B004U2USMY EBOK (14 page)

He wondered who fed Gemeiner his information.
It could have been anyone from the dishwasher with the hook to one
of the working girls, to one of the many Germans or French who
dined every evening in
Le Coq
Rouge
.

“I figured out she was Spanish, but other
than that, I have no idea.”

“Her father was a Republican in the civil
war. Fled to France a couple of years before the present conflict.
Educated man. A little too bookish for his own good. Raised his
daughter as an atheist, didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut
about politics.”

“Really?” He remembered how he’d dismissed
Gaby as just another prostitute.

Gemeiner slid a file across the table. “The
French, bless their bureaucratic little hearts, made dossiers of
half a million foreigners living in the country. They’ve been
useful to a good number of parties, and not just the Gestapo. Go
ahead, read.”

The documents were in French, but not
original; someone had retyped the file on a German typewriter and
there were a number of spelling and diacritical errors. Gemeiner’s
monolingual secretary? Or was there a warehouse-sized room
somewhere filled with a thousand young women with typewriters,
copying anything and everything that might be of use? His French
reading skills were weaker than his speaking ability and he could
feel Gemeiner’s impatience as he labored over the file.

For a moment he suffered a shock to discover
that Gaby was only sixteen years old, but then he saw that the
uppermost document was from early 1939. She would be twenty now,
but still. It was a hard world that turned a girl from a good
family to prostitution. The rest of the story was all too typical.

“I don’t see anything surprising here,” he
said. “Her mother and older brother died in Barcelona. Killed by
fascists. The girl and her father escaped to Paris, where the
father supported himself by writing for a newspaper and giving
Spanish and English lessons. The girl lived with her mother in
France for several years as a child, that’s why she blends in so
easily.” He thumbed through the last document, which included an
arrest warrant. “And apparently the father was picked up as a
communist sometime during the invasion and the girl is on her
own.”

“Read the signature of the arresting agent,”
Gemeiner said.

“Obersturmführer Hans Hoekman.” He looked up.
“Is that our Hoekman? I don’t recognize the rank.”

“Senior Storm Leader. Like a lieutenant, but
usually Waffen-SS. I don’t know, but it appears that Hoekman was
in an early military unit before transitioning to the Gestapo.”

“Unusual to have risen so fast,” Helmut said.
“He must have impressed someone with his cunning and cruelty.”

“That you can say such a thing without a hint
of irony is a certain indictment of what our nation has become,
don’t you think?”

“Quite.” Helmut considered. “So Gaby’s father
was arrested by our own Hoekman. That’s a hell of a coincidence.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Helmut looked at Hoekman’s signature, smooth
and sure, a man who was supremely confident of his own judgment.
“What about the girl’s father? He still alive?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been able to find
out. Probably not. Let’s be realistic, he’s a communist and it’s
been two and a half years. But I’m guessing the girl doesn’t know
he’s dead, or probably dead.”

“I’d noticed she’d showed up at
Le Coq Rouge
shortly after
the colonel. I wondered for a minute if she were somehow working
for him and the whole seduction attempt and then how she tried to
help the young thief was an act to put Alfonse off his guard.”

“It’s still a possibility,” Gemeiner said.
“Stranger things have happened.”

“I doubt it. No, she’s found him, she’s
trying to get close enough to either figure out what happened to
her father or get revenge, if she already knows”

The older man collected the papers and
returned them to the envelope, tied off the string. He pulled out
a cigarette, offered one to Helmut who declined. He lit, took a
drag and said, “Tell me what happened when the girl tried to
seduce the colonel.”

“Not much at first. But Gabriela is
excessively pretty and even more persistent. I think she might
have gone home with Hoekman, if not for the incident with the
petrol thief.”

“And that. Tell me how it happened.”

He explained exactly what he saw and his
impressions of the event. “Could be that Roger was working for the
maquis,
but mostly, I think he chose an unfortunate target
for petty theft. In any event,” Helmut added. “Hoekman is still
around. He left a message a couple of days ago asking if I wanted
to join him at the restaurant.”

