The Paris Agent(103)
Dad nods. His hand is shaking slightly beneath mine. He and Drusilla both seem to be in shock.
“A guard from Karlsruhe told me that Fleur and Josie were as close as sisters,” Helen says. Although she’s a stern woman, her tone has eased and softened, and now she speaks very gently, her eyes brimming with sympathy. “When the transfer order came through and that guard realized these women were to be executed, she did her very best to ensure their last day on earth was dignified. She arranged fresh clothing for them and even bribed a colleague to take them by passenger train instead of a boxcar to Strasbourg. She packed them a special meal for the journey and did her best to hide what was coming so they wouldn’t be scared.”
Beside me, my father makes a sound that could almost be a sob. He withdraws his hand from mine on the table and presses it over his mouth, looking away. My own eyes fill with tears as I gently rub his shoulders.
“Jocelyn was executed just a few hours after she arrived at Natzweiler-Struthof in August 1944,” Helen finally says.
A hush falls over the room, until Drusilla straightens her spine and says flatly, “Did this guard personally witness her death?”
“No, the guard remained at Karlsruhe.”
“You said there was no paper trail.” For the first time, Helen looks uneasy. She shifts awkwardly in her chair. “For twenty-four years I have imagined the entirely wrong scenario for my daughter’s last hours. You need to be completely transparent with me now.” I see the low-key panic in Helen’s eyes as she looks to Read and my stomach drops. There’s more here, and I’m not sure any of us are ready to hear it. Drusilla’s voice breaks as she adds desperately, “Please.”
“I…” Helen is apparently at a loss for words. She clears her throat, then sips again at her water.
“Was anyone arrested for her murder?” Drusilla demands hoarsely. “Was she alone when she died? Did she suffer? I don’t care if the answers are distressing, I just need to know!”
“Jocelyn was executed with three other agents,” Harry says suddenly. “They died by lethal injection.”
“Then what is it you aren’t you telling me?” Drusilla says flatly, staring at Helen, who swallows anxiously.
“Miss Elwood?” Dad prompts uneasily.
Helen looks resigned. “I interviewed an orderly who was there with this group of women until their last moments. He believed that Jocelyn was the only one in the group of women who spoke enough German to understand what was going on—the others believed they were being given an inoculation. He remembered her being incredibly courageous in keeping calm so that the others would not die afraid. But after—” Her eyes have filled with tears. “Jocelyn fought until her last breath. The orderly said her last words were ‘Long live freedom, long live France.’ She made quite a ruckus—many of the prisoners I interviewed from that camp recalled hearing her shout those final words.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. I’m trying to stifle my own emotions, but the pain in the room is palpable. Quinn has her arms around Drusilla, who is drawing in big, shuddering breaths. Dad sits in silent misery, tears running down his face. Theo and I exchange a glance that’s part can you believe this and part what on earth have we uncovered.
“Did she make a mistake?” Drusilla whispers hoarsely. “Is that why she was arrested?”
“I don’t believe so, no,” Helen says. “I interviewed one of the Gestapo officers involved in her arrest. He told me that Turner sent them to arrest a w/t operator, and when they arrived at her rooms, they discovered that she and Josie had drafted a transmission to alert Baker Street that Turner was a conspirator. They managed to get the w/t’s encryption key too, despite Josie’s best efforts to destroy it. The Germans were able to impersonate that w/t successfully for months, right up until just before Paris was liberated, which is why we at Baker Street had no idea how dire things were on the ground in the city.”
“So this Turner fellow sent Josie to prison and then…lied to me about her death for revenge?” Drusilla says, stunned.
“Actually, there’s some evidence that he tried to have her released from the prison,” Helen admits. “I spoke to several German guards and officers who recalled Gerard making desperate attempts to speak with her, even trying to supply new information from our agency in exchange for her release.”
“Well, that just makes no damned sense,” Dad says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The bastard was a traitor who conspired with the Germans and allowed Josie to be arrested, then he tried to help her?”
“He did always have a soft spot for her,” Helen tells us with a sigh. “I interpreted it as an almost fatherly admiration when we were training her and she showed such promise, but who knows? It’s no consolation at all now, but for whatever reason, he did try to help her. People are complex sometimes.”
“I just can’t believe he’d betray his country like this. Both countries,” Dad says, his voice cracking with emotion. “He seemed like such a good man.”
“It’s no excuse at all, of course, but Gerard was already in dire financial straits when the occupation began, having gambled away his family’s fortune,” Helen explains. “Every decision he made from there was likely influenced by the Germans. He sought Freddie out the minute he arrived in Britain and at the time, we were so relieved to have help from someone who had recent experience in France, no one suspected a thing, but we know now that he was already working with the Germans, even then. There is some evidence he tried to extract himself from their clutches a few times—but it always came back to money. Even here in the UK, what appeared to be a casual gambling habit was a catastrophic weakness the Germans exploited time and time again. Every shred of the man’s integrity was traded for the cash. Perhaps earlier in the war, he’d have been able to buy Josie’s release—but by the time she was arrested, the Germans knew the war was just about over and nothing he could offer was valuable to them.”