Betrayal

by J. Robert Janes

  ‘Photographs, I hope,’ was all she said, she growing serious again and asking, ‘Were you cold out there?’

  He grinned and shook his head. ‘Martin Hauser filled in for me. He was in the infirmary. Such a soaking they got, Mary, and all because of a missing book!’

  Erich had lent his cap to someone else. ‘Trant knows I gave that book to you.’

  And still worried. ‘So? What if he does?’

  ‘Why weren’t you out with the others?’

  Was it to be that way with them? ‘Me? I had some things to do.’

  Things he couldn’t tell her. Things like places he could not have measured or explored without some sort of a diversion to occupy the guards.

  Mein Gott, but she was needing reassurance. He would run his hands up and down her arms, would say, ‘Please don’t worry so much. I burned the book in our stove. Your Major Trant suspects this but what he doesn’t yet know is that you’re missing seventeen others. When he realizes what must have happened, he will be told in no uncertain terms that we need more and better fuel for our stoves. Coal instead of peat, I think.’

  If she thought to say they were like a bunch of schoolboys, she didn’t. He would touch her hair, then, would lay a hand against her left cheek, would feel how nervous she was, how uncertain still and quivering.

  Leaning close, he whispered, ‘Liebling, may I?’

  Mary knew that if she didn’t let him kiss her, things might only go from bad to worse and she might have to take the bullet home, yet if she did let him …

  He wrapped his arms about her and lifted her up, she pressing herself against him. ‘Erich …’ she managed, turning quickly aside only to find his lips again and again until, finally, she had broken away.

  Was demanding of herself why she would do such a thing—Kramer could see this in her. ‘Was Thursday a bad day for you?’ he asked, resting his forehead against her own.

  Erich would take her if he could, and she knew this now. He would try to get her down on her back or on her hands and knees, but would she let him? ‘I had to meet with Kevin O’Bannion. He … he gave me something for you.’

  She looked for signs, for reassurance perhaps. As she pried off her shoe, he got down on his knees, would let her feel his every touch. It was always best with women like this, the constant teasing now light, now firm, the coolness of the room rushing in on her as the stocking was removed. She’d be worrying about being away too long, that she would be missed and had best get back. She’d be thinking of Trant or Allanby and the guards rushing in on them. ‘I’ve missed you, Mary. I wish …’ He would kiss her bare foot now, would run his hands up her leg. ‘A bullet? Only one?’

  ‘O’Bannion said there’d be others later,’ she heard herself saying, but had Erich noticed how desperately afraid she was not just of everything else but of herself?

  He looked up at her with that thing in his fingers. ‘So they are playing games with us, are they? One at a time only makes it all the harder for you.’

  ‘Erich, I overheard Helmut and Philip in the library. Were they involved in the hanging of that man?’

  Kramer swore under his breath. ‘Trant has no business asking you to spy on us.’

  ‘But were they? He’ll only ask if I’ve heard anything, and Kevin … The IRA are demanding that you tell me something so that I can put Trant off and let him think I’m cooperating. It’s … it’s one of their conditions. They need time to … to work things out.’

  ‘So, it has to be business for us after all, has it?’

  She mustn’t weaken, must just get back to the library. ‘Were they involved?’ she asked, reaching out to lay a hand on his head, he still on his knees.

  ‘Tell Trant what you overheard. I can’t stop you, but neither can I betray them.’

  Then they had been involved. ‘I wish you’d just say it, Erich. It would make things so much easier for me.’

  ‘And I wish they would just ship us off to Canada. I’d miss you, but can wait. It wouldn’t be for long in any case. Has there been anything further on that?’

  She shook her head, still hadn’t removed her hand. ‘When are you going to Dublin next?’ he asked.

  He still hadn’t got to his feet; she was still leaning against the wall. ‘It’s being deliberately put off—I have to have something for them in return. That’s … that’s how it is.’

  ‘Were the people who would help us responsible for what happened to that girl?’

