Authors: Michael Wallace
“Put the gun down
mademoiselle
, or
you die.”
He was French. She recognized the men now.
They were the two who had watched her go back with Colonel
Hoekman. She dropped the gun.
“You, by the bed,” the man said in French.
“Put your hands on your head.”
“I am a Gestapo agent,” Hoekman said. “Who
the hell are you?”
“Franc-garde. Nobody move.”
“Listen to me,” Hoekman said. “These two
intended to assassinate me. I am Gestapo. I have papers.”
“It’s a lie,” Gabriela said. “He’s a
saboteur. This older man is a German officer. He saw the saboteur
and came to arrest him.”
“Look at my uniform,” Hoekman said. “Gestapo,
you see it. And I’m bleeding. This whore shot me. My papers are in
my pocket. Come look at them, quickly. There may be others.”
“He’s a liar!”
But she could see the French secret service
men coming to a decision even as they dragged Gemeiner to his
feet. She was a girl, after all, and Gemeiner spoke no French; he
couldn’t corroborate her story.
“Are you badly injured,
monsieur
?”
the lead man asked Hoekman. “Shall I call for a doctor?”
“Not seriously. Give me the girl. I must take
her away at once for questioning.” He jabbed his finger at
Gemeiner. “Keep this one. I will send someone for him shortly. He
is highly dangerous. Do you understand me?”
“
Oui, monsieur.
”
Gemeiner broke free momentarily. He fumbled
with something. It wasn’t a weapon, it was something he was trying
to get to his mouth. He almost got it there but one of the
Franc-gardes seized his wrist and twisted. A small capsule dropped
to the floor. One of the men picked it up, handed it to Hoekman.
The colonel let out a nasty laugh, said
something in German. The older man looked stricken.
“Make sure he has no more cyanide pills.
Strip him naked, search him thoroughly. I want him alive and
unharmed. Then you will empty and secure the building. I will be
back shortly.”
Hoekman grabbed Gabriela’s arm, shoved her
toward the door, then spent a moment buttoning his jacket. He
fished out his own sidearm, which he showed to her before
pocketing it again.
“Don’t let him take me, for god’s sake,”
Gabriela said to the lead Franc-garde. “You know what they’ll do
to me. Don’t let them, I beg you.”
“I am sorry, there is nothing I can do.”
“Do not scream,” Hoekman said as he pushed
her from the room. “In the first place, the lounge is filled with
German officers. I doubt your fellow whores will come to your aid.
Second, if you scream, I will order Monsieur Leblanc killed, your
friend Christine, the old man and woman who rented you an
apartment. And your father.”
“I saw what you did to him, you bastard.”
“Yes, he is quiet now. Not so much trouble.
It is a much-needed improvement in his personality. But he can
still suffer and die. Is that what you wish?”
She made a direct path toward the exit. The
party continued its raucous ways. There was no sign of Christine
or Alfonse, thank god. If only she’d told her to run, flee for
Marseille.
The doorman asked about Gabriela’s coat, but
Hoekman shoved him out of the way. They pushed through the doors
and into the cold night air. Hoekman spotted his man, shouted
orders, and the young soldier left at a sprint, presumably for the
car. Hoekman glanced from side to side, looked behind him and even
up at the roof. He had one hand on Gabriela’s arm and the other in
his pocket.
A car squealed up to the curb. She thought at
first that it was Hoekman’s, but it didn’t have swastika flags and
the colonel yanked her back and pulled out his gun. A man jumped
out and ducked behind the hood with only his head and a submachine
gun visible, which he propped on the hood.
“Hand over the girl,” the man said.
She recognized him. It was the man from the
rail yard, what had Helmut called him? David Mayer, that was it.
He had a cap pulled over his head and a greatcoat. No insignia,
but he had a vaguely official air about him. A serious set to his
jaw.
It occurred to her that things had played out
almost as Helmut had thought they would. She had come out with a
man who was going to drive her away. Helmut had arranged for Mayer
to come and pretend to abduct her.
“I am a Gestapo agent. Who are you?”
“French police. Give her over at once or you
die.”
“No you are not, you are a Jew.” Hoekman
turned to Gabriela. “Your friends sent a Jew?”
