«I know.»
«Knowing it may not be enough. I’m afraid the decision will not be yours to make.»
«Whose, then? Yours?»
«I can’t leave Neuchâtel. It will be up to the man in London.»
«The terrorist? The killer who has only to hear the word ‘Nazi’ and he fires a gun?»
«He’ll be objective,» said Litvak, continuing up the staircase. «He won’t have other pressures on him. You’ll meet him at the apartment.»
«How will I get to Geneva? I—» Helden stopped.
«What?»
«I asked how I would get to Geneva. Are there trains?»
«There’s no time for trains. You’ll fly.»
«Fine. It will be quicker.»
«Much quicker.»
And far better, thought Helden. For the one thing she had not relayed to the doctor was Werner Gerhardt’s final warning. To her.
My child. Stay away from Geneva… Wolfsschanze has seen you.
«Who will take me?»
«There are pilots who fly the lakes at night,» said Litvak.
Althene was irritated, but she had agreed to the condition. The pilot had asked her a single question.
«Do you know by sight the people who are looking for you?»
She had replied that she did not.
«You may before the night is over.»
Which was why she was standing now beside a tree in the dark woods above the road in sight of the car. It was a sloping forest of pine that rose above the lakeside highway. She had been guided to her watch post by the pilot.
«If your son is there, I’ll send him to you,» he had said.
«Of course he’ll be there. Why wouldn’t he?»
«We’ll see.»
For a moment his doubts had disturbed her. «If he’s not, what then?»
«Then you’ll know who it is who’s looking for you.» He had started back toward the road.
«What about you?» she had called after him. «If my son isn’t there?»
«Me?» The pilot had laughed. «I’ve been through many such negotiations. If your son isn’t there, it will mean they are desperate to find you, won’t it? Without me, they can’t have you.»
She waited now by the tree, no more than forty yards away, the line of sight reasonably clear considering the profusion of limbs and branches. The car was off the side of the road, pointing north, its parking lights on. The pilot had told the man at the d’Accord to be there in one hour, not before, and to approach from the south, blinking his lights repeatedly within a quarter of a mile of the rendezvous.
«Can you hear me, madame?» The pilot stood by the car and spoke in a normal tone of voice.
«Yes.»
«Good. They’re coming. Lights are flashing on and off down the road. Stay where you are; watch and listen, but don’t show yourself. If your son steps out, say nothing until I send him to you.» The pilot paused. «If they force me to go with them, get to the landing on the west side of the lake, where we flew in. It’s called Atterrisage Médoc. I’ll reach you there… I don’t like this.»
«Why? What is it?»
«There are two men in the car. The one next to the driver holds up a weapon; he checks it, perhaps.»
«How would I get there?» asked Althene.
«There’s a second set of keys in a small magnet box under the hood.» The bearded man raised one hand to his mouth, speaking loudly above the roar of the approaching automobile. «On the right side. Be still!»
A long black car came to a stop ten yards in front of the pilot. A man on the passenger side got out, but it was not her son. He was stocky, wearing an overcoat with the lapels pulled up, a heavy muffler around his throat Large-framed dark glasses covered his eyes, giving him the appearance of a huge insect. He limped as he walked into the spill of the headlights.
The driver remained behind the wheel. Althene stared at him, hoping to recognize Noel. It was not he; she could not see the man’s face clearly, but the hair was blond.
«Mrs. Holcroft is in the car, I presume,» said the man with the dark glasses to the pilot. The language was English but the accent unmistakably German.
«Her son is in yours, then?» replied the pilot.
«Please ask Mrs. Holcroft to step out.»
«Please ask her son to do the same.»
«Don’t be difficult. We have a schedule to keep.»
«So do we. There’s only one other person in your automobile, monsieur. He doesn’t fit the description of her son.»
«We’ll take Mrs. Holcroft to him.»
«We’ll take him to Mrs. Holcroft.»
«Stop it!»
«Stop what, monsieur? I am paid, as I’m sure you are paid. We both do our jobs, do we not?»
«I’ve no time for you!» the German shouted, limping past the pilot, toward the car.
The pilot nodded. «May I suggest you find the time. For you won’t find Mrs. Holcroft.»
«Du Sauhund! Wo ist die Frau?»
«May I further suggest, monsieur, that you don’t call me names. I come from Châlons-sur-Marne. Twice you won there, and I was brought up with a certain distaste for your name-calling.»
«Where is the woman?»
«Where is the son?»
The German took his right hand from his overcoat pocket. He was holding a gun. «You’re not paid so much that it’s worth your life. Where is she?»
«And you, monsieur? Perhaps you’re paid too much to shoot me and not find out.»
The gunshot was deafening. Dirt exploded at the pilot’s feet. Althene gripped the tree in shock.
«Now, Frenchman, perhaps you see that payment is not so important to me as the woman. Where is she?»
«Les Boches!» said the pilot in disgust. «Give you a gun and you go mad. You never change. If you want the woman, you’ll produce the son and I will take him to her.»
«You’ll tell me where she is now!» The German raised his gun, leveling it at the pilot’s head. «Now!»
Althene could see the car door open. A gunshot exploded, then another. The pilot lunged to the dirt. The German screamed, his eyes bulging. «Johann? Johann!»
There was a third explosion. The German collapsed on the road; the pilot scrambled to his feet.
«He was going to kill you,» yelled the driver, his voice incredulous. «We knew he was sick, but not insane. What can I say?»
«He would have killed me?…» The pilot asked the question no less incredulously. «It doesn’t make sense!»
«Of course it didn’t,» said the blond man. «Your request made sense. First, help me pull him into the woods and remove his identification. Then come with me.»
«Who are you?»
«A friend of Holcroft’s.»
«I’d like to believe that.»
«You will.»
It was all Althene could do to hold her place. Her legs were weak, her throat was dry, and the ache in her eyes caused her to shut them repeatedly.
The blond man and the pilot dragged the body into the woods not twenty feet below her. The pilot’s instructions meant a great deal to her now. He had been right.
«Shall I take my car, monsieur?»
«No. Shut off the lights and come with me. Well pick it up in the morning.»
The pilot did as he was told, then hesitated. «I don’t like to leave it so near a corpse.»
«We will get it before daybreak. Have you your keys?»
«Yes.»
«Hurry!» said the blond man.
The pilot’s relief was in his silence; he made no further protest. In seconds, they had sped away.