B004U2USMY EBOK (28 page)

“That’s the risk,” he said.

“That doesn’t matter. Papá deserves whatever
sacrifice I make, except that one thing.”

“Your father is still alive.”

“Exactly. He’s still alive and if I kill
Hoekman, they’ll arrest me and my father will spend the rest of
his life in that horrible place. I can’t do that, I need to get
him out first, then take care of Hoekman.”

“Except that as soon as you got your father
out, that would be impossible. They’d be looking for you; you’d
have to stay in hiding.” He shook his head. “No, if you get your
father first, you’ll have to forget about Hoekman, he’ll be
untouchable.”

“And if I get Hoekman, I can’t save my
father.”

Helmut looked thoughtful. “What if. . .? No,
you should drop the whole idea. It’s too dangerous.”

“What were you going to say? Tell me,” she
urged.

“Let’s say you get close to Hoekman and take
care of him with the gun. If I helped you, if I got you out of
there then I could hide you. Smuggle you out of Paris.”

“And my father?”

“Supposing that at the same time you were
shooting Hoekman there was a fire in the records room at the
insane asylum. With the arresting agent dead, his records
destroyed, your father would be just another patient. At least
until they sort through Hoekman’s files and figure out his cases.
In the meanwhile, I’ll pay someone to look the other way while we
wheel your father out of the asylum.”

She put down her drink and sat next to him on
the bed. “You could do that?”

“I think so.”

She took a deep breath. “Do you think I could
pull it off? Could I kill Hoekman or would that be throwing my own
life away?”

“If you are prepared. If you want it badly
enough. Yes. You might get caught in spite of everything, but at
least you’d have tried.”

“I can’t get caught. I can’t stop imagining
what it would be like to be strapped down on an operating table
while they draw a line across my forehead. I couldn’t do it, I’m
not that strong.”

He took her hands. “I swear to you that
whatever happens, I won’t let that happen.”

“If they catch me you’d have to kill me. I
can’t do it, I can’t go through what my father did. Please, could
you do that for me? Could you find a way to kill me first?”

“Gaby, if I have to, I’ll pull the trigger
myself. It would be the hardest, worst thing I’d ever done, but
I’d do that for you, I swear it.”

She felt such a swelling of emotion that she
had to speak. “Helmut, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

He stroked her face, stared into her eyes.
His were shockingly blue. He was beautiful, almost too pretty to
be a man. “I want to make love, Gaby.”

Gabriela nodded. “Me, too.”

After their crush of passion on the train,
she was afraid. That feeling was unexpected and she didn’t know
exactly what to do with it. She was more tentative when she
reached out this time. He leaned forward and kissed her, not on
the mouth, but on the cheek, then the eyelids. He stroked a hand
along her face.

Gabriela let out a sigh. She could feel him
trembling. A light kiss on her lips.

She undid the top two buttons on his shirt
and slid her hand inside. His skin was warm, she could feel his
heart beating.

“Oh, Gaby.”

“Take off your clothes,” she whispered.

But without warning, he pulled away. He
groaned and put the heels of his hands to his eyes, shook his
head. “I can’t do it. It’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have, I
know you’re married, I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s not you. It’s
nothing to do with you at all and it’s not even about Loise.” He
rose, paced the short distance between the bed and the window.

“Helmut, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“You can’t do it. You can’t kill Colonel
Hoekman. You need to get away from him, go into hiding.” He turned
around. “I’ll help you do it.”

“I’m not going into hiding. And you’re wrong.
I’m strong enough to do this.”

“No, you can’t. And you won’t. I won’t let
you use my gun, I won’t help you in any way. I’ll help you hide,
that’s what I’ll do.”

“Helmut, for god’s sake, you practically
talked me into it yourself.”

“Well, I changed my mind, is that so hard to
understand?”

“I know the risks, I know it’s dangerous, and
I still think I can do it.”

“You think? You think? There’s no
thinking
you can do it, there’s only doing on one hand and dying on the
other. A horrible, nasty death. No, you can’t. You’ll die, I
promise you. And they’ll make you suffer.”

