Holcroft held his breath, his eyes on the bathroom door. He could hear water running; Erich could not hear him. And the operator understood English perfectly. «Wait a minute, miss. Let me get this straight. You didn’t talk with Dr. Kessler a few minutes ago?»
«No, monsieur.»
«Is there another operator on the switchboard?»
«No. There are very few calls during these hours.»
«And the desk clerk left at midnight?»
«Yes, I just told you.»
«And there’ve been no calls for Mr. Holcroft?»
Again the operator paused. When she spoke, she was hesitant, as if remembering. «I think there was, monsieur. Shortly after I came on duty. A woman called. I was instructed to give the call to the head clerk.»
«Thank you,» said Noel softly, hanging up.
The water in the bathroom stopped running. Kessler stepped out. He saw Holcroft’s hand on the telephone. The scholar’s eyes were no longer gentle.
«What the hell’s going on?» asked Noel. «You didn’t talk to the clerk. Or the switchboard. My mother called hours ago. You never told me. You lied.»
«You must not get upset, Noel.»
«You lied to me!» roared Holcroft, grabbing his jacket off the chair and going to the bed where he had thrown his raincoat—the raincoat with the gun in the pocket. «She called me, you son of a bitch!»
Kessler ran to the foyer and placed himself in front of the door. «She wasn’t where she said she would be! We are worried. We are trying to find her, protect her. Protect you! Von Tiebolt understands these things; he’s lived with them. Let him make the decisions.»
«Decisions? What goddamn decisions? He doesn’t make decisions for me! Neither do you! Get out of my way!»
Kessler did not move, so Noel grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him across the room.
Holcroft raced into the hallway, toward the staircase.
44
The gates of the estate parted; the official vehicle drove through. The policeman nodded to the guard and glanced warily through the window at the Doberman, straining on its leash, prepared to attack. He turned to Mrs. Holcroft.
«The guest house is four kilometers from the gate. We take the road that veers to the right, off the main drive.»
«I’ll take your word for it,» said Althene.
«I tell you because I’ve never been here before, madame. I trust I’ll find my way in the dark.»
«I’m sure you will.»
«I’m to leave you there and return to my official duties,» he said. «There’s no one at the guest house, but the front entrance, I’m told, will be open.»
«I see. Mr. Tennyson is waiting for me?»
The police officer seemed to hesitate. «He’ll be along shortly. He’ll drive you back, of course.»
«Of course. Tell me, do your orders come from Mr. Tennyson?»
«My present instructions, yes. Not the orders. They come from the first deputy, through the prefect of police.»
«The first deputy? The prefect? They’re friends of Mr. Tennyson’s?»
«I imagine so, madame. As I mentioned, Mr. Tennyson must be a very important man. Yes, I’d say they are friends.»
«But you’re not?»
The man laughed. «Me? Oh, no, madame. I only met the gentleman briefly. As I said to you, this is merely a municipal courtesy.»
«I see. Do you think you might extend a courtesy to me?» asked Althene, pointedly opening her purse. «On a confidential basis.»
«That would depend, madame…»
«It’s only a telephone call to a friend who may be worried about me. I forgot to call her from the railroad station.»
«Gladly,» said the officer. «As a friend of Mr. Tennyson, I assume you’re also an important visitor to Genève.»
«I’ll write out the number. A young lady will answer. Tell her exactly where you’ve taken me.»
The guest house was high ceilinged, with tapestries on the walls and French-provincial furniture. It belonged in the Loire Valley, an adjunct to a great château.
Althene sat in a large chair, the pistol belonging to Yakov Ben-Gadíz wedged between the pillow and the base of the arm. The police officer had left five minutes ago; she waited now for Johann von Tiebolt.
The almost overpowering temptation to shoot the instant Von Tiebolt walked through the door had to be controlled. If there were things she could learn, she had to learn them. If only on the possibility she could relay them to the Israeli, or to the girl. Somehow …
He had arrived; the low, vibrating sound of a car motor outside was proof. She had heard that powerful engine hours before as it came to a stop on a deserted stretch of highway above Lake Geneva. She had watched through the trees as the blond man killed. As he had killed ruthlessly hours later at Atterrisage Médoc. To bring about his death would be a privilege. She touched the handle of the gun, secure in her purpose.
The door opened, and the tall man with the shining blond hair and the sculptured features walked inside. He closed the door; his movements in the soft, indirect lighting were supple.
«Mrs. Holcroft, how good of you to come.»
«It was I who asked for the meeting. How good of you to arrange it. Your precautions were commendable.»
«You seemed to feel they were called for.»
«No automobile could have followed us from the station.»
«None did. We’re alone.»
«This is a pleasant house. My son would find it interesting. As an architect, he’d call it an example of something or other, and point out the various influences.»
«I’m sure he would; his mind works that way.»
«Yes,» said Althene, smiling. «He’ll be walking down a street and suddenly stop and stare up at a window or a cornice, seeing a detail others don’t see. He’s quite devoted to his work. I never knew where he got it from. I have no talents in that direction, and his late father was a banker.»
The blond man stood motionless. «Then both fathers were associated with money.»
«You know, then?» Althene asked.
«Of course. Heinrich Clausen’s son. I think we can stop lying to each other, Mrs. Holcroft.»
«I understood it was a lie on your part, Herr von Tiebolt. I wasn’t sure you knew it was one on mine.»
«To be frank, until this moment I didn’t. If your objective was to set a trap, I’m sorry to have spoiled it for you. But then, I’m sure you knew the risk.»
«Yes, I did.»
«Why did you take it? You must have considered the consequences.»
«I considered them. But I felt it was only fair to let you know the consequences of a previous action on my part. Knowing it, perhaps an accommodation can be reached between us.»
«Really? And what would this accommodation entail?»
«Abandoning Geneva. Dismantling Wolfsschanze.»
«Is that all?» The blond man smiled. «You’re mad.»
«Suppose I told you that I had written a very long letter detailing a lie I have lived with for over thirty years. A letter in which I identify the participants and their strategy by name and family and bank.»
«And destroyed your son in so doing.»
«He’d be the first to agree with what I did, if he knew.»
Von Tiebolt folded his arms. «You said, ‘Suppose I told you’ … about this letter of yours. Well, you’ve told me. And I’m afraid I’d have to say that you wrote about something you know nothing about. All the laws have been observed, and the pitifully few facts you claim to have would be called the ramblings of a crazy old woman who’s been the object of official surveillance for a very long time. But this is irrelevant. You never wrote such a letter.»