Eagle Day - Robert Muchamore Page 0,22
independently in the defence of our colonies, the British Navy today surrounded our Atlantic fleet at Mers-El-Kebir in North Africa and attacked mercilessly. Fifteen-inch guns from the battleships Hood and Valiant opened fire without warning, slaughtering thousands of innocent French sailors …’
‘I need to hear the other side of that story,’ Henderson said, shooting backwards in his chair before realising that Paul was much closer. ‘Paul, tune the BBC up, right now.’
Paul moved the dial as quickly as he could, but BBC France was broadcast from London and its signal was always weak. Everyone stepped away from their food and struggled to pick out words between bursts of static.
‘In a statement to the BBC, Prime Minister Winston Churchill this evening expressed his sadness at the tragic loss of a small number of French sailors who had fought alongside their British allies for the past year. However, he stressed that the French fleet was a risk to British interests in the Mediterranean. Furthermore, the French fleet had been amply warned and her ships were given sufficient time for crews to disembark before the Royal Navy opened fire.’
When the broadcast ended Marc scowled at Henderson. ‘Why are you Brits sinking French ships? What have we ever done to you?’
Maxine was more sympathetic to the British cause. ‘It’s not that simple, Marc. Hitler isn’t trustworthy. He’s reneged on every agreement he’s ever made and the only thing the British can count on right now is their dominance of the sea.’
Paul couldn’t resist taunting Marc. ‘French army got creamed by the Germans. Now your navy gets blasted out of the sea by us Brits. Face it, France is rubbish at everything.’
Marc was no great patriot, except when a foreigner taunted him. ‘You wanna see what this piece of French rubbish does when his fist encounters your front teeth?’
‘We’re half-French, Paul,’ Rosie noted diplomatically.
‘You lot, down!’ Maxine ordered. ‘Otherwise I’ll take your plates and send you up to bed.’calm
Henderson sat himself back at the head of the table, ignoring his food and drumming his fork on the mahogany. It was several minutes before he spoke decisively.
‘Maxine, how badly damaged was the radio transmitter you rescued from the consulate?’
‘It fell from a tabletop when the bomb hit the jeweller’s shop,’ she explained. ‘Several valves shattered and the metal casing took a dent, but I’d say it’s fixable with some new valves and a bit of soldering.’
Henderson nodded. ‘I need to re-evaluate my strategy. After France fell so easily I thought Churchill was posturing: trying to make the best of things before making a diplomatic settlement with Germany. But destroying the French fleet like that shows that they’re really in for the long haul.’
Maxine didn’t look convinced. ‘But the Germans have swept everyone aside. Poland, Czechoslovakia, Austria, Denmark and now France. What chance does Britain have?’
PT butted in. ‘It’s not just Britain though. There’s the whole British Empire: Canada, Australia, India, half of Africa. Britain has eight times as many battleships as the Germans.’
‘But the Germans rule the skies,’ Marc said. ‘I travelled from Beauvais all the way down to here. The Germans were bombing the hell out of everything and I didn’t see one British plane. Not one.’
Henderson looked at Maxine. ‘Are you taking food into the shelter tomorrow?’
Maxine nodded. ‘I’ll take your van if that’s OK. Do you need a ride?’
‘I’ll take a look at the radio tonight,’ Henderson said. ‘If it looks fixable I’ll go into Bordeaux tomorrow morning and try finding some tools and parts. Any radio communication that I make is a risk: it could give our location away to the Germans. But I’m quite possibly the only British agent operating in France right now and the government may need me.’
‘What about us though?’ Rosie asked nervously. ‘I thought you said we were lying low until Paul was well enough and then we’d try crossing over the mountains into Spain.’
‘I know what I said,’ Henderson said irritably. ‘I’ve no plans to abandon you, but you’re perfectly safe here and the British Government may need a job doing before we leave the country.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maxine’s Jaguar was a thirsty beast and with fuel hard to come by they drove into Bordeaux in the small truck Henderson had stolen in the south of Paris a few weeks earlier. Maxine and Rosie sat up front and Henderson rattled around with Marc in a cargo compartment that also contained two wicker hampers stuffed with eggs and vegetables.
The British had ordered Maxine to destroy any sensitive documents and