‘Why didn’t you tell me? It’s been a whole week since it happened and not a word from you. Jacques, that’s not how it’s done! You know that! Who are these men?’

It was the first time she had ever rebuked him, but it had to be done. The capture of a saboteur was a serious matter, especially an amateur saboteur who had not been trained, as she had, in the methods of interrogation and was not prepared for torture and did not carry an L-pill.

‘They are idiots. Remember the fools who ran off with rifles and hand grenades? Henri’s men? That’s them. Raoul and Gaston. They broke into a sausage factory, imagine! It was all about food. And a factory near to where they are originally from, in the Bas-Rhin, so the guard they tried to shoot – and missed – recognised them and snitched to the Boche. They got away. There was a huge police action with posters all over the place and eventually they were caught by the local gendarmes – Alsace police, born and bred Alsatians – to be held until the Germans could talk to them. By that I mean the SS. But you know how it is. The Gestapo had to come from Strasbourg and by then news had spread that local boys were in the local prison. Henri bribed one of the guards and they organised a staged break-in. The boys are free again and in the underground, like the rest of us.’

‘Still, you should have told me right away. I need to be informed…’

‘Told you, how? I only heard myself three days ago when I saw the posters. I thought it was more important to call a meeting with Henri and that was the right thing to do because that was how we got them out of jail.’

‘Von Haagen said they were sent to Natzweiler.’

‘He lied to you. It’s just the usual German bluster, showing off. That’s where they would have been sent once the Gestapo got to them but they never got that far. Your German boyfriend would never admit to you that they actually escaped from custody! He would never admit any Boche failure, would he?’

‘Actually…’

‘So how are things going with your boyfriend?’

‘Please don’t call him that. You know very well that it’s just a job.’

‘I hope so. But these German officers – I don’t know.’

‘Jacques, jealousy doesn’t suit you. Don’t worry about me, worry about yourself. Because the bigger message is that the Gestapo have increased their presence in Alsace and are suspecting British involvement. SOE involvement. That means we need to lay low for a while. No more attacks for four weeks. They’re all over Colmar. They wear black uniforms and just the sight of them gives me the creeps. And not all of them are in uniform. They could be anyone. So, my instructions are that. Keep to the hills in the next few weeks.’

‘I’ll tell my boys that. But for me, it’s different. I am still investigating the bridge situation. There are two supply bridges in the Alsace, at Chalampé and Brisach. The Brisach one is the more important – it’s a railway bridge that connects Colmar with Freiburg and the southern state of Baden. I need to get that bridge. Once I have destroyed that, I will bomb the Chalampé bridge.’

‘You cannot do it alone, Jacques. I would do it with you but even I have never blown up a bridge of that size before. I think it’s better I request an expert from headquarters. You cannot risk it. Especially with reinforced SS activity all over the place.’

‘You’re telling me to back off? Sibi, this has been my dream for months, if not years! The main ambition of my life!’

‘All your dreams and ambitions are of no account here. Do not place your personal fulfilment at the centre of this because it is bound to go wrong! Why do men like to measure themselves by their achievements? “I need to blow up this bridge to prove myself.” That’s what I’m hearing and it’s nonsense. You’re not to do it, Jacques. I’m going to get in an explosives expert to figure it out and do the deed. It’s not your place.’

‘You mean – you’re giving me the order to withdraw? You’re not letting me blow it up?’

She sighed. ‘Please don’t make it into a power game, Jacques! Please don’t be upset. Just don’t do it. D’accord?’

‘D’accord. À bientôt.’

He walked out the door. Sibyl sighed. Jacques, too. The old Jacques, the real Jacques, the man of the forest who could listen to grapes ripening and feel the heartbeat of a bird –wiped out by the exigencies of war, this quintessentially male need to demonstrate power and triumph by making huge explosions and big bangs, all, finally, to validate themselves. Wasn’t that what it was all about? Where was the real Jacques in all of this? Buried, somewhere beneath it all. When the war was over he would have to be unburied.

That night she made an emergency radio call to HQ. She gave a short summary of the capture and eventual escape of the men, explained that she had stopped all sabotage action for the next few weeks, and requested an expert to blow up the bridge.

They would consider that request, said Acrobat.

She also told Acrobat about her conversation with von Haagen.

‘I see,’ was the guarded response.