The Lisbon Crossing (16 page)

Wallis Simpson’s letter
fit right in with what I knew about the Duke of Windsor’s so-called peace plan, though it certainly cast it in a new light. Not only was the former king plotting against his brother’s government, he seemed to be doing it at the suggestion of Hitler himself! And his assertion that England might have to suffer a few Luftwaffe bombs before seeing the wisdom of surrender wasn’t just table talk—he was actively encouraging the Germans to give his countrymen a taste of the Blitzkreig. And, most amazing of all,
he was offering to provide documents that would make the job easier!

For a price, of course. There’s always a price.

I don’t know if the duke was a true believer in National Socialism or not. Perhaps he saw himself as a natural candidate for membership in the brotherhood of “strong leaders,” joining Hitler, Mussolini, and Franco in the elite pantheon of Europe’s most recent despots. But—as with most people willing to betray their country—his motive wouldn’t have been ideological. His Royal Highness could talk about the perils of communism until his face was as blue as his blood, but the bottom line was that he wanted another shot at the title, and the Führer was just the guy to give it to him. No, the
duke and his lovely wife weren’t ideologues. They simply saw the war as a wonderful opportunity to get back on top.

“There were rumors that von Ribbentrop and Mrs. Simpson were lovers,” Eva explained. “While he was ambassador to the Court of St. James.”

It didn’t shock me, but the rest of the world might’ve been a bit taken aback. To them, Edward and Wallis were the twentieth-century version of Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers whose undying passion could not be denied; the noble king who relinquished his realm in order that he might wed his true love, a commoner. If their adoring public knew that Mrs. Simpson had been fooling around with a Nazi on the side, it might’ve taken some of the shine off the fairy tale.

I didn’t see any reason to let Eva in on what I knew about the duke’s plans, so I asked her what happened after she’d copied the letter.

“I put the key back in Kleinmann’s trousers and slipped into the bed,” she said. “I pretended to be asleep, which wasn’t easy with my heart pounding like a hammer, as it was. I lay there, going over each word of the letter, committing it to memory. When the driver rang the bell, about twenty minutes later, I got up and dressed as quickly as I could. I was nervous, and made all the more so by the way Kleinmann watched me, never taking his eye off me as I pulled my clothes on. I thought he knew, and was playing with me.

“My heart stopped when he walked over and slipped his hand inside my panties. I closed my eyes and held my breath, believing I was as good as dead.” Eva smiled bitterly. “But he interpreted my reaction as the inevitable result of his magic touch. He smiled like a conqueror, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered that he had a dinner appointment that evening, but if I came to the apartment at ten o’clock, I would find him there. He thought I would be grateful. I played along, of course, acting delighted that I would have another opportunity to experience his manhood, whereas all I really wanted was to wash him off me. I couldn’t even breathe properly until he
stepped into his car and drove away, on his way to the airport, the black case with the letter inside sitting safely on his lap.

“I thought about going directly to Rua das Taipas, but Roman had been adamant that I was to wait for him in my room, so I made my way back there. But as I approached the building, a strange feeling came over me—a sense that I was being watched. I couldn’t say why, but it was palpable and I became quite anxious. What if Kleinmann had been aware of what I’d been doing after all? He wouldn’t have confronted me then and there. He would have had me followed, hoping to discover who I was working for. I was afraid that I would put Roman and his entire operation in jeopardy.

“I wasn’t sure what to do. Perhaps it was just my nerves and I was imagining it. But, if it was real—if someone was watching me—it could only be one of Kleinmann’s agents. Aside from Roman, no one else knew where to find me. I ducked into the local bar, where I could gather my thoughts. It was dark and cool inside, and empty, except for an old man seated by the door. I’d seen him there before, leaning against his cane, observing the world through a pair of rose-tinted glasses.

“‘Does he find you?’ he said to me as I entered.

“‘Does who find me?’

“‘The man who looks for you.’

“‘What man?’ I asked him.

“The old man signaled for me to come closer. ‘He comes here last night and shows a photograph of you to all the people. It is an old picture, but I can see it is you. He offers big money, this man, but I don’t like his face, so I say no, I don’t know you.’ The old man frowned. ‘But Ricardo, the bastard, I see he takes the money and then this man, he goes to his car and he waits. He waits still.’ The old man lifted his cane and pointed across the street. ‘There he is. He still sits in his big red automobile.’”

