cut my arms getting across the blasted glass-topped wall, but I don’t think it’s serious.”
“And Mark?”
He told her what had happened. When he had finished, she said with surprising calm, “How badly do you think he was wounded?”
“He said it was in the shoulder,” Chavasse said. “I don’t think it could have been very serious.”
“And what happens now?” she said.
“I want some first aid for these arms, for one thing.”
“I can manage that all right,” she told him. “I’ve got a first-aid box back at the apartment.”
She drove the rest of the way in silence, and Chavasse lay back against the seat and closed his eyes. What a complete and utter mess the whole thing had been. Since Steiner knew they had talked to Schmidt, it must have been obvious to him that, sooner or later, they would be paying the clinic a visit. And yet what other move could they possibly have made?
He was still thinking about it when the Volkswagen came to a halt and he followed Anna upstairs to her apartment. She switched on the light, and turning to examine him, she gave a gasp of horror.
The sleeves of his jacket were torn in several places and stained with blood. She pulled off her coat and led the way into the bathroom. She took down a first-aid box and made everything ready before she gently eased him out of his jacket and dropped it into the corner.
There were three deep cuts in one arm, four in the other, and he laughed shakily as she bathed them with an antiseptic solution. “You know, it got pretty hot back there. For a while, I thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
She glanced up at him, a strange expression in her eyes. As she cut strips of surgical tape from a large roll, she said quietly, “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Paul?”
For a moment, he was going to say no, but the moment passed and he nodded. “I don’t know what it is, but something gets into me. The excitement, I suppose, and the uncertainty of the whole business.”
She sighed heavily and finished taping his arms. “And that’s why you’ll never change.”
He had no time for arguments. He took the surgical scissors from her hand and quickly cut away the bloodstained section of each sleeve of his shirt. “Is there by any chance a spare jacket of Mark’s here?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think so. Shall I get it for you?” He followed her back into the living room. She went into the bedroom and came back with a grey tweed jacket. He pulled it on and buttoned it up. “Rather small, but it will have to do for the moment.”
He went into the bathroom and retrieved the Mauser from the pocket of his bloodstained jacket. Then he returned to the living room and took down, from a peg behind the door, the raincoat and green hat Hardt had originally given him.
As he buttoned the raincoat, Anna said, “Where are you going?”
“To find out what’s happening to Hardt,” he told her. “I’ve got a hunch they’ll be moving him tonight and I’d like to know where.”
She reached for her coat. “I’m coming with you.”
He gently took the coat from her and hung it behind the door. “No, you’re not. It only needs one of us to do a job like this.”
She shrugged. “All right, what do you want me to do?”
He smiled. “Cook me something nice for supper, if you like. I’ll only be an hour or so if I’m lucky.”
She turned away without speaking, and he went out quickly and down to the car. He drove straight back to Blankenese and, parking the Volkswagen around the corner from the clinic, went into the little bar opposite the main gates and ordered a beer.
The place was empty and the proprietor leaned on the zinc-topped bar reading a newspaper. Chavasse moved to the curtained window and stared across at the gates.
As he watched, they were opened wide by a man in uniform and peaked cap. When he had finished his task, he came across the road and entered the bar.
The proprietor smiled and laid down his paper. “Don’t tell
“And Mark?”
He told her what had happened. When he had finished, she said with surprising calm, “How badly do you think he was wounded?”
“He said it was in the shoulder,” Chavasse said. “I don’t think it could have been very serious.”
“And what happens now?” she said.
“I want some first aid for these arms, for one thing.”
“I can manage that all right,” she told him. “I’ve got a first-aid box back at the apartment.”
She drove the rest of the way in silence, and Chavasse lay back against the seat and closed his eyes. What a complete and utter mess the whole thing had been. Since Steiner knew they had talked to Schmidt, it must have been obvious to him that, sooner or later, they would be paying the clinic a visit. And yet what other move could they possibly have made?
He was still thinking about it when the Volkswagen came to a halt and he followed Anna upstairs to her apartment. She switched on the light, and turning to examine him, she gave a gasp of horror.
The sleeves of his jacket were torn in several places and stained with blood. She pulled off her coat and led the way into the bathroom. She took down a first-aid box and made everything ready before she gently eased him out of his jacket and dropped it into the corner.
There were three deep cuts in one arm, four in the other, and he laughed shakily as she bathed them with an antiseptic solution. “You know, it got pretty hot back there. For a while, I thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
She glanced up at him, a strange expression in her eyes. As she cut strips of surgical tape from a large roll, she said quietly, “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Paul?”
For a moment, he was going to say no, but the moment passed and he nodded. “I don’t know what it is, but something gets into me. The excitement, I suppose, and the uncertainty of the whole business.”
She sighed heavily and finished taping his arms. “And that’s why you’ll never change.”
He had no time for arguments. He took the surgical scissors from her hand and quickly cut away the bloodstained section of each sleeve of his shirt. “Is there by any chance a spare jacket of Mark’s here?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think so. Shall I get it for you?” He followed her back into the living room. She went into the bedroom and came back with a grey tweed jacket. He pulled it on and buttoned it up. “Rather small, but it will have to do for the moment.”
He went into the bathroom and retrieved the Mauser from the pocket of his bloodstained jacket. Then he returned to the living room and took down, from a peg behind the door, the raincoat and green hat Hardt had originally given him.
As he buttoned the raincoat, Anna said, “Where are you going?”
“To find out what’s happening to Hardt,” he told her. “I’ve got a hunch they’ll be moving him tonight and I’d like to know where.”
She reached for her coat. “I’m coming with you.”
He gently took the coat from her and hung it behind the door. “No, you’re not. It only needs one of us to do a job like this.”
She shrugged. “All right, what do you want me to do?”
He smiled. “Cook me something nice for supper, if you like. I’ll only be an hour or so if I’m lucky.”
She turned away without speaking, and he went out quickly and down to the car. He drove straight back to Blankenese and, parking the Volkswagen around the corner from the clinic, went into the little bar opposite the main gates and ordered a beer.
The place was empty and the proprietor leaned on the zinc-topped bar reading a newspaper. Chavasse moved to the curtained window and stared across at the gates.
As he watched, they were opened wide by a man in uniform and peaked cap. When he had finished his task, he came across the road and entered the bar.
The proprietor smiled and laid down his paper. “Don’t tell
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