Munich Signature by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene

him. Now the eyes of the president became troubled as he silently skimmed the file. Several minutes passed. At last, Beneš looked up. “You speak several languages quite well. Do you read our language also, Mr. Murphy?”
    “Not fluently,” he answered apologetically.
    “Then I shall interpret this for you, my friend.” Another long, searching look. “We have it on good authority that your lives are in great danger here in Prague.”
    “Our lives?”
    “You and your wife. Beautiful woman,” he added. “But beauty is of little value to the Gestapo and the SS. Both of you will be killed if you stay in Prague. Our agents send a warning that you must not return to Germany or Austria for any reason.”
    “We had not intended to do that.”
    “Wise. The Gestapo has an order that you are to be arrested as spies and executed summarily. I would imagine that the execution would include elements of torture in order to make you tell where you got your information about the attempt on my life.”
    Murphy frowned and nodded slowly. So it was official in the German circles. American citizenship made little difference in such a matter. Men and women, regardless of nationality, had simply disappeared without a trace in the Reich. Someone would certainly raise a stink about it, but that would not do them a bit of good after the deed was accomplished. “Okay.” Murphy swallowed hard as he momentarily reverted to speaking English. “We expected this.”
    “Perhaps you have not expected that even here the order stands.”
    “Here in Prague?” Murphy repeated.
    “If the president of a country is not safe, then what protection do you imagine you might have here? There are agents of the Gestapo and Hitler’s SS in every capital in Europe now. Mr. Murphy, I would recommend that you take your lovely wife and leave Europe—soon.”
    “We had been planning to go back to the States. Eventually.”
    “Soon.” Beneš repeated the word with urgency. He tapped the file. “And once your wife is safe, her family as well. You must arrange for their immigration as soon as possible. Have you not heard of the German law of the blood? When one family member transgresses against the will of the Führer, then all members of the family are held responsible.”
    “Theo and Anna.” Murphy said their names absently.
    “Yes. And their sons.”
    “You know about them as well?”
    “Dear Mr. Murphy, there is little we do not know. And I assure you, although it is difficult to admit, our intelligence service is not even half as thorough as the Nazi Gestapo. Himmler has done an excellent and ruthless job in his gathering of information. Some areas of information are incomplete. There are still men working for us who are in the midst of their operation, but the bottom line is this—you risked your lives to save mine. Your lives are still at risk. The risk to you grows more extreme each hour you remain here in Prague. The Nazi regime is built on ruthless terror and . . . vengeance. You and Elisa are a target now.”
    “You are certain? We are in danger now?” Murphy had been so happy that even the slightest thought of danger had not entered his mind. Now these words made him want to hurry down the hallway and wrap his arm protectively around Elisa’s waist. The thought of losing her . . .
    “Do not doubt what I tell you. We have stationed guards around the Lindheim home. You will not see them, but be assured they are watching carefully. Two men have been arrested near the place in the last week.”
    “Arrested? But why?”
    “We are handling the matter quietly. But it is well you remain vigilant in the time you remain here—which must not be much longer, I pray, for your sake.”
    Murphy absorbed the blows like a punch-drunk prize fighter. “I will contact my publisher.”
    “We have taken the liberty of doing that for you.”
    “What?”
    “One of our American agents has spoken face-to-face with Mr. Trump on the matter.”
    “Well . .