An Officer and a Spy

he informs me that I have been found guilty of ‘grave misconduct’ by a panel of senior officers and that I am dismissed from the army forthwith. I will not receive the full pension of a retired colonel but only that of a major: thirty francs per week. He is further authorised to tell me that if I make any comments in public again regarding my period of service on the General Staff, the army will take ‘the severest possible action’ against me.
    ‘Do you have anything to say?’
    ‘No, Colonel.’
    ‘Dismissed!’
    At dusk, carrying my suitcase, I am escorted to the gate and left on the cobbled forecourt to make my own way home. I have known no other life except the army since I was eighteen years old. But all that is behind me now, and it is as plain Monsieur Picquart that I walk down the hill to the railway station to catch the train back into Paris.
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    1 Zola’s novel about the Franco-Prussian War of 1870.

21
    THE NEXT EVENING I occupy the familiar corner table in the café of the gare Saint-Lazare. It is a Sunday, a quiet time, a lonely place. I am one of only a handful of customers. I have taken precautions getting here – diving into churches, leaving by side doors, doubling back on myself, dodging down alleys – with the result that I am fairly sure no one has followed me. I read my paper, smoke a cigarette and manage to make my beer last until a quarter to eight, by which time it is obvious Desvernine is not coming. I am disappointed but not surprised: given the change in my circumstances since we last met, one can hardly blame him.
    I walk outside to catch an omnibus home. The lower deck is crowded. I climb up to the top, where the chill through the open sides is enough to deter my fellow passengers. I sit about halfway down the central bench, my chin on my chest and my hands in my pockets, looking out at the darkened upper storeys of the shops. I have not been there a minute when I am joined by a man in a heavy overcoat and muffler. He leaves a space between us.
    He says, ‘Good evening, Colonel.’
    I turn in surprise. ‘Monsieur Desvernine.’
    He continues to stare straight ahead. ‘You were followed from your apartment.’
    ‘I thought I’d lost them.’
    ‘You lost two of them. The third is sitting downstairs. Fortunately, he works for me. I don’t think there’s a fourth, but even so, I suggest we keep our conversation brief.’
    ‘Yes, of course. It was good of you to come at all.’
    ‘What is it you want?’
    ‘I need to speak to Lemercier-Picard.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘There’s been a lot of forgery in the Dreyfus case: I suspect he may have had a hand at least in some of it.’
    ‘Oh.’ Desvernine sounds pained. ‘Oh, that won’t be easy. Can you be more specific?’
    ‘Yes, I’m thinking in particular of the document mentioned in the Zola trial the other day, the so-called “absolute proof” that General Boisdeffre vouched for. If it’s what I think it is, it consists of about five or six lines of writing. That’s a lot for an amateur to forge, and there’s plenty of original material to compare it with. So I suspect they must have brought in a professional.’
    ‘“They” being who in particular, Colonel – if you don’t mind my asking?’
    ‘The Statistical Section. Colonel Henry.’
    ‘Henry? He’s acting chief!’ Now he looks at me.
    ‘I’m sure I can get access to money, if that’s what your man wants.’
    ‘It will be what he wants: I can tell you that now – and a lot of it. When do you need to see him?’
    ‘As soon as possible.’
    Desvernine huddles down in his coat, thinking it over. I can’t see his face. Eventually he says, ‘Leave it with me, Colonel.’ He stands. ‘I’ll get off here.’
    ‘I’m not a colonel any more, Monsieur Desvernine. There is no need to call me that. And you aren’t obliged to help me. It’s a risk for you.’
    ‘You forget how much time I spent investigating Esterhazy, Colonel – I know that bastard inside out. It sickens me to see him walking free. I’ll help you, if only because of him.’
    For my duel against Henry I need two witnesses to make the arrangements and ensure fair play. I travel out to Ville-d’Avray to ask Edmond Gast to be one of them. We sit on his terrace after lunch with a blanket across our knees, smoking cigars. He says, ‘Well, if you’re dead set on it, then of course I should be honoured. But I beg you to reconsider.’
    ‘I’ve issued the challenge in public, Ed. I