Michael crossed to the desk and studied the drawers for an instant.
“It wouldn’t be in a drawer,” he muttered. Nevertheless he tried the drawers, but all were locked.
“You haven’t told me what you’re looking for,” Marie said.
“I’m after a roll of film,” Michael answered. “Our Intelligence learned that the Germans had photographed the camouflaging that has been done on the French coast. These films are in microscopic scale. With special reproduction apparatus they can be blown up into eight by ten photographs. It is extremely vital that these films reach British hands. The entire plan for the second front depends on discovering what areas are camouflaged. Aerial photography isn’t completely satisfactory, so the only alternative is to borrow the actual small scale German films. And that’s just what we’re going to do.”
“Have you any idea where they are?”
“Roughly, they’re in this office.”
He played his torch over the walls and ceiling and then inspected the desk again.
“Hardly in the desk. Too easy to steal.” He frowned. “But there’d be no point in hiding them. The logical place would be an easily accessible repository that would be burglar proof.”
“A wall safe?” Marie suggested. “Probably,” Michael nodded.
Marie turned suddenly and swept back the swastika from the wall.
“This is what you want, then. This is a favorite place of concealment in German offices.”
Michael saw a small steel wall safe set in the bared wall. He stepped quickly to it and slowly turned the dial with his long, sensitive fingers.
“I have the combination,” he murmured. “It was obligingly furnished by one of our workers here.”
For several seconds he spun the tiny gleaming dial, then he pulled suddenly and the door swung noiselessly open. He pointed the flash into the small dark interior and saw several sheafs of paper and, at the far end of the safe, the object for which he was searching. A tiny roll of films.
“We’ve done it,” he said excitedly. He removed the films, checked them carefully but hastily, then shoved them into his trouser pocket. His lean face was gleaming with triumph.
“By dawn we’ll be flying for London,” he cried. “We’ve got to leave immediately. Every second is working against us.”
He turned back to close the wall safe. When he had closed it and drawn the swastika back into place he wheeled to the girl.
“Every step takes us nearer England,” he said tensely. “We mustn’t falter.”
“We won’t,” Marie said.
Michael took her arm and started across the floor. Suddenly lights flashed on in the room. From overhead and wall sockets bright bulbs blazed into brilliance.
Michael’s body froze in a crouch. He jerked Marie to a stop.
“Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “We’ll have to find another way out.” Hardly had the words passed his lips when the great double door of the office swung inward, and the short, pigeon-puffy form of Marshal von Bock stepped into the room.
Two Storm Troopers followed him, Lugers drawn.
Von Bock’s thick lips were curved in a sadistic smile. But his eyes were angry and cold.
“How fortunate we discovered your little game, Herr Faber,” he said in his soft, lisping voice.
Chapter VII
For an instant there was complete silence in the room. The tension grew until Michael gradually relaxed and allowed a slow ironic smile to light his pale, thin features.
“What a suspicious nature you have, Marshal,” he remarked mildly. “Please tell those determined men with you to put their guns away before they shoot someone accidentally.”
“They will not shoot anyone by accident,” von Bock said significantly. “Your clever tongue will not save you this time, Herr Faber. You have reached the end of your very long rope. I have just seen the body of Captain Mueller.”
“Gracious,” Michael murmured. “Is he dead? What happened to the poor chap?”
“Stop stalling!” von Bock snapped. “You killed him. I know that. And it will be our pleasure to execute you as a British agent. Or is it America you’re working for, Herr Faber?”
Michael shrugged. “That’s a technicality, isn’t it? What difference does it make?”
Von Bock nodded to the two Storm Troopers.
“Search him.”
The two men went over Michael carefully. They handed the roll of film to von Bock along with his personal effects.
“I think I know what this is,” von Bock said, studying the film. “Yes, it is very fortunate we stopped you before you left Europe, Herr Faber.” He turned his round head slightly and studied the red-haired girl. “Your presence here, Fraulein Kahn, I find rather puzzling. Perhaps you can clear the doubts that are plucking at my mind.”
“There is nothing puzzling about my presence here, Marshal von Bock,” the girl answered coldly. “Captain Mueller and I were working together to trap the American. Unfortunately we underestimated our opponent. He shot Captain Mueller with his own gun and forced me to accompany him here because I knew the layout of the building. I imagine he intended to kill me later.”
“What a harrowing experience for you, Fraulein” von Bock said mildly.
Michael risked a quick glance at the marshal, but it was impossible to tell from the man’s expressionless, moonlike face what he was thinking.
He paced slowly back and forth, tugging at his fat under lip.
“I must make a report of this matter personally,” he said thoughtfully. “Marshal von Umbreit must be notified immediately.” He turned again to Marie. “I shall leave the American in your hands. I shall leave these two men with you, however, for he might become troublesome.” He nodded to one of the Storm Troopers. “Tie his arms behind him and watch him carefully. He is very clever.”
With a cynical wave of his hand to Michael, he stepped from the room, closing the door after him.
“You have your orders,” Marie snapped to the Troopers. “Bind his arms.”
As the Nazi soldiers knotted a belt about his wrists, Michael nodded slowly to the girl. She turned away and removed his coat from her shoulders, tossed it over a chair.
“Do either of you have a cigarette?” she asked of the Storm Troopers.
Michael smiled faintly. The girl was acting her part admirably. This was obviously a trap by von Bock to see if she had been telling the truth. Probably the marshal was waiting cutside the door with a dozen men. If she made the slightest move to help him it would cost both their lives.
One of the soldiers offered her a cigarette and held a match until the tip was glowing brightly. She blew a cloud of blue smoke into the air and faced Michael, a cool smile curving her lips; but there was an anguish in her gray eyes that she could not conceal.
“So,” she said softly, “you thought you could fool the Gestapo indefinitely!”
Michael shrugged.
“We all make mistakes. I made one in forcing you to accompany me. Had I gone on alone I would probably have been successful.”
Michael hoped that von Bock heard that much.
“I—” The girl started to speak, but she stopped suddenly. A tense, startled expression spread over her white features.
The Storm Troopers noticed the sudden change.
“What is it?” one of them demanded. He raised his gun and glanced about the room with suspicious eyes.
Michael raised his head slightly. A fierce, exultant hope was pounding through his veins.
For he could hear distinctly a faint humming sound in the large office and from the corner of his eye he saw a shadowy shape moving toward the girl. She obviously had heard the sound and had recognized it as did Michael.