B004U2USMY EBOK (19 page)

“Except for a pair of tits and a nice wet
spot between the legs.”

“Exactly.”

Christine looked thoughtful, and Gabriela
could see her working everything out. Why Gabriela took the job at
the restaurant, why she’d questioned the hostesses about the
officers who’d come to the restaurant, why she’d eventually
decided to take a job as a hostess herself. Reevaluating
everything that had ever happened between them, just as Gabriela
had reevaluated their initial meeting in the
marché aux puces.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Christine
asked.

“You can’t just open your mouth and blurt
these things out, not these days.”

“Yes, but I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t know that, I just knew that. .
.well, that day in the flea markets.”

“You mean because I got you the job at Le Coq
Rouge,” Christine said. “You thought I was just another hustler,
trying to pimp you out for some favor with Leblanc.”

“Well, yes,” Gabriela admitted.

“Let me tell you something. I know what I’m
doing, I’m not an idiot. Just because I’m trying to make the most
of my situation doesn’t mean I never think about how things might
be different. If this war hadn’t come, if I hadn’t gone into the
One-Two-Two Club the first time. The thing is, you can either
starve with dignity or you can forget about what’s good and proper
and whether a girl should feel certain things or not. You can
either die or you can find a way to stay alive.”

Gabriela thought about how her body had
responded to Alfonse’s touch and how she knew it shouldn’t. There
was some truth in what Christine said.

“I saw you that day,” Christine said. “And
you looked so fresh and beautiful. So innocent.”

“Innocent. After everything I’ve seen?”

“You can be hit hard by the world and still
be innocent.”

“So what, you thought you’d save me?”

“Well, help you,” Christine said. “Yes.”

Gabriela let out a laugh that felt more than
a little bitter. “Isn’t that like Helmut’s plan, in reverse?
You’re going to rescue me, but not by saving me from prostitution,
but by pushing me into it.”

“We’re not prostitutes, and you know it. A
prostitute changes sex for money. Do you really think that’s all
we’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriela said.

They were silent for a moment as they
continued along the path, then Christine said, “So Hoekman wants
to trade sex for information about your father?”

“I’d make that trade, but the Gestapo doesn’t
play nice. They don’t make a trade one for one. They take what you
offer and they take something else, too.”

“You knew that already, but okay. What does
Hoekman want?”

“What does he
demand
, you mean?
There’s no wanting. He
demands
me to betray Alfonse.”

Christine stopped with a frown. “Really,
how?”

Gabriela described how Hoekman had hauled her
into the truck and made his demands, but left off the details
about searching for someone called “the private.”

“It’s easy to see how Alfonse would attract
Gestapo attention,” Christine said at last. “He spends too much,
he talks too loud. No way the army pays him enough for that kind
of lifestyle. He’s skimming the cream off the top and anyone can
see it.”

“You’ve just described anyone and everyone in
Paris who is living the good life. What makes Alfonse special?”

“Maybe nothing. He’s boastful and lives in a
big, flashy way. Like a general. Only maybe a general can get away
with that, but not a major. In fact, he might have just irritated
one of those generals, who thought he was living a little too. . .
loud,
I guess you could say. Maybe the general set the Gestapo hounds on
his trail.” Christine nodded, clearly liking her theory. “And
about this sex. Did you give in to Hoekman already?”

“No, not yet. I made him promise to bring me
something about my father, first.”

“That’s good. It’s your only tool, so don’t
give it up easily.”

“I won’t.”

“But when the time comes, spread ’em and
spread ’em eagerly, know what I mean? Moans, kisses, whatever the
bastard wants. In the mouth or up the arse, it doesn’t matter.
Give him the whole wheel of cheese and let him eat it. It’s just
sex and you can pretend he’s anyone and you’re anything. Just get
through it and live to fight another day. It’s just sex.”

“You said that already.”

“Tell yourself it’s just sex enough times and
you start to believe it.”

“That was my plan all along,” Gabriela said.
“Colonel Hoekman has been talking to Helmut, by the way. He told
Helmut my father is still alive. Why would he do that?”

