Tenderly, Hagen began to explore her body. He kissed her on the lips several times, resisted the pull of her arms.
Trembling, she felt his lips against each breast, he sucking the nipples now and running his tongue around them until rushes of warmth had spread again to her loins. He stroked her tummy, stroked each breast. Now her tummy, now a breast, now her throat, her lips. He kept himself there as she felt his hand between her legs, moistening her, parting her, touching, touching … Dear God, what was he doing? “Richard …”
Desperate now, she clung to him, but it went on and on, his fingers … his fingers … the rushes of pleasure building, building until the ache within her became unbearable and she parted from him with a gasp, gave a cry—and kissed him harder, harder!
Crying out, she arched her body and came. Every part of her went mad with joy. For ages she throbbed within, then caught a breath and caught it again. Realized at last that he was inside her.
Her knees were raised on either side of him. Sweat dampened her brow and clung to her upper lip. There was moisture in her eyes, a film of it.
It felt so good to have him inside her.
Even as she lay there in wonder still, a part of her glowed. Never for a moment had she imagined it would be like this. Arlette thrust her hips up at him and then it started all over again, the thrusting of his penis, the smoothness of it, the thickness, the depth …
Richard came, and she felt him throbbing deeply inside her, warm, so warm.
Wrapping her legs about him, she held him tightly to her. It was done. Done at last! And, dear God, how well it had been done.
On September 13, in a speech at Nuremberg, Hitler ranted at the Czechs, accusing them of murder and oppression. Chamberlain hurried to Berchtesgaden on the fifteenth, and while he was there, the Russians began massing troops in the Ukraine.
On September 22 the government of Czechoslovakia fell, while Polish troops gathered to invade that strife-torn country and take back territory Poland claimed as its own.
The British navy mobilized. French and German troops tensely faced each other across the narrow strip of no-man’s-land that lay between the Maginot and Siegfried lines.
Munich came on September 29 and 30. According to Neville Chamberlain there would be “Peace in our time,” as the leaders of Britain, France, Germany and Italy settled the fate of Czechoslovakia without a shot having been fired or a Czech having been present.
On October 1 the Germans marched into the Sudetenland and the next day Poland occupied that part of Czechoslovakia known as the Teschen.
This left only the Hungarian demands to be settled. What had once existed was no more.
TO HAGEN RICHARD DILLINGHAM AND COMPANY ANTWERP
FROM WINFIELD FRANK ALBERT 10B THE MEWS MAGPIE LANE OXFORD ENGLAND
Apprehensively Arlette glanced over the cable. Going through to
Richard’s office, she found him still on the telephone to Berlin. Patiently she waited. Richard wanted clearance to go back to Augsburg, to the Man diesel-engine factory. The Ministry of the Interior was refusing.
At last he gave up and said harshly, “Then I can’t be responsible for what happens, Herr Dekker. The heads on those threading machines just won’t get replaced.”
Reluctantly Dekker gave in but insisted Richard must check the clearance with a higher authority when in Berlin.
Grimly Hagen hung up, then seeing her worried frown, gave her a comforting smile. “So, what’s new?”
“Another cable from Duncan. This one from the Oxford address.”
“You look a picture.”
“Richard, please!”
“I thought all girls liked to be complimented. How’s Willi these days?”
“Fine, he’s just fine.” Damn him for teasing her. “Now will you be serious?”
“I like it when you get mad at me.”
“I’m not mad. I’m worried. Richard, why won’t you and Duncan funnel the messages through me? It would be so much safer. My shorthand’s good. I could take them down. You could fit things into orders for the shop or things you want to discuss with de Heer Wunsch.”
“The telephone lines are being tapped—we’re almost certain of it. Besides, Duncan can’t give you things for the shop.”
She swept her eyes anxiously over him. She knew that night after night he’d been watching her place and trying to pin down who had been following her.
“Will you come to the club tonight?” she asked. “Cecile says it’s okay for us to use her place. She’s a little jealous—who wouldn’t be—but …” Arlette gave him a shrug and fell silent.
Hagen reached out to take the cable from her. “I have to work late. It’s …”
“It’s not wise of us. Yes, I know it isn’t, but I want to see you, Richard. I want … Oh, you know what I want.”
