Free Cold Harbour by Jack Higgins Page A

be.”
    “It’s been said before.” He snapped the box shut with a sharp click.
    “You want me to go to France in my sister’s place, is that what you’re saying?”
    “Yes, on Thursday of this week.” He turned to Craig. “The moon is right that night for a Lysander drop?”
    “Yes, if everything the Met. boys promise about the weather holds true.”
    She turned to look at him. He sprawled in the chair, smoking a cigarette, face calm as ever. No help there and she turned back to Munro. “This is nonsense. You must have any number of trained agents far better qualified than I to take on this job.”
    “No one else who can be Anne-Marie Trevaunce, niece of the Countess de Voincourt at whose Château, this coming weekend, some very important members of the High Command of the German Army will be holding a conference to discuss the Atlantic Wall defence system against the coming Allied invasion. We’d like to hear what they have to say. It could save thousands of lives.”
    “I’m disappointed in you, Brigadier,” she said. “That one went out years ago.”
    He leaned back in his chair, fingertips pressed together, a slight frown on his face as he considered her. “You know, it occurs to me that perhaps you don’t really have any choice in the matter.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You aunt—you have something of a fondness for her, I understand?”
    “To ask that question means you know the answer already.”
    “She’ll be in a difficult position when Anne-Marie fails to materialise from that trip to Paris on Friday.” He shrugged, “German Intelligence hasn’t the slightest idea who was in that Lysander, you see.”
    And now she really was afraid. “Did my aunt know about Anne-Marie’s activities?”
    “No, but if she vanishes from the face of the earth completely the Germans will start to dig. They’re very thorough. It would only be a question of time before they knew something of the truth at least. Then, I think, they’d turn to your aunt and she’s not exactly up to the kind of pressure they’d put on her.”
    “What are you saying?” she said. “Is she ill?”
    “I understand her heart’s not been too good for some time now. She’s leading a normal enough life on the surface, but that’s about all.”
    Genevieve took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “No,” she said, “I think you’re quite wrong. As Major Osbourne said earlier, she’s valuable to the Germans for propaganda reasons. They wouldn’t touch her, not Hortense de Voincourt. She’s too important.”
    “I think you might find that things have altered a little since you were last in France,” he said. “No one is safe any more, believe me.”
    “What would they do?”
    It was Craig who answered. “They have camps for people like her. Very unpleasant places.”
    “Major Osbourne, I should tell you, has had personal experience of such a situation,” Munro said. “He knows what he’s taking about.” She sat there staring at him, throat dry. “As I’ve said, we would put you in by Lysander,” he told her gently. “No parachute training necessary. No time. We have only three days to prepare you.”
    “That’s ridiculous.” She could feel a rising panic. “I can’t play Anne-Marie. It’s been four years. You know more about her than I do.”
    “She was your twin sister,” he said remorselessly. “Same face, same voice. None of those things have changed. We can handle the rest. Her hairstyle, her taste in clothes, make-up, perfume. We’ll show you photographs, tell you how she handled herself at the Château. We will make it work.”
    “But it wouldn’t be enough, can’t you see?” Genevieve said. “Except for a few familiar faces, it would be a house of strangers. New servants since I was last there, plus the Germans. I wouldn’t know who was who.” Suddenly, the nonsense of the whole business made her laugh. “I’d need a still small voice whispering in my ear every step of the