me about the hidden entryway but didn’t explain exactly where it was. I’ll have to scan every building I run into in a two-block radius, look for signs of a mysterious gate. Anton had said the entrance was accessible by car.
The time is two in the morning and this portion of Paris has a strict curfew. I’ve searched less than three blocks when I bump into two German soldiers. They’re smoking and sharing a bottle of wine on a park bench when I appear, but quickly jump to attention and demand to see my papers. They’re impressed by my good looks. One calls me Fräulein , the other Mademoiselle . Naturally, I speak perfect German and French, and I’m tempted to flirt in their native tongue, but then I’ll have more explaining to do. There’s no good reason for a blondand blue-eyed Fräulein to be wandering the streets of Paris in the daytime, never mind at night.
They smile as I hand over my Alys Perne passport. The taller of the two men takes it. The short one continues to smile but puts his hand on his handgun. German soldiers can be friendly, especially to a pretty girl, but they are well trained. They may like what they see but they are already suspicious.
“You are out late, Fräulein,” the tall one says in decent French.
“I was with a friend. You may know him—General Hans Straffer?”
They both stiffen at the name, exchange a hurried look. “Did the general drop you in this neighborhood?” the tall one asks.
“Yes.” I nod down the road. “My apartment is not far. I told him I wanted to stretch before sleeping so he let me out a few blocks away.” I pause. “Is there a problem, officers?”
They’re not officers but they don’t mind the title. Still, they are alert and hastily speak in German to each other, assuming I can’t understand what they’re saying. The tall one prefers to let me go but the short man wants to call General Straffer to verify my story. His opinion holds sway and the tall one asks if I will accompany them to a nearby “office.”
“It was General Straffer’s assistant who dropped me here,” I say. “I’m afraid the general is asleep now.” I add with a wink. “After the night we shared, he must be sleeping very deeply. It would be a mistake to wake him, don’t you think?”
The short one wants to know the name of Straffer’s assistant. The tall one translates for him.
“Lieutenant Jakob Baum,” I say. “You must know the lieutenant. He has that striking mustache and commanding voice. He reminds me of the Führer.”
Hitler is not necessarily a favorite of front-line German soldiers, but I have a feeling the short man might respond favorably to the reference. Also, I’m sizing Lieutenant Baum up the same way Straffer’s staff has, which I hope will give both men confidence that I’m telling the truth.
Unfortunately, the short man still wants to make a call. He insists I come with them to their nearby office. Office, I think. Christ, there could be a dozen men inside the place, if not a hundred. I have to end this here, in the street, one way or the other. I back up a step, as the short one reaches to take my arm, and let the power of my will enter my voice. I speak in fluent German.
“I am not some whore you can order about in the night,” I say. “I am not just a friend of General Straffer, I am his lover. And yes, I know what you are thinking, that he is married and will leave me the moment he leaves Paris, but it is not so. He has given me his word we are to be married come July in Berlin, and he is a man of his word. And he has pledged to protect me from any harm, come what may. Now both of you, stop and think how he will react when I tell him how shabbily you have treated me this night.” I pause. “I won’t be surprised if you are shot come morning.”
My words have a deep impact on the tall man and he immediately starts blubbering his apologies. However, the squat fellow seems immune to the wiles of my voice, which happens now and
The time is two in the morning and this portion of Paris has a strict curfew. I’ve searched less than three blocks when I bump into two German soldiers. They’re smoking and sharing a bottle of wine on a park bench when I appear, but quickly jump to attention and demand to see my papers. They’re impressed by my good looks. One calls me Fräulein , the other Mademoiselle . Naturally, I speak perfect German and French, and I’m tempted to flirt in their native tongue, but then I’ll have more explaining to do. There’s no good reason for a blondand blue-eyed Fräulein to be wandering the streets of Paris in the daytime, never mind at night.
They smile as I hand over my Alys Perne passport. The taller of the two men takes it. The short one continues to smile but puts his hand on his handgun. German soldiers can be friendly, especially to a pretty girl, but they are well trained. They may like what they see but they are already suspicious.
“You are out late, Fräulein,” the tall one says in decent French.
“I was with a friend. You may know him—General Hans Straffer?”
They both stiffen at the name, exchange a hurried look. “Did the general drop you in this neighborhood?” the tall one asks.
“Yes.” I nod down the road. “My apartment is not far. I told him I wanted to stretch before sleeping so he let me out a few blocks away.” I pause. “Is there a problem, officers?”
They’re not officers but they don’t mind the title. Still, they are alert and hastily speak in German to each other, assuming I can’t understand what they’re saying. The tall one prefers to let me go but the short man wants to call General Straffer to verify my story. His opinion holds sway and the tall one asks if I will accompany them to a nearby “office.”
“It was General Straffer’s assistant who dropped me here,” I say. “I’m afraid the general is asleep now.” I add with a wink. “After the night we shared, he must be sleeping very deeply. It would be a mistake to wake him, don’t you think?”
The short one wants to know the name of Straffer’s assistant. The tall one translates for him.
“Lieutenant Jakob Baum,” I say. “You must know the lieutenant. He has that striking mustache and commanding voice. He reminds me of the Führer.”
Hitler is not necessarily a favorite of front-line German soldiers, but I have a feeling the short man might respond favorably to the reference. Also, I’m sizing Lieutenant Baum up the same way Straffer’s staff has, which I hope will give both men confidence that I’m telling the truth.
Unfortunately, the short man still wants to make a call. He insists I come with them to their nearby office. Office, I think. Christ, there could be a dozen men inside the place, if not a hundred. I have to end this here, in the street, one way or the other. I back up a step, as the short one reaches to take my arm, and let the power of my will enter my voice. I speak in fluent German.
“I am not some whore you can order about in the night,” I say. “I am not just a friend of General Straffer, I am his lover. And yes, I know what you are thinking, that he is married and will leave me the moment he leaves Paris, but it is not so. He has given me his word we are to be married come July in Berlin, and he is a man of his word. And he has pledged to protect me from any harm, come what may. Now both of you, stop and think how he will react when I tell him how shabbily you have treated me this night.” I pause. “I won’t be surprised if you are shot come morning.”
My words have a deep impact on the tall man and he immediately starts blubbering his apologies. However, the squat fellow seems immune to the wiles of my voice, which happens now and
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