"He must be eliminated," Molasar said. "I cannot risk leaving my source of power here behind me while he is about."
"Then do it!" Cuza said. "Kill him like you killed the others!"
Molasar shook his head. "I am not yet strong enough to face one such as he—at least not outside these walls. I'm stronger in the keep. If there were some way to bring him here, I could deal with him. I could then see that he would never interfere with me—ever!"
"I have it!" The solution was suddenly clear in Cuza's brain, crystallizing even as he spoke. It was so simple. "We'll have him brought here."
Molasar's expression was dubious but interested. "By whom?"
"Major Kaempffer will be more than happy to do it!" Cuza heard himself laugh and was startled at the sound. But why not laugh? He could not suppress his glee at the idea of using an SS major to help rid the world of Nazism.
"Why should he want to do that?"
"Leave it to me!"
Cuza seated himself in the wheelchair and began rolling toward the door. His mind was working furiously. He would have to find the right way to bend the major to his way of thinking, to let Kaempffer reach the decision to bring Glenn over to the keep on his own. He wheeled himself out of the tower and into the courtyard.
"Guard! Guard!" he shouted. Sergeant Oster hurried over immediately, two other soldiers behind him. "Get the major!" he called, puffing with feigned exertion. "I must speak to him immediately!"
"I'll relay the message," the sergeant said, "but don't expect him to come running." The other two soldiers grinned at this.
"Tell him I've learned something important about the keep, something that must be acted upon tonight. Tomorrow may be too late!"
The sergeant looked at one of the privates and jerked his head toward the rear of the keep. "Move!" To the other, he gestured toward the wheelchair. "Let's see to it that Major Kaempffer doesn't have to walk too far to see what the professor has to say."
Cuza was wheeled as far across the courtyard as the rubble would allow, then left to wait. He sat quietly, composing what he would say. After many long minutes, Kaempffer appeared at the opening in the rear wall, his head bare. He was obviously annoyed.
"What do you have to tell me, Jew?" he called.
"It's of utmost importance, Major," Cuza replied, weakening his voice so Kaempffer would have to strain to hear. "And not for shouting."
As Major Kaempffer picked his way through the maze of fallen stone, his lips were moving, indubitably forming silent curses.
Cuza had not realized how much he would enjoy this little charade.
Kaempffer finally arrived at the wheelchair's side and waved the others away. "This had better be good, Jew. If you've brought me out here for nothing—"
"I believe I've discovered a new source of information about the keep," Cuza told him in a low, conspiratorial tone. "There's a stranger over at the inn. I met him today. He seems very interested in what is going on here—too interested. He questioned me very closely on it this morning."
"Why should that interest me?"
"Well, he made a few statements which struck me as odd. So odd that I looked into the forbidden books when I returned and found references there which backed up his statements."
"What statements?"
"They are unimportant in themselves. What is important is that they indicate that he knows more about the keep than he's telling. I think he may be connected in some way to the people who are paying for the keep's maintenance."
Cuza paused to let this settle in. He didn't want to overburden the major with information. After sufficient time, he added:
"If I were you, Major, I would ask the gentleman to stop in tomorrow for a chat. Maybe he would be good enough to tell us something."
Kaempffer sneered. "You aren't me, Jew! I do not waste my time asking dolts to visit—and I don't wait until morning!" He turned and gestured to Sergeant Oster. "Get four of my troopers down here on the double!" Then back to Cuza: "You'll come along with us to assure we arrest the right man."
Cuza hid his smile. It was all so simple—so hellishly simple.
"Another objection that my father has is that you're not a Jew," Magda said. The two of them were still seated amid the dying leaves, facing the keep. Dusk was deepening and the keep had all its lights on.
"He's right."
"What is your religion?"
"I have none."
"But you must have been born into one."
Glenn shrugged. "Perhaps. If so, I've long since forgotten it."
"How can you forget something like that?"
"Easy."
She was beginning to feel annoyed at his insistence on frustrating her curiosity.
"Do you believe in God, Glenn?"
He turned and flashed the smile that never failed to move her. "I believe in you... isn't that enough?"
Magda leaned against him. "Yes. I suppose it is."
What was she to do with this man who was so unlike her yet stirred her emotions so? He seemed well educated, even erudite, yet she could not imagine him ever opening a book. He exuded strength, yet with her he could be so gentle.
Glenn was a tangled mass of contradictions. Yet Magda felt she had found in him the man with whom she wanted to share her life. And the life she pictured with Glenn was nothing like anything she had ever imagined in the past. No cool lingering days of quiet scholarship in this future, but rather endless nights of tangled limbs and heated passion. If she were to have a life after the keep, she wanted it to be with Glenn.
She didn't understand how this man could affect her so. All she knew was how she felt ... and she desperately wanted to be with him. Always. To cling to him through the night and bear his children and see him smile at her the way he had a moment ago.
But he wasn't smiling now. He was staring at the keep. Something was tormenting him terribly, eating away at him from the inside. Magda wanted to share that pain, ease it if she could. But she was helpless until he opened up to her. Perhaps now was the time to try...
"Glenn," she said softly. "Why are you really here?"
Instead of answering, he pointed to the keep. "Something's happening."
Magda looked. In the light that poured from the main gate as it opened, six figures could be seen on the causeway, one of them in a wheelchair.
"Where could they be going with Papa?" she asked, tension tightening her throat.
"To the inn, most likely. It's the only thing within walking distance."
"They've come for me," Magda said. It was the only explanation that occurred to her.
"No, I doubt that. They wouldn't have brought your father along if they meant to drag you back to the keep. They have something else in mind."
Chewing her lower lip uneasily, Magda watched the knot of dark figures move along the causeway over the rising river of fog, flashlights illuminating their way. They were passing not twenty feet away when Magda whispered to Glenn.
"Let's stay hidden until we know what they're after."
"If they don't find you they may think you've run off ... and they may take their anger out on your father. If they decide to search for you, they'll find you—we're trapped between here and the edge of the gorge. Nowhere to go. Better to go out and meet them."
"And you?"
"I'll be here if you need me. But for now I think the less they see of me the better."
Reluctantly, Magda rose and pushed her way through the brush. The group had already passed by the time she reached the road. She watched them before speaking. There was something wrong here. She could not say what, but neither could she deny the feeling of danger that stole over her as she stood there on the side of the path. The SS major was there, and the troopers were SS, too; yet Papa appeared to be traveling with them willingly, even appeared to be making small talk. It must be all right.