Chapter 7: Never Look Away

"This arrived for you, Herr Oberst," Schneider announced, passing a large, sealed file to the colonel as the man stepped out of his room.

"From Berlin," Landa noted with satisfaction. "And a good morning to you, major," he added as an afterthought. "Have Hermann ready the car. Goebbels arrives in three hours, and security needs to be perfect for the duration of his stay. We'll likely waste most of the day escorting him and reviewing security details." Goebbels was a bit of a pointless distraction in Landa's opinion, the leading Nazis' visit to Paris one that would detract from more useful work, but at least the man held a high opinion of him and wouldn't try to meddle in his affairs. Meddling would be downright intolerable, for Goebbels might have influence within the Reich, but the man lacked the intelligence or merit to deserve such a position.

"And what about the Jewish exodus supposedly slated for this evening?" Schneider asked.

"Send a detachment in advance," Landa ordered. "We'll be there in time."

"Jawohl. And sir?"

"Something else, major?"

"Del and the girl have gone out again. Shall I send the usual man to watch them?"

"I have no intentions of letting that sneaky woman out of my sights, major, especially with my daughter." The man left to attend to business while Landa opened his mail in the hallway, pulling free a short, typed letter: Hoffman Estate opened for investigation. Begins tomorrow. Photos from Elfriede Hoffman's private collection. Full packet of information will be delivered within the week.

Landa excitedly pulled a thin stack of photos from the envelope, flipping through them with a wickedly pleased expression. Like the devil collecting on someone's soul, he felt elated at having ferreted out someone's secrets for his exploitation. Here, in photo after photo, was a younger version of Adelgiese, her smile lighting up each scene as she posed with her sister in a garden and then at a party, their gowns lavish and amplifying already stunning figures. He was suddenly sorely tempted to call downstairs and have Adelgiese deliver breakfast to him, but time was short and preparations for one of the Reich's chief idiots many. It wouldn't do to have a black mark like 'successful assassination of Reich minister' on his record.

"You play the game well, my beautiful maid," he whispered, directing the comment toward the top photo in his hand, eyes fixed on the almost bashful expression that Adelgiese wore as an officer held her in position for a waltz. "Unfortunately, you're only an amateur compared to me." She was gifted considering how well she'd spoken last night—so well in fact, that he'd been genuinely impressed by how calmly and convincingly she could lie while looking into his eyes.

He smiled as he resealed the envelope with the photos inside, his plan to lock the incriminating evidence within his desk for now. He was tempted to confront Adelgiese as soon as possible, but then again, suspense was something that he appreciated, so maybe he'd merely leave these photos out where she would see them. No, that would ruin his advantage at this point, for he liked keeping her in uncertainty. It was more suspenseful that way.

**************

Adelgiese felt none of the colonel's dark intentions as she meandered through a street market, stands of fresh vegetables and shoppers all around her, and sunlight dancing across Brigitte's golden locks. This was their third outing in the week since Landa had agreed to her proposition, and she could already see the positive effects that venturing outside was having on her niece. Bubblier than usual, the girl held her hand and pulled her into the crowd, trying to act adult by suggesting which vegetables to buy and insisting on carrying a small bag. The child actually cut a rather comical figure as she used the handful of French that she knew at every opportunity, greeting everyone possible with a friendly 'Bonjour', and saying some things that made no sense whatsoever. Adelgiese wasn't sure why the tutor had taught Brigitte to say 'I like cherries', but she'd heard the comment at least ten times now.

"Del!" Brigitte exclaimed, looking at a stand of tomatoes. "Let's get these ones." Aware that speaking German drew certain disapproving eyes toward them, Adelgiese kept a protective proximity to the girl, her hand always hovering near the basket that she carried for groceries, for beneath the towel that lined the basket was a knife that she'd taken from the kitchen when Pierre wasn't looking. He would have an explosive fit of indignation if he ever found out, but compared to seeing an injured Brigitte and then having to explain that to Landa, she'd take the risk. Lord in Heaven above, she didn't even want to imagine being called to account by Landa.

"Wie viele?" Brigitte asked, still focused on the tomatoes.

"Zwei."

"Deux," she proudly told the seller in French, accepting the tomatoes and stuffing them into her bag as Adelgiese paid. Those vegetables certainly wouldn't be unblemished by the time that they got back to the house, but oh well.

"Are we going to the cafe soon?" Brigitte asked.

"Once we buy some fresh cream."

"Okay." So went the routine that was quickly establishing itself on these outings. First they shopped, and then they had a snack at Cafe Nouvelle Lune, a charming restaurant only a short walk away. Adelgiese couldn't afford to buy the most expensive desserts, but she could manage a few cookies, which was fine with Brigitte. The girl was used to being denied luxury since the destruction of her family, and in fact, she was far less demanding than she'd first been when she'd come into Adelgiese's care.

