An Officer and a Spy

Over lunch, Edmond wants to talk about the impending visit of the Tsar. He takes the radical view. ‘I just think it is plain wrong,’ he says, ‘for our democratic republic to roll out the carpet for an absolute monarch who locks up people who disagree with him. That’s not what France exists for.’

‘France may not exist at all,’ I point out, ‘if we don’t have an ally who can help us defeat the Germans.’

‘Yes, but what if it’s the Russians who fight the Germans and we’re the ones who end up getting dragged in?’

‘It’s hard to imagine the scenario in which that might happen.’

‘Well, I hate to break it to a soldier, but things have a habit of not going according to plan.’

Jeanne says, ‘Oh do shut up, Ed! Georges has come out to relax on his day off, not listen to a lecture from you.’

‘Very well,’ grumbles Edmond, ‘but you can tell your General Boisdeffre from me that alliances work both ways.’

‘I am sure the Chief of the General Staff will be fascinated to receive a lecture in strategy from the Mayor of Ville-d’Avray. .’

Everyone laughs, including Edmond. ‘Touché, Colonel,’ he says, and pours me some more wine.

After we have eaten, we play hide-and-seek with the children. When it’s my turn I walk a hundred paces into the trees and search around until I find the perfect spot. I lie down in a small hollow behind a fallen tree and cover myself with dead leaves and twigs, just as I used to teach my topography students to do at the École Supérieure de Guerre. It is amazing how completely a human being can disappear if he is prepared to take the trouble. In the summer after my father died I would lie out in the forest like this for hours. I listen to the sounds of the children calling my name. After a while they get bored and move off; soon I can no longer hear them. There is only the cooing of the wood pigeons and the scent of the rich, dry earth and the softness of the moss against my neck. I savour the solitude for ten minutes, then brush myself down and go back smiling to join the others. They have already packed up the picnic and are waiting to leave.

I say, ‘You see, that’s how a soldier learns to hide! Would you like me to teach you?’

They look at me as if I have gone mad.

Anna says irritably, ‘Where in heaven’s name have you been?’

One of the children starts to cry.

13

At precisely ten o’clock on the morning of Tuesday 1 September, I present myself in General Boisdeffre’s outer office, carrying my briefcase.

Pauffin de Saint Morel says, ‘You can go straight in, Colonel. He’s expecting you.’

‘Thank you. Would you make sure we’re not disturbed?’

I enter to find Boisdeffre leaning over his conference table, studying a map of Paris and making notes. He acknowledges my salute with a smile and a wave and then returns to the map. ‘Excuse me, Picquart, will you? I shan’t be a moment.’

I close the door behind me. Boisdeffre is tracing the route of the Tsar’s ceremonial parade, marking it on the map in red crayon. For security reasons, their Imperial Majesties will pass through a succession of wide-open spaces — the Jardins du Ranelagh, the Bois de Boulogne, the Champs-Élysées and the place de la Concorde — where all the houses are screened by trees and stand well back from the road. Nevertheless, every occupant is being given a background check: the Statistical Section has been brought in to advise; Gribelin has been busy with our lists of aliens and potential traitors. Given our urgent need for an alliance with the Russians, if the Tsar were to be assassinated on French soil it would be a national disaster. And the threat is real: it is only fifteen years since his grandfather was blown in half by socialists, only two years since our own president was stabbed to death by an anarchist.

Boisdeffre taps the map and says, ‘It’s this initial stretch here, between the Ranelagh railway station and the porte Dauphine, that causes me most concern. The First Department tells me we shall need thirty-two thousand men, including cavalry, simply to keep the crowd at a safe distance.’

‘Let’s hope the Germans don’t choose that moment to attack us in the east.’

‘Indeed.’ Boisdeffre finishes writing and looks at me with his full attention for the first time. ‘So, Colonel, what do we need to talk about? Please.’ He sits, and indicates that I should take the chair opposite him. ‘Is it about the Russian visit?’

‘No, General. It’s about the matter we discussed in the automobile on your return from Vichy — the suspected traitor, Esterhazy.’

It takes him a moment to search back through his memory. ‘Ah yes, I remember. Where do we stand on that?’

‘If I could just clear some space. .’

‘By all means.’