“I won’t die! I’ve got too many reasons to
stay alive.”

“Reasons? You think that matters? The world
is full of people with good reasons to stay alive. Some of them
are dying right now.”

She thrust out her chin. “I’m going to do it.
There’s nothing you can do or say to talk me out of it. Either
you’re going to help me or I’m going to do it on my own.”

Helmut started to say something, but then his
mouth snapped shut. It was hard to say what he was thinking. Of
course, all the same arguments that she’d used herself minutes ago
still held. If she killed Hoekman on her own, who would help her
father? She’d never get him out. Helmut had to know that, had to
wonder if she was serious.

He stood up, buttoned his shirt and headed
for the door without saying a word.

“Helmut?”

“I’m sorry, I need some air. I’ll be
downstairs.”

And with that he was gone.

#

Helmut retreated to the hotel bar. He
intended to drink himself senseless. He’d maintain just enough
consciousness to crawl into bed and pass out. In the morning he’d
think more clearly.

He ordered a straight whiskey and sat by
himself near the fireplace. It crackled with a small, but cheery
fire. The only other clients in the bar were two men speaking in
Alsatian. He couldn’t understand a word. Good. He downed the
liquor, waved his hand for another, then a third.

“Too much strong drink can have deleterious
effects on the mind,” a man said from behind his shoulder.

He turned, startled, to see Gemeiner standing
with a sardonic smile at his lips. Gemeiner wore a business suit
and not his uniform. He took a seat next to Helmut.

Helmut returned to his drink. “I thought you
never left Germany.”

“Alsace is Germany now, haven’t you heard?”

“What are you doing here?”

Gemeiner pulled up a chair. “Have you bedded
the girl yet?”

“Not yet, no. She’s ready though. I’ll do it
when I go back.”

“Not if you don’t stop drinking. At that
rate, you’ll be sleeping on the floor in a puddle of your own
vomit.”

“I know my limits. She’s already offered
herself to me.”

“So why didn’t you do it?”

“Waiting for the right moment. You can’t rush
these things.”

“Well, enjoy yourself,” Gemeiner said. “It’s
a hell of a job, you have to enjoy the extras when they come.”

“Goddammit.”

“Oh, come on. I know what you’re going
through, and I appreciate it, I do. But compared to what that girl
gave up, is going to give up, what are your problems?”

“Exactly right,” Helmut said. “She’s agreed
to kill Hoekman. She’s insisting on it, in fact.”

Insisting on it even when he tried to talk
her out of it. He couldn’t go through with it, he just couldn’t.

“And I think she can pull it off,” he
continued. “She’ll go in there, gun down the bastard, and there
will be a car waiting out front to carry her to safety.”

“Only it won’t be you in the car,” Gemeiner
said, “it will be two hired men. And they’ll kill her.”

The levity was gone from Gemeiner’s voice,
replaced by a grim certainty. Good thing, too. Helmut was ready to
throw himself at the man, beat him senseless. One more joke would
have pushed him over the edge.

“No, I can’t do that,” Helmut said. “I’ve got
to do it myself.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

“I’m not being a fool, I’m doing what’s
right. If I’m going to sign off on her death, I’ve got to be a man
and do it myself. Otherwise, I’m no better than the people we’re
fighting, no better than Hans Hoekman.”

“Oh, Hoekman would happily do it himself. He
loves that sort of thing.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You know your problem?” Gemeiner asked. “You
let yourself get emotionally attached.”

“Is there some other way? Because please,
tell me if there is.”

“The thing is, I can’t trust you any more.
Your intentions are right, but once she steps into the car, you
won’t be able to follow through. You’ll remember her soft kisses,
her caresses and then you’ll think, ’It wouldn’t be so bad, would
it, to let her live? We could make it look like she died without
actually killing her.’ And then you’ll disobey orders. That’s why
it’s got to be someone else.”

Helmut had nothing to say to this. The man
was almost right, in fact, but not quite. Truth was, he’d already
decided as much, he didn’t intend to kill her at all. He was going
to claim he had, that was all. Sure, Gemeiner insisted that
without a body and a note, the Gestapo wouldn’t believe it was a
crime of passion. They’d keep digging, but with more men, more
resources, until they uncovered the conspiracy. But Helmut was
sure he could work out something almost as good. He just needed to
think of something.

