own problems and I can’t afford to get into trouble. Tell Henderson that I’m grateful for everything he’s done and sorry I had to take some of his gold.’
Paul didn’t like PT much, but Rosie would be upset if she came home and found him gone. ‘Why don’t you stay until tonight and talk about it?’ he said. ‘Put the gold back and I’ll not mention it, I swear.’
‘I’m leaving as soon as I’m packed.’
There was a pause as the two boys eyed each other warily.
‘So I guess it’s goodbye,’ Paul said uncertainly, reaching out to shake hands.
PT smiled as they shook. ‘I guess it is.’
Paul mustered a smile but felt uneasy as he backed out of the room. His brain worked hard as he headed downstairs. On the one hand, Paul had no great liking for PT and wouldn’t miss him, but sneaking off and stealing from Marc and Henderson left a nasty taste.
Paul considered what he knew about PT. PT claimed that he’d run away from a father who beat him, worked as a cabin boy and made several thousand dollars beating crewmates at poker. But PT always got shifty when you asked about his background. No one really believed his story and Henderson had openly speculated that the money was stolen.
So, PT was a liar and a thief, and after three weeks living in the pink house he’d heard enough of Rosie and Marc’s stories to work out that Henderson was a British agent. Paul guessed PT could walk to Bordeaux in about an hour, or maybe get there even quicker if he hitched a lift. The important question was, what would he do when he got there?
If PT approached the Gestapo and offered them information in return for a reward, there could be a German reception committee waiting for Henderson and the others when they got home. Although Paul doubted that PT would go to the Nazis with information, he wasn’t trustworthy and the consequences would be terminal if he did.
Henderson and Maxine would be tortured and executed as British spies and the fate of Marc, Rosie and himself was unlikely to be pleasant. Marc had already had one of his front teeth ripped out by a Gestapo officer.
Paul took the decision to act, but what could he do? PT was four years older and with one arm in a sling Paul had no chance in a direct physical confrontation. He’d have to take PT by surprise, and he only had minutes to come up with a plan.
* * *
4Boche – offensive slang term used to describe Germans.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Bordeaux Institute of Science and Medicine made an ideal base for the town’s German garrison. Student accommodation housed soldiers, there was a dining hall, sports facilities and a university hospital for the wounded. Tanks and artillery pieces suffering after two months’ campaigning were being refurbished in the institute’s main square, while handheld weapons and communication equipment got serviced in the laboratories.
Across the street from the main gate a café did a good trade serving off-duty Germans. Marc and Henderson jostled through cigarette smoke and green uniforms and made their way towards the most important looking men in the room.
Henderson’s language skills were considerable. He not only spoke all five major European languages but could conjure a variety of local accents. Marc stood alongside as Henderson became Captain von Hoven, from the merchant ship SV Hamburg. His bearing grew stiffer and his accent belonged to a German aristocrat.
After flamboyantly offering to buy the three senior officers brandies, he raised a toast to German conquest, congratulated them on their role in the collapse of France and expressed regret that an injury sustained while falling over on the deck of a ship had kept him out of the fighting.
‘France is a backwards nation,’ Henderson said, loud enough for half the bar to hear. ‘All its glories are in the past. Today it’s a nation of peasants, foul toilets and broken telephones. The French might not know it yet, but this invasion is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to them.’
The officers nodded in broad agreement.
‘We’ve been here two weeks and not had a squeak out of the locals,’ one officer noted. ‘My men are under strict orders to behave decently towards them and the French are reciprocating.’
‘All the French care about is food in their bellies,’ another officer slurred. ‘They haven’t had a leader worth the name since Napoleon. That’s why we broke their backs so easily.’
The barman didn’t