Sheila said, "Anyway, the war went the wrong way, and the Nazi bubble burst. One day there was a knock on Ernst's door. He opened it, and there was his glamorous Gerda, starving, half-frozen, in rags. The hounds were on her trail. She'd been on the run for months. She could run no longer. All she wanted was a place to lie down and rest, she said. She didn't expect his forgiveness. He could do as he pleased, just so he let her rest in his warm room for a moment, and gave her something to eat, before he called the authorities. You can guess the rest. He hid her out and finally, somehow, got them both to America under assumed names. They've been here ever since."
Ernest Head looked up. "We have led good, useful lives here. We have done no harm. Is there no end? Is she never to be allowed to live down a mistake made in youth, fifteen, twenty years ago? Why can't you leave her in peace?" He hesitated. "At least tell me where she is. Tell me what is happening to her. Please."
I said, "Tell me what you think is happening to her."
"I think you are interrogating her somewhere, maybe abusing her. To make her talk."
"About what?" I asked. "About something that happened in a Nazi concentration camp fifteen or twenty years ago?
You have led good useful lives here, Mr. Head. So you said. You've done no harm. What would your wife have to talk about at this late date that would be of interest to anyone?"
There was a long silence. I made a slight sign to Sheila. She moved closer. Head was looking down at his hurt hand. I slipped a small case out of my pocket, which Sheila palmed. She went silently into lie bathroom.
"Well, Mr. Head?" I said.
"There was a telephone call," he said without raising his eyes. "Many months ago, almost a year. I saw Gerda's face change as she answered. The man at the other end knew everything. It was blackmail. She had to obey."
"What were the orders?"
"We often go camping in good weather. We were to drive south, into the desert, and camp there. And look for rocks.
I collect rocks. A jeep came and took Gerda away. She was gone for two days. Then she came back and we returned to Tucson."
"Did she say where she'd been?"
He shook his head. "But afterwards we bought the portable radio, and she would listen to the short-wave at certain times, and sometimes she would go out or people would come to the house, people I did not know."
I said, "Is it to be the Fourth Reich, Ernest? Here on the two American continents?" He didn't answer. I asked, "How did Gerda take it? Was she happy when she came back from the two-day trip? Excited? Expectant? Triumphant maybe?"
He looked up quickly and started to speak, but checked himself. "I told you," he said sullenly. "She was forced to cooperate. She could do nothing else."
"She could have called the American authorities."
"And revealed herself?" He shuddered. "You forget, she is on the list. They are still after her. They will never give up. They are not human. If they learned where she was living, they would come, like vultures out of the sky." He looked at me for a moment. "Perhaps you are the ones. The ones we have been fleeing all these years. If you are, I have only one thing to ask. Make it swift. Finish it. Don't drag it out any longer. It has gone on long enough."
"Sure," I said. "Now let me look at that hand." I bent over him and took the hand and examined it. "It'll take a doctor to set the finger. But we'll give you something to kill the pain."
I had the one hand. I clamped down on the other before he could snatch it away and nodded to Sheila, who'd come up behind him. He gasped a protest, but I held him steady while she slipped the hypo into his arm. Catherine Smith and her Man Friday had no monopoly on the technique or the equipment. It's practically standard among professionals these days. Ernest Head struggled very briefly; then he sighed and went to sleep. We arranged him comfortably on the bed.
"How much did you give him?" I asked.
"The max. Four hours," Sheila said.
"We'll get somebody in to take care of him," I said.
"Maybe they'll keep him at the ranch for a little, although they don't really like to use the place for that purpose.
Somebody'll have to find out about his kids and make arrangements before too many questions get asked." I frowned. "Where'd you put that?"
"It's on the dresser."
"Bring it along. These sawed-off.38s Washington keeps wishing off on us are too damn noisy." I drew a long breath. 'Well, let's go find the infamous Gerda Landwehr."
XVII
WE TOOK THE LITTLE Volkswagen because the station wagon was starting to act up again and I didn't want to wind up sitting by the roadside waiting for a mechanic. I had to run the bucket seat back to make room for my legs. Sheila got in beside me. I had a little trouble remembering where they'd hidden the reverse gear on this particular four-speed shift, but she volunteered no help. She remained silent as we drove away. When she spoke at last, her voice had a reproachful note.
"You knew?"
"That the Horst Wessel was beamed at Mrs. Head, not hubby? Let's say I guessed."
"How?"
"Head wasn't followed, remember? It was the first thing we checked. If they were trying to drive him into some betraying action, would they let him cruise around town unescorted?"
"And then," I said, "there was Catherine's exotic costume."
Sheila glanced at me quickly. "But she was obviously dressed to entertain a man, not a woman!"
"That's right," I said. "With emphasis on the obviously.
Why would she go to the trouble of getting all dressed up sexy for poor old Ernest, if he were the target? She had him scared silly, she didn't need to seduce him, too. A dog whip was all she needed for Ernest. But we were butting in; she could expect a call from one of us. And we'd followed Ernest, remember? Max was undoubtedly watching. He'd have reported that we'd attached ourselves to the wrong member of the Head menage. Well, if that's whom we thought important, Catherine wasn't about to disillusion us, so she dug out her best black nylons and negligee to make it look as if she, too, were interested in a man across the way, not a woman."
"It must have been a strain for her," Sheila said dryly.
"Acting as if she were interested in a man, I mean."
I said, "As long as she could keep us chasing after Ernest, she had Gerda for herself. That's the principle with which she started. I confused the issue a little by singing that pretty song with 'her-making myself look like a promising source of information right at hand-but once we got that misunderstanding straightened out, she returned to her original line."
"But you wouldn't tell me," Sheila said grimly. "You let me practically get heat exhaustion watching Ernest this morning, when you knew all the time-"
"It saved you the trouble of acting natural for Max's benefit," I said. "I figured he'd be checking up to see if we were taking the bait. And then I didn't know how sensitive your conscience might be."
"Conscience?" Sheila looked at me in surprise. "What's conscience got to do with it?"
I said, "You're slow this afternoon, Skinny. All that sun must have affected the brain. I threw Gerda to the blonde barracuda last night. Don't you remember? I looked her in the eye and practically told her she had one day to work on Gerda without interference. Now let's go see what kind of a job she's done."
Sheila started to speak but changed her mind. I aimed the Volkswagen towards Saguaro Heights.,I had a moment of worry as we approached the place. Everything depended on whether or not the construction workers quit at noon on Saturday. If they'd been there all day, we'd have to look elsewhere, and it would be hard to know where to start. Well, it wasn't essential that we locate the scene of the crime, but it would be tidier that way.