The man with the gun let out a hiss. He might
have fooled Gemeiner, but not a man like Hoekman, who no doubt saw
Zionist conspiracies in his scrambled eggs every morning.
“I’m going to count to three and you’d better
let the girl go. I’ll kill you both, I don’t care, but you’re not
taking her.”
“And if I let her go, you’ll still kill me?”
“I don’t care about you. I won’t shoot you.
My orders are to take the girl.”
“What for? Who are you?”
“One. Two.”
“Very well,” Hoekman said. “Don’t shoot, I’ll
hand her over. Although what you all find so interesting about
this whore, I can’t tell. She’s not even that pretty and she wears
too much perfume, it’s sickening.” He snarled in her ear, “I’ll
find you anyway, you know that. All of you. You, your major
friend, von Cratz, the other girls at the restaurant, and now this
Jew.” He shoved her toward the car and took a step back.
“Shoot him,” she cried to Mayer. She ran
toward the car.
“Get in. Hurry.”
“Take him down, do it. Kill him, for god’s
sake!”
“Those aren’t my orders.”
“It’s not him, it’s not who you thought it
was. You have to shoot him. Please, listen to me.”
“Get in,
now!
”
She had no choice, so she opened the door and
scrambled into the car. Mayer sped away from the curb. She glanced
back at Colonel Hoekman. He was not waiting for his car, but
sprinting back into the Egyptienne. Where the Franc-garde held
Gemeiner.
Helmut’s friend was shortly to have a very
rough time of it.
#
“You should have killed him,” Gabriela said.
“Why didn’t you listen to me?”
“The boss told me to get you in the car but
leave the old man alone. I wasn’t, under any circumstances, to
harm him.”
“Old man? Are you blind?”
“Yes, that was strange.” David Mayer pulled
onto the Champs-Élysées.
It was almost empty of traffic at
this hour. She could see him fighting the urge to punch the
accelerator.
“So why didn’t you shoot him?”
“I didn’t get where I am by disobeying von
Cratz.”
“Except that time at the rail depot, when
he’d told you to stay inside and you were out among all those
Germans, what about that?”
“I had no choice, the shipment was sitting
there, it needed to be loaded. The Brits were about to bomb us to
hell. But this was a direct order. I thought it best to err on the
side of caution.”
“Yeah, well caution left that monster alive.
You know how many people Hoekman’s killed? I bet half of them were
Jews.”
He turned briefly with a flat expression.
“And how long would I last if I got worked up about every
Jew-killer I saw?”
“You’re not listening to me. Colonel Hoekman
is alive. He’s not coming after some random Jew, he’s coming after
you.”
“
Monsieur
von Cratz has arranged for that contingency.”
Mayer turned off the avenue onto a smaller
side street. He cut through a residential neighborhood, then back
onto one of the boulevards. She lost her bearings.
“Where are we going?”
“Gare de Lyon. I’ve got fake transit
documents and two train tickets for Geneva.”
“Geneva? Whatever for?”
“The war is over, for both of us. Von Cratz
has taken care of everything. We’ve got papers, we have money, and
we have foreign contacts. We can wait out the war in Switzerland,
or, if they get dragged into the war, fly to South America.” He
shrugged. “So you see why we can’t worry about one Gestapo agent.
That son of a bitch will get his punishment in the end, you can be
sure of it. Either the Americans, the Russians, or God himself.”
“You’re taking me out of the country?”
“Tonight.”
It was a tempting offer and she might have
taken it if not for her father. But there was also Helmut to
consider. He had to be warned.
“We can’t run away.”
“Yes, we can. And we will. I have my orders.”
“Listen to me for a second. Remember the old
man who was supposed to bring me out of the Egyptienne? Hoekman
took him prisoner. They’re torturing him right now. We have to
warn Helmut.”
“Von Cratz said—”
“The old man tried to kill himself with a
cyanide capsule. And now he’s going to get tortured and tell them
everything and you know what happens next? He tells them about
Helmut. Listen to me, this is no different than the rail depot.
We’ve got to think for ourselves.”
David Mayer pulled to the side of the road.
“He didn’t tell me what he was doing or where he was going, just
told me how to get you and how to safely get out of the country.
He wasn’t planning to see me again, so he didn’t even tell me how
to get him a message.”
“I don’t know either.” Her mind was racing.
