Siegfried took a final look and pushed off. The next time he saw the ship from such a distance he would be playing a game in dead earnest. The bomb would be live and triggered. It would be, in fact, ticking.
Someone would die. Probably many people. They would deserve it, he told himself, for being on board with Roosevelt. Imagine! An aristocrat leading America toward communism. Siegfried felt a wave of contempt overtake him. He spat at Roosevelt's boat. Then he saw sailors moving on the deck.
Very quietly, with hushed strokes, he turned in the water and pointed himself toward Virginia. He retraced his route, swimming easily with the current, and arrived on the opposite shore completely unobserved.
*
A chair scraped on the basement floor. The screech of wood upon the cement was momentarily the only sound in the room. Then there were the sounds of murmurs and heavy, panting breathing.
Hunsicker, his brow thick, puffed, and bruised, sat unrestrained in a wooden chair at the center. There was a single lamp at a small wooden desk. Behind the lamp sat Frank Lerrick, watching studiously as the light cast shadows like a Halloween mask across his moustache and cheeks. Bobby Charles Martin, who was an expert on things beyond basic map reading, sat to one side facing Hunsicker. He raised his eyebrows, puffed on a cigarette, and dropped it onto the floor. He extinguished it with the toe of one shoe.
He raised his gaze from Hunsicker to the two men who circled Hunsicker like hungry wolves, Allen Wilson and Jack Burns. Burns passed in front of Hunsicker and the German flinched. Then Wilson rushed to him from the side and delivered a heavy, punishing, open-handed half-punch half-slap to the side of the German's skull.
The German reeled and the chair tipped. Burns grabbed the silent German by the lapels, picked up his enormous body, and slammed it down again on the hard-backed chair. Then Burns took his own turn and delivered a similarly punishing blow from the other side. But this time his partner held the chair and the German did not fall.
Lerrick spoke almost from boredom. This had been going on for the better part of a day and a half. Hunsicker, with blood now trickling from the corner of an eye, looked at the man behind the desk with heavy, painful, dark tired eyes.
"Herr Hunsicker," Lerrick began with an air that suggested an impending end to the kindness and the patience. "You're a very noble man, Herr Hunsicker. You have held out for what you believe in. You have not told us anything for a very long time. Your own officers in the Gestapo would be proud of you. Truly proud. But how long can this continue? How long must it continue?"
Lerrick stared at the subject. Hunsicker's face was sweating profusely and his head sagged slightly to one side. The eyes, which had looked mean, now looked hollow and unfocused.
Burns rushed Hunsicker again, began to wind up with a tremendous punch, and Bobby Charles Martin raised a hand to halt him. The blow stopped in midair as the German flinched. "Not just yet, Jack," Martin said to his interrogator in kindly tones. "Mr. Hunsicker is conversing with Mr. Lerrick."
"Wilhelm," Lerrick said with sincerity, leaning forward, "I am being very candid with you. This will go on for weeks. We will not stop until you tell us what we wish to learn." A tangible pause and: "You have worked for the Gestapo yourself. You know that no man can hold out forever. You know that in the end the unfortunate man in your position always must talk. That is human nature." A lesser pause, and Lerrick concluded, "There are limits to pain, Wilhelm. There are things that you have heard about from your own people, but have barely dreamed about here. Injections. Electricity. Wires."
There was a response from Hunsicker's listless eyes.
"Yes, Wilhelm," Lerrick continued. "The worst is yet to come. And that will be followed by a long imprisonment. Unless you choose to speak."
The German's mouth moved and Lerrick smiled appreciatively.
"And after you speak with us, we will make you comfortable. We will let you sleep. A doctor will ease your physical pain. Would you like a woman, Wilhelm? We could even bring you a nice young fraulein who will take care of your other needs. Wouldn't that be much better than this, Wilhelm?"
Words formed on the German's lips. He mumbled. It was only an obscenity, but it was a start.
Then there was more silence. Lerrick glanced amiably to Burns and Allen.
"Hurt him," he said evenly.
As Burns steadied Hunsicker, Allen Wilson stepped behind him, brought the German's wrists together, and began to pull them sharply upward. It was too much even for Frank Lerrick.
Lerrick rose from his desk and went to the door. Bobby Charles Martin followed. The men went outside into a quiet, guarded corridor in a Washington basement.
Lerrick shook his head in disgust. "I, uh, can't stand this stuff." He glanced at his watch. It was three in the afternoon. He lit a cigarette.
"A few more hours," said Martin. "He's ready to break." He glanced at his own watch. "He'll be talking by midnight."
"And what if he doesn't?"
"He will," Martin said, taking out his own pack of cigarettes. "What are you feeling so bad about? They do worse to their own people, you know."
"Of course, but…" Lerrick's words were punctuated by a loud piercing scream from the room behind him. He grimaced and shook his head. "I, uh, understand national interest and all, but we never did anything like that back in Illinois."
"Really?" answered Martin, genuinely surprised, his furry eyebrows shooting toward the ceiling. "Back in Ohio we do it all the time."
TWENTY-SEVEN
Questions. Answers.
Siegfried had more of the former than the latter. So did Laura. So did everyone. Exactly which type of explosive would be best? Siegfried wondered as he drove his car northward. And how much of it? Should the Sequoia blow up at night when the President was sleeping? If so, the explosive could be placed just above the rudder and screw of the yacht, enough to blow the whole ship apart. But attaching that much explosive to the Sequoia could be cumbersome. And if the President boarded the ship in the morning, the charge would have to sit in place for a full twenty-four hours before detonation.
Or, Siegfried wondered, would a smaller charge be a better idea? A small charge fixed to a point below the President and Mrs. Roosevelt's chamber. Siegfried had studied the layout. Surely a 2 A.M. detonation below the waterline-about ten yards beneath the sleeping First Couple-would annihilate them. A relatively simple timing device could be used.
Much easier, Siegfried realized, than the elaborate work that sank the Wolfe.
What about boarding the ship? he wondered. Not necessary, he quickly concluded. The point was to kill one man in particular. Siegfried grinned. The President's yacht would no doubt have a naval escort. And right in their midst… a few hours after departure.. .
The spy laughed. How Goering and Hitler would welcome him to the Reich! What a hero he would be!
*
Questions. Answers.
Laura wondered about her husband. He was being so wonderful to her. Since her return, the marriage had been spectacular. It was like the old days in New Haven. He came to her every night minutes after the lights went out. He would reach to her-a strong, lustful primitive-and pull her to his side of the bed. Then their love games would start. Maybe the banter was silly. Maybe it was childish. She blushed to think of it. But it thrilled her.
"You are my prisoner now, little girl," he would say. "You must do as I say."
"And what do you say?" she would ask.
He would answer with his hands. He would take her nightclothes from her with just the right amount of roughness. She would be naked. His hands, his lips, and his tongue would be all over her until she would ache with her own desires and pray that he would hurry and satisfy her.