Codename Eagle by Robert Rigby Read Free Book Online Page B

how many of them were out there.
    “We’ll open the door and bluff it out,” Henri said. “There’s no other choice. Paul has papers; we’ll have to hope they pass as genuine.”
    Paul’s forged identity card and work and travel permits had always been accepted, but they had never been scrutinized too closely.
    “Let me go down,” Paul said. “It’s me they’ve come for.”
    “It’s my house,” Henri said firmly. “I shall open the door.”
    Followed by Paul, Henri went to the staircase and then looked back at Hélène and Josette. “Stay here.”
    At the bottom of the stairs, the pounding and shouting sounded louder still. But the noise stopped completely as Henri pulled back the sturdy bolts at the top and bottom of the door. He glanced briefly at Paul, smiled reassuringly, then turned the large black key that had remained in the lock overnight, just as it always did.
    The mechanism of the ancient lock clunked loudly, breaking the sudden silence. Henri pushed down the door handle and slowly pulled open the heavy door.
    And then he stared. So did Paul.
    Staring back at them were two men. One was tall and slim and looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had a shock of wild black hair, his thin face was drawn and haggard and his eyes were dark with worry. He wore a loose-fitting, crumpled old suit with a white shirt that was open at the neck.
    The other man was in his late sixties. His face was flushed and what hair remained was grey and sparse. Dressed in baggy fawn-coloured trousers and a rough working shirt and jacket, he looked as though he might have come from the fields.
    Neither man seemed remotely like a gendarme or a soldier. And both men looked scared.
    For a few seconds, all four stood bewildered in the early morning light, just staring.
    Then the younger newcomer spoke. “It’s my wife – they’ve taken my wife!”
    Henri hesitated, his brow creased. “Your wife? Who’s taken your wife? And who are you? Why have you come here?”
    “That was my idea, Monsieur Mazet,” the older man said. “We didn’t know where else to go.”
    “You know me?” Henri said.
    The man lowered his voice. “I know of you. We’re from Bélesta, and … well, I’ve … I’ve heard things, over the past year. People talk. Say things. You know.”
    “No, I don’t know. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “About … about a Resistance group. Here in Lavelanet. Your name was mentioned.”
    Henri said nothing, fearing that he might be being drawn into a trap.
    “There’s no one in Bélesta we could go to,” the man continued. “So we came here.” He pointed back to the road. “In my old car.”
    Henri remained silent, forcing the man to go on. “I have a relative who works in your factory.”
    “Who?” Paul asked, impatient to know exactly what the men were expecting. “What’s his name?”
    “It’s Joseph Argoud,” the man answered, still looking at Henri. “He’s been with you for years. My wife’s younger brother.”
    Henri nodded, but said nothing.
    “My name is Antoine Granel. You can ask Joseph about me, or anyone in Bélesta, they’ll vouch for me. But my young friend here needs your help.”
    Again, Henri waited, giving himself time to think before replying. “If he needs help, then he must go to the police,” he said at last.
    “But I can’t go to the police,” the younger man said loudly, his face desperate with worry. “It was the police who took my wife away.”
    Paul and Henri exchanged a look.
    “Why? Why did they do that?” Henri asked.
    “They were looking for me,” the man said. “But I wasn’t there, so they took my wife, and I’ve no idea where they’ve taken her.”
    “Please?” Antoine Granel said to Henri. “Will you at least give us a chance to explain?”
    Again, Henri hesitated. Then he and Paul turned as they heard a creak on the staircase. Hélène and Josette had made their way down the stairs.
    “Ask our visitors to come in,