"The colonel says that he's going to buy me a new dress," Brigitte gushed, sounding pleased. The girl always did when Landa was involved, but despite her attachment to the man, she still insisted on calling him Oberst—a habit that she'd likely picked up from the SS men and staff. Adelgiese was rather pleased that her niece didn't call the man anything more familiar anyway, for she didn't think of Landa as the girl's real father, but more of a provider.

"He's really nice to me," the girl continued. "Isn't he nice to you too?"

"He smiles a lot," Adelgiese blankly answered.

"Yep," Brigitte agreed. "And he says you're very pretty. He says that you're one of the prettiest women he's ever met. Daddy always told mutti that she was pretty. I like when he calls you pretty. Hey, maybe he'll buy you a new dress too!" Adelgiese forced herself to return the girl's smile, her insides clenched in abject horror at the thought of Landa buying clothing for her. That went way over the line of professional distance that she tried to maintain between them, and she had a sinking feeling that if the man ever intruded beyond what she wanted to allow, he wouldn't retreat, especially if he sensed her discomfort.

"Brigitte," she cautioned. "Don't say anything to the colonel about buying me a new dress, okay?"

"Warum?" the girl asked, confused as they paused beneath a fruit cart's yellow awning.

"Because..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed someone in the bustling crowd, her eyes meeting the man's for a few seconds before he disappeared among the other shoppers. That man—the one with the black hair combed back into a ponytail and the small mustache—she'd seen him on their last trip, and he'd been watching them then as well.

"Del?" Brigitte asked, tugging on her guardian's skirt.

"Ein Moment," she distractedly answered, one hand grabbing the girl's while her eyes scanned the crowd. There, passing between a cart of potatoes and a balding man! She didn't miss how the man's head had been turned in her direction either, and her grip on Brigitte's hand tightened until the girl complained, but Adelgiese wasn't listening. Being watched by a stranger was unsettling, the man's gaze had been too straight and emotionless to impart a mere passing interest or goodwill. Where the hell had he gone?

"Brigitte," Adelgiese instructed, suddenly feeling exposed despite the wall of bodies and colorful produce surrounding her. "Don't let go of my hand, and keep very close to me." The girl looked up at her with wide eyes and nodded obediently, having been given careful instructions about what to do if someone bothered them.

"What's wrong, aunty?"

"Don't use that word," Adelgiese warily whispered. "This way." Where had the usual smattering of German troops gone? She suddenly realized that allies were nowhere in sight, and she wondered where they were or what had drawn them away, for she'd chosen this market specifically because of the Germans that frequented it with their girlfriends. Perhaps there had been an incident and they had been called to duty.

There! She caught sight of the strange man yet again, or maybe it had been someone else who looked similar, but whether the man posed a threat or not, she was going to find a street that made her feel more secure. As soon as she crossed paths with troops, she was telling them that Brigitte was Landa's daughter and asking for an escort home. The risk of doing otherwise was simply not worth the possible cost, and she reprimanded herself for not having noticed the sudden and conspicuous absence of the Wehrmacht sooner.

"Del, where are we going? The cafe is that way."

"We're going to find some nice German officers," she soothed. "And then we're going home." The girl didn't argue as they neared the edge of the market, the crowds thinning and affording Adelgiese a much better view of the street. She knew that there was an office up ahead where she could find allies and even use a public phone to call Landa for an escort, although the thought of doing so ground against her nerves. She could imagine his smug voice chiding her for being careless.

"Excuse me! Mademoiselle!" Adelgiese saw the young man approaching, a bundle of newspapers in his hands, and a smile spreading across his face beneath a blue cap. "Paper, ma'am?" he asked, coming closer.

"No, thank you," Adelgiese tersely answered, more concerned with maintaining her brisk pace than dealing with a boy hoping to make a few coins. She continued walking, not looking back but aware of the teenager following her.

"But mademoiselle," he argued. "I have German editions."

"Not interested," she replied, growing more irritated as his footsteps persisted. "I said no," she finally put her foot down, turning with baleful eyes only to see the papers extending toward her, the rolled stack landing against her abdomen, and the tip of something more dangerous that paper jabbing into her stomach. Her words fell away as her eyes shifted between the papers and the young man, whose face was decidedly less friendly now.

"That's a pistol," he cautioned her. "Quick. Into the alley. A car is waiting for us."

"Del?" Brigitte asked, voice soft and nervous as Adelgiese's palms sweated against the child's.

"Don't make a sound," she told the girl, pulling her closer as they entered an alley ahead of the young man. She heard the cocking of his pistol, and she saw the car ahead, waiting at the other end of this short, narrow passageway. Brick walls with cracking plaster closed in around her, killing any plans of escape while she stared at the man with the mustache, who was holding the car's backdoor open for her as they approached. The basket was still on her arm, and the knife still beneath the blanket, but these men had guns. They'd planned this ahead, and that car was waiting to receive hostages.