“And? Did you go?”

“That would have been tonight. Arrest and
transportation to Berlin has a way of interfering with one’s
social calendar.”

“It occurs to me that Gabriela Reyes is not
the only exceptionally attractive person you will find at Le Coq
Rouge
.
”

“They’re all pretty,” Helmut said. “Monsieur
Leblanc has a good eye for talent. Although some of the girls have
a hard look around the eyes, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m talking about you, Helmut. You’ve got
just the look that makes the
frauleins
swoon, or in this
case, the
mademoiselles
.”

Helmut couldn’t help the snort. “Assuming
that were true, what does that have anything to do with anything?”

“You’re only what? Twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-nine. Thirty next month.”

“But a young man, good-looking, and wealthy.
From a prosperous family. Daddy left him the business, but he
didn’t stop there, he doubled it, tripled it even. A kid like that
is going somewhere. And as an important businessman, unlikely to
be shipped off to reinforce the Sixth Army outside Stalingrad.
Don’t underestimate the value of that in these hard times.”

“I’m already married, if you’ll remember.”

“Come on, Helmut,” Gemeiner said. “Have a
little imagination. First of all, nobody in France cares about
your family in Germany. Second, you take a girl like Gabriela, she
doesn’t want to be a prostitute, she wants to escape her
situation. She practically begs to be seduced. I’d seduce her
myself if I were about thirty years younger and twenty kilos
lighter.”

“And spoke either French or Spanish.”

“And that,” Gemeiner said with a shrug. He
set down his cigarette in the ashtray, where it smoldered, then
leaned forward across the table. “Point is, you can seduce her and
then she’ll spy on Hoekman for us. She’s trying to get information
from him anyway. She can help us at the same time.”

“So I get the information and then what?”

“And then what?” the older man asked. “Then
we know if Hoekman is investigating us or if he’s solely focused
on Major Ostermann.”

“But what do I do with the girl once I’ve
seduced her? Say she gives us everything we want, then what?”

“End the affair, of course,” Gemeiner said.
“I’d say you could keep her for awhile, but she’ll be toxic at
that point, so yes, figure out a way to get rid of her.”

“As in letting the Gestapo discover her and
haul her off to some camp, too?”

“You’re a good man for the cause, Helmut, but
you’re too sentimental.”

“Human, you mean.”

“It’s a cold, hard world. Our whole country
is getting fucked over by these bastards. It’s an ugly thing to
use someone and throw them away, but for god’s sake, she’s a
refugee turning tricks. The world has already used her up and
thrown her out.”

“And my wife?”

“I know about your marriage,” Gemeiner said.
“Is it really going to matter to Loise?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded,
even though he knew exactly what it meant. It was silly to get
prickly about something that was only the evident truth of the
matter. But it was the building anger with this entire
manipulating sequence, from the time he was arrested in France to
the horrible scene on the train, to the casual dismissal of his
marriage.

“Calm down, calm down. Look, sleep with the
girl or don’t, it’s up to you. In fact, it’s a useful seduction
technique to stop just short of intercourse, at least at first.”
His voice turned harder and he leaned forward. “But this is not a
request. Gabriela Reyes is pretty, smart and resourceful and she’s
a prostitute. She’s both imminently useful and easily manipulated.
Do it.”

At last Helmut let out a drawn-out sigh.
“Very well. And the next shipment?”

“We’ll have it in a Paris warehouse by next
Monday. You’ll need to be creative in moving the goods. The
operation is working at full tilt.”

Chapter Eleven:

Colonel Hoekman was more than receptive to
Gabriela’s advances. Seducing him was so easy, in fact, that it
should have raised suspicions from the moment she and Christine
stepped into the restaurant and the Gestapo officer gave her a
toothy smile. He gestured at Gabriela with his hand. “
Mademoiselle
,
come, come.”

Christine headed for the kitchen, then gave
her a significant look over Hoekman’s shoulder.
Be careful!

