Back in the centre of Paris, Noor scurried through the streets until she reached her apartment block. She ran up the stairs, and hammered on the door of Antelme’s flat.
Germaine opened it, her face stretched with fright. When she saw that it was Noor, she grabbed her sleeve and pulled her inside.
‘You look terrible. What’s happened?’ Germaine asked. She let go of Noor, and shouted for Antelme, who stepped out of one of the rooms.
‘Noor – speak to me. Where’ve you been? What’s wrong?’
Stumbling over her words, and breathing in gasps, Noor told them what she’d seen at Grignon. Antelme looked grave.
‘Someone’s squawked,’ he said. ‘We’re in more danger than I thought.’
There was a sharp tap on the door. The three of them looked at each other in alarm. Antelme pulled Noor into the kitchen, while Germaine went to the door. Noor heard muttered conversation and the front door being shut.
‘You can come out,’ Germaine called. ‘It’s Jean Worms, head of Juggler circuit.’
Noor and Antelme stepped into the entrance hall. They all shook hands. Noor could see that Worms was very agitated. He kept pulling at his earlobe and blinking.
‘The wife of one of our agents telephoned me,’ he said. ‘Bad news. She went back to their old flat with another agent. The Gestapo were there. Arrested the agent. Madame escaped.’
‘Did they get anything?’ Antelme asked.
Worms nodded. ‘Your food card. She tore off the front page. Ate it. But the next page had your old address on it.’
Noor saw Antelme’s face drain of colour.
‘I have to go,’ Worms said. ‘Phone me later. I may have more news then. 6.30pm.’
He gave Antelme a scrap of paper with a number on it, and left.
‘I’ve only been here two weeks,’ Noor said. ‘And it’s all falling apart.’
‘It’s a house of cards,’ Antelme said. ‘Touch one, and the whole lot flutters down.’
‘Try not to be too pessimistic.’ Germaine went into the kitchen to make them all a cup of tea.
Noor felt too churned up to drink hers. Nor could she eat the biscuit Germaine had balanced on the saucer. She kept thinking of Maillard, and about Norman. What had the Germans done to them?
She pushed the cup away. ‘I want to phone Grignon. I need to find out what happened, and to tell London.’
Antelme looked doubtful. ‘OK… but leave it until later.’
Time passed slowly that afternoon. Noor went back to her flat. She washed some of her stockings and blouses, hanging them on chairs near the window to dry. All the while, she thought of the people she knew in the circuit: were Norman and his girlfriend together, at least? Was it he who had told the Germans about Grignon? Had he mentioned her?
The shadows lengthened, and a cool breeze fluttered her drying clothes. Noor couldn’t bear to be alone with her thoughts any longer. She made her way upstairs, back to Germaine’s flat.
‘More bad news?’ Noor asked as soon as she saw his pale face. A smell of something burnt hovered around him.
‘The Gestapo have been to our arms depot near Trie-Château. A number of agents were arrested and killed.’
He pulled his hands down his face, distorting his eyes for a moment. ‘Also, I went round to my apartment to see the caretaker. The Gestapo had been there looking for me. They asked her about me.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘They described me down to my purple beret, can you believe?’
‘What happened? Did she give you away?’ Noor asked.
He shook his head. ‘No. But they said they’d be back. I slipped into the flat, and burnt all my papers.’ He paced up and down. ‘They’re on to me, Madeleine. I need to leave Paris. But, first, I want to speak to Worms.’
He put a call through. Noor saw Antelme’s face fall as he talked, before he replaced the receiver.
‘Spoke to someone in Juggler circuit. Worms is “ill”, he said.’
A wave of cold swept over Noor’s body. ‘Ill’ meant arrested. She could hardly believe it. He’d been standing there, in that flat, only a few hours earlier.
‘Call Grignon.’ Antelme stood aside so that she could phone. ‘No. Call the Balachowskys’ apartment, just in case the Gestapo are still at Grignon.’
Madame Balachowsky answered the phone. She spoke rapidly. Sixty German policemen had been at Grignon that morning. After interrogating the Director of the College, they arrested him, Maillard and six students. They pretended to shoot groups of students to frighten them into giving information. Finally, they released the Director with a warning.
‘My husband says that’s not the last we will hear from them,’ she said. ‘Now I must go. Call tomorrow for more news.’ She put the phone down.
Noor was shaking. The Germans were picking the SOE agents off and the networks were falling apart.
‘Madeleine, you look like you’re going to faint,’ Antelme said. ‘Quickly, sit down.’
Germaine put her arm around her and sat next to her on the sofa.
‘OK. Things are getting too hot here in the city. We need to get out,’ Antelme said. ‘I’ve spoken to Robert Benoist, of Chestnut circuit. He lives in Auffargis, about twenty-five miles from here. Chestnut receives weapons parachuted in from England. Its agents hide them in dumps in the forest round his estate. We’ll stay with Benoist. Madeleine, pack a few things: you’ll come with me, at least for a while.’
‘But what about my radio set? It’s still in Le Mans.’
Time was passing, and she was neither receiving nor transmitting messages. So much was happening. She had to warn London before more agents, more ammunition, and more supplies were dropped into France, only to be picked up by the Germans.
‘Ah, of course.’ Antelme rubbed his chin. ‘I’ll make sure you get it soon. But in the meantime, perhaps Benoist will arrange for one you can borrow.’ He glanced over at Noor, a tired smile on his pale face. ‘Cow pats and wild mushrooms – a bit of fresh air will do you the world of good.’
‘I love the smell of the country,’ Noor said, trying to smile, too.
She made her way back to her flat, glad there was now a definite plan, at least for the next couple of days. Glad, too, to be leaving the cramped room.
She threw a few things into the cloth bag which she slung over her shoulder. Not that long ago, she might have worried about how she looked, but there were far more important things to think about now.