Or they might simply kill and mutilate us to send Landa a message.

Adelgiese's pulse began to race as she thought about climbing into that car, for once inside, she would be completely at the mercy of these men. She could not allow that door to shut with Brigitte or herself on the other side.

"Mademoiselle," the man with the mustache coldly greeted, pulling his jacket aside to reveal the gun strapped beneath his armpit.

"What is the meaning of this?" Adelgiese asked.

"Don't pretend to be stupid," the man frowned. "Get in the car and maybe you'll get out of this alive." Brigitte clung to her aunt's side, small hands now shaking as Adelgiese protectively stepped in front of the girl.

Don't get in that car.

"So this is the Jew Hunter's daughter. Such blue eyes..."

You're finished if you get in that car.

Adelgiese swung her basket before the man could finish speaking, releasing Brigitte's hand to use both of her own in her desperate assault. The basket smashed against the man's face, snapping his head sideways as her free hand fumbled beneath the blanket, fingers wrapping around a cold handle as her throat clenched in fear. Someone yelled, the yell morphing into a scream of pain as metal flashed in her hands, and then she was running, one of her hands fastened painfully around Brigitte's wrist.

Something slick coated her fingers. Blood? The thought sickened Adelgiese, and she refused to look down and find out as she continued to run, a gunshot firing, but the bullet's final destination unknown as she plowed ahead. The only sound was Brigitte's gasping breathes and the sound of blood rushing through her ears, the pounding of panicked hearts blocking out the shocked expressions of the people that they passed. Where there were two enemies, there were usually more. They had to find German troops before anyone else came, and what about the two men that they'd left behind? Were they following, aiming for another shot?

"Fraulein Hoffman!" someone yelled.

German. The speaker was definitely German, but this new man wasn't wearing a uniform for identification. "Fraulein. Stop, bitte! I've already called a car."

"You're SS?" Adelgiese demandingly asked, facing the man.

"Ja, Ja," he assured. "Bitte. I saw what happened. We should hurry incase..."

Crack.

"Schnell!" He ushered them behind a parked car while he drew his pistol, clearly unsure as to where the resounding shot had just come from as he frantically looked in every which direction. Adelgiese clutched Brigitte to her with one arm, her nerves clenching with each random shot that rang out as her back pressed against the car. For a moment, all sound lulled to a standstill, and a black car was approaching to unload several SS men in full uniform, their automatic weapons at the ready. Perhaps the threat had now passed.

Crack.

Crack.

"I'm not getting caught in crossfire," Adelgiese firmly stated, her wits returning to her as both German and French guns opened fire. Had a bullet just hit the car? The metallic ping echoed through her mind, and the people on the streets were certainly running to get indoors as quickly as possible.

"We'll end this quickly," the man beside her assured, peeking over the hood of the car. Adelgiese might have believed him if a sudden explosion of fire hadn't interrupted him, flames jumping across the stone street as some kind of homemade bomb struck the earth. These people had to be crazy going after the SS in broad daylight like this, but perhaps they really thought that capturing Brigitte would give them leverage. Or, she decided, maybe there are enough of them to kill this small detachment of men.

Another bomb rocked the car, glass from the breaking windows shattering around Adelgiese's head as shards fell across her shoulders. Another well aimed throw might set someone on fire, and so she hauled Brigitte from the ground, the sound of conflict chasing them from the scene as a guard called after her. He could say what he wanted, but Adelgiese knew that the car was more dangerous than taking to the endless streets while the enemy was tied up with the SS. Guns were pointed at the men in black, not civilians fleeing for their lives, and rising smoke from the bombs granted ample coverage from the enemy.

Enemy? Adelgiese found herself shocked that she'd used such a word, for she had never personally thought of the Free French as an enemy until this moment. Swallowing her thoughts, she ran and made Brigitte keep pace for what felt like eternity before they finally entered familiar surroundings. From here she knew how to get back to the house, and excluding the wide berth that people were giving them, she was comfortable with slowing to a fast walk on these open streets. The girl couldn't keep up with her running for much longer anyway, Brigitte's breathe coming in rapid gasps and her small chest heaving.

"We're almost there," Adelgiese reassured her. "Just a little further." She could see the house's roof from here. "Just a little further," she repeated to herself.

***************

Landa was pleased to have any meeting with Goebbels cut short, but when Schneider had whispered an urgent message in his ear, he'd found himself perturbed. Now he exited his car and stormed into his home, several SS men waiting for him, and Zissel looking agitated while offering a quick salute.

"Well?" Landa impatiently asked, arms spread wide.