Gabriela calmed her nerves and took a seat at
the table where Hoekman dined alone. Better to have Helmut von
Cratz here. Rude as he was, he didn’t scare her like this Gestapo
man. She had two memories now of his casual violence, and
Christine’s warning was still fresh in her mind. But he looked
genuinely delighted to see her. The work of the other night hadn’t
been wasted.

“You remember me,” she gushed. “I was afraid
you’d have met some other pretty young girl and I so wanted to
meet you again and get a chance to know you better. You’re such a
handsome man, I’m sure every girl in Paris is thinking the same
thing.”

“Please to speak slower. You talk too fast
for me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just so excited to see
you.” She forced herself to slow down. It was the nerves. “Your
French is fine, Colonel.”

Hoekman’s French was improved, but still
halting.

“Please, Hans you will call me.”

She laughed. “Hans I will call you.” She put
a hand on his knee.

“You are hungry, yes?”

“Oh, no, Hans, I already ate. I just came for
the company.”

She looked around the table. The wine was
barely touched and a plate of
jambon aux haricots
daintily
picked at. He’d ignored the cheese, the bread, and the large plate
of escargots. Monsieur Leblanc had more trouble getting butter and
garlic than the actual snails, which seemed oblivious to
rationing. She supposed that edible garden pests weren’t on the
German requisition lists.

“You just started?” she asked with a gesture
at the uneaten food.

“No, not true. I am here some time already,
and I eat already, yes?”

“But you’ve barely eaten.”

“Too much rich food is. . .how do you say?
Unhealthy for body.” He wagged his finger. “You French could learn
a lesson.”

Ah, so that was it. The Germans had imposed
austerity on the French for their own health.

“Well then, let’s just have a drink and we’ll
get to know each other better. I’m sure you have many, many
interesting things to say. You seem like such a fascinating man.”

“This is such boring place,” he continued in
his bad French. “We go to my house and get to know each other. You
will like. I have chocolates.”

“Oh, chocolates!”

“We go then, yes?”

She didn’t want to, now that it came down to
it. She’d expected, planned a further seduction, with the
hard-edged Gestapo man only gradually yielding to her charms. But
then once she had him, he would need her, desperately. He would do
anything, give her any information, if she would only sleep with
him. And she would find
Papá
.

His acquiescence was so sudden and unexpected
that she didn’t have a chance to mentally prepare herself for what
it would actually mean to get into a car with this man who had
brutalized her father. To let him touch her. To take her, it would
be worse than being raped. And she would have to pretend to like
it.

“Gabriela?”

“Call me Gaby. All my friends and lovers have
called me that.”

“Gaby, then.”

She’d waited too long to back out now. Two
and a half years now, and she owed it not just to
Papá
, but to everything her
family stood for and everything they had lost.

A sudden decision. “Yes, of course, let’s
go.”

He gave that same toothy, shudder-inspiring
grin and they stood up. Gabriela gave a glance back toward the
kitchen. Monsieur Leblanc stood there with a tray in hand and she
thought he would be happy to see her leave with the colonel. His
pleading note that she do something; this would be her way of
helping him find Roger. Or so he must be thinking.

But Leblanc shook his head, gave an urgent
little gesture with his hand that she not go. But why?

No chance to think about it as Hoekman had
her arm and now led her from the restaurant. He gathered their
coats at the door, but declined to turn over hers. “We are not
outdoors for long, the car is waiting.”

Outside, the chill cut her bare skin.
Hoekman’s grip tightened painfully on her arm.

“Ow, what—? Hans, what are you doing?” she
asked, now growing alarmed.

“Come along. Make no noise.” He took her
purse. “You do not need bag.”

There was such a dark menace in his voice
that she almost screamed. But there were two more gray-uniformed
men who fell in behind. Gabriela’s knees buckled as she almost
fainted with terror.

A truck pulled into the alley and then they
were pushing her into the back and shutting the doors. Hoekman
came in with her as the other two shut the door behind them and
the truck pulled away. There was a dim light in the interior and
some sort of radio equipment to one side with what looked like a
big bowl with wires coming out of it attached above. She didn’t
know what it was, but the machines and the electric apparatus
terrified her.