“What can I say?” she asked softly.
“What would you like to say?”
“Something unladylike.”
“There’s no one listening but me, and I know you’re a lady.”
She moistened her lips. “You make me very, very, very, very…horny.”
Which was music to his ears.
The second time they made love was slower and softer. They were both tired, but both eager and willing to drive themselves and each other into the realm of dazed insensibility. Around three in the morning they showered together and were slick and soapy when the warm water abruptly turned icy cold, bringing a shriek and gale of laughter from Franziska and a good Germanic curse from the major.
“Oh, the time!” she said, as he towelled her off. Her face without makeup was no less beautiful, and to Michael even more so; she was scrubbed and naturally radiant, and her hair smelled of the hotel’s sandalwood shampoo. She went up on her tiptoes and gave a giggle that could only be described as girlish when he put the towel between her legs from behind and gave her a little buzz of friction. “You’d better be careful!” she warned.
“Or what?”
She turned around, pressed her breasts against his chest and with her arms around him looked him straight in the eyes. “You keep this up and I’ll have to stay with you all day. Just so you won’t get into trouble.”
“If you want me to keep it up, just ask.” He glanced southward. “Um…a growing boy does require breakfast.”
“I think,” she said, as she placed her fingertip on the end of his nose, “you should get some sleep. And I should go home too, sad to say.”
“Sad to say,” he repeated, and quickly he caught her finger in his mouth and almost sucked the meat from it. “So…don’t say it.”
She smiled at him, the perfect smile of freedom and happiness. But he saw the smile slowly fade away, until it was all gone. “I can’t stay. Really. I have some work to do this morning, I have to be clear-headed.”
“Am I now a noxious fog?”
“I’m serious, Horst. I would love to stay and have breakfast with you, and…do whatever you’d like, but…”
“Herr Rittenkrett calls.”
“Yes, he does. And I wish you would forget you ever met him or heard him speak to me. This is something you don’t need to be concerned about.”
“Which makes me more concerned than before. Is it dangerous?”
She pulled away from him and stepped back. Though completely naked, she was climbing into her armor. She began to get dressed and studiously avoided his stare.
He sat on the bed and watched her. God, she was some piece of fabulous woman! he thought. The memory of her vagina clamped to his penis as if he had pressed into a jar of warm honey sent a shiver up his spine. I could take you to lunch, he almost said. But in the next instant he thought, Don’t beg. Never beg. Not to any woman.
Suddenly she looked up at him and, half-dressed, she let out a laugh. “You’ve got the face of a wounded puppy! Get some sleep, you’ll feel better in a few hours.”
“I doubt it, but thank you anyway.”
“Of course you’ll feel better. Or I hope you will. Because I’m going to cut my meeting short, tell Herr Rittenkrett what he wants to hear, and then I can take the rest of the day to show you something I think you’ll really like. Will you do my buttons?”
It dawned on Michael what she was saying. He buttoned her up and placed his hands on both globes of her bottom, tight in the saucy red dress. “I’ve already seen something I really like.”
“Men,” she said, and she tensed her buttocks under his fingers. “Oh, look at you now! A wolf where a puppy just was!”
“Yes,” he agreed. “That’s me.” He let her go and frowned up at her. “Won’t our Gestapo friend take offense at your…shall I say…unprofessional attitude today?”
“It’s a meeting to make plans, that’s all. Now I’ve said enough about that, and you’ve asked enough questions.” A hint of frost was creeping into her voice. “Honestly,” she said, as if scolding a schoolboy. She finished dressing in silence, putting on her mink coat, her long red leather gloves and getting her handbag, and Michael let her alone.
When Franziska was ready to go, Michael unlocked the door for her. Before he could turn the cut-glass knob, she placed her hand on his.
“I am never unprofessional,” she said. “Not when I’m working. Or…when I’m involved in a project. We won’t talk about this anymore.” It was a statement not to be challenged. Her face softened, and with it her voice. “If you’ll be downstairs in front of the hotel at ten-thirty, I’ll come for you.”
“In public?” he asked.
A naughty little laugh wanted so much to spring from her mouth. A muscle in her jaw moved to clench it shut, but her eyes were sparkling. “You,” she said, “are part gentleman and all beast.” The way she said it, that put him far ahead of other men she knew. She pushed him playfully on the chest, and then she opened the door for herself, went out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.
One of the hardest things he’d ever done was not open the door and watch her walk away, heading for the staircase since the elevator wasn’t working due to the lack of lubricating fluids for the motor. He lay on the bed for awhile, but it smelled too much like her. He got up and in the bathroom splashed cold water in his face. The bathroom, too, was heady with her fragrance. She was even still in his own freshly-washed skin and hair. He would have to cut his nose off if he wanted to be rid of her.
A rather nasty female Nazi, he remembered saying to Mallory.
Well, she was.
He’d done his damnedest, but he hadn’t stopped her from going to see Rittenkrett. Maybe he was responsible for the meeting being cut short, as she put it, but that didn’t mean some member of the Inner Ring might not be picked up tonight. Her invaluable communication skills, Rittenkrett had said. New clients on the list. Did that mean she was inserting herself into having affairs with suspected members of the Ring to get information? So she might not be a whore for a single German officer, but she was indeed a whore for the entire Third Reich?
Oh my God, he suddenly thought with a startle.
Michael, old chap. Jealous just a little bit, are we?
He decided to take another shower, and the colder the better.
Six
Why Scout Cars Aren’t Silver
It was Michael’s intention to be a few minutes late striding out onto the Kleiststrasse, in front of the hotel, yet he found himself leaving the Grand Frederik a few minutes early.
He wore his perfect counterfeit uniform, his cap and boots, a feld-grau overcoat and black leather gloves. It was a chilly morning, though the sky was blue and the sun bright. A breeze moved past him, ruffling his coat and bringing to him the smell of the state of affairs in Berlin, and most likely the pungent aroma of its future. Smoke stained the eastern horizon, reddish in hue. He could smell scorched bricks, burned lumber and the odors of the dust of centuries spun up from the ancient cellars when the bomb-blasted buildings crashed down. True, Berlin was a massive city and there were scores of large buildings remaining, but it was now a town of targets. From his position he could see at the Berlin Zoo one of the three huge gray concrete flak towers that stood like the stalks of poisonous mushrooms in defense of Berlin. They were medieval in design, like Barbarossian castles, suitable to shelter ten thousand civilians and topped with a Hell’s garden of flak cannons. Still, the larger the flak towers and cannons, the bigger the bombers and more deadly the rain. It was just a matter of time.