by Anita Abriel
“You won’t have time to read this week,” Lana said excitedly. “Captain Von Harmon is back in Nice and invited me to dinner tonight. I’ll be able to find out the date of the raid on Old Town.”
“We thought Von Harmon was banished to Berlin for missing the raid.”
“Apparently not. His wife had a boy, and Hitler sent a note of congratulations himself,” Lana said. “We’re dining at the Hôtel Excelsior.”
Guy closed the book and stirred sugar into his coffee.
“Or Von Harmon is in disgrace and is being used as bait to bring you in.”
“What do you mean?” Lana asked.
“If Brunner is growing suspicious, he could have arranged the dinner,” Guy said thoughtfully. “It’s a trap, and you’ll be arrested.”
“That’s ridiculous. When Brunner called the other day he was completely cordial,” Lana said.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s too dangerous. You can’t go.”
“Of course I’m going!” Lana returned. “It’s the only night Von Harmon is free this week.”
“I’m not going to have you captured on my watch,” Guy snapped. “It’s all getting too close. You don’t know what they do to female spies. They’ll torture you until that blond hair falls out and those long legs are covered with more wounds than a matador at a bullfight.” He looked at Lana. “By the time they’re finished, you’ll be begging them to shoot you.”
Lana gulped, and a chill ran down on her spine.
“We have the map; I’m not going to miss this chance.” She lifted her chin. “Von Harmon is quite taken with me. All I have to do is keep flattering him until I get the information.”
Guy drummed his fingers on the dining room table.
“You can go on one condition; I’ll be there too. I’ll hide in the kitchen or behind a palm tree if I have to,” he decided. “But I won’t let you be alone with him.”
Lana poured herself a cup of coffee, but the pungent aroma made her stomach turn.
“If you want to spend the evening hunched behind a potted palm, I’m not going to stop you.” She sniffed the cup and placed it back on the saucer. “This coffee is too strong, it’s bad for your nerves.”
* * *
Lana sat across from Captain Von Harmon at the Hôtel Excelsior’s restaurant and listened to him describe his family’s apartment in Berlin. From the outside she was the picture of grace and calm: she had spent an hour in her dressing room fixing her hair and adjusting the neckline of her dress to show just a hint of cleavage. But ever since Guy had dropped her off near the hotel, she had been so nervous she could barely breathe.
“Joseph Goebbels invited my family to stay at his villa on the lake next summer,” Von Harmon was saying. “It’s only twenty-five kilometers from Berlin, but it’s like another world. There’s a private cinema and a park.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” Lana said, admiring the photo of a pretty blond woman and two small children he had handed to her. “Your wife is lovely, and such handsome children, you must be so proud.”
“The new baby, Wolfgang, isn’t in the photo but he has the same blond hair. Tomas and Clara and Wolfgang are everything I could ask for. But three children under the age of five isn’t easy for Helga.” He looked at Lana. “She doesn’t have much energy left for me.”
“She gave birth a short time ago. It was just last week,” Lana reminded him.
“I can’t fault my wife. She is doing exactly what the führer wishes.” He picked up his fork. “But I’m getting lonely.”
“Lonely?” Lana repeated.
“Everyone needs companionship. I thought that’s where you and I might form an arrangement.”
Lana glanced around for Guy. But she found only waiters carrying large trays. She rubbed her lips together and smiled provocatively.
“Captain Von Harmon,” she purred. “That’s a very tempting invitation. I can’t tell you how flattered I am. And after we were just talking about you being invited to stay at Joseph Goebbels’s villa. Obviously, you’re one of the most important men in Germany.”
“You flatter me,” Von Harmon cut in, but he was pleased.
“I’m only saying the truth.” She tilted her head and made a small pout. “But I can’t possibly accept. I’m living with Guy.”
“Countess Antanova, life on the Riviera is going to become harder in the next few months. We are building barricades on the boulevards to allow only certain cars through. Rationing will be strict; anything not grown locally will disappear from the shelves. Even wealthy men like Guy Pascal will find it difficult to buy the most ordinary things like bread. I can still give you this.” He waved at the plates of scallops. “And so much more.”
