The Cairo Code by Glenn Meade Page A

crop.
    The front door was unlocked and he stepped into a tiny living room. The place was no more than a couple of rooms with a sofa on each side of a stone fireplace, a table and chairs, a tiny kitchen, and a single bedroom leading off. There were some books on the shelves, a brass bust of King Tut, and two silver-framed photographs of a rather striking blond-haired woman and a young boy, but the room was in some disarray. He noticed an unfinished bottle of champagne and two glasses on the coffee table, a pair of women’s shoes and a gray uniform skirt lying discarded on the floor. There were some fresh cotton towels on the back of a chair.
    â€œHalder? Are you there?”
    A moment later the bedroom door opened and a pretty female corporal came out. She wore only the top part of her uniform, her bare legs and underwear showing, a look of surprise on her face as she grabbed one of the towels and covered herself.
    â€œWho the devil are you?”
    Schellenberg smiled. “I might ask the same question, fräulein. General Walter Schellenberg. And you?”
    She looked young and ravishing, her hair tousled, as if she had just climbed out of bed, but when she took in the black SS uniform and heard the name, her expression changed and she flushed with embarrassment.
    â€œHei—Heidi Schmidt, Wehrmacht Nursing Corps.”
    â€œCharmed, I’m sure. Relax, Heidi, you’re not on parade. Perhaps you can tell me where Halder is.”
    â€œHe—he said he was going for a run and a swim.”
    â€œIs he a friend of yours?”
    â€œWe—we met the other night in a bar in Wannsee,” the girl stammered. “He seemed quite down, so I—I cycled over here after my duty to see if he was all right.”
    Schellenberg grinned. “Brought out the maternal instinct in you, did he? Still, I’m glad to see someone’s keeping him company. Heaven knows he needs it right now. Is that your bicycle I saw outside?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Schellenberg bent to pick up the discarded skirt with the tip of his riding crop, and held it out to the girl. “Well now, Heidi. I think it might be wise if you got dressed and ran along. Halder and I have some business to attend to and I really don’t want us to be disturbed.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Jack Halder sweated as he ran along the lakeshore. His shirt was off, his tanned bare chest covered in small scars, and he wore sneakers and a pair of loose cotton training pants. There were touches of premature gray in his hair and the beginnings of wrinkles around his eyes, but the same wry smile was fixed permanently in place, though it looked a little solemn that morning. He clutched a stopwatch in his hand, and when he reached some rocks at the edge of the shore he halted, clicked the stopwatch, and looked at the result with dismay.
    â€œDamn it, you can do better than that, Halder.”
    He started to run again, gave a burst of power, the sweat pumping now after a brisk five-kilometer run. As he rounded the cove and reached the rocks he saw the black-uniformed officer sitting in the sand, a grin on his face, a cigarette in his hand.
    Halder came to a halt, took several deep breaths, and stared over at Schellenberg, who simply smiled. “Well, Jack, trying to get into shape again, I see. Always a good sign. I had thought of joining you for a swim, but I think I’ll give it a miss. Here, you need this more than me.”
    Schellenberg had a towel in his hand and he tossed it to Halder, who caught it and wiped the perspiration from his face. “You louse, what do you want?”
    â€œThat’s no way to greet an old comrade.” Schellenberg glanced at Halder’s scarred chest. “You seem to have healed quite nicely. And by the way, I rather liked the young lady who’s been giving you comfort.” Then he said, more seriously, “Did she help ease the pain any, my