“Eddie Grimes,” I said, recalling the red coupe that had been extracted from the jaws of hell.

“Yes,” Eva nodded. “Though I didn’t know it at the time. I
couldn’t imagine who it would be. Surely an operative for Abwehr wouldn’t be using a car like that. I went to my room, making sure that my stalker could see me. Then I waited, watching from my window. After a few minutes, he got out of the car and started walking toward the building. I ran downstairs, to the basement, where I knew there was a back exit. When I heard the front door open and footsteps on the stairway, I slipped out the door and circled around to his car as quickly as I could. The door wasn’t locked, so I slid into the driver’s seat, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see me if he looked back. I didn’t know what I was looking for—anything that might give me a clue as to who he was. A hotel receipt in the glove compartment had his name on it, but it meant nothing to me.

“I decided that I’d better find Roman before he walked straight into my mysterious pursuer. I hurried to Rua das Taipas and found him asleep. At first he was surprised to see me, then he became angry that I’d ignored his instructions. I didn’t tell him about the man in the red car, but when I showed him the letter, he calmed down and became very quiet. It was a rather disappointing reaction, to be honest. I wanted him to tell me how well I’d done and how important my discovery would be, but he didn’t say anything at all. He just took a piece of thin blue paper and, using a code that I didn’t know, slowly copied the letter onto it. Then, without a word, he struck a match and set fire to my panties.

“When the fire had burned out, he asked me if Kleinmann had arranged to see me again. I told him about my instructions for that night, and he said that I would have to go. I detested the idea, but I knew he was right. If I didn’t appear, Kleinmann would become suspicious, and Roman needed time to transmit the letter to London and await instructions. As I left the warehouse, Roman slipped a small pistol into my handbag.

“‘You never know,’ he said, and I didn’t argue.

“I couldn’t go back to my room, so I spent the day wandering the streets. The anticipation of seeing Kleinmann again made me feel physically ill—empty and cold—so I concentrated on the man in the
red car. Who was he and what did he want from me? I was certain that he had nothing to do with Abwehr. I’d seen from the hotel receipt that he had an American address—San Francisco—but that didn’t help. By the time darkness came, I was possessed with curiosity and decided that I would have to find out.

“The proprietor at the Imperial Hotel wasn’t at all forthcoming, but he didn’t mind letting me go up to the room. In fact, he seemed to quite relish the idea, though I didn’t understand why until I got up there. The room was on the second floor, with a cheap lock that was easily opened. After removing the pistol from my bag, I threw open the door. I won’t describe the scene that I encountered—suffice it to say that Mr. Grimes was not, in any sense of the word, a gentleman. It took a great deal of restraint not to shoot him then and there…”

I recalled the look of resignation I’d seen on Fabiana’s young face and felt a surge of disgust. I guess as much as anyone, Eddie Grimes deserved to end up in the jaws of hell.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Eva continued. “So I just stood there, frozen, my pistol pointed at the bastard’s head. If he was afraid or embarrassed, he didn’t show it. He casually disengaged from the girl, untied her, and told her to ‘get lost,’ which she did with considerable haste. I asked him who he was and what he wanted with me.

“‘Eddie Grimes is the name,’ he said, displaying a repugnant smile. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

“I told him that I already knew his name, but he just kept smiling. He seemed to be laughing at me, in spite of the fact that he was naked with a loaded gun pointing at him.”

“‘You asked me who I am,’ he said. ‘That’s the answer.’ He stood up. ‘If you wanna know why I’m here, how about I get dressed and we discuss it over a drink?’

“I told him that I didn’t want a drink and that he could explain his business just as well without getting dressed. Aside from not wanting to stay any longer than I had to, I thought he might have a weapon hidden away in one of his pockets. When I asked him again
why he was looking for me, he pointed to his jacket and said that he was just delivering something.”

“Lili’s letter…” I said.

