“Darling, what if I told you that information might be very valuable to me,” Eva said. “I would reward the man who brought it to me. I would reward him very well.”
The way she said it, with that glimmer in her mesmerizing eyes, left Keller with little doubt as to what that reward might be. Which was why he was hurrying to Eva’s house instead of stopping at his usual diner for a lunchtime hamburger. A blizzard of forms and paperwork had arrived on his desk in the last few days. Keller had no doubt about what that meant. An Allied invasion of Europe. It had been talked about for some time, but the proof was in the paperwork. Eva would want to know. Her words echoed in his ears: I would reward the man who brought it to me. I would reward him very well.
Keller looked back over his shoulder, just to make sure he wasn’t being followed by one of his nosy co-workers. Whatever was going on now was very hush, hush. It wouldn’t do at all to make anyone suspicious.
Thinking about how pleased Eva would be, Keller smiled and quickened his pace.
When Eva woke that morning she was relieved to find that she was alone in bed. The sheets felt cold; Hess must have slipped out of bed hours ago. His pillow, however, still bore the indentation of his head. There was a faint, acrid smell that Hess had left behind. Something about it was familiar and Eva tried to place the smell … Kurt had smelled like that after coming home from hunting or else from military duty. It came to Eva at once. Gun oil.
She stretched lazily. Eva never had been a morning person. She preferred to go to bed after midnight and sleep past ten. Perfect hours for a movie star… or a spy, she thought.
“Petra!” When there was no answer, she called again impatiently. “Petra!”
The Polish girl hurried into the room, carrying a tray with coffee, buttered toast and the morning newspaper. As Eva propped herself up in bed, she found that she ached pleasantly all over. Hess was rougher than her usual lovers, such as that fusty old General Caulfield, who made a couple of thrusts and then rolled off her, spent and panting. Then again, the old general seemed to enjoy his pillow talk as much as the sex, sharing all sorts of departmental gossip. Hess had rolled over and gone to sleep, much to her disappointment.
Petra went to the heavy drapes covering the bedroom windows and opened them. The sunshine was better than a jolt of coffee. There was no warmth in the winter light; Eva was naked under the sheets and she was getting goose bumps on her bare shoulders. She pulled the coverlet up to her chin. The heat turned down to save money. Eva wondered what it would be like to live in a place where there was always sunshine and where it was warm. She sometimes tried to imagine what her life would be like if she had answered Hollywood’s call instead of Hitler’s. Just as quickly, she put the thought out of mind. She would never survive this dangerous game she was playing if she started daydreaming about California. Perhaps someday, after the war…
“Start a fire,” she ordered Petra in German. “There is such a chill this morning. I might not get out of bed until dinnertime. Or cocktail hour, at least.”
“Yes, Frau Von Stahl.”
“Is that man Hess still lurking about?”
“No, he left first thing this morning. He walked right out with one of your coffee mugs!”
Eva laughed. “If that is the worst that happens with Herr Hess in the house, Petra, we should count ourselves lucky.”
“I don’t like him, Frau Von Stahl. He frightens me. What is he doing here, anyhow?”
“That is none of your business, Petra. Stay out of his way. He will be gone soon enough. And be sure to tell no one that he was ever here, especially not one of your dirty-minded grocery boys.”
“Frau Von Stahl!”
“Come now, Petra. Do you think I am blind? You are a good-looking girl. You deserve a few admirers. Just let me give you a word of advice about men. When you invite them to dinner, set the table with your best linen, give them a few appetizers to nibble, but make them wait a long time before you get around to dessert.”
Blushing, Petra left the room. Eva laughed. She had to admit that she had a certain fondness for the girl. It was said that Polish girls were hard workers and good housekeepers, if a bit dull and stupid. Eva had to agree. And as long as Petra kept their household secrets to herself, they would get along just fine.
She sipped her coffee — black, no sugar — and took a ravenous bite of toast. She had half a mind to ask Petra to cook up eggs and bacon for breakfast. Her night with Hess had left her unusually hungry.
Eva skimmed the war news in the Washington Star. As usual, the headlines on the front page trumpeted the good news and the setbacks were relegated to one-column stories inside with headlines set in small type. For all their talk about freedom of speech, Eva had observed that the editors and publishers of the Washington papers were firmly in the government’s back pocket when it came to reporting the war.
The fire was warming the room nicely. In a few minutes she would get out of bed and dress for the day. Later, she was expecting General Caulfield again. She hoped the randy old goat would have something useful for her. Her radio broadcasts from the attic had been devoid of any real information lately. She suspected that Berlin hungered for more than news about the latest extramarital affair at the United States War Department. The drought of substantial news from any of her sources made Eva worry that something big was taking place. Everyone was being careful about what they said these days.
Eva hoped that when Ty Walker arrived in Washington that he might have something for her. As part of General Eisenhower’s staff, he would be aware of the Allies’ latest plans. She knew better than to expect Ty to share secret military information, but sometimes a stray nugget was more valuable than anyone knew. Reluctantly, Eva also admitted to herself that she enjoyed Ty’s company. He reminded her of Kurt.
Like her late husband, Ty Walker was earnest in his beliefs and possessed with a strong sense of duty. Like Kurt, Ty was kind — even tender — but not afraid to fight when required. In Kurt’s case, his family’s noble blood had flowed down the centuries from the knights of old. Ty did not come from nobility — though his family was respectable enough — but was simply possessed of that peculiar American need to do some good in the world. Ty had never come out and said it, but Eva knew he believed there wasn’t anyone more fair-minded or right than an American. It was a concept that Europeans like Eva found amusing, even naive. That naiveté led to a belief on Ty’s part that all people were basically good. She planned to take advantage of that trusting attitude once his guard was down. Then she would take Ty Walker into her bed and milk him dry in more ways than one.
Eva had just put aside the newspaper when Petra came back into the room.
“There is someone here to see you, Frau Von Stahl,” she said. “That strange little man.”
There was just one person Petra could have meant. “You must mean Mr. Keller,” Eva said. “Send him in.”
Petra glanced at her mistress in surprise. “But you are not even dressed!”
“You let me worry about what is proper,” Eva said, more sharply than she intended. “Now, go get Mr. Keller.”
Eva ran a hand through her hair, hoping it wasn’t too disheveled. She let the sheet slip down to reveal her milk-white shoulders. With a final consideration for Mr. Keller, she patted out the indentation Hess’s head had left on the other pillow and smoothed out the rumpled coverlet on that side of the bed.