your experience. It's a pretty horrific story. I don't want to spoil your meal.'
'I've developed a pretty strong stomach. Go on.'
'Joseph was very independent-minded. De Forge has what he calls the punishment well...'
'I've heard some details about it.'
'You have? Your contacts must be pretty good. Joseph was among a group of troops addressed by the General one day. De Forge likes the sound of his own voice. He was damning the Jews, said they ought to be eliminated from French life. After he'd finished speaking he asked if there were any questions. You're not supposed to react to that. Joseph did.'
'What did he say?'
'That he thought he was in the Army. That politics was nothing to do with the military. And in any case he had two good friends who were Jews. He said that anti-Semitism was a curse, that it was anti-French. De Forge was livid. He gave the order at once.'
She paused, drank some wine, her hand trembled slightly. She tightened her grip on the glass, was careful to stand it back on the table without trembling.
'What order?' Newman asked quietly. 'If you want to go on with this.'
'Now I've started,' she said firmly. 'They took him to the punishment well immediately. Joseph was hung in the well by his thumbs.' She leaned forward, her gaze intense. 'Can you imagine hanging for six hours by your thumbs? And Joseph was a big man.'
'Quite horrible - and barbaric.'
'That's how de Forge maintains what he likes to call iron discipline. Some of his officers call him
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