Lana imagined the boulevards with their palm trees and white benches scarred by barbed wire fences. She pictured German officers stuffing their faces with steak while Odette and all the other children starved. But she couldn’t leave. She pasted a smile on her face and played along.
“What kind of things?” she asked.
“I’m owed favors,” he said delicately. “I can give you jewelry and perfume and all the dresses you want.”
“You don’t think very highly of me if you think I could be convinced with perfume or diamonds.” Lana touched the neckline of her dress provocatively. “I am a woman with a heart, after all.”
Captain Von Harmon gazed at the outline of her breasts and his eyes were lit with desire.
“I don’t understand,” he stammered.
“Love, Captain Von Harmon,” she said in a cold tone. “Love is the only reason a lady would accompany a man to his bed.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Countess Antanova.” He bowed his head. “I will be the most ardent suitor you could know.”
Lana waited, and then she lifted her eyes to meet his.
“It’s a tempting offer.” She leaned forward. “Can I take a few days to think it over?”
“The offer is only good tonight,” he said shortly. “I thought we were of like minds. Unless you have been leading me on.”
Von Harmon’s eyebrows arched as if he was tired of playing the game.
“Then how can I refuse?” She touched his hand. “After all, the führer himself writes you letters. You’re an important man.”
“Since I returned from Berlin, I occupy a suite.” His voice was thick as if he had drunk straight cream. “We can have our dessert there.”
Lana’s heart hammered, and she tried to think. Where was Guy? He would never forgive her for going up to Von Harmon’s suite. But she hadn’t found out the day and time of the raid. If she didn’t accompany Von Harmon, she might lose her chance.
“You’ve convinced me,” she said, and gathered her purse. “Do you mind if I freshen up?”
“Why don’t I go up and get things ready?” he suggested. He stood. “The hotel staff can be a little stuffy; I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea.”
“That’s an excellent plan.” She nodded.
“It’s suite two thirty-eight.” He grasped her hand and brought it up to his lips. “Don’t keep me waiting, Countess Antanova. We still have so much to discuss.”
* * *
Lana leaned against the sink in the powder room. She had been standing there for fifteen minutes, but she was still too shaken to move.
She hadn’t thought of what she would do if Von Harmon propositioned her. She pictured his thin lips roaming over her body and felt sick. And she and Guy were getting closer. She couldn’t sit across from Guy at breakfast and eat his soft-boiled egg when she had been intimate with a member of the Gestapo. But if she didn’t go to bed with Von Harmon, she was sending more Jews to their deaths.
Frederic had thought nothing of using his body to shield Esther Cohen. Shouldn’t she use hers if that was the only way to achieve their goal? She studied her face in the mirror and made her decision. She had to go through with it. It was better not to think too much. Sometimes, the only thing to do was act.
The door to the powder room opened and she heard the strains of the piano. She marched through the marble lobby and waited in front of the elevator.
As the elevator doors opened, Guy stepped out. He grabbed her arm suddenly and jostled her through the lobby. He didn’t stop until they were outside the hotel and had turned onto Boulevard Victor Hugo.
“What are you doing?’ she demanded.
“Hurry, please get in the car.” He opened her door and jumped into the driver’s seat. He waited for her to slide into the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition.
“I can’t leave,” she said over the roar of the engine. The top was down, and the wind blew her hair. “Von Harmon is waiting for me in his suite.”
“I’ll explain when we get back to the villa.” He glanced at her. “Just keep your head down in case we’re followed.”
Finally they reached the villa, and Guy jumped out. He took her hand and ran up the steps.
“You were supposed to watch us, not interfere,” she said, anger rising inside her. “What will happen when I don’t show up in the suite? And I don’t have the date of the raid, you ruined everything.”
Guy closed the curtains and took the phone off the hook. It was only when the room was in total darkness that he faced her.