She could figure this out. “He had to pick up a shipment, but he’s
not leaving the city until dawn. He’s probably gone there and is
waiting for daybreak. Where would he get a shipment?”
“What kind of shipment? Arriving by rail?”
“I don’t know. Couldn’t be too big, because
he was going to drive it out of the city himself. Something that
could fit in a small truck or the trunk of a car. And I think it
was already in Paris.”
“That doesn’t help. Could be anywhere.”
“A warehouse? An office?”
“There’s one warehouse I know about that’s
not attached to a rail depot, but there have to be fifty, sixty
men working there at all times. It’s not the place to pick up
secret shipments.” He was quiet for a moment. “Problem is, I don’t
come very often to Paris. I work mostly between Le Mans and
Orléans. Too many Gestapo in the city. Too many
milice
,
too many Franc-gardes
.
”
She had an idea. “Turn the car around.”
“I told you, it’s no good. I don’t know where
he is.”
“But I know someone who might.”
#
Gabriela pounded on the door to Alfonse’s
flat. There was no answer. She pounded harder. “Alfonse!”
The stress and pressure of the last several
hours was catching up to her. Had Alfonse and Christine been in
the lounge when Hoekman led her out? She couldn't remember. Had
the Gestapo already come to arrest them?
At last the door cracked. Alfonse peered past
the chain. “Oh, Gaby. It’s you. I wasn’t expecting you to spend
the night.”
“Can you let me in? We’ve got to talk.”
“The thing is, I’m, uhm, kind of busy at the
moment. You were gone with Helmut and then I heard you’d left the
lounge and. . .well, I didn’t know.”
There was enough light spilling through the
crack that she could see he wore the silk robe he preferred when
he played the sophisticated seducer. No doubt Christine was in the
bedroom in some state of undress.
“I don’t have time for this, Alfonse. Let me
in. Hurry up.”
“Who’s that man with you?”
“He works for Helmut.”
“I can’t right now. Why don’t you come back
in the morning. We can talk over coffee. By then I’ll be feeling
better. I’ve got this terrible headache.”
“Dammit, Alfonse, I know Christine’s in
there. There’s no need to pretend. Just open the door.”
“Please, don’t be jealous. You’ve been gone a
couple of days and she—well, I couldn’t resist. You know how I
get.”
“Jealous? Don’t be an ass.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Of course I’m not angry, just open the
goddamn door. I need your help. It’s an emergency.”
He shut the door and she thought he’d given
up arguing and locked her out, but then she heard him fumbling
with the chain and he opened up. He sighed and gave an exaggerated
wave of the arm to indicate that they enter.
“Thank you,” she said with a note of sarcasm.
“I’d hate to be any bother.”
“I let you in, didn’t I?” He looked at David
with a frown. “Wait, it’s the Jew? You brought Helmut’s Jew here?”
“So what?”
“I don’t hate Jews, I don’t care, really. But
if the Gestapo sees. . .”
“The Gestapo is on its way already.”
“What?”
Christine came into the hallway from further
back in the flat. She wore one of Alfonse’s heavy cotton
bathrobes. It hung open at the neck, showing most of her breasts.
She glanced from Gabriela to David Mayer, and the corners of her
mouth quirked.
“Glad to see you’re still alive, Gaby. You
keep playing with Colonel Hoekman, I’m surprised every time you
surface.”
“Never mind that,” Alfonse said. “What’s this
business about the Gestapo?”
“There was trouble at the
Egyptienne
. They arrested
Helmut’s friend. He’s under interrogation now. They’ll be hunting
down Helmut as soon as they get some information.”
“Oh, god.”
“And then they’re coming here.”
“But I don’t have anything to do with that.”
Alfonse sounded almost frantic.
“I knew it,” Christine said. “I knew Helmut
was involved in something. He was too pure to be believed. So what
is it? What’s his crime?”
“He’s an enemy of the Reich. Undermining the
war effort.”
“
Zut,
” Christine said.
“My god, he is?” Alfonse asked. “I should
have known. Always going on about helping people, it was all a
front. Why would they come for me? Someone’s got to tell Hoekman I
had nothing to do with this. My god, someone’s got to tell him.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Christine said. She put
a hand on his shoulder. “Paris is full of people who can vouch
that you’re not involved in anything but yourself.”