Her eyes had found the desk—she couldn’t look at him. She was still so very shy.
“Don’t be afraid to say you want to make love.”
“Cecile won’t mind.”
“Cecile will mind, and that’s one reason I don’t think it’s such a good idea for us to use her place.”
“And the other reasons?” she asked sharply.
“You know very well what I mean.”
“There’s a ten o’clock mass at the cathedral. If I were to … Richard, you could be there. I could …”
“Let them follow you there?”
“Yes.”
“Arlette …”
“Be there, and then I will go straight home afterward. I won’t see you tonight! You can follow them and find out who they are.”
When decoded, the message read:
TO ALICE FROM THE CARPENTER
CANARIS ABWEHR CONTACT TRAVELLERS’ CLUB LINKED TO INSPECTOR LAFLEUR PAUL PARIS SÛRETÉ / LAFLEUR IN PAY OF HEYDRICH’S SD / EVIDENCE OF WELL-ORGANIZED NAZI FIFTH COLUMNS IN FRANCE BELGIUM AND HOLLAND SUGGESTS WAR IMMINENT / WHITE RABBIT REQUESTS SIGNAL DIAMOND STOCKS MEGADAN ROUTE EARLIEST POSSIBLE DATE / AS YET NO OFFICIAL SANCTION CAN BE GIVEN CONVINCE ANTWERP COMMITTEE TO SHIP WHILE TIME STILL AVAILABLE / REALIZE LACK OF GUARANTEES MAY BE A PROBLEM / URGE UTMOST CAUTION IF RETURNING TO REICH
Working after hours, Hagen wrote out a reply.
TO THE CARPENTER FROM ALICE
BELGIUM STEADFASTLY MAINTAINS NEUTRALITY IN FACE OF MOUNTING TENSIONS / KING LEOPOLD STILL REFUSES TO LET DIAMONDS LEAVE / TRADERS WILL NOT I REPEAT NOT SHIP WITHOUT FIRM GUARANTEES RECEIVED BRITISH GOVERNMENT IN WRITING / FLYING TO BERLIN 3 NOVEMBER / REQUEST YOU TAKE HUYSMANS ARLETTE TO ENGLAND FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE / ALICE
It was all so stupid. In the face of the inevitable the diamond stocks still languished in Antwerp.
To be on the safe side he took the cable down to the Central Railway Station rather than phone it in.
Then he waited in a call box.
Sure enough, someone went up to the wicket and a copy of his cable was passed over. Within hours the message would be in Otto Krantz’s hands or in someone’s from the Abwehr.
They’d make of it what they could. To try to stop the man would only tell them that he knew.
Damas saw Hagen leave the Central Station, and when the diamond salesman was crossing the square, he picked up his trail. Others would watch the girl’s place. She could be taken at any time. Berlin’s interest was very much in Hagen—his activities while in Antwerp, where he went, whom he saw—dates, times, places. Even which restaurants he favored.
The girl was simply the mayonnaise that might or might not have gone sour.
When Hagen went into the cathedral, Damas was surprised, for Hagen wasn’t what one could call religious. Nor was he of any particular faith.
Uncertain how to handle things, the schoolmaster waited in the shadows beneath the awnings of a perfume shop. Could he chance a cigarette? Tailing Hagen always keyed him up. One had to be so careful.
Sliding his left hand into the pocket of his trench coat, he closed his fingers over the pistol. Why had the diamond salesman gone in there i
f not to meet the girl?
The cathedral was crowded. These days so many people were worried there’d be war. Arlette hurriedly crossed herself and, squeezing between the rows, knelt to bow her head. Would Richard come? Would he see her? Would he find the two men who had followed her from Madame Hausemer’s? They’d kept right after her. She’d run—they’d forced her to do this, forced her to give away the fact that she’d known they were there.
And now? she wondered anxiously.
Framed by Corinthian columns, Rubens’s masterpiece, The Elevation of the Cross, soared above everything. All the candles had been lit. The gold of the cross behind the altar served only to make one focus on the painting.
Richard, she whispered silently. Richard, please be careful. I don’t like this. Something isn’t right.