“Von Harmon isn’t waiting for you; he’s dead.”
Lana gasped.
“What did you say?”
“I thought it would be a good opportunity to search his room for information while you were at dinner.” Guy took off the overcoat he had been wearing. “I was about to leave when Von Harmon entered, so I hid in the closet. Von Harmon took off his clothes and put on a robe. Then he took his pistol and placed it under his pillow.”
Lana put her hand on the side table. The room blurred and she felt dizzy.
“He put a gun under the pillow,” she whispered.
“I’ve placed rose petals on a pillow to welcome a woman to bed but never a pistol,” Guy said darkly. “I don’t think he planned for you to get up in the morning.”
“How is he dead?” she stammered.
“I shot him.” Guy’s voice was blank. “Don’t worry, no one saw me. I stole his wallet and his watch. They’ll think it was a robbery.”
“I was having dinner with him,” she said, frightened. “I’ll be a suspect.”
“I took care of all of that. I left the gun with fingerprints.”
“You left your fingerprints on the gun!” Lana’s eyes widened. “You’ll be arrested.”
“Not my fingerprints. The gun belongs to a well-known thief named Yves,” Guy corrected. “Yves lives in Casablanca now, but it will take the authorities ages to figure it out,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “I told you I keep a pistol under the back seat of the car.”
“Why were you carrying the gun, and how did you know Von Harmon invited me to his suite?” she asked.
“I had to have a gun. You were meeting with Von Harmon,” he explained. “What if something went wrong?”
Lana glanced up at Guy. He wanted to protect her.
“I didn’t know he invited you to his suite,” he continued. “But when I saw the champagne bucket and matching robes, I had a good idea. I was going to go downstairs and warn you. That’s when he arrived. Thank God I got there first.…”
Tears sprung to Lana’s eyes.
Guy took her in his arms, and this time she kissed him first. His lips were firm and powerful, and his hand pressed against the small of her back. When they parted she gasped for breath.
“I didn’t mean to do that.” She gulped. “I was afraid and I’m overwrought.”
“Can we just not talk for a minute?” he whispered.
Lana took in his dark hair and those emerald-green eyes, and her body trembled with desire.
He touched her mouth, and she shivered. Then he kissed her again, and she fell into his embrace. He took her hand and together they walked upstairs.
Guy’s bedroom was dark, and he turned on the light. Lana barely noticed the padded headboard and the bedside table piled with books. All she was aware of was Guy unbuttoning her dress and the warmth of his fingers against her skin.
He nuzzled her neck, and she reached up and pulled off his turtleneck. His shoulders were wide and smooth, and she ran her hands over his chest.
“You’re all I think about,” he whispered, pulling her onto the bed.
She lay against the pillows and watched Guy strip off his slacks. He perched above her, and she waited while his eyes took in every part of her body.
He dropped to his side and turned her face to his.
“I don’t have any right to do this.” His voice was choked with emotion. “But I’ve never wanted a woman more.”
She pressed her finger against his mouth.
“I want you too,” she whispered.
Guy gently pushed her on her back. He climbed on top of her, and she arched to meet him. Then it was all a tangle of lightness and heat and sensations she never wanted to end.
Afterward they lay on the bed, and she watched Guy’s chest rise and fall.
He turned on his stomach and kissed her nose. “You make me very happy.”
The moon was a white ball outside the window, and she felt something new she couldn’t name. She wasn’t a young newlywed who believed being in love could keep away the war. She was a woman who had seen the worst kind of evil happen right before her eyes and realized she couldn’t stop living. When Frederic was shot and she lost the baby, all she wanted was to sleep. For a while she couldn’t see the point of getting up to face a new day. But then she came to the Riviera and met Sylvie and Odette. She realized there was so much good she could accomplish. Now it was impossible to ignore the attraction between her and Guy. And why should she? If she made the decision to live, how could she stop from feeling?
Perhaps it was time to stop asking Frederic for advice. She was alive, and so was Guy.
