Yvette was standing on the other side of the bed, holding her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. I moved around the bed as she shook off whatever had scared her and kneeled.
"She got up too quickly and fainted, Monsieur. Je suis desolee." I think that meant she was sorry.
Then I saw why Yvette had screamed. Diana lay on her side on the floor. The robe she was wearing had fallen open. She was naked, her body covered in welts and bruises, the kind of marks a real sadist leaves. No blood, no cuts, just ugly black, blue, dark red, and grayish-green colors decorating her like a tattooed nightmare. Yvette grabbed one end of the robe and covered her, but not before I could see the large dark, bruises between her thighs and the red welts on her breasts.
"Je suis desolee," Yvette said again, this time to Diana as she patted her cheeks. "Je suis desolee." I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Diana came to suddenly, grabbed at her robe and pulled it tightly closed.
"I got up too quickly- "
"I know. Let me help you," I said, trying to make light of her state, as if she had merely been a bit dizzy.
She didn't say anything. Yvette and I each took an elbow and lifted her, seating her on the edge of the bed. Our eyes locked for an instant and a silent message passed between us. Diana didn't need to know that we had both seen.
"I will start the hot water running in the tub," Yvette said, now in command of her English once more. "Do not get up, I will help you into the bathroom in a minute." She went into the bathroom and I was left alone with Diana. I struggled to stay in control, to sound normal, to pretend I hadn't just seen the marks of a torturer's hands all over her. I didn't know what I was feeling. A numbness had settled in over my heart.
"I don't know what's wrong, but I have to stop this fainting," Diana said.
"You've been through a lot. You'll feel better after a few days of bed rest." I tried to sound chipper, like I knew what the hell I was talking about.
"You remember that you said you'd find them," Diana said, not really a question but a statement. I had to struggle to think about what it was she was talking about.
"You mean the other prisoners?"
"Yes. You promised."
"I'll start tomorrow," I said, "first we have to take care of something tonight. I'll come see you in the morning and then-"
"No," Diana said, clipping off the word with a firmness I didn't think she still had. "Go find them now. I don't need to see you. You must find them before he starts on someone else. Go."
She sat with her robe bunched up in two clenched fists, shielding her wounds from the world. And from me.
"Okay, I will," I told her.
Chapter Thirty-one
I took the stairs two at a time, my hand sliding along the brass banister as my heels smacked the marble stairs leading into the main lobby. I wanted to leave the hotel, to flee the vision of Diana's bruised body, to disappear into the desert and let the sun scorch my eyes and burn away what I'd seen and what I still imagined.
"Billy," Kaz said, coming toward me from the lobby. I halted at the landing, only a few steps left before the main floor and the open doors, escape beckoning to me with ocean breezes.
"What?" I said, with more irritation than I meant to. I couldn't look at Kaz, I couldn't trust my face to hide the effects of what I had seen and how it was tearing at me inside. Wiping sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, I leaned against the railing, my sight fixed on the sliver of blue sea visible through the double doors.
"General Eisenhower is here, and he wants to see you." Kaz leaned on the railing, and I felt his eyes on me.
"We've got things to do," I said.
"I know," said Kaz, "after we see the general." He put his hand on my arm, like a cop leading a suspect or a mother taking her kid to school. I wanted to shake off his grip and run, but it was Kaz, and I knew he meant well. I also knew I couldn't skip out on Uncle Ike, even as crazed as I was feeling. We walked through the lobby, into a wing of the hotel filled with busy clerks and WACs and admirals, lots of hustle and even more bustle as they organized the new home of Allied Forces Headquarters.
Kaz was about to knock on a door when it flew open and General Mark Clark strode out, all six feet plus of him brushing past us as two aides hurried to keep up. The door remained open, held by a woman in a khaki skirt and blouse that she somehow made look faintly glamorous.
"Hello, Kay," I said. "I heard the general wants to see us."
"Yes, Billy, he's been asking about you. And about Miss Seaton. He's very concerned."
Headquarters staff was like a big family. Everyone knew everyone else's business. And Kay Summersby was no exception. Kay was Uncle Ike's driver, occasional secretary, and constant companion. Kay had known Daphne, and was good friends with Kaz. So of course she'd heard about Diana, which meant so had Uncle Ike. I braced myself for their pity as Kay led us into the next room.
"William," Unkle Ike said, advancing on me with his right hand extended. His left clasped me on the shoulder. "How are you?"
"Fine, sir," was all I could manage.
"Lieutenant Kazimierz told me about your rescue of Miss Seaton. That was very brave, William."
"It was nothing compared to what she went through, sir." I regretted how that sounded as soon as it came out. I didn't want to make Uncle Ike feel guilty or add to his burden. I only wanted to get out of here and set things right.
"I know, I know, William. She took a tremendous risk, but it was necessary. We had to take every measure to ensure safe landings for our troops and to rally the French to our side."
"I didn't mean-"
"Don't worry, William, I'm growing a thick skin these days. Did you know Edward R. Murrow asked if we were fighting the Nazis in North Africa or sleeping with them? Jesus Christ on the mountain! The press is after me as if I were the devil himself." He reached for a cigarette but the crumpled pack was empty. He threw it away, his mouth twisted in frustration. Before he could say a word, Kay was opening a fresh pack and handing it to him.
"Thanks, Kay," he said. She smiled at him and went back to her seat. She had a way about her, with that faint Irish lilt in her voice and her dark, lively eyes. I could see she calmed the general down by her presence, handing him cigarettes, sitting with him, being someone who made no demands of him.
Uncle Ike drew deep on his cigarette, blowing out blue smoke that rode on a sigh into the air. "I was sick when I heard what Miss Seaton endured, William, I want you to know that. That went beyond all bounds of civilized conduct. She will recover, won't she?"
"Yes-yes, I think so. The man who-"
"Yes, yes, William. You want him held accountable."
Uncle Ike's eyes held mine, and I wondered why he wanted to see me, what could be so important in the midst of everything else he was responsible for. I saw his eyes drift toward Kay, seated in a soft leather chair, her long legs crossed, the heel of her shoe dangling off her foot. Then he closed them, as if he couldn't bear the vision in his mind either. Maybe I was reading too much into it, maybe I was thinking about myself, but I sensed loss and regret and longing in those averted eyes.