Not three rows in front of her and a little to one side and across the center aisle, a man had turned to look at her. Laughing, grinning, a week’s growth of stubble on the fleshy cheeks and double chin. In a flash she remembered him in the street outside the Café Lindenbos, remembered the young engineer, the screech of brakes and then … and then …
Quickly she bowed her head. Richard … Richard, my darling, please forgive me for suggesting this.
Across the square and along from the man who had followed him, Hagen waited in the darkness, and when the service was over and Arlette would have turned for home, he started out. Joining a group of people, he used them as cover, but they went off toward the Grote Markt to find a brightly lit cafe in the shadow of the cathedral.
Alone for a few moments, he felt exposed. Antwerp’s gas lanterns had long since been electrified, but here they still jutted out from the walls.
The man paused at a corner to light a cigarette—a good sign. Irritably waving out the match, he drew in deeply before flipping up the collar of his coat and sliding his hands into its pockets.
Then he started out again but headed for the docks.
Four hours later and back at the office, Hagen encoded another message, this time typing it out using two sheets of carbon paper and the Magpie Lane address.
Each of the copies would go into widely separated mailboxes.
TO THE CARPENTER FROM ALICE
SD KEY OPERATIVE ANTWERP DAMAS KARL CHRISTIAN NUMBER 239 THE WAALSEKAAI APARTMENT THREE FOURTH FLOOR AT BACK / SCHOOLMASTER AGE ABOUT 40-45 TALL THIN LEFT-HANDED SMOKES CIGARETTES A HARD MAN TO TAIL / ARLETTE A SECONDARY ASSIGNMENT BUT STILL DEFINITELY BEING WATCHED / URGENT YOU GET HER TO LONDON AS SOON AS POSSIBLE THEN NOTIFY BERNARD / ALICE
It was nearly 4:00 a.m. when he slipped into the Club Chez Vous via the back door that led to the kitchens. Cecile was still up, the place all but empty. Though there were two glasses on the table in front of her, one hadn’t been used.
“Richard, just what the hell do you and that girl you’ve got up there think you’re doing?”
“Is Arlette here? I thought …”
“You thought! You didn’t think. She was followed on her way home but lost them. The poor kid was terrified. Berke found her crying on the back steps and brought her in. I’ve had to telephone that landlady of hers six times just to calm the woman down.”
Hagen ran an exasperated hand through his hair. Had Damas purposely drawn him off so as to find out what was up?
“Look, I told her I didn’t want us coming here. It’s too dangerous for us and for you.”
“Just what the hell are you involved in?”
“Nothing. It’s all a mistake.”
“That’s some mistake! Are you screwing that kid upstairs in my place?”
“Cecile …”
“My God, I hope you wear a sock for her sake!”
“Please try to understand.”
“Why? What’s it got to do with me?”
“I thought this was a place for your friends to meet.”
“It is. Now tell me honestly, does this business have anything to do with Dieter Karl and his sister?”
“Exactly how much did Arlette tell you?”
“Enough for me to know you’re working for the British and that Dieter and you can no longer be friends.”
Cecile had met Dieter in Berlin in 1936. Dieter had been quite envious. Anyone with an eye for beautiful women would have been.
“Things are piling up on you, Richard. Look, I don’t want to know but I do think you’d better get her out of this if not for your sake, then for hers. Now go on up to my bedroom—I’m sure you still remember where it is—and tell her you’re safe.”
She reached for the bottle and Hagen took it from her to refill her glass.
Strains of a recording of “Begin the Beguine” filtered up from the club below. Unable to sleep, Arlette lay in the darkness on her side. It was all so unfair! Why couldn’t they simply have had a life of their own?
She heard the door softly open and close. Anxiously she sat up. “Cecile …” she began.
“Arlette, it’s me.”
They came together in a rush, she bouncing out of bed, he stepping quickly toward her. They fell back onto the bed, Arlette softly crying, “Richard … Oh, Richard …”; Hagen saying, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
Still in her slip and stockings, she lay beneath him, his hands under her, her arms wrapped tightly around him. “Love me, Richard. Love me, please!”