“They are friends of a sort, aren’t they?”
Christine said. “They’ve come to the restaurant together more than
once. So Hoekman talked, that’s good. It corroborates the story.”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t like
Helmut, and I don’t think he likes me, but he doesn’t scare me
like the Gestapo. I asked him if he knew anything more about my
father, but of course he said he doesn’t. I need to convince him
to dig deeper.”

“So you
are
thinking of seducing
Helmut. Well, good for you, if you can pull it off.” Christine’s
voice abruptly changed. “Oh, my god, look at that. I knew it.”

They’d emerged from the woods to find
themselves in a clearing in an isolated part of the park. There
was a dry fountain, surrounded by benches. Dead, wet leaves lay
unswept and blown into piles. The isolated corner was a perfect
place for a meeting away from hostile attention. That’s just what
they found.

There were at least twenty young people
idling about the clearing. The teens slouched on benches, smoking
and playing cards. Umbrellas, thick-soled shoes, boys with long,
narrow ties, girls with bright red lipstick and sunglasses. Two
more arrived on bicycles from the path on the far side. A girl sat
on one boy’s lap and the two were kissing. The next bench over,
the scene played out with two kissing boys.

Gabriela and Christine stopped at the edge of
the clearing. A few faces glanced in their direction, then,
apparently deciding they were neither friend nor enemy, turned
back to what they were doing.

“I thought I was going blind,” Christine said
in a low voice, “but I was right.”

“Yeah, so what?” Gabriela said. “The secret
meeting of the International Order of Zazous? Lazy, shiftless
youth of the world unite? Come on, let’s go.”

“Look at those boys, kissing.”

“So what?” Gabriela asked. “They should just
be glad we’re not informers.”

“Look!”

Irritated, she paid the kissing boys more
attention. And stopped, shocked. “Oh, my god.”

“You see,” Christine said, triumphant. “You
see. He’s not dead, he got out. My god, somehow he got out.”

And how was that? Could that even be
possible? One of the kissing boys was Roger Leblanc, recently
arrested by the Gestapo.

Chapter Fifteen:

Colonel Hoekman’s office in the 16
^th
Arrondissement had an expansive view across the Seine toward the
Eiffel Tower and the big Nazi flag at its top. There was a breeze
today and the flag snapped arrogantly over the city. The first
thing Hoekman did when his lieutenant led Gabriela into the room
was draw the curtains.

There was a shelf by the window, but instead
of books or photos, it held three glass cages. In each cage was a
snake and a bowl of water.

The lieutenant gave Hoekman a
Heil Hitler
and
left her alone with the colonel.

“Sit please,” he said. He locked the door
behind him, then removed a bottle from the liquor cabinet. “You
want a drink?”

“No thank you, Hans.” Gabriela took a seat on
the couch.

“Drink, I insist.”

She fought the tremble in her hand as she
took the offered drink, took the tiniest sip possible, then set
the drink on the table. Hoekman sat down and put a warm, sweaty
hand on her leg.

“So, my dear. The thing you need to
understand about these things is they take time.”

“You’ve been practicing your French,”
Gabriela said.

“Two months ago, I speak none of it,” he
said. There was a hint of pride in his voice that Gabriela took
note of. “Only two months, not bad, right?”

“Very impressive.” It was true. His accent
was better, his vocabulary less searching. Who could learn a
language in two months?

“Every day I practice, I learn new words. I
have a tutor, he is best in France. The thing is, I cannot know
this country unless I speak its tongue.”

“What brought you to France?”

His mouth tightened. “To serve the Reich.”

The question was too direct. She could feel
him closing off. “You must be a very smart man, Hans, to learn so
quickly. Another month, maybe two and you’ll speak better than I
do.”

He rubbed at her leg. The hand left a streak
of sweat. “We shall see. Perhaps I will leave this country first.”
His hand went higher.

She stood up. “Do you have water? I’m just a
girl and this drink is too strong.”

“Yes, of course. In the bottle on the. . .
zut!
I know this word.”

“On the counter?”

