approached, studied the shield and the plastic card.
"Of course, we knew it was you, monsieur," he said in French, "but we do not know your guests."
"They are with me, that's all you have to know."
"Naturally."
"Alert your commander and tell him I'm bringing the N-Two unit inside."
"Right away, sir," said the officer, unclipping a walkietalkie from his belt and announcing the new arrivals.
"Proceed, sit, the commander of the watch is waiting for you. He says to please hurry."
"Thank you." Jacques, Latham, Karin, and the two commandos proceeded in front of a row of rifles at port arms to the entrance of the waterworks. Inside, the four newcomers were startled by what they saw. It was like the bowels of an ancient castle, devoid of ornamentation, dark and reeking of dampness. Everything was very, very old brick, the walls reaching up to high ceilings; in the center, flanked by two wide stone staircases, the huge open area rose to the top of the structure.
"Come," said Jacques Bergeron in English, "the elevator is down this hallway to the right." The unit followed the Frenchman as Lieutenant Anthony spoke.
"This place must have been built over three hundred years ago."
"With an elevator?" interrupted Dietz, grinning.
"That came much later," replied Bergeron, "but your colleague is correct. This plant, with crude but serviceable viaducts, was built by the Beauvais dynasty for the purpose of capturing the water and sending it out to their fields and gardens. That was in the early sixteen hundreds."
The enormous old square elevator was the sort found in warehouses or frei' tdepots where heavy equipment gh .
must be sent from one floor to another. It creaked and stuttered its way up, metal abrasively rubbing against metal, until it reached the top floor. Jacques opened the heavy vertical panel with such obvious effort that Captain Dietz helped him shove it up. Instantly revealed was the imposing figure of a general in the uniform of the army of France. He spoke quickly, urgently, to the Deuxieme officer. Jacques frowned, then nodded, muttered a few words in French, and walked rapidly away with the soldier.
"What did they say?" asked Drew, turning to Karin as the four of them walked out of the elevator.
"They rattled too fast for me, but I got something about 'terrible news."
"Basically, that was it," answered De Vries, squinting in the dim light at the two Frenchmen down the darker brick hallway.
"The general said he had terrible news and had to speak with Jacques privately."
Suddenly there was a desperate cry.
"Mon Dieu, non! Pas vrai!"
It was followed by the mournful wail of a damaged man in pain. As one, the N-2 unit rushed into the shadowed corridor.
"What happened?" asked Karin in French.
"I will answer so our friend, Drew, will understand," said Bergeron, slouched, his back against the brick, tears failing down his cheeks.
"Claude was assassinated twenty minutes ago in the [email protected] underground parking area."
"Oh, my God!" cried De Vries, stepping forward and gripping Jacques's arm.
"How could it happen?" roared Latham.
"That place is tighter than a drum-with your own people!"
"The Nazis," whis ered the Deuxieme agent, his words @p choked.
"They're everywhere."
he large rectangular window looked out over the vast expanse of the Beauvais reservoir. They were in The huge office complex belonging to the manager of the waterworks and his staff, who had been temporarily displaced by the military commander overseeing the fortifications. The general was nonetheless intelligent and sensitive enough to se&k the advice of the civilian manager and decline to use his desk. Jacques Bergeron had been on the telephone to Paris for over fifteen minutes, intermittently catching his breath and checking his tears.
The general had spread a map and a stack of photographs over an enormous table in front of the window, and, using a pointer, was describing in detail his defenses. However, the old soldier was aware that his audience of four was not totally attentive, eyes darting and ears listening to the [email protected] officer at the desk.
Finally, Jacques hung up the phone, rose from the chair, and walked to the table.
"I'm afraid it is far worse than we imagined," he said quietly" breathing deeply to find his own control.
"In a macabre way, perhaps it's best that Claude was cut down where he was if it had to be. For if he had survived, he would have found his beloved wife shot to death at their home."
"Goddammit!" shouted Drew, then lowered his voice to a guttural murmur.
"No quarter," he said, "no quarter at all for those sons of bitches! We