Red Rainbow by G Johanson (top books of all time TXT) 📗

produce, we can sell. We’re ticking over. Employees that have chosen to leave – or been chosen to leave – haven’t been replaced.”

“Explain what that means.” That was doubletalk – if he meant fired, just say it. The fired employees would probably still ask César if they could give him a good reference.

“Some of our staff were chosen to work in Germany. When this is over, whichever way it goes, we’ll look to go back to full production again.”

Gehring mused on this, choosing not to probe further into his work as it wasn’t exposing any chinks in the armour. He tried another strategy, having been warming up for this one.

“You have many friends here, but no family. You shipped them all out to safety.”

“Correct. Not just in what I did, but why I did it too. We can talk about it more if you like, I just don’t think there’s anything unusual about that.”

“Why not go with them?”

“We don’t have a base in Switzerland. Down the line, we might. I didn’t want them to have to struggle to get by there. I’m rewarded very well for my work. Staying here was an acceptable risk.”

“It worked out well for you up until now. It’s clear from their letters how much your family think of you. We’ve picked up two from your letterbox in the past few days from your mother. Would you like us to write to her to explain why you won’t be replying?”

“I’ll explain when I’m released.” He was snippy in response, unable to hide his displeasure at this. Good.

“We’ll be ruffling more feathers than that, Vadeboncoeur, if you don’t talk soon,” Gehring warned, leaving the threat hovering to prey on his mind when he was alone in his cell.

César had been relieved that Gehring did not follow through on his unspoken threats of physical torture. Psychological warfare was easier for him as this was his arena too. Threatening to write to his mother that they had him as their prisoner – this confirmed his original thought about why Dead Eyes was immune. There was no love in him at all. It’d be easier to get a fucking rock to love him than that blank slate. It wasn’t even intense hatred within him, just some weird sense of duty compelling him to be a bastard and get results that would be meaningless to him, an imaginary trophy he could pin in the walls of nothingness inside him to try and distract from the void.

Gehring had got to him alright.

Dear Mrs Vadeboncoeur,

You don’t know me, nor would you want to. My name is Gehring, unaffectionately known as Dead Eyes and I’m a total bastard...

César could take the piss out of him all he wanted. The fact remained anything Gehring wrote to his mother would devastate the lot of them. Hearing that he was in the clutches of the Gestapo... the damage that would cause them. He was just thankful that they were safely out of harm’s way. He hadn’t been planning for this when he persuaded them – and it took serious persuasion to achieve this – to leave for Switzerland when the writing was on the wall. They wanted to stay or at least not leave without him. That was the tone of many of the letters he received. There’s a room for you too. Later ones offered a room for him and Emmanuelle and then back to just him again.

Money was not a problem. They’d had to support themselves, nine of them in the one house initially while César was in the army. When he returned to his job and yet another promotion, he was able to provide enough money to rent two other houses on top of the one they’d been able to buy. One for his married brother and his three and then four kids to share (Young Adam would always be known as the Swiss relative for being born there), another for his sister and her husband, with his parents and his youngest sister sharing the original property they bought. It was good for them all to have space – Jocelyne was 10 now, so it was better she had a room of her own rather than sharing with her younger nephews and niece. She was much closer in age to them than she was to her siblings, the large age gap due to her being the result of an unplanned pregnancy... Despite this, she was still loved and as much a part of the family as the rest of them.

César received plenty of pictures to go with the letters, the children growing up fast and looking genuinely happy without a worry in the world in their snowy paradise. His mother’s talk of a chair being left at the table for him broke him a little – he missed them terribly yet knew that his power meant that it was even more of a wrench for them missing him. That would be why they wouldn’t stay there after the war, but César would insist they keep the first property as a holiday home, keen to spend some time with them there. It looked like fun. If they’d had an office there... it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t have been able to find good work there. His brother had found regular work, even if it was still casual. His brother-in-law had a permanent position at the bank. His mother was teaching piano lessons again. Their love had been suffocating at times, especially when he still lived at home. Absence had made his heart grow fonder. He just had to hope Gehring was bluffing – what would he really gain from following through with the threat? His mother had no information to share about Florence.

There was a greater concern. Hearing he was in the hands of the Gestapo would bring on floods of tears. Hearing about Florence? His male relatives would be fine, they’d think typical César, imagining he’d have her eating out of the palm of