“No, love, no,” he said, leaning toward me, taking my hand. “Then why. . .?”
“Someone we were working with. A colleague.”
“I don’t understand why you must go back so quickly.”
“Because I . . . must.” He glanced up at August, who was leaning against the door. He was a pleasant-looking young man, with brown hair and hazel eyes. “I can’t explain any more. Please understand.”
“Then I’ll go too.”
“I’m afraid that would be impossible, Frau Mayr,” said Muller, pushing himself off the door. “We’ve got a small plane waiting.”
“A plane?” I said, looking from him to my husband.
“It’s that serious?” said Christian, his eyes on the other man. “It is. Look, I’ll go ahead and send some men back for your bags. You’ll have to decide about changing trains. I’m sincerely sorry, Frau Mayr. Truly I am.” And with that he left.
“Do you want to go on?” asked Christian, pulling his bag down from the rack.
“Not without you.”
“I could join you,” he said, getting into his coat.
“But you don’t know how long you’ll be.”
“No. You’re right.” He stopped bustling around and held me, a hand on each of my arms, and stooped so he could look into my face. “You look as disappointed as I feel.”
Tears came into my eyes and I turned my head so he wouldn’t see.
“Oh, poor love,” he said, and put his arms around me, holding me against him. “Poor me,” he added.
There was something I wanted to ask him, but I couldn’t think. He kissed me, his hand under my chin, raising my mouth to his. I pressed myself against him, for a moment thinking I could keep him with me if I made him want me.
“Don’t, don’t. You make it so hard,” he said.
“I know,” I said, and I lifted my leg so that my thigh rubbed between his legs. He laughed, and I did too.
“What a nasty joke. You never used to joke like that.” But he smiled at me and caressed my face.
“Now,” he said, turning away from me, picking up his hat. We heard the men in the hall. “Do you want to get off here and wait for a returning train? That could take all day. Or you could go on to Zurich and get a good night’s sleep, then come back.”
“I don’t want to leave Germany. That’d be too far away from you. I’ll wait here and follow you back.”
“Good,” he said, and opened the door for the men to take our bags. I got into my coat and hat and picked up my purse and the basket. It was very cold outside and our breath hung in the frozen air. We hurried into the station building. Christian crossed to the door of the station master’s office and knocked. No one answered. “I wonder where he is.”
“You never know in these towns out in the middle of nowhere,” said Muller.
“Well, I can’t leave Sally here without knowing how she’ll get back to Berlin.”
“I’m all right,” I said. “I can take care of myself.”
“There, see, Mayr. Don’t be such a nursemaid.”
“That’s right, Christian. I’m a married woman now, surely I can manage to get from wherever it is we are to Berlin.”
“Really?” I could see he wanted to believe me. I could also see he was eager to leave me or, at least, not to have to worry about me as he did.
“Sure. If worst comes to worst, I’ll just call my father and he can send the marines for me.”
“Good girl,” he laughed and hugged me, gave me a quick kiss. “You go to your father’s, all right? I’ll telephone him when I get there. And my mother. You call her, too, please? She’ll worry about you until you she hears.”
"Where will you be?”
“I’ll call you. Don’t worry.” He kissed me quickly and was gone.
I looked around the brightly lit station waiting room. The walls were painted brown to about waist-high and then pale green. There were heavy brown benches around the walls and a double row down the center. It was all spotlessly clean.
In one corner was a monster of a stove, cast-iron, unpainted, and ugly, but I could see the glow of hot coals through the grate on the side and I lugged my bag over and sat on the bench nearest it. Opposite me, high on the wall, was a large clock. It was two in the morning. Eventually, I dozed off.
Suddenly, I jerked my head up, peering into the dark room, which seemed full of strange soft noises and odd shadows in the harsh light. I had avoided looking at the bare black windows before, but now I could see the darkness pressing in around the little station building. The clock said it was four o’clock.
The Chief had sent Muller for Christian. I sat up. That was what I had been trying to remember. Heydrich had sent for Christian. But how had Heydrich known where to find him? No one knew we were going on to Italy. We bought the tickets at the station. Could the station master have telephoned him, or the Mittelstadts? He was supposed to have spies everywhere, but the Mittelstadts? It was too outlandish an idea. But I had to face the fact that someone had contacted the general.
Christian had.
No. I stood up. Sat down again, frightened at the idea. Why did I have to think that?
No.
I wrapped my arms around my middle, suddenly chilled. Coal in the stove popped. Please don’t go out, I prayed to it.
But why would Christian do that? And I remembered what he had made me promise to remember. I sat back against the hard bench, the tears starting down my face. He had known this was going to happen. He had planned it all. He had known.
But why? I couldn’t see any reason for what had happened. Unless someone was coming to kidnap me and hold me for ransom. No, that was too stupid. Why would Heydrich want to do that? I was married to Christian, for God’s sake.
Had Christian been lying the entire time? I thought of him, touching me so gently, playing in the snow, glowing in the sunlight in his parents’ old room. And I couldn’t understand what had happened.