“I was dumbfounded. After all those years. Lili…” Eva shook her head in disbelief. “I read the note quickly, and told him to relay my thanks to Lili, but I wasn’t interested in accompanying him to New York, or anywhere else. Then I told him to stop following me. He just stood there, leering at me, but I didn’t care. I had what I’d come for, so I left.

“I was late, so I found a taxi and gave the driver Kleinmann’s address. The building was dark and I hoped that he might not have returned from his dinner engagement, in which case I could leave a note saying how devastated I was, and disappear. I was about to turn around when his maid came to the door. She led me to the sitting room, leaving me in the dark without a word. I thought it odd that she didn’t turn on a light. Even the drapes were drawn. I tried the lamps, but all the bulbs had been taken out…

“Does the darkness frighten you?” His voice came from somewhere across the room, but I couldn’t see him.

“‘Darling?’ I cried out in a poor attempt to sound lighthearted. ‘That’s very naughty of you…’ I could only hope that he was playing some sort of game, but of course I knew better.

“‘But you are the naughty one,’ he said.

“‘I don’t know what you mean, darling…Is something wrong?’ He went quiet, but I could hear him moving around the room, as though he was circling me. I thought about the pistol in my handbag, but I hesitated and it was too late. He grabbed me from behind and pulled me in, holding me tightly, pressing the barrel of his Luger against my ribs.

“‘If you pretend innocence, I’ll pull the trigger right now and throw you onto the street. You can die in the gutter, where you belong.’ I felt his warm breath against my cheek as he embraced me tighter, jamming the barrel into me, driving it with enough force to make me moan. I said nothing, and neither did he. Nor did he move.
He just stood there clutching me for what seemed like a very long time, breathing hard into my ear.

“‘Berlin knows that I’ve made contact with you,’ I said. ‘If I turn up dead, they’ll send someone…Gestapo.’

“‘You’re not going to turn up dead,’ he said. ‘You’ll simply disappear…And I will be as mystified as everyone else as to what happened to you.’

“He took me to a car that was parked outside and told me to drive. I placed my handbag, with the gun in it, on the floor by my feet, within reach if I had the opportunity. Kleinmann seemed preoccupied, sitting silently, speaking only to give me directions that took us west, out of the city and along the estuary.

“I asked him, after some time had passed, how he had found out.

“‘I keep the key in my right pocket,’ he responded, in a flat, lifeless voice. ‘You replaced it into the left one. I only noticed when I made a final check of the documents at the airport.’

“‘That was stupid of me,’ I said, and he grunted his agreement. ‘But aren’t you concerned that I’ve already given the information to the British?’

“‘Not really,’ he said. He was clearly more worried about his own skin, and quite rightly. If it was discovered that I’d stolen his secrets while he slept in the next room, his future in the Reich would be limited, to say the least. The Gestapo saw Abwehr as an unwelcome competitor and would be more than happy to place Kleinmann’s head on a platter and serve it up to Hitler.

“As we climbed higher along the cliffs, a fog descended on us and it was increasingly difficult to see. There were very few other cars on the road, just the occasional headlight in the distance behind us. Kleinmann seemed to be watching the road ahead very carefully, looking for something. Then he saw a sign for a tourist attraction—”

“O Boca do Inferno,” I interjected.

“Yes,” Eva said. “He told me to stop there. I pulled the car onto the verge and he got out, instructing me to slide across the seat and
exit on his side. I knew this would be my last chance, so, before I moved, I reached for my bag. But it was too obvious. He grabbed it from me and tore it open. When he saw the pistol, he looked up at me with the strangest expression. Like an injured puppy, as if this was the ultimate betrayal. When he was moments away from shooting me and tossing my body off a cliff into the sea!

“He was angry now. Throwing the bag back onto the seat, he dragged me onto the road. I tried to get my bearings, but the fog made it difficult to see beyond a few feet. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks below us, but I wasn’t sure how far away it was, or in which direction. I can’t run, I thought. I must keep him talking.

“‘You don’t have to do this,’ I said. ‘We can work something out.’

“He laughed, but it came out strained and tense. In spite of everything, when it came to the moment, I think he was having difficulty.

“‘What I did had nothing to do with my feelings for you, Hans,’ I said, struggling to sound sincere. ‘It was just a job.’