Nothing seemed to matter but that they have each other. Richard’s hands slid under her slip and up over the tops of her stockings. His lips were parted. She could feel the tip of his tongue, felt his fingers as they touched the skin above her stockings. Caressing it now, softly so softly as she drew in a breath and found his lips again.
“I want you,” she said, her breath coming in a rush.
When she heard him hurrying to undo his belt, Arlette yanked off the rest of her things. “Hurry … please hurry. Richard, I have to have you.”
In a rush he touched her thighs, her hips, her breasts and wrists as he slid himself up over her to stretch her arms above her head and press his lips to hers. Parting them, he slid his tongue inside her mouth as his penis nudged her, she lifting up, arching hard, splitting her body apart to receive him, always thrusting … thrusting. Ripples of pleasure all over again, waves of it. No thought of the men who had followed her. No thought.
Arlette felt him coming, felt every muscle of him throbbing deeply inside her. Then it was done and she was crying, was kissing him again. Longer now. Murmuring sweet urgent things, then lifting a breast to his lips, running her hand through his hair.
As they lay in the darkness she heard him say, “I’ve arranged a code with Bernard. If you hear me use the word obstacle in the course of some instructions for the shop, Bernard is to insist that de Heer Lietermann and the Committee send the diamond stocks to England right away, and they’re to be sent only by ship.”
“In the Megadan.”
She felt him nod his head. “If you don’t hear from Duncan, you’re to contact him and get out yourself—the sooner the better. Go to Ostend and cross over there. With luck, he’ll have sent someone to accompany you.”
“And the ones who followed us tonight?”
“You leave them to Duncan.”
This was a Richard she hadn’t known. “Why must you go back into the Reich? Why must you do this thing?”
“You know the answers.”
“Then take the diamond this time. Give it to the Nazis, Richard. Get Lev’s daughter and son-in-law out. Do this for us.”
His flight left at six in the morning. At six-thirty Arlette was waiting outside the office. November’s wind was cruel, the street so utterly desolate she had to wonder how it would look if the Nazis were to invade.
Empty like this—the whole city without a soul to walk its streets or stand as she did, with her back to the wind. It was all so unfair—criminal of them!
At seven o’clock Lev came along to find her. The tears were very real, and as she wiped them away, he said, “So, he’s gone again, and you who are engaged to the so
n of a butcher in Ostend must broadcast a different love to the world at large. Come on, I think we both need some coffee. Would you like a piece of honey cake with it?”
They took the lift up to the fourth floor. As the thing stopped, she felt Lev’s arms about her. “The risks, Arlette. The chances he must take.”
“He’s taken the pendant with him.”
“It’s hidden in one of the drill bits. I fixed a metal plug to hold it in and made him a key to get it out.”
“They’ll find it, Lev. I know they will. I have this feeling.”
Lev clucked his tongue. There was about the building that same inevitability of emptiness. It made her shiver. Their steps sounded loudly.
He got her to make the coffee, and when he unwrapped the honey cake Anna had included with his lunch, he cut the slice in two. “Let’s each of us eat it slowly so as to think of the past and hope for the future.”
All along the Friedrichstrasse the shops were busy. Throngs of people sought the pavements as if the euphoria over Austria and the Sudetenland could never end.
Berlin was all aglitter. Munich had been a triumph for Hitler.
On the Leipzigerstrasse—a far better shopping street—the action was even more frenzied. Couples strolled arm in arm. The uniforms were everywhere, the gray-green of the Wehrmacht, the blue of the Kriegsmarine, that of the Luftwaffe.
The black of the SS, the Schutz Staffel.
In a nation of uniforms, all were proudly accepted.
The taxi headed west along the Unter den Linden. An early snow, whose wet flakes all but refused to melt, did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm. Floodlights lit the museums and government buildings. Lovers stood, policemen walked.
No one had bothered him at the frontier. He’d been allowed in without a raised eyebrow. From Essen he’d gone to Frankfurt—still had a folded copy of the Frankfurter Zeitung.
Hagen set it on the seat beside him. When he’d rung Dee Dee’s flat there’d been no answer.
They turned onto the Kurfurstendamm. Soon the bright lights of the film theaters were everywhere, clashing with those of the bars and cafes. A giant billboard recommended Berliner Kindl. Another defied it by recommending Dortmunder Union.
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