Andros hesitated, puzzled by this instruction, but he proceeded to shoot the film.
Werner said, “Now leave the camera on the desk and return the folders to the safe and shut the door.”
Andros did as he was told and turned around.
“Yes, I think it would be better for my own life if it appeared I caught you and killed you before I had any chance to see the contents of the safe,” said Werner. “But first you must explain to me how you got the combination. I’ve been trying for months.”
“The ring box,” said Andros, carefully dipping his hand into his pocket under Werner’s watchful eye. “It has a listening device. I could hear the tumblers.”
Andros held out his hand, and Werner moved closer, interested. But when Andros opened his fist, nothing was there. Andros quickly swung his leg up and kicked the Ceska out of Werner’s hand. He grabbed the letter opener on the desk and lunged at Werner, driving the blade up through his stomach and into his heart.
Werner’s eyes flashed surprise, and with a wince, he dropped to the floor.
78
I t was easy for Hans to forget the time as he danced with the lovely Fraulein Vasilis. But the sight of Peter walking into the gardens made him panic, especially as he was heading toward the Baron, who was talking with some Greek and Swedish representatives from the Red Cross.
“You must excuse me, Fraulein,” he said, and gallantly kissed her hand.
“Oh, please, not yet,” Aphrodite protested.
But he insisted, looking over her shoulder at the Baron. “Duty calls.”
The music began to fade as he left the gardens and rounded the house to the library. Hans had managed to avoid a debacle with the Baron by not being seen at the same time as Peter, although he wondered why Peter would simply leave his post.
Still, Hans was rather happy with himself and slowed down as he approached the patio outside the library. After all, he had danced with two Italian countesses, three Wehrmacht communications officers, and finally but not least, that last waltz with the Baron’s mistress, Fraulein Vasilis. All in all, a wonderful evening; those damn dance classes in Hamburg while he was at university really did pay off.
Then he noticed what seemed to be movement in the library. He slowed down and pulled out his Luger as he approached the French doors. One was ajar. With a kick, he burst inside and saw a sentry in the dark. “Who’s there?”
“Hans, look on the floor.”
Hans swung his flashlight to the floor and could see Werner lying on his back in the halo of light. “What happened?”
There was no answer, so he swung the light to the sentry’s face. Instead, he saw Andros with a Ceska pointed at him.
“You!”
Hans opened his mouth, but there was a cough, and the last thing he saw was a flash of light and then total darkness.
79
A ndros realized he had little time to act, so he quickly repositioned the bodies, placing the Ceska in Werner’s hand and the letter opener in Hans’s hand. He kicked Hans’s Luger off to the side.
This way, Andros hoped, it would look like Werner had come in snooping and was caught by Hans. But Werner pointed his Ceska at Hans and made him drop his Luger and shot him, perhaps. But not before the good SS guard could grab something sharp from the desk and kill Werner. It would have to do.
Now he heard von Berg’s voice outside the door, then the rattle of the key in the lock. The doorknob began to turn. Andros snatched the camera and hurried through the French doors, closing them behind him the instant the door opened and von Berg’s dark figure filled the square of light.
80
V on Berg looked at the bodies of Werner and Hans on the floor of the library. Franz, who had run in behind him, whipped out his Luger from beneath his white dinner jacket and proceeded to check out the rest of the room, making his way to the French doors and poking around outside on the deserted patio. He was about to blow his whistle to alert the others when von Berg cut him off.
“Close the doors, Franz.”
Franz did as he was told, and von Berg immediately walked over to the safe. He opened it and made a swift but thorough check of its contents. Apparently, nothing had been touched. The lock wasn’t damaged, and nobody knew the combination. Still…
“Franz, come with me.”
Franz followed von Berg out of the library, down the corridor, and toward the party out back. There, from the top of the steps overlooking the garden, von Berg could see Aphrodite dancing with Chris Andros.
81
A phrodite could barely contain her hysteria. Chris had returned only seconds before Ludwig appeared with Franz at the top of the steps. Now Ludwig was motioning for Peter to come over.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked Chris as they danced.
He looked over her shoulder at Ludwig and Franz. “Not exactly. But I got enough.”
She could smell sulfur from his hand. He had fired a gun. He had killed somebody in her family’s home. Dear God in heaven. “What happened?” she asked him. “Something went wrong, didn’t it?”
“Von Berg came in just as I was leaving,” Chris explained. “I managed to slip around the corner and climb back up the balcony to your room.”
“What about Hans?”
“What’s done is done,” he replied. “I stuffed the uniform into the same drawer I took it from. You’ll have to take it with you when you leave tonight.”
She decided now was the time to tell him. “I’m not coming.”
He looked at her incredulously. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?”
“You got what you wanted,” she said coolly. “Now leave me alone.”
“You’re what I want,” he pleaded with her. “That girl in Bern-she was nothing.”
His voice was rising with his passion, and she glanced around to make sure nobody had overheard him. He was losing his head and becoming unreasonable. She would have to do the thinking for both of them.
“I know that,” she said. “But the Baron isn’t about to let me out of his sight for one second. If I stay here at the party, at least you might still have a chance of getting out of Athens alive.”
Chris put his two firm hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to his desperate face. “You’re coming with me to Piraeus,” he said, shaking her. “You hear me? We’ve got less than an hour to get there, and I’m not leaving you behind!”
But she was staring at a red stain on his white tuxedo shirt. “Your shirt, Christos,” she gasped. “There’s blood!”
His eyes dropped to his shirt and came up horrified. “Aphrodite,” he gulped, “you’ve got to help me!”
She glanced around helplessly and then saw Ludwig, Franz, and Peter starting toward them. “Oh, God, Christos, I don’t know what to do!”
“Come with me to Cairo!”
But she would have none of it and grabbed a glass of red wine from a floating tray and flung it at him. The wine splattered across the front of his tuxedo, and she smashed the glass on the ground, bringing the dancing and music to an abrupt halt.
“I hate you, Christos!” she screamed. “I could never marry you!” Andros, his white shirt drenched in red, watched in horror as she turned around and ran up the steps of the garden into the house.
“Aphrodite!” he called.
But it was too late. She was gone by the time von Berg came up to him.
The Baron glanced back at the house and then looked him over curiously. “I can see you’ve had a little too much wine tonight, Herr Andros.”
Andros nodded grimly as he borrowed a white linen napkin from a passing orderly and patted the stain. “She’s right, you know,” he said. “I never should have come back.”
Aware of his guests, von Berg suggested, “Perhaps you should leave, Herr Andros. We can discuss business first thing tomorrow morning before you depart on the Turtle Dove.”