“You never answered the question,” Helmut
said. “What
are
you doing here?”

If Gemeiner’s voice had been serious before,
it now sounded positively grim. “We lost another man to the
Gestapo.”

“Really, who?”

“Who is unimportant, except that he knew too
much, was too critical to our plans.”

Helmut felt a tight band of worry in his gut.
“Did they take him alive?”

“I don’t know. He was our man on the inside,
so he was the one who would have fed us the very information we
are now lacking. Did he bite his capsule in time? We have no way
of knowing.”

“And if he didn’t?”

“Then we are all dead. The safest thing, in
fact, would be to fall back on our contingency plans. You have
one, I presume?”

“Yes, of course.”

His contingency plan was a hundred thousand
Swiss francs in Geneva and ninety thousand American dollars in a
safe-deposit box in Buenos Aires. Enough to flee Europe and
rebuild somewhere else. Nobody knew about this contingency, not
even Loise.

“That’s the safest course,” Gemeiner said.
“But the coward’s way out.” He shook his head. “I don’t intend to
back out. There’s too much at stake, we’re too close. If I die, so
be it. I assume you feel the same way.”

“Let’s say your man killed himself,” Helmut
said. He had finished his drink, but when the bartender on the
other side of the room caught his eye with an implied question
about refills, he shook his head. “What do we lose besides
intelligence?”

“We lose our liaison with Vichy and the
American General.”

Helmut drew in his breath. “That’s a hell of
a lot of responsibility for one man.”

“We didn’t have much choice in the matter.
But that’s not all. Our man had arranged to transport the gold to
Marseille, but how? With whom? I have no idea. I know where the
gold is, but that’s all.”

“
Scheiss.
”

“What we need is someone who can move freely
throughout France, who can speak English and French. Someone who
already knows our contact in Vichy.”

Suddenly, he understood everything. “So this
is what brings you out of Germany. It’s not to keep an eye on me,
it’s to give me this.”

“You are a smart man.”

“I don’t know Brun, I’ve met him exactly one
time.”

“That’s one time more than anyone else.”

“And I certainly don’t understand the
military situation. As soon as I open my mouth to Brun and the
American agent, they’ll know I’m hopelessly ignorant.”

“All you need to know is that the French need
to stall the German Seventh and hope the Italians are too weak to
push in from the east. The operational details are for the
Americans and the French to work out.

“But all of this hinges on evading the
Gestapo,” Gemeiner added. “Hoekman has taken down two of our men.
He knows there is someone in requisitions and suspects this person
is Major Ostermann.”

“It’s a stroke of luck that he’s focused on
Alfonse,” Helmut said.

“Yes, but it can’t last. Ostermann was
protected by his position, a few well-placed friends in the
Wehrmacht, and the fact that Hoekman had nothing but suspicions.
He has more than suspicions now. An hour after he has Ostermann
under questioning he’ll learn his mistake. Another hour of
questioning will turn his attention to you.”

“Hoekman must be killed.”

“I have an Opel outside with a full tank of
petrol. I want to drive you to the
Egyptienne
.
”

“Tonight? You can’t possibly be serious. It’s
seven o’clock already.”

Gemeiner looked at his wristwatch. “Quarter
of.”

“There are two military checkpoints before we
reach the border of Alsace. At least two more between there and
Paris. Six hours drive, add three, maybe four, five hours at
check-points, depending on luck. . .it’s impossible.”

“And don’t forget, you have to go upstairs
and sleep with the girl, first.”

“And how long are you allotting for that?” he
scoffed.

“An hour, two tops. Meanwhile, I’m going to
make a few phone calls, drive out to the first checkpoint just
outside the city—that will be the toughest one—and prepare the
groundwork. By the time you finish seducing the girl—”

“Gabriela. She has a name.”

“By the time you finish seducing the girl,”
he repeated, “I’ll have the journey trimmed to seven hours, tops.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”