David Downing
The Red Eagles
He has fully become a man
who has in his heart no mother, father
who knows that he gets life
only as an extra to death
and, like something found, he will give it back
at any time, that’s why he keeps it safe,
who is not a god and not a priest
either to himself or anyone.
Prologue
Her contact stood with his back to the delicatessen window, in one hand the book with the green binding, in the other the spare pair of gloves. Though it was night, Amy could tell he had a rather nice face; there was a hint of innocence about it. As if by rote, she glanced up and down the street one more time, saw nothing, and then took the orange out of her bag and started walking toward him.
Amy was strangely nervous — she could tell from the way the sound of her heels on the sidewalk seemed to echo. He noticed her and the orange, looked surprised for an instant, then wary.
“Can you tell me the way to Grand Central Station?” she asked.
His face relaxed. “I’m going that way myself,” he said, as if it were an old joke.
“Harry’s sick and couldn’t make it,” she said, and it was at that moment that she saw, reflected in a window, a man staring at them. Her reaction was so quick she even startled herself. She took her companion’s arm and forced them both into motion with a suddenness that almost knocked him over.
“What…”
“We’re being watched. Don’t turn around,” she whispered.
They walked west toward Lexington Avenue, the clicking of her heels sounding louder than ever.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“Where are you staying?”
“The Pierre.”
“Stop and tie your shoelaces.”
As he did she looked back. The man was there, staring at a fire hydrant. “Damn,” she murmured to herself. She’d been so careful and still it hadn’t been careful enough.
They resumed walking, turning onto Lexington past a newsstand announcing the Allied attack on Monte Cassino.
“They must know something,” he said, but there was no panic in his voice, and for that she was grateful.
“If they knew anything, you wouldn’t still be on the street,” she said, as much to convince herself as him. “It’s just routine surveillance. I’ve got an idea. It’s risky, but there’s nothing else we can do. You’re a single man in New York. If they believe I’m a hooker…”
“But…”
“Can you think of anything better?”
He said nothing. She hailed a cab and watched through the rear window as their tail signaled a car that had been cruising along behind him.
Reaching the hotel, they crossed the lobby to the elevators. Amy was conscious of the stares she received from the men as she strutted by with an exaggerated sway of her hips. She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it for her intended audience.
He had a suite on the fifth floor. It was large and luxurious; the United States Government obviously was not economizing when it came to important scientists. “We’d better get undressed,” she said, kicking off her shoes and taking off her coat.
He looked at her as if she’d gone mad.
“They’ll check,” she said patiently. If they’re any good, they will, she added to herself.
She peeled off her precious nylons, unbuttoned her skirt and blouse. “I’ll get in bed,” she said, carrying her clothes through to the bedroom.
“Shall I?” he asked almost apologetically.
“They won’t check that thoroughly.”
A few moments later he came in and sat on the end of the bed, looking extremely ill at ease in his underpants. She smiled at him reassuringly, though she felt anything but assured. Excited perhaps. He did have a nice face, and his body, though thin, was well-proportioned. It was a long time since she’d made love with a complete stranger… but this wasn’t the time for thinking about it.
They sat silently, waiting for more than ten minutes. “No one’s coming,” he said at last, but before he could utter his next thought there was a firm rap on the outer door.
“Put the dressing gown on,” she said. “Take your time answering. Be annoyed.” She removed her brassiere, and he got a glimpse of small, perfectly formed breasts with large dark nipples.
She heard him open the door amid his angry protests.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fuchs,” a voice replied, “but we have to check the water in all the rooms. It won’t take but a second.”
She slipped out of bed and stood with her back to the window, completely naked. The door opened abruptly and the man walked in, stared at her for what seemed an eternity and then backed out muttering apologies. She could hear him still apologizing in the living room as the scientist resumed his protests. Then the outer door slammed, leaving silence.
She began to dress. He came back into the bedroom and did the same, neither of them speaking. Amy felt an almost incontrollable urge to laugh, but the young scientist’s face was pale, his mouth pursed in a grim line.
“Was it the same man?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“He didn’t even check the water.” He looked at her. “You weren’t in bed when he walked in on you.”
“I didn’t want him to look at my face,” she said coolly.
He looked at her with admiration. “Well, we fooled them!”
“It’s not over yet. Let me think a minute.”
He left her sitting on the bed, straightening her nylons. What was going to happen when she left? Would they check her out? They might be satisfied.
He returned a few minutes later with a small manila envelope. “That’s what Harry asked for,” he said.
She folded it in two and put it in her handbag. “Is there any reason why you shouldn’t have had it in your possession, innocently I mean?”
“No. We’re always scribbling things like that.”
“Good. If I’m arrested, tell them I stole it. Say you threw me out when you caught me looking through your wallet but you didn’t realize I’d taken anything.”
“Would they believe it?”
She shrugged. “It’s better than nothing. They need you presumably, so they’ll want to give you the benefit of the doubt. And tomorrow you’d better bring a real hooker up here.”
“But I…”
“You must. They can’t remember this night in particular. Believe me, it’s more fun than the electric chair.”
“You’re right.”
She grimaced. “Look, if they’re waiting to question me, they’ll be in the lobby. I don’t think they’ll approach me if you’re there, so why don’t you call a cab for me and then see me to it. I’ll take it from there.”
“I thought I threw you out.”
“You threw me out like a gentleman.”
He called down to reception, watched her applying her lipstick as he waited, a dark crimson shade that suited her shining black hair.
“What name should I know you by?” he asked.
“Rosa. But Harry should be back next time.”
They went down in the elevator and walked across the lobby as fast as they could without arousing suspicion. She saw the man out of the corner of her eye, pulling himself out of an armchair.
The taxi was waiting. “Times Square,” she told the driver as he pulled out onto Fifth Avenue. Looking back, she saw Fuchs walking back into the hotel and the man getting into a car that had pulled up for him.
Damn, damn, damn. For the first time she felt really frightened, and almost wished she’d brought the scientist with her — as long as she’d had him to worry about she hadn’t had time to worry about herself. She reached inside her bag, felt the butt of the small revolver, but it offered no comfort. There was no way she could lose the pursuit in a cab, and the moment it stopped he’d have her.