  ‘They … they also want to know if there’s anything you would like to send over by wireless.’

  The tarring had been done as a warning to her, then, and they had chosen to make a regular little courier out of her, so must have been satisfied. ‘No, there’s nothing to send over. Berlin must want them to get me out, otherwise they would have severed all contact right away.’

  He was lost to it now, was thinking it all through as he must, but would he also wonder where things might lead for her? ‘Have you any idea of what the IRA will want in return?’

  It was not the time to smile, even if softly. ‘You’re worried about their taking innocent lives. Of course you are and so am I. This war, this whole business … So few of us have any say in things, it’s just not fair, is it?’

  ‘Guns and ammunition? Explosives?’

  She had asked it as if knowing it must be true and hating herself, but had she not been a little grateful for what he’d just said? ‘Or money, Liebling. Lots of money in small bills probably. In British one- and five-pound notes.’

  ‘Do we have to go through with this? Couldn’t we simply stop right now?’ Mary told him what had happened to Caithleen. ‘She … she wanted to kill herself.’

  He’d not let on that they’d already known, would simply say, ‘It’s been terrible for you, hasn’t it?’ and let her feel his hands on her legs.

  ‘I mustn’t,’ she said.

  His hands moved up to her thighs.

  ‘Erich, please!’

  ‘Hush, mein Schatz. Hush. Let’s steal the moment while we can.’

  ‘No! It … it has to stop!’

  She’d be glancing at each of the doors now, would be worrying about their being found out. When her underwear reached her knees, she tried to pull it up, but one must be ready for just such a thing and tighten it about her ankles. ‘Please!’ she said, those eyes of hers clamped lest the sight of him make her want it all the more, her fists clenched at her sides, his hands on her bare ass now, she trying to turn away from his kisses only to find out that she couldn’t.

  When he stood to push his trousers down, she took his Schwanz in her hands when given it, was used to this, but he’d trace a finger down her chin and open her blouse, would have to fondle her, have to make her believe that it was love.

  She was wet, all right, had been wanting it in spite all the objections, the clitoris stiff and rising to his touch, she gripping his cock harder and harder. He’d let her see the mist in his eyes as he came—yes, yes, that would be best, but first herself. He had to get the bitch to cry out for it so loudly she’d have to smother herself with a hand and let him have her any time he wanted.

  Mary felt the release. She shook, she tried not to cry out, tried to stop herself, but came and came, saw that look come into his eyes as he ejaculated until limp.

  Turning aside, hating herself, she wept, and he left her just like that.

  ‘Wolfganger?’

  ‘I didn’t hear all of what they said, Major. My German’s simply not that good.’

  ‘But it sounded like, It’s a good thing we hanged Bachmann when we did?’

  She was standing before his desk like an errant schoolgirl, couldn’t seem to bring herself to face him directly. ‘Well?’ he demanded.

  ‘Yes, then. I … I suppose so, but … but it could just as easily have been, It’s a good thing they hanged Bachmann when they
did.’

  ‘Meaning Wolfganger and Werner knew all about it but weren’t directly involved, that it?’

  Must he snap at her?

  When she didn’t answer, Trant offered a cigarette but didn’t ask her to sit down. ‘Library go all right?’ he asked.

  He knew damned well he hadn’t turned on any lights, was deliberately letting darkness overtake the office. ‘I can’t find the Thackeray,’ Mary heard herself saying stiffly. ‘I’m sorry. We did look. We asked every …’

  ‘You and Werner?’

  Must he startle her? ‘Yes. Apparently it’s not the only book that’s missing. Eighteen of them can’t be accounted for.’

  He raised his dark eyebrows as he lit a cigarette. ‘I see,’ was all he said.

  ‘May I go now? It’s … it’s getting rather late. Hamish … My husband doesn’t like me to be out after dark.’

