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theirs. He was curious, had plenty to say, a bit full of himself. I used the cover story, but I’m not sure he was fooled.”
    “Will he come here?”
    The soldier shook his head. “The twin told him they were busy for the next few days.”
    Lau stared towards the forest, thinking over what he had heard.
    “And there’s one more thing, sir,” the soldier continued. “The man had been fighting.”
    “Why does that concern us?”
    “He’d been fighting with our friend, Monsieur Beergut. At his bar in Lavelanet. Sounds as though he can’t keep his mouth shut, even when he’s not drinking his own beer.”
    The dog was still barking as the twin approached Lau. “And which one are you?”
    “Gilbert, but that doesn’t matter.”
    “Perhaps I’ll be able to tell the difference by the time we leave.”
    “I doubt it,” Gilbert shrugged. “One of your men almost shot my cousin this morning. I watched him go for his pistol.”
    “But he didn’t shoot him.”
    “No, but I knew that one wrong word from my cousin and he’d have been lying dead out there on the plateau. It wasn’t necessary, Alain’s no trouble, I just had to talk to him.”
    “Then let’s hope you convinced him to stay away for the next couple of days.”
    “Look, we’re helping you,” Gilbert said angrily. “We’re not your enemies and we’re not involved in your war. And you couldn’t be doing any of this without us.”
    Lau’s voice softened. “Gilbert, let me assure you that I have no wish to kill anyone.” He glanced towards where he knew the dog was tethered. “Anyone, or anything.”

SEVEN
    T he mood around the table was tense, the air heavy with expectation.
    Henri had summoned them all, but had refused to say why until everyone was present. Now they were: his wife, Hélène; his daughter, Josette; Didier and Paul.
    Hélène, dressed all in black, as she had been since the death of her son the previous year, looked pale and anxious. She had never fully recovered from the blow of losing Venant.
    “We’re all here, Papa,” Josette said, “as you insisted. So why all the hurry?”
    “Because Paul is leaving us.”
    “Yes, he told us that this morning,” Josette said impatiently. She flashed a hostile look at Paul. They hadn’t spoken since her outburst in Henri’s office, and if Paul had been hoping that Josette’s temper might have eased since she got home, then he was mistaken. She looked as furious now, sitting at the dining room table, as she had when she had stormed away from her desk earlier in the day.
    “But since this morning there have been developments,” Henri said. “I’ve made radio contact with London twice. And the outcome is that they want Paul back there urgently.”
    “How urgently?” Paul asked before Josette could speak.
    “They’re not prepared to wait for a second attempt at crossing the mountains. It would take too long, and even after that, you might not get to London for months.”
    “So what is happening?”
    “They’re sending an aeroplane for you.”
    “A plane!”
    Henri nodded in response. He looked almost as surprised by his news as everyone else.
    “But they can’t send a plane from England,” Paul said. “It’s too far. Where would it land? Where would it refuel?”
    “It’s not coming from England. A light aircraft is flying from somewhere in the north of Portugal.”
    “But Portugal is a neutral country,” Josette said.
    “We have sympathizers there.”
    “But then what?” Paul asked, hardly believing his ears.
    “You’ll fly to Portugal, to a landing strip near the coast. A British submarine will be waiting offshore to take you to Britain.”
    This time no one spoke, but all eyes were on Paul. He looked stunned. “How soon?”
    “A few days at most. The submarine is on its way, and the British and their friends in Portugal and Spain are making their plans. We won’t be told the operational details.”
    “Because we don’t need to know.”
    The “need