Read Online Red Crystal by Clare Francis - Free Book Online Page A

bed.’ He turned and walked into the bathroom.
    Gabriele stood in the centre of the room feeling piqued. He was deliberately excluding her. Her vanity was hurt. She had almost made up her mind to leave when he reappeared in the bathroom doorway.
    ‘Please,’ he said reasonably. ‘We’ve talked enough … All of us. Enough for a long long time.’ Examining her face he added suddenly, ‘But if you insist – yes, I am committed to direct action. Of course!’
    She blinked, reluctantly impressed. ‘I see.’ She had a vision of him leading a charge of demonstrators into a line of police. Then she remembered that the Italians had probably gone much further than that and she allowed new images to develop in her mind. She pictured him hiding out at secret addresses; planning a campaign; perhaps even using a gun. The images were attractive and more than a little exciting.
    ‘Okay?’ he asked.
    She smiled. ‘Okay.’
    ‘I am going to bed now,’ he said. Then, matter-of-factly: ‘Will you come with me?’
    A few moments ago she would have kept the matter in doubt much longer, just to show that she had control of the situation, just to demonstrate that she despised his arrogance.
    But now there was no need. He understood what she wanted from him: access to the right people, the means to learn. Now it was a straightforward arrangement of mutual convenience. The matter was decided.
    The afternoon of the 10th May began quietly enough with a rally in the Place Denfert-Rochereau attended by students, school children, teachers, trade unionists and sympathizers of every age and sort. At six-thirty came news that at long last the government had made some conciliatory proposals. But not about the imprisoned students - they were not to be freed.
    A great roar went up: ‘Liberez nos camarades !’ , and the crowds marched on the Sante Prison. A mass of police prevented them from reaching the prison walls and they turned away, heading for the Maison de la Radio, the government-controlled broadcasting centre on the Right Bank.
    The government ordered all bridges across the Seine to be blocked and then they closed off the Boulevard St Germain - another ill-judged decision. Now the students were hemmed in on the Left Bank. They had nowhere to go: only back the way they’d come or into their own territory, the Latin Quarter.
    The student leaders hurriedly conferred and announced their decision.
    They would take the Latin Quarter and hold it at all costs.
    It was the beginning of the worst violence Paris had seen for thirty years.
    The news spread through the crowd like a bolt of electricity and the students ran for the Latin Quarter, fanning out through the maze of narrow streets around the Sorbonne.
    Gabriele ran with Giorgio and it was only when she looked over her shoulder that she realized Max was no longer in sight, lost somewhere in the crowd.
    They ran until they were short of breath, and found themselves in a small street to the south of the quarter among a group of about two dozen students. Already a car had been dragged into the middle of the street.
    Then Giorgio had an iron bar in his hands and was hacking at the ancient cobblestones, trying to lever them off the road. Another car was pushed into the street and was rocked violently until it fell on its side with a loud grinding noise.
    Gabriele searched desperately for materials, tugging ineffectually at gratings and street signs. Then she saw that Giorgio had got under the pavés and was levering them up fast. She joined the chain carrying stones to the rapidly growing barricade.
    Later, when it grew dark, they were joined by more students, trade unionists and sympathizers, until there were over a hundred people in that one small street alone. Food and drink were brought by well-wishers and residents of the quarter. Everyone paused to eat. The atmosphere was warm with comradeship and the exhilaration of shared danger. Gabriele felt an overwhelming sense of achievement and