‘Tout le monde – attention, if you please! Do try these friandises of Madame Vernou’s. They are splendid indeed, and if we approve of them, she will arrange a regular supply.’
‘For a trifle only,’ Louise added firmly, ‘and paid in advance. Put the trays down, Toto. No, not there, you simpleton. On the big table.’
Her porter hastened to obey, overwhelmed by the presence of so many fine gentlemen. ‘Now go to the kitchen and wait for me. This is no place for such as you,’ she said, in haughty tones. ‘And don’t leave that old bag here either.’
He hurried out and found the kitchen. He looked around furtively, nodding to a little scullerymaid, who introduced herself shyly, then darted away.
Nearly opposite there was a room, its door open. He saw tables with untidy piles of papers and journals, walls lined with file-shelves and maps: it could have only one purpose.
In an agony of frustration Renzi knew that all he wanted was just a few paces from him.
But there were three men in there still at work. What he would not give for one minute – no, twenty seconds – alone in that room!
Instead he had to stay where he was, waiting in a stew of frustration.
A burst of good-natured laughter broke out from the drawing room, with exclamations of surprise and gratification.
‘Merde!’ one of the men in the operations room swore. ‘What’s going on in there?’
Renzi suspected that another tray of sweetmeats had been revealed for there were sudden gasps of wonderment and delight.
‘Well, damn it, I’m finding out!’ the man said, and left.
‘And I’m not leaving it for those greedy bastards,’ retorted another, and stormed out, closely followed by the last.
Renzi teetered with indecision. He had been granted exactly what he wanted – if he took his life in his hands and stepped inside.
In a haze of unreality he found himself standing in the centre of the operations room.
Scrawled times and places on a blackboard, maps with red and blue crosses, documents with an official cast – it was all here. And he had seconds to decide what to do.
Copy them? No time, and that was not evidence. Discover some fact to prove he had been witness to the operation? Again, no time …
A burst of voices set his heart thumping but he couldn’t leave. The journals – without thinking he picked up the thickest. Times, dates, places, ships – and deployments! Steal it! The bag – where the hell was it? He snatched at it and the journal thumped to the bottom. He added another for good measure.
‘Toto! Toto! Come here, you lazy villain, and collect up these dishes!’
He bolted from the room and stood panting with reaction, willing his heart to slow and his body to droop. The three men pushed past him back to the operations room, brushing crumbs from their lips. How long before they discovered what was missing?
‘Quickly, now!’ Louise scolded, catching something of his tension.
He worked hurriedly, putting the empty dishes and trays into the bag, and flashed a look of urgency at her.
‘That’s very fine, good sirs! More of the candied papaya and honey-cakes, too. À bientôt, Messieurs!’
Trying not to let their haste show, they headed for the landing stage. Louise had paid a boatman well to be there for them so they could leave quickly. While they pressed on, Renzi told her what he had done and of the incalculable prize under the dishes in his bag.
‘No sacrifice is too great to get these into English hands,’ he said, trying not to sound theatrical, even if it was the truth.
When they arrived at the waterfront there was no boat. Stunned, Renzi tried to think. A quick survey of the small harbour showed no vessel waiting off, or another on its way.
‘There’s only one thing we can do,’ he muttered: they had to lie low until they could find a way off the island. He saw a road that led to an orchard up the slope, ironically not far from the fort. Trying not to look conspicuous they moved away quickly. At the end of the fruit trees a meandering path led further. They passed a returning field worker, who gaped, then shouted after them.
Without looking back they hurried on, finding that the track led to a makeshift pig-pen. Then the thud of a gun sounded from the fort, and a flag of some kind was hoisted rapidly.
There was no alternative but to go on. Renzi led the way past the startled animals and they came to a wall of thick tropical undergrowth. Louise froze, holding back. Renzi urged her to continue. ‘I – I c-cannot!’ she blurted, her face a mask of fear. ‘La Scolopendra!’
Renzi knew the gun at the fort was probably a summons to the soldiery and then the hunt would be on in earnest – they had to make the interior by dark, where they could hide.