An Officer and a Spy полностью

‘Apparently. Or perhaps he just gives them information — plenty in the army do. The thing is, Colonel — he’s gone to ground. He’s not in Paris. He’s not even in Rouen any more. He’s moved out to the Ardennes.’

‘Do you think he knows we’re on to him?’

‘I’m not sure. But I don’t like the smell of it. I think if we’re going to lay our trap we need to do it quickly.’

‘Have we done anything about those speaking-tubes yet?’

‘They came out yesterday.’

‘Good. And how soon before the flues can be bricked up again?’

‘We have a man going in tonight.’

‘All right. Leave it with me.’

Billot is my only hope now. Billot: the old lizard, the old survivor, the two times Minister of War — surely he will realise not just the immorality but the political insanity of the General Staff’s policy?

He is due to return from the manoeuvres in the south-west on Friday. That morning Le Figaro publishes on its front page the text of a petition sent by Lucie Dreyfus to the Chamber of Deputies, pointing out that the government hasn’t denied the stories about the secret file:

And so it must be true that a French officer has been convicted by a court martial on a charge produced by the prosecution without his knowledge, which therefore neither he nor his counsel was able to discuss.

It is the denial of all justice.

I have been the victim of the most cruel martyrdom for almost two years — like the man in whose innocence I have absolute faith. I have remained silent despite the odious and absurd slanders propagated amongst the public and the press.

Today it is my duty to break that silence, and without comment or recriminations I address myself to you, gentlemen, the only power to whom I can have recourse — and I demand justice.

In the narrow, gloomy passages and stairwells of the Statistical Section there is silence. My officers shut themselves away in their rooms. Hourly I expect to be summoned over the road by Gonse for an explanation of this latest bombshell, but the telephone never rings. From my office I keep half an eye on the back of the hôtel de Brienne. Finally, just after three o’clock, I glimpse uniformed orderlies with dispatch cases passing behind its tall windows. The minister must be back. The topography works in my favour: Gonse, sitting in the rue Saint-Dominique, will not yet know he has returned. I go down into the rue de l’Université, cross the street and take out my key to let myself into the minister’s garden.

And then something odd happens. My key does not fit. I try it three or four times, dully refusing to believe it won’t work. But the shape of the lock is entirely different to what it used to be. Eventually I give up and walk the long way round, via the place du Palais Bourbon, like any ordinary mortal.

‘Colonel Picquart to see the Minister of War. .’

The sentry lets me through the gate but the captain of the Republican Guard in the downstairs lobby asks me to wait. After a few minutes, Captain Calmon-Maison comes downstairs.

I hold up my key to show him. ‘It doesn’t work any more.’ I try to make a joke of it. ‘Like Adam, I appear to have been expelled from the garden for an excess of curiosity.’

Calmon-Maison’s face is deadpan. ‘I’m sorry, Colonel. We have to change the locks occasionally — security, you understand.’

‘You don’t have to explain, Captain. But I still need to brief the minister.’

‘Unfortunately, he’s only just returned from Châteauneuf. He has a lot to do, and he’s really rather exhausted. Could you possibly come back on Monday?’ At least he has the grace to look embarrassed as he says this.

‘It won’t take long.’

‘Nevertheless. .’

‘I’ll wait.’ I resume my place on the red leather banquette.

He looks at me dubiously. ‘Perhaps I’d better go and have another word with the minister.’

‘Perhaps you should.’

He clatters off up the marble staircase, and shortly afterwards calls down to me, his voice echoing off the stone walls. ‘Colonel Picquart!’

Billot is sitting behind his desk. ‘Picquart,’ he says, wearily raising his hand, ‘I’m afraid I’m very busy’ — although there is no sign of any activity in his office, and I suspect he has simply been staring out of the window.

‘Forgive me, Minister. I shan’t detain you. But in the light of the newspaper stories this week, I feel the need to press you now for a decision about the Esterhazy investigation.’