It seemed a very long two hours until the station master came to work at six. He was surprised to see me, but he did make me a cup of hot coffee and offer me a fresh bun.
“There were no trains scheduled to stop here last night,” he said, fussing with cream and sugar.
“None? This isn’t the border stop?”
“Of course not. That’s at—” And he named another town I had never heard of.
“Then why did they stop here?” But I didn’t need to ask him. I knew why: to take Christian and me off the train.
“Well, now, you sit down there. There will be a train shortly. You’ll have to change twice before Munich. Here, I’ll write it down for you.” And he got out a pad. He also called ahead to book me a sleeper out of Munich for the trip into Berlin.
IT WAS NEARING six in the evening when I boarded the train in Munich, and I wanted to get home. I felt I had been traveling for a week, instead of one day. When I settled in my sleeper, I thought of how, just twenty-four hours ago, Christian and I had been so happy, laughing in our compartment. I sat next to the window, not turning on the light, and laid my head back against the seat, giving in for a moment to the sadness and betrayal and confusion.
Then, scolding myself for my self-pity, I got up and turned on the light. I got my sponge bag out of my suitcase and took it into the little bathroom, so I could freshen up before dinner. As I did so, someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” I said, without turning around, thinking it was the porter come to make up the berth.
It was Heydrich.
“Hello, Sally,” he said with a smile, closing the door behind him. “How are you? Are you all right after your long ordeal?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just stared at him, as he walked into the compartment and sat down, glancing outside as the train started up.
“Ah, good, we’re leaving. Nice of them to wait for me, wasn’t it?”
“Will you leave?”
“What?”
“Will you please leave my compartment? Leave or I shall. .
.”
“Shall what? What kind of stink do you think you could raise?”
I pulled open the door in answer. He regarded the open door, then me, for a long moment.
“Close the door, Sally. Close it. I’m not leaving.”
“You can’t stay in here.”
“You’re afraid of me?”
“I’m not.”
He didn’t answer, merely raised his eyebrows. I closed the door, but remained standing.
“I am sorry. I didn’t realize how upsetting this has all been for you.”
“You should. You made it happen.”
“Indeed I did not.”
“Oh, stop lying.” I spat at him, making a cutting gesture with my hand, nearly throwing myself off balance as the train jerked. I grabbed the wall and steadied myself. “Can’t any of you, just one of you, tell the truth?”
“Ah. I see. You think Mayr lied to you.”
“You know he did.”
“Wait, my dear. How could I know what he said to you in the privacy of the marriage bed?”
“He lied as you wanted him to. But why? I just don’t understand why.” I almost flung myself into the seat next to Heydrich’s. “Tell me. Please. It would make it so much easier for me if I understood. What is happening? I mean, he married me. Why would he do that if he didn’t love me?”
“Perhaps because I told him to.” He spoke lightly, almost teasing me.
“You told him to marry me? Why?”
“Because I couldn’t?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Impatiently, I jerked in my seat, the space too small to contain my frustration.
“Why do you say ridiculous?”
“Because if you wanted me . . . that way, you’d just take me. Besides, I don’t believe you think that way about me.”
“Why not? You’re attractive. Young. And seemingly out of reach. All reasons that make you quite an alluring possibility.”
I looked at him, but was unable to tell if he was serious. “I’m not your type,” I said.
He burst out laughing. He laughed so long and with such abandon that I started laughing with him.
“There,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, when we had quieted down. “Feel better?” I nodded, unwilling to concede him anything. “Good. Now get changed and I’ll take you to supper and we can talk about your new husband. Don’t worry, I’ll go get us a table and leave you alone.”
HE WAS GOOD company at dinner, keeping the conversation to music, telling me about the ups and downs of his father’s musical career as an operatic tenor. After coffee, he walked me back to my compartment and followed me in, as though I had invited him. The porter had been there to make up the bed and there was even less room than before.
“It’s cold in here,” I said.
“Is it? Do you mind if I smoke? Thank you. Please sit.” I sat across from him on the berth. He lit his cigarette, said, “I’ve been thinking about you and Mayr a great deal ever since you ran off to get married.
“That was an impetuous thing to do, and the only reason I can figure out why you did it is that you are pregnant. So I have been trying to work out when he got you pregnant. Ah, you are pregnant, aren’t you?” he said, interrupting himself. I said nothing and he seemed to take that for an affirmative answer.
“Well, as I said, I’ve been trying to work it out, because, unless you were very clever, you hadn’t seen each other in several months before you came to the gymnasium on the day that idiot, Werner, got himself killed. So that means, it must have been the weekend of the SA business. Was that it? Christian disappeared for some time that weekend and I have wondered where he was.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Oh, come now, Sally. There is no need to be snappy with me. You want to keep me your friend.”
“Do I?”
He laughed, a tight laugh, raising his shoulders, keeping his mouth closed. “You are spending too much time with your British friend, Mrs. Stokes. You answer every question with another question as the British do.”
“Well, let me ask you another question, if I may.” I leaned back, crossing my legs.
“Of course, my dear.”
