Free As Time Goes By by Michael Walsh Page B

He made a little noise in his throat by way of preamble. "Seriously, Ricky, it seems that a gentleman answering the descrip tion of Monsieur Laszlo has recently been sighted by one or two of my, er, new colleagues coming and going in the district of South Kensington."
    That got Rick's attention. "You got an address?"
    "Not yet," Renault lied. He wasn't quite sure why he lied. Maybe it was just out of habit. Maybe he wanted to check the place out first, to make sure he had the right information. Another day or two wouldn't hurt.
    "Well, get one, pronto," said Rick. "By the way, just who are these new 'colleagues' of yours?"
    "Now, Ricky, we ought to be able to have a few little secrets from each other." Nervously Louis snapped an other cigarette out of the case and lit it. "Our countries may be allies, but that doesn't mean we have to share every bit of intelligence. Give me some time."
    "What do you mean, 'our' countries? You know I haven't got a country, and probably never will." Rick looked at Sam, who shrugged wordlessly. "And as for you, the last time I looked, France was cut in two like a day-old baguette. Half of it is being run directly from Berlin, and the other half only pretends not to be. In other words," he concluded, "neither of us has a coun try, at least until we get the Germans out of Paris."
    "Vive la France," said Renault.
    "Get on with it. Tune is one thing we don't have."
    "This is the way things seem to stand," began Re nault, wondering how much of the story to tell. It was not a question of lying, exactly, but rather of editing judiciously and hoping the excised bits didn't come back to haunt him. "It should come as no surprise to you that the Résistance does not entirely trust the Brit ish. Part of that distrust is habitual, of course, but part of it has to do with our different war aims. For Britain, victory will have been achieved by defeating Hitler. What happens to France makes no difference to the English. Indeed, we suspect the restoration of la gloire de la France to be very low on Mr. Churchill's agenda."
    "You're probably right about that," agreed Rick.
    Renault nodded appreciatively. "Monsieur le Gen eral, though, sees things a bit differently," he contin ued. "For him the restoration of French honor and French glory is paramount. When Germany is de feated, France must and shall be the strongest Conti nental power. No other outcome would be acceptable."
    "It's no skin off my nose," said Rick. "In fact, Sam and I were just reminiscing about Paris in the good old days before you walked in, weren't we, Sam?"
    "If that's what you call it," said Sam.
    "So what's the problem?" Rick asked.
    "The problem," replied Renault, "is that any opera tions being run under the auspices of British Intelligence in central Europe are very much in the French interest as well. Which is why agents of the R é sistance have been shadowing all known MI-six operatives in London."
    Rick laughed. "In other words, your side is spying on the very men who are trying to boot the Germans off the Champs-Élys é es and back to Unter den Linden."
    "You could put it that way," Renault admitted.
    "Sounds like the old days in New York," muttered Sam.
    "What do you Frenchies say, Louie: plus ça change?"
    "Ricky, I'm disappointed in you," said Renault. "After all your time in France and in Casablanca, your French accent leaves much to be desired."
    "Merci, I'm sure," said Rick.
    Despite the banter, Renault began to fidget. Divided loyalties were certainly something to which he was no stranger, but he preferred his loyalties to be truly di vided and not bumping up against each other like this. "My, look at the time," he exclaimed, rising. "I'm afraid I've been indiscreet enough to have made a small assignation for this afternoon. The Savoy, for tea."
    Rick smiled, more a grimace than an expression of pleasure. "And scones, no doubt."
    "If they should present themselves," Renault replied with a slight leer. "One never knows."
    "More