He was giving her a hard look. "Just another quiet evening at home for the famous German actress right after she sent a note saving the life of General Eisenhower.” When Eva didn't respond, he went on. "I came here to find out what else you know. I brought along the cavalry in case your friend the sniper came back here. He is a friend of yours, isn't he?"
"What cavalry?" Eva was confused. At the same time, she felt as if she had been sitting in a dark theater and the lights had suddenly come on. So then. She had her answer. Bruno Hess was no saboteur, sent to plant bombs and disrupt electrical supplies while spreading fear in the United States. He was an assassin. She remembered his cold eyes and thought, of course. How stupid of her not to realize sooner. Then again, Hess and even Berlin had worked to put her on the wrong road to understanding his mission. They would think now that Eva had betrayed them. Fleischmann had just said that General Eisenhower's life had been spared and that the would-be assassin might return to her house. She shuddered at the thought of Hess’s anger and was suddenly glad that she was surrounded by soldiers, even if they were Americans.
Had Eisenhower survived thanks to her? She still did not understand. She asked a question, slowly trying to feel her way without showing how little she knew.
"The general was not hurt?"
"The assassin got off a shot, but the son-of-a-bitch missed. Thank God. If Ike had been killed, here on our own soil, it would have been a tremendous blow to the war effort.” Fleischmann hesitated, as if weighing what he was about to say. "The only man injured was Captain Walker. I believe you know him?"
Eva's alarmed look said as much. "Was he shot?" It would be just like Ty to use himself as a shield and take a bullet intended for General Eisenhower.
"No, but he went after the assassin on his own and got a rifle butt in the face for his trouble. Frankly, he's lucky to be alive."
That was just like Ty, she thought, playing the hero. Eva absorbed that information as Fleischmann turned and gave orders to the soldiers waiting outside. Four men crowded into the hallway, boots thudding on the wooden floor, closing the door behind them. Eva could smell cold air and gun oil on them. They were young, but there was nothing soft or innocent in their faces. Not so different from German soldiers, then.
Fleischmann posted guards around the house, sending two men to the kitchen and leaving the other pair to guard the front door. He then disappeared into the back yard and made sure the soldiers there were well-hidden. If Hess returned, he would be walking into a trap. Eva had no way to warn him, but she wasn't all that concerned. From what she had seen of Hess, he would not be caught so easily.
Eva retreated to the drawing room as the soldiers took over her house. She said a silent prayer of relief that Fleischmann hadn't made an effort to search the house. The radio in the attic had nothing more than a sheet over it. The sheet kept the dust off, but it was not much in the way of camouflage.
Once his men were in position, Fleischmann found her in front of the fire. He went to the liquor cabinet and poured her a fresh schnapps, then a cognac for himself. Eva noted that he went for the expensive bottle. He tossed it down and poured another.
"Quite a night," he said. "Now we settle down and wait."
"Do you really think he'll come back here?" Eva asked.
"Your friend, the assassin? It's hard to say. How much help were you giving him?"
Eva put on a shocked expression. It must have worked, because Fleischmann visibly softened. She had not been an actress for nothing.
"I do not help assassins!"
"But you knew about him," the colonel said pointedly. "Otherwise you wouldn't have written that note."
What note? Eva wanted to shout the question at him. "I am glad it reached you in time."
Fleischmann sipped his cognac. "How did you know someone was planning to assassinate General Eisenhower?"
Eva wished she had known. It would have made it so much easier to lie. As it was now, she felt as if she was dancing in a minefield. "People sometimes come to me because I am German," she said. "They assume that I am loyal to Germany, although they choose to forget that I left everything behind — my life, the movies — because of what I saw Germany becoming. A man came to me for help, telling me what he was planning. I turned him away. And then I contacted you, Carl, because I was sure you would know what to do."
The answer seemed to satisfy Fleischmann, or maybe it was just the simple flattery she had paid him. However, she did not let her guard down. Fleischmann was no fool. He would have more questions later. But by then she hoped to know what had happened so that she could concoct a better story. "You did the right thing," was all he said.
"Your men are going to have a long night," Eva said, then stood. "I will go tell Petra to brew coffee and make them sandwiches."
Fleischmann just nodded, sipping his cognac and looking into the fire. Thinking. That could be dangerous to her. So Eva leaned down and nuzzled his ear. Whatever thought had clouded his face disappeared instantly. "That's a good idea, Eva. Let's get them coffeed up, and then maybe you and I can post our own guard upstairs."
She gave him a smile to show she thought that was a fine idea, then went down the hall to the kitchen. The two soldiers stood along the wall by the back door, rifle butts resting on the floor. She noticed that they watched Petra appreciatively as the girl bent to open a cabinet. The room smelled of perking coffee; Petra was already a step ahead of her. The soldiers came to attention when Eva entered the room. Petra was a cute girl they might ask out and get lucky with, like a stick of Juicy Fruit gum waiting to be unwrapped, but in their eyes Eva Von Stahl had the pale beauty of a goddess — they barely dared to look at her.
Petra straightened up when she realized Eva had come in. She eyed her mistress apprehensively. Eva thought the girl was simply nervous, so she tried to put Petra's mind at ease. "Good, you're making something for these men. Be sure to make them some sandwiches too. It may be a long night."
Petra nodded woodenly. What in the world was wrong with her? She kept casting anxious glances in Eva's direction. It was more than the soldiers. It was as if the girl was guilty of something —
The warning message. The realization washed over Eva like a wave. She had been convinced that Colonel Fleischmann was mistaken or possibly even playing some game with her. What warning note could he possibly be talking about? Now Eva understood. The girl had guessed what Bruno Hess was up to in Washington. Petra had been a step ahead of her there — assuming that the girl was right about Hess. Even so, no matter what Hess was up to, Petra had jeopardized everything. All that Eva had sacrificed and worked for was on the verge of turning to ash because of Petra’s meddling.
The girl was busy getting sandwich fixings together, a loaf of bread, jar of mayonnaise and pickles, mustard, a package of ham and another of cheese wrapped in brown butcher's paper. Petra rummaged through a drawer, looking for a utensil. Eva reached out and slammed the drawer shut on the girl's fingers. Petra cried out in pain and the soldiers started, alarmed.
"Just an accident," Eva reassured them. Petra took a step away from her, clutching her hurt fingers to her chest. Eva’s voice was heavy with exaggerated sweetness and concern, but the eyes that met Petra's frightened stare were sharp as daggers. "Are you all right, darling? I hope that doesn't interfere with any writing you plan to do later."
Hess raced along the city streets. He kept glancing in the rear view mirror, but to his relief no one seemed to be following him. There were just headlights from the usual traffic, light as it was. With an effort, he eased up on the accelerator. The last thing that he wanted right now was to be stopped for speeding or for running a red light. He forced himself to drive carefully and calmly. The smallest mistake could cost him everything.