  ‘Mrs. Fraser, why do you suppose Wolfganger would have said, “It’s a good thing they hanged Bachmann when they did?”’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘But surely something must have happened to make him say that? Did Werner pass some information on to Helmut who in turn said, “It’s a good thing they …”’

  ‘Major, please! I really must go. I’ve no idea what was said beyond what I’ve already told you, and no idea whatsoever as to why it should have been said at that particular moment.’

  ‘The two of them in the doorway, that right? Was it crowded? Who else was with them—come, come, Mrs. Fraser, surely you can remember that much?’

  ‘I can’t, and you’ve no reason to subject me to this … this sort of thing.’

  ‘An interrogation, is that what you’re thinking? My dear woman, this is far from that sort of thing. I am merely trying to determine why Wolfganger should have said …’

  ‘Stop it! Just stop it! I don’t know.’

  It would be so easy to break her now. She’d been unsettled and preoccupied when she’d come into the office. Dust must have been caught in her eyes. The bloody stuff was always blowing about. Could have picked it up anywhere, could have been crying, too.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, Mrs. Fraser.’

  It wasn’t fair of him to have kept her standing in front of his desk like some sort of criminal. She would have to force herself to look up, to look steadily at him and not feel as though he knew what she’d just let Erich do to her. To her!

  He’d let her wait, thought Trant. He’d have her in each day for a session if he could, and he’d save one of the interrogation rooms just to let her experience what it was really like.

  When she turned away to leave, he said, ‘I’m not finished with you yet.’

  It was all but dark in the room.

  ‘Mrs. Fraser, have you heard anything about a plan to escape?’

  Even before she could answer, he had switched on the desk lamp, had caught her in its glare and made her shield her eyes. ‘Of course I haven’t. Had I, I would immediately have told you.’

  ‘Or the colonel,’ he said softly, she still wincing at the light.

  ‘Yes, or Captain Allanby.’

  He’d adopt the air of the good host now and startle the living daylights out of her. ‘Captain,’ he called out. ‘Good of you to have joined us. Mrs. Fraser was just telling me Kramer and the others burned a bunch of her books in their stoves. Now what do you make of that?’

  To give credit where credit was due, thought Trant, Allanby stayed over by the door, letting her wonder not only where he was but how long he’d been there, but a conciliatory tone would be best. ‘Mrs. Fraser, the prisoners may seem a nice group of men to you and your husband. Oh I know they’re far from home and feeling lonely, many of them. It’s not a normal life any more than it is for our chaps over there. Like monks, I should think. But they are German officers, Mrs. Fraser, and up to mischief all the time.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should have them stand out in the rain more often.’

  Oh my, oh my, a spark of fight, was it? Well, good—yes, that was all to the good. She’d not been here on Thursday but he’d leave that, would let her continue to puzzle over why he hadn’t pressed the issue.

  Motioning her to come closer, he took out a folder and laid some drawings on the desk—floor plans of the castle done precisely in pencil with measurements clearly indicated in metres and notations written in Deutsch. She would have to lean well over the desk to see them.

  ‘They’ve been digging a tunnel, Mrs. Fraser. From what used to be the brewhouse here in the cellars, out to a copse of oaks not far from the perimeter, so you see,’ he said, looking up at her, his face close to hers, ‘they do intend to escape. They think about it constantly, and we must continually be on the alert for such things.’

  Was that the fear of discovery he saw in those bedroom eyes of hers, he wondered, or simply the fear of knowing she was way in over her head?

  He’d lower his voice to barely a whisper. ‘They are desperate men, Mrs. Fraser. Please make no mistake about it.’

  She really did have such lovely eyes—large and of a deep chestnut shade but with those tints of green and flecks of amber Jimmy must always think of. Poor Jimmy. Love was such a stupid thing and Allanby such a lonely man. They really must do something to stem that. The colonel had been absolutely right.

  ‘Captain Allanby, would you show Mrs. Fraser to the perimeter?’

  Trant had noticed that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. He must have seen this earlier but hadn’t said a thing then of it either.

  ‘That’s all for now, Mrs. Fraser. We’ll see you on Tuesday, I take it?’

