Greta came next, and the guard did the same. He was more interested in what was going on in the rue du Chteau.

Flick thought they were home and dry, but when he had checked Jelly's pass he glanced into her basket. "Something smells good," he said.

Flick held her breath.

"It's some sausage for my supper," Jelly said. "You can smell the garlic."

He waved her on and looked across the square again. The three Jackdaws walked up the short drive, mounted the steps, and at last entered the chteau.

CHAPTER 50

DIETER SPENT THE afternoon shadowing Michel's train, stopping at every sleepy country halt in case Michel got off. He felt sure he was wasting his time, and that Michel was a decoy, but he had no alternative. Michel was his only lead. He was desperate.

Michel rode the train all the way back to Reims.

A doomy sense of impending failure and disgrace overwhelmed Dieter as he sat in a car beside a bombed building near the Reims station waiting for Michel to emerge. Where had he gone wrong? It seemed to him that he had done everything he could-but nothing had worked.

What if following Michel led nowhere? At some point, Dieter would have to cut his losses and interrogate the man. But how much time did he have? Tonight was the night of the full moon, but the English Channel was stormy again. The Allies might postpone the invasion-or they might decide to take their chances with the weather. In a few hours it might be too late.

Michel had come to the station this morning in a van borrowed from Philippe Moulier, the meat supplier, and Dieter looked around for it, but could not see it. He guessed the van had been left here for Flick Clairet to pick up. By now she might be anywhere within a radius of a hundred miles. He cursed himself for not setting someone to watch the van.

He diverted himself by considering how to interrogate Michel. The man's weak point was probably Gilberte. Right now she was in a cell at the chteau, wondering what was going to happen to her. She would stay there until Dieter was quite sure he had finished with her; then she would be executed or sent to a camp in Germany. How could she be used to make Michel talk-and fast?

The thought of the camps in Germany gave Dieter an idea. Leaning forward, he said to his driver, "When the Gestapo send prisoners to Germany, they go by train, don't they?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is it true that you put them in the kind of railway cars normally used for transporting livestock?"

"Cattle trucks, yes, sir, it's good enough for those scum, communists and Jews and the like."

"Where do they board?"

"Right here in Reims. The train from Paris stops here."

"And how often do those trains run?"

"There's one most days. It leaves Paris late in the afternoon and stops here around eight in the evening, if it's on time."

Before he could progress his idea further, Dieter saw Michel emerge from the station. Ten yards behind him in the crowd was Hans Hesse. They approached Dieter on the other side of the street.

Dieter's driver started the engine.

Dieter turned in his seat to watch Michel and Hans.

They passed Dieter. Then, to Dieter's surprise, Michel turned into the alley alongside the Caf de la Gare.

Hans quickened his pace and turned the same corner less than a minute later.

Dieter frowned. Was Michel trying to shake off his tail?

Hans reemerged from the alley and looked up and down the street with a worried frown. There were not many people on the pavements, just a few travelers walking to and from the station and the last of the city center workers heading for home. Hans mouthed a curse and turned back into the alley.

Dieter groaned aloud. Hans had lost Michel.

This was the worst foul-up Dieter had been involved in since the battle of Alam Haifa, when wrong intelligence had led Rommel to defeat. That had been the turning point of the North African war. Dieter prayed this was not to be the turning point in Europe.

As he stared despondently at the mouth of the alley, Michel emerged from the front entrance of the caf.

Dieter's spirits leaped. Michel had shaken off Hans but did not realize he had a second shadow. All was not yet lost.

Michel crossed the road, breaking into a run, and headed back the way he had come-toward Dieter in the car.

Dieter thought fast. If he tried to follow Michel, maintaining the surveillance, then he, too, would have to run, and that would make it obvious that he was tailing the man. It was no good: the surveillance was over. It was time to seize Michel.

Michel pounded along the pavement, shoving other pedestrians aside. He ran awkwardly, because of his bullet wound, but he moved fast and rapidly approached Dieter's car.

Dieter made a decision.

He opened the car door.

As Michel drew level, Dieter got out, narrowing the available pavement by holding the door wide. Michel swerved to dodge around the obstacle. Dieter stuck out his leg. Michel tripped over his outstretched foot and went flying. A big man, he fell heavily on the paved sidewalk.

Dieter drew his pistol and thumbed the safety catch. Michel lay prone for a second, stunned. Then, groggily, he tried to get to his knees.

Dieter touched the barrel of the gun to Michel's temple. "Don't get up," he said in French.

The driver got a pair of handcuffs from the trunk, secured Michel's wrists, and bundled him into the back of the car.

Hans reappeared, looking dismayed. "What happened?"

"He went in through the back door of the Caf de la Gare and came out of the front," Dieter explained.

Hans was relieved. "What now?"

"Come with me to the station." Dieter turned to the driver. "Do you have a gun?"

"Yes, sir."

"Keep a close watch on this man. If he tries to escape, shoot him in the legs."

"Yes, sir."

Dieter and Hans walked briskly into the station. Dieter buttonholed a uniformed railway man and said, "I want to see the stationmaster right away."