“Yes, on the counter.”

She picked a larger glass, poured about half
the whiskey into it and then filled this larger glass with water.
She took another sip, remained standing.

The cages drew her attention. One of the
snakes—a big, dark, ugly thing—was crawling up the side of the
glass and nosing at the lid.

“You like my snakes, I see.”

“Are they poisonous?”

“No, but they are deadly all the same.” He
walked over to the cage. “This one, he is rat snake, from
Bulgaria. When he is not hungry he can be quite tame. When he is
hungry, which is most of the time, he is very aggressive.”

“Is he hungry?”

“Yes, I suppose. Let us find out.”

Hoekman slid open the cupboard below the
cages and removed a wooden box. Something was scratching around
inside. He pulled out a white mouse by the tail and held it upside
down while he worked with a latch on the snake cage. The mouse
didn’t seem to be in any discomfort, but twisted around, tried to
lift itself to see what held it captive.

Hoekman opened the lid opposite where the rat
snake was climbing the glass and with a practiced motion, flicked
the mouse into the cage. It landed on its feet and immediately
began nosing around in the sawdust. All at once it came to the
back end of the snake, draped across the bottom of the cage, and
froze.

The snake continued nosing at the lid but
suddenly grew still. Its tongue flicked out again and again and it
turned its head first to one side and then the other. It lowered
itself to the ground.

“It is a strange thing, do you not think?”
Hoekman asked. “The mouse is smart, it knows it is in danger. The
snake is very dumb. It smells something, but can not. . .how do
you say? Cannot
organize
itself for the hunt. But the
mouse is trapped. It searches for an escape that does not exist,
while the snake wanders. Eventually the head of the one meets the
head of the other.”

“Oh, please, take the mouse out. You can feed
the snake later.”

“It is not smart to insert a hand between a
snake and a mouse. Let us watch and learn. It is very
interesting.”

She didn’t want to watch, but neither could
she look away. The mouse edged around the corner of the cage,
while the snake nosed in seemingly random directions. The mouse
was coming inevitably around the front of the cage while the snake
doubled back on itself to head in the same direction.

“Watch! Now we see.”

The snake caught sight of the mouse. It drew
into a partial coil, its head perfectly still, except for its
tongue, always flicking. The mouse twitched its way forward,
closer and closer to the snake’s head.

The strike, when it came, was a blur. Nothing
could move that fast. And yet, the mouse moved even quicker. It
took a flying leap backwards, just as the snake’s open mouth
brushed its fur. The snake missed.

Gabriela’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a
scream. Her heart was pounding. It was just a mouse, it didn’t
matter.

“Yes!” Hoekman shouted. “Now we start again.
Now we see. Now it is game.”

The mouse had lost its caution in favor of
panic. It scrambled around the edges, tried to burrow in the
sawdust, only to find the glass floor, and then scampered across
the cage toward the other side. The snake had recoiled and waited.
And a moment later they came face-to-face for a second time.

The mouse tried to jump out of the way again,
but the snake moved too quickly. It grabbed the mouse and in an
instant, embraced it in its coils. The mouse’s head bulged out the
top; its back legs twitched and kicked.

“Oh,” Gabriela said. “That poor mouse.”

“This is strange,” Hoekman said, “but I
always feel guilty at this point. I ask myself, is it natural for
snake, which is low form of life, to eat mouse, which is higher
form? And yet, this is nature. One is strong, the other is weak.”

The struggle was over. The snake loosened its
coils. It nosed the mouse until it found the head, the eyes
staring glassily skyward. The snake opened its jaws wide. She
looked away.

“The snake is natural part of world, yes?” he
asked. “It is just following its nature.”

“I suppose so.”

“Without snakes and other animals to eat
them, mice would infest the earth. The earth would not be in a
natural state, it would be ill.” He looked at her, as if waiting
for her to come to some conclusion. She wasn’t getting it. “Isn’t
that what happens now in Europe? It is not in a natural state.”

Natural state? There’s a swastika flying
atop the Eiffel Tower, for god’s sake.