  She was still bent over the damned desk, was still giving Jimmy a full view of that backside of hers, yet hadn’t been able to make herself move.

  ‘Well?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course I’ll come.’

  As they walked along the road towards the barbed wire of the perimeter, Allanby broke the silence that she had always put between them. ‘I met your husband on the old tote road to Newtonhamilton. He was having a look at the bridge.’

  ‘Oh?’

  She had definitely panicked at the thought. ‘Then I met him at the Darcy place. Why do you suppose he was poking around there? He’s a very busy man.’

  Mary was glad that it was dark and he couldn’t see her clearly, but she’d have to say something, couldn’t just leave it, had best be calm. ‘I’ve no idea, Captain. Hamish does love the countryside and he might have had a few moments to himself, though he gets few enough of them. Perhaps he was looking for another place to fish—he loves his fishing, but again he can’t seem to find the time.’

  ‘And the Darcy place?’ he asked.

  She mustn’t hesitate. ‘He’s always had an interest in saving things from the past. It’s in far better shape than most.’

  Was it? But he’d not ask how the bloody hell she’d even known! He’d leave that for a while, would chalk it up on the bricks as Fay Darcy’s father had his frigging accounts. ‘Money would be needed. Lots of it,’ he snorted. ‘It’s a good job that family you married into sold out when they did, though, in ’28 and just before the crash. The old man made quite a bundle, or so I gather.’

  ‘Hamish has three brothers and two sisters, Captain. That “bundle” as you call it, was shared equally after taxes.’

  ‘And he’s prepared to sink some into Irish history? Come on, Mary, that husband of yours is no fool. The Darcy place?’

  ‘Captain, I’m very tired and must get home.’

  ‘We’ll put the bike in the boot and I’ll drive you over.’

  He would, too. ‘That’s very kind, but I’d rather be by myself. The air will do me good.’

  God damn her anyway! He’d grab her by the arm and force her to face him. ‘Mary, listen to me. I had to do what I did to that girl.’

  ‘And Hami
sh and I have to suffer the consequences, as does Caithleen. Now let go of me, Captain. I’ll walk the rest of the way by myself.’

  Long after she had left him, Allanby continued to stare after her. She was like a moth trapped in a smoke-filled glass that had been turned upside down on a beer-sloshed table, the men all around and betting on how long she’d last.

  ‘Mrs. Haney, I’m awfully sorry to be a bother when you’re just about to go home. Caithleen and I did look through your button box but we weren’t able to come up with anything. Would you have a button to match these?’

  A button, was it? thought Ria, but the tone of voice and the look were those of apology, and she had no heart to let her tongue run over the hills with the doctor looking like a dog that had lost its bone and master.

  Taking the blouse from her, she examined the gap. Given the right chance, Mrs. Fraser would come round, but would she be given that chance? ‘A bit of material’s been torn, m’am. I’ll be wanting fine thread and a fine needle for that. And was there anything else?’

  To say, I wish we wouldn’t fight, I need you on my side, would do no good. ‘Why, yes, there is. Have either yourself or Bridget seen my wedding ring? I thought I must have left it beside the sink upstairs, but it seems to have vanished.’

  ‘Vanished, has it? Vanished my foot! Stolen most likely. Bridget … Bridget Leahy, you come here now, my girl. I want a word with you I do, and when I’m finished your ears will be ringing so hard you’ll never again hear that Bing Crosby you like so much singin’ “I Surrender, Dear”!’

  ‘Mrs. Haney, please! I need a button, not a police inquiry. Bridget wouldn’t have stolen my ring.’

  ‘You leave this t’ me, m’am. Leave it, I say! Bridget? Bridget, girl, you fetch that button box of my mother’s and a sheet from the closet upstairs. Fetch Caithleen as well. Three pairs of eyes it will be, Mrs. Fraser. Three I’m telling you.’

  Good God Almighty, why did the woman have to go on like this? ‘Please don’t flood the place with tears. We’ve had far too many of them of late.’