Hess closed the distance between them in two short steps. Wide-eyed, the landlady made a frightened sound and tried to retreat, but Hess had already caught her. He grabbed her from behind in a chokehold. She was heavier and stronger than she looked but Hess turned her weight against her as she struggled in his grip. He used one hip as a fulcrum to lift her feet off the floor. Choking now, she tried to claw at his face but Hess moved his head out of reach. The crook of his elbow acted like a hangman’s noose, strangling the landlady. Her body bucked and struggled against him and Hess staggered backwards. She was taking a long time to die. He worried that someone might hear — to his own ears it sounded as if he were strangling an elephant. Hess got the heel of his free hand under his chin, then shoved up and twisted at the same time. He felt something crack in her neck and the sudden dead weight in her arms almost forced him off balance. Still holding her around the neck, Hess let the body slump to the floor almost gently. Hess was breathing heavily from the struggle — the old woman had put up more of a fight than he expected. He stopped to listen, regretting how much noise they had made during the brief struggle. Hess heard nothing in the house but the hiss and pop of the radiator somewhere on the second floor.
He returned his attention to the body. Mrs. Gilpatrick did not look peaceful in death. Her eyes bugged from her head and her face was purple, like a stormy sky or bruised fruit. Well, she had brought it on herself, Hess thought. The trouble now was what to do with the body.
The thought of spending a night or more with a body nearby did not bother him; Hess had seen so many dead in Russia that a corpse seemed almost like an old friend. However, he did not know how much longer he might have to wait before he got another chance at Eisenhower, so his main concern was to make sure that no one stumbled upon the body in the meantime.
He dragged her body back into his room — the old lady was heavy as a sack of potatoes — and managed to shove the corpse under his bed, where it was hidden by the blanket that draped over the mattress and nearly touched the floor. It was not a perfect hiding place, but it would do well enough. By the time anyone missed the landlady he would be either dead or fleeing for his life through the countryside beyond Washington.
Once the body was hidden, Hess dismissed any further thoughts of the old lady as easily as if he had snapped off a light. He locked the door, then retrieved the rifle from his hiding place. He gave it a quick inspection just to make certain no one had tampered with the weapon. The rifle felt as easy in his hands as a well-used tool. He worked the bolt action, inhaling the sharp scent of gun oil that was like perfume to his nose. Then Hess settled down behind the rifle.
He wondered about the visitor to his room. Hess mused that he did not have many acquaintances in Washington, so the girl the landlady had described must be Petra. Who else but Eva Von Stahl’s servant would bother to find out where he was staying and what he was about? Hess did not know if Petra was acting on her own or on behalf of her mistress. He told himself that it did not matter. They would know his purpose in the city soon enough. The whole world would know.
General Eisenhower would be in Washington for three more days. Hess was sure he would have a chance to kill him during that time.
Chapter 13
"Build a fire in the drawing room and see that you bring in enough wood for the night," Eva said.
Old Mr. Dorsey nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am.” He soon returned shortly with an armful of newly split oak and Eva watched as the old black man built a fire so skillfully that he might have conjured the flames in the hearth.
"That will be all for now," Eva said once he brought another load of wood. Alone, she paced in front of the fire.
She was surprised at how nervous she felt about seeing Ty Walker again for the first time in more than a year. She put on one outfit, and then another, before finally settling on a simple gown that showed off her shoulders. It was a bit cold in the house for that, so she had had Dorsey build the fire. She might simply have turned up the thermostat, but she could barely afford to heat the old house. Besides, Eva thought the roaring fire added a nice touch of romance. She sank into the aptly named loveseat she had asked Dorsey to pull close to the fireplace. Chairs would have made what she had planned awkward and a bearskin rug stretched before the fire would have been too forthright. As night fell, the flames cast flickering shadows around the old-fashioned room with its tall windows and high ceilings. She wanted something to drink to take the edge off her nerves, but decided to wait until Ty arrived.
When the doorbell finally rang, Eva practically jumped up. She strained to hear who it might be — the last person she wanted to see at the moment was Colonel Fleischman — and was rewarded with the sound of Petra and a young man laughing in the hallway. Definitely not the colonel, then. Nor Bruno Hess, for that matter. Neither man was likely to make anyone laugh.
The voices came down the hall. She looked up to see Ty Walker pause in the doorway, hat in hand. Petra hovered in the hallway just behind him. He did not say anything at first, but only smiled at the sight of Eva sitting beside the fire. Eva felt her heart race a bit. Ty was every bit as handsome as she remembered. He looked thinner and, as a result, his face had lost some of its boyishness. The white silk scarf she had sent him was draped carelessly around his neck and his long military overcoat was open as if Ty was oblivious to the January cold. The brass buttons of his uniform gleamed in the fire light.
"I hope you haven't been sitting in that chair since I left," he said.
Eva laughed. "This feels like the first time I have sat since then! Petra, take Lieutenant Walker's hat and coat."
"Captain Walker now," he reminded her, touching the silver bars on his collar.
"Of course.” Eva rose from the loveseat to meet him halfway across the room. She took his hands in both of hers and they kissed. As their lips touched, it seemed to Eva that the room had suddenly turned warm. You are acting like a schoolgirl, she admonished herself. "You will be a general before the war is over."
"Let's hope it's over sooner than that," Ty said. "The adventure of it all is starting to wear thin."
"Come sit by the fire," she said. Still holding his hand, she led him to one of the chairs. "Petra, bring something for Captain Walker to eat. I am sure he is hungry."
Ty turned to Petra. "Don't go to any trouble on my account," he said.
"Go," Eva said, and dismissed the girl with a little wave. Americans really had no idea how to treat servants, she thought. Once they were alone, she looked into his eyes and said, "I have missed you."
"Me too," he said. "What I mean is, I missed you."
"I thought you might have come back from London with some sweet young English girl on your arm. I hear that the girls there practically throw themselves at American officers."
Ty reddened. By his reaction, Eva guessed that he had not exactly been living the life of a monk. That was all right. She had not behaved like a nun. Eva found it charming that a captain in the United States Army could blush at the mention of girls.
"It's a long way from home," was all Ty said.
"What about your general?" Eva asked. "There are rumors about him and that English girl on his staff."
Ty seemed to hesitate, then shook his head. "It's none of my business. Anyway, Ike is home now to see his wife. That's all that matters, right?"
"And you have come to see me.” Eva smiled when she realized that Ty had not handed the silk scarf off to Petra but still wore it around his neck. "The scarf makes you look dashing, Captain Walker. Are you trying to seduce me?"