"There was an attempt to kidnap Brigitte," Zissel stated. "Forty minutes ago."

"An attempt?" Landa mockingly repeated. "If it was only an attempt and the situation's been resolved, why was I not informed before leaving Herr Goebbels? You might have spared me some consternation, Private." Although, it would be amusing to see the Free French attempt to negotiate using his daughter, for they while they would dither with words, he would sneak up from behind and have their throats slit. Enemy: zero. Landa: another win.

"They're missing, sir," Zissel continued, trepidation dripping from his lips.

"You'll have to be more specific," Landa stated, voice dangerously level.

"Your daughter and the maid, sir. Men are looking for them as we speak."

"Splendid!" Landa offered with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Please tell me that the suspects were at least apprehended or killed, preferably the former."

"Apparently two men were shot and killed, Herr Oberst," Schneider spoke from behind the colonel. "Several others got away, and a man was captured alive, but he died before they could transport him."

"If I may speak, sir," another SS man nervously spoke up. "That was not our doing, sir. Someone had stabbed the man in the chest before we got to him. Sir," he finished and backed up, not wanting the colonel's heated attention on.

"Then there's nothing to do until we either find them or receive some ludicrous list of demands," Landa concluded, head shaking as if disappointed. "Major Schneider, get in the car. We're going to the crime scene. I want to see these bodies for myself before they're moved." He preferred seeing the carnage in situ, for it often offered him more information than a coroner's report. Perhaps he'd stop for lunch while he was out too, and in the meantime, these idiots had better locate his daughter. Had the maid perhaps planned something all along?

"And if child has been taken?" Schneider asked as they exited the house.

"We'll deal with it," came the quick response, but Landa's attention was quickly diverted to the two figures approaching the front doors in a state of complete disarray.

"Call off the search, Zissel," he ordered. "And get me a medic." His footsteps cut across the short distance between him and his daughter, eyes darting appreciatively toward the bloody knife in Adelgiese's hand. The blade was slick with red, as were the fingers that wrapped around the hilt, and he quickly examined the woman's face, seeing no revulsion, but at the same time, no distinct emotion by which to judge her reaction to the violence.

So she was the one that had stabbed her attacker, causing the man's death. Where had she even gotten the knife? It wasn't a knife meant to shed blood but to peel potatoes. Ah yes, the kitchen, meaning that she'd thought ahead as to her defense. He found himself drawn toward her calm but rigid features, her face still beautiful in the aftermath of bloodshed, and he decided that he could get lost in those blue eyes in search of her hidden capabilities.

"The knife, Fraulein," he demanded, extending a hand. Adelgiese looked at the bloody blade in her grasp, a brief flash of revulsion crossing her features before she set it in his open palm. "Major Schneider," he said, passing the weapon off. "Are you both unharmed?" He crouched to examine his daughter, having already concluded that the maid was fine despite her semi-dazed state. The girl was another issue entirely, for she was obviously still frightened, but when he reached out to smooth hair behind her ears, she leaned into his touch. She really was the closest thing that he'd ever seen to an angel.

"We're fine," Adelgiese stated, heaving a sigh of relief.

"And you, my dear?" he persisted in asking Brigitte, whose eyes were downcast. "Look at me." Her eyes rose, lips pressed together as tears threatened to overcome her, and she lowered the shopping bag that she'd been holding against her chest. Landa barely had time to register the red on the front of the girl's clothing before Adelgiese had dropped to her knees and pulled the child closer, eyes wide in fear. He was nearly knocked over by the woman's sudden movements.

"Did you get hit?" Adelgiese demanded.

"The medic, Zissel!" Landa ordered as he rose to his feet. He had enough practical knowledge to help the child until then, but he was no doctor. Turning back around, he found Adelgiese holding the girl tightly against her, face buried in the girl's hair as her shoulders shook with what he assumed were muffled sobs.

"Del," he cautioned, laying a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention. He didn't want to startle the distraught woman and make her do anything foolish. Shame really. He'd expected more from her after seeing the knife and catching her in his study. "You need to release the girl or you could worsen the situation. I need to see her wounds..." His voice trailed off as he realized that Adelgiese's shaking had nothing to do with tears. The woman was actually laughing.

"Herr Oberst," she sighed, pulling away from the girl with a strained smile. "The chef will be most unhappy with us." She ran a finger through the red on Brigitte's dress and then stuck the tip into her mouth, Landa finding himself fixated by the gesture. "You see," she weakly joked. "We've destroyed the tomatoes that he wanted for supper." Landa's lips twitched upward as he made a closer examination of the girl's clothing, which had been denied him due to Adelgiese's hasty movements.

"Tomatoes?" he asked, voice and eyebrows rising in amusement.

"Tomatoes," Adelgiese repeated, shaking her head in disbelief and fