Bullet fragments punched through the bistro’s window as PT took his second shot. Everyone was diving for cover, so PT lowered his aim and shot the guy with the ginger beard.
At such close range, any half-decent marksman could take PT out with a pistol, so he slung the rifle over his shoulder and began a sprint.
Inside the bistro, Marc and Luc dived as glass flew and pieces of the bullet that killed Robert shattered glassware behind the bar. Marc led a fast crawl towards the stairs and they charged up while the gangsters huddled on the floor near the entrance. Luc had a crowbar hooked on his belt in case the boss’s office was locked, but the door was half open.
There was no sign of the boss, but the elderly accountant sat in his alcove with his ledger and his stacks of money. As Marc stood on the landing, covering the stairs with his pistol, Luc opened his suitcase and ditched the bundle of tatty clothes inside.
‘Fill the case,’ Luc ordered the old guy.
Downstairs, a couple of the gangsters had worked out what was going on. But it was a straight staircase, so Marc could easily take out anyone who tried coming up. There was more money than would fit in the case, but they couldn’t take more than a case full without seriously impeding their getaway.
‘I’m ready,’ Luc shouted.
As Luc opened a window behind the desk, the boss came out of the toilet, with his braces dangling and tailored trousers held up with one hand.
‘Can’t I take a shit in peace?’ he yelled as he stepped on to the landing. ‘What’s all this bloody noise?’
His expression turned to shock when he saw Marc right in front of him.
Startled, Marc took a low shot, hitting the boss in the thigh. As the boss collapsed, Marc sent him tumbling downstairs with a knee in the back.
‘I’m done,’ Luc shouted. ‘Let’s move out.’
Marc backed into the office and kicked the door shut. The accountant had his hands in the air and Luc had one leg on the window ledge, ready to jump down into an alley behind the building. He made the 3-metre leap, then Marc passed the suitcase down before jumping himself.
The pair belted down an alleyway that emerged much closer to the depot than they would have liked. PT had made a long sprint and covered the pair with the sniper rifle as they turned left into a sloping street. Once the trio met up, they turned right and sprinted between rows of tiny houses built for factory workers.
The boys ran half a kilometre together, with no sign of a chase. When they reached a turning into a large road, PT stopped and did a quick disassembly job on the sniper rifle. Luc took a right and strained from the weight of money as he strode towards three waiting taxi-carts.
Marc whispered, ‘See you back home,’ to PT before crossing the street and walking briskly down the first turning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
PT walked the opposite way to Luc and had less luck finding a taxi-cart, but he was astonished by an open Métro station. People were so used to it being closed that he rode four stops in a near-empty carriage, while the trains going back towards the city were crammed with German infantrymen carrying their full kit.
Marc was the only one who made the journey back to Saint Cloud on foot. The roads were still full of Germans heading out of town and he had to make a long diversion because they’d closed the bridge nearest home for a movement of military vehicles.
Marc expected a bollocking as he stood inside the apartment’s front door, gently sliding boots off his blistered feet.
‘Living-room,’ Henderson said brusquely.
Maxine rarely stayed in one place for long, so Marc was surprised to see her in the middle of a sofa. PT and Luc sat on another sofa facing towards her and the money-filled suitcase rested on the coffee table between them.
‘Sit,’ Maxine snapped, sounding like she was ordering a dog.
Paul and Edith hovered in the doorway as Marc squeezed on to the sofa between Luc and PT. He’d been on his feet all day and would have loved a glass of water and a cool flannel.
‘I’m told Pierre Robert and another man are dead,’ Maxine said. ‘Plus one critically injured.’
‘How do you know that?’ Marc asked.
‘Telephone,’ Maxine said. ‘The network is as useful to us as it is to the Germans, so we’ve done nothing to damage it.’
The