Topaz - Leon Uris [129]
“He called himself Topaz No. 2.”
14
“GET OVER HERE RIGHT away!”
There could be no mistaking the urgency in Léon Roux’s voice in his middle-of-the-night summons. André groggily fought into a pair of slacks, a sport shirt and overcoat.
He sped toward Montparnasse through a sleeping Paris, knowing in his heart that the worst had happened. Inspector Marcel Steinberger, also haphazardly dressed, awaited him at the main entrance of La Santé Prison. They walked briskly across the courtyard, past the cell blocks, until a barred gate blocked their way. Steinberger rattled it to arouse a drowsy jailor.
Their leather heels clicked in unison as they continued down a long dim corridor. Léon Roux waited and led them into a small, foul-smelling, concrete-walled room holding a line of slabs.
Roux pulled the sheet back, revealing a waxen, hate-filled face, that of Henri Jarré, now permanently etched in death.
“When? How?”
“He was found an hour ago,” Steinberger said and pointed to the red indentation about the neck of the corpse, “hanging in his cell.”
“Suicide?”
“We don’t know yet, but in either event he’ll have no more to say.”
“His confession?”
“It was verbal. Nothing is in writing.”
Roux put the sheet back over Jarré’s face. “I’m sorry, Devereaux,” Roux said, “I’m really very sorry. I’ll have to stay around to hold the press off. Steinberger, see Devereaux out, will you?”
Their breath frosted in the chill air as they retraced their steps over the courtyard to the street. André leaned against the car and sighed wearily.
“Don’t let this beat you,” the Inspector said.
“The enemy forces have us routed, Inspector. You saw Léon Roux now. He’s had a loss of heart.”
“The Chief is a practical police officer. I’m impractical and I want Columbine flushed out as much as you do. Roux will tell you how dogged I am. I have access to all the records and files of the Department. You keep quiet, lay low, and give me guidance. I’ll do the rest. Tomorrow we’ll set up a way of contacting each other.”
“Why are you really doing this?”
“I owe you a great favor.”
“Me? But I’ve just met you.”
“We met before, a long time ago. I have a sister who lives in Israel. She and I are all that remain of our family. I was able to get her out of France before the Gestapo picked me up. You see ... you took us over the River Cher twenty years ago when we were children.”
15
ANDRÉ WAS SUMMONED TO the office of Charles Rochefort. A strange mixture of persons had gathered. There was the ever-present Colonel Gabriel Brune. There were Robert Proust and the sinister Ferdinand Fauchet, and Jacques Granville was present.
Jacques spoke. “The President asked me to come here today to advise you of his decision on the Topaz matter. He has been fully briefed and the SDECE report has been accepted. The President sees no reason to investigate the Secret Services, and is further advising that he gives full confidence to the present leadership.”
“Then, of course, gentlemen,” André answered, “you will have my resignation before the end of the day.”
“I spoke at great length with the President,” Jacques said, “and was able to convince him you were the victim of a master plot and should not be discredited. There’s too much good work in the past and too good an organization built. Of course, you have all the best contacts. The President has agreed that you should return to your post in Washington.”
André knew the price that was about to be named. The victorious Colonel Brune smiled. “All things considered, you are very fortunate.”
“Everything exactly the same?” André asked.
“Well, almost,” Brune said. “A slight expansion of your operation. You’ll be given additional personnel and funds, of course.”
“Actually,” Robert Proust said, “it will be a small, highly secret subsection under my department that will be administered by Monsieur Fauchet. It will be known under the code name of Section P.”
“I hate to disappoint you, gentlemen, but the Americans already know of the intentions of Section P. The information was revealed by the nonexistent