“Did you search his car?”
The lieutenant felt his bowels turn to water. “No, sir. The General would not permit
—”
“Scheiss! Which way was he headed?”
The lieutenant swallowed. When he spoke again, it was in the hopeless voice of a
man who knew that his future was finished.
“I am not certain,” he replied. “This is a large crossroad here. He could have been
going inland to Rouen or to the sea, to Le Havre.”
“I want you to present yourself to Gestapo Headquarters at nine A . M . tomorrow. My
office.”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant responded.
Savagely Colonel Mueller rang off. He turned to the two men at his side and said,
“Le Havre. Get my car. We’re going cockroach-hunting!”
The road to Le Havre winds along the Seine, through the beautiful Seine Valley with
its rich hills and fertile farms. It was a clear, starlit night and the farmhouses in the
distance were pools of light, like oases in the darkness.
In the comfortable back seat of the limousine Noelle and General Scheider talked. He
told her about his wife and his children and how difficult marriage was for an army
officer. Noelle listened sympathetically and told him how difficult a romantic life was for
an actress. Each was aware that the conversation was a game, both of them keeping the
talk on a superficial level that would give away no insights. Noelle did not for a moment
underestimate the intelligence of the man sitting beside her, and she fully understood how
dangerous was the adventure in which she was engaged. She knew that General Scheider
was too clever to believe that she had suddenly found him irresistible, that he must suspect
that she was after something. What Noelle was counting on was that she would be able to
outmaneuver him in the game they were playing. The General touched only briefly on the
war, but he said something that she remembered long afterward.
“The British are a strange race,” he said. “In peacetime, they are impossible to
manage, but in a crisis they are magnificent. The only time a British sailor is truly happy is
when his ship is sinking.”
They reached Le Havre in the small hours of the morning on their way to the village
of Etratat.
“May we stop for a bite to eat?” Noelle asked. “I’m starved.”
General Scheider nodded. “Of course, if you wish.” He raised his voice. “Look for an
all-night restaurant.”
“I’m sure there’s one by the pier,” Noelle suggested. The captain obediently swung
the car toward the waterfront. He stopped the car at the water’s edge, where several cargo