“Why did you pretend you didn’t know who Christian was?”
“I didn’t.”
“All right, why didn’t you tell me you knew him then, when I asked you if you could find him?”
He lifted his cigarette and took a long drag from it before he answered me. “I should think that would be obvious.”
“Obvious? How?”
He looked at me, a look charged with electricity. For a long moment, I didn’t understand, and then I couldn’t, wouldn’t believe what I saw in his face.
“No,” I said, almost laughing. “Oh, my goodness, General. You were just joking. I thought you were just joking.”
“Why should it surprise you? You’re an attractive young woman.”
I blushed and looked down at my folded hands. “No, I’m not. Not that attractive.”
He leaned forward and touched me, his fingers grazing my cheek and neck, passing through my hair. “You are. And Mayr is a bigger fool than I’d imagined if he hasn’t told you so.” His hand fell away from me. “But your looks are not all that attract me to you.” His long, horsy face was almost handsome with his energy and his knowing, amused smile. He knew so much about me, he even knew that I was unwillingly flattered.
He sat next to me on the berth. He turned his torso to face me, although he didn’t touch me. “You are intelligent, but very young and very naive. I find this interesting mixture very attractive. But I think what I find the most interesting thing about you . . .” His voice was very low and he pushed a flyaway strand of my hair back into place, his fingers never brushing my face.
“This sweet exterior, all this fragile prettiness, is just a facade. I think underneath you are quite different. I think underneath there is passion and curiosity.”
“I’m not passionate,” I whispered, and shifted away from him.
“Yes, you are.” And he finally touched me, using only two fingers to turn my face to him. “And if you do not know that, after a honeymoon, if you do not know that, pregnant with Mayr’s child, then Mayr is not doing his duty.”
I frowned.
“You don’t like me making fun of him, do you? Good, you’re loyal as well, not that I’d expect you to be otherwise.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. I could feel his long fingers through the fabric of my suit jacket. He did not pull me to him. He just held me there and looked at me, his eyes intent on my face.
“It is in your fencing,” he whispered.
“My fencing?” I tried to back out of his grasp, but his fingers kept me in place.
“I’ve watched you many times, when you didn’t know I was there. You fence as I would if I were a woman. I imagine Maestro often despairs of your technique.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He ran his fingers along my mouth, tracing my lips. It made me quiver.
“Lina,” I tried to say, halfheartedly trying to turn my face away from him.
“That is only a bourgeois concern. I think you are above it.”
“No, no, I’m not. Not at all.”
“Of course you are. We have made music together. You are curious about me, aren’t you?” He took my hand and lowered his head to it, his lips just above my palm. I could feel his warm breath on my skin. “What I might do to you excites you,” he said and, using just the tip of his tongue, ran it from my wrist to my fingers. Like an electric shock, feeling followed where he touched me. “You are frightened by me and your fear excites you.”
Instinctively, I covered my abdomen with my free hand, as though Heydrich’s seduction could harm my child. I could hear my ragged breath.
Just then someone knocked on the door.
“What?” barked Heydrich, lifting his head, his eyes on me.
“General, a message,” said the voice through the door.
/> Heydrich let my hand go, opened the door, and stepped outside.
I sat still, knowing he would be back. I felt as though I had been violated. He had done what he wanted and, what was worse, my body had responded to him. I had been married less than a week and I had already betrayed Christian. And after those few wonderful nights together.
Christian shouldn’t have left me. I hated the general. I hated myself for feeling that way, for listening to him. I wouldn’t let it go any further.
When Heydrich returned, I turned to face him and very deliberately wiped my hand on my skirt. He flushed momentarily, then his face shut down as he controlled his feelings, his anger. He just looked at me, and I knew I had made a terrible enemy.
I raised my chin defiantly. He took a step toward me as the train began to slow.
“Too bad. I have to go. I just want to tell you two things. One, Christian has not lied to you. I found out where you were in my own way. And, two: Did he tell you he was a murderer?”
“Yes. He was devastated because you made him part of that firing squad.”
“Firing squad? Oh, no, my dear. Not the anonymity of a firing squad. Your husband killed those men face-to-face.”
“You’re lying.” I stood up, balancing myself with one hand against the folded upper berth.
“I thought he was weak. So I sent him into the academy basement where we were holding about forty men. He and another fellow, who I also thought needed toughing up, shot all forty.”
“You’re lying,” I repeated, the only thing I could think of to say in the face of this evil.
“They went from cell to cell, putting bullets through each man’s head. Some of those men were their friends. I imagine it was a grisly task.”
Christian’s boots. His boots that he had said were dirty with brains. I turned around, looking for escape. I had drawn the blind when I changed for dinner, and now, turning, I hit it and it flew up with a loud rattle, filling the compartment with the station lights. I pressed my hands against the window.
“I see I must go.” Heydrich put one hand on my shoulder, with the other he caressed my cheek.
“Don’t,” I said, jerking my head to the other side. He lifted my chin. I could see his eyes. I closed mine.
The Last Innocent Hour Page 41