She reached up and kissed him.
“You make me happy too.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nice, December 1943
Lana woke in Guy’s bed the next morning and was afraid he would regret what had happened between them. But he pulled her close and repeated the intimacy of the night before. Afterward, she lay and listened to him showering in the bathroom. She expected to feel embarrassed surrounded by his things. But instead, she buried herself in the sheets and was completely at home.
He appeared in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Dress in something warm,” he said, pulling on slacks and a sweater. “We’re going somewhere special.”
Lana sat against the headboard and gazed at the heavy clouds hanging over the horizon. “But it looks like it’s going to rain.”
Guy peered outside. “It’s just a thick fog. It will burn off and be a beautiful day.”
“Can’t we stay here?” Lana waved at the bedspread.
“That’s a tempting offer.” He kissed her. “But who knows how long we’ll be on the Riviera, and there’s somewhere I want to show you.” His eyes danced, and she had never seen his smile so bright. “Don’t worry about your hair and makeup. You couldn’t be more beautiful than you already are.”
Guy went downstairs, and Lana slipped on a robe and padded back to her bedroom. Guy’s mention of time on the Riviera caught her off guard. The Gestapo were still deporting Jews; they had work to do here. She wondered if he knew something he wasn’t telling her. Perhaps Henri had communicated to him that he had other plans for them. She searched her closet for a sweater and put the thought out of her mind. For now she would pretend they were new lovers instead of Resistance workers in the middle of the war.
* * *
The convertible maneuvered along the sharp cliffs, and Lana turned to admire the view. They were so high up; the Mediterranean was like a child’s drawing. Clouds as fat as marshmallows slid across the sky. The air was fresh and moist and smelled of piney shrubs.
Driving with Guy today was different than it had been before. Instead of careening around the turns, he drove so slowly that cars honked to let them pass. Guy muttered that some people couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the Riviera and waved them on.
Lana wanted to ask how they planned to thwart the raid on Old Town given what little information they had, but she was afraid to break the spell. They talked about everything except the war, and sometimes they didn’t talk at all. Guy hummed a Maurice Chevalier song, and Lana leaned against the headrest, and her heart brimmed with happiness.
The car stopped beside a field of lavender, and Guy unloaded a picnic basket. He pulled a blanket out of the trunk and spread it on the ground.
“Your car is equipped for everything, even picnics.” Lana laughed as he opened a bottle of wine.
Guy stopped what he was doing and sat beside her.
“If you’re asking if I’ve done this before, the answer is no.” His eyes were serious. “I already told you. When I joined the Resistance I swore to myself that I wouldn’t get involved with a woman.”
“What changed your mind?” Lana gulped and wondered if he was going to say it had been a mistake—the night before had been magical but couldn’t happen again.
Guy leaned forward and kissed her. His whole body seemed to be part of the kiss, and when they parted she could still feel his lips on her mouth.
“For a long time I wondered what I was doing in the Resistance. I wanted to stop those German bastards from blowing up railway stations, but that didn’t stop the emptiness of being alone. The war splinters people: either they can’t be trusted, or they’re so wrapped up in their own misery they retreat into themselves. It’s difficult to really know someone. Some care so little for their own lives, they become careless with the lives of others. And for some it’s the opposite. They’ve lost so much already, they’re afraid to care for someone new and lose them too. Life changes in a blink of an eye. If you’re on the wrong side of a rifle, you find yourself dead.” He wrestled with the bottle of wine. “But then you appeared, and I remembered what it was like to embrace living. At first I told myself it was just the pleasure of having someone to talk to after so much time by myself. But I know now that it’s something more. It’s wanting to get up in the morning and having the energy to get through the day. It’s not thinking about the future because you want each hour to last forever. I could sit all day at the breakfast table because looking at you is like being bathed in sunshine. You’re fearless and bright and everything is easier when we’re together.” He looked at her and his voice was hoarse. “I don’t know exactly where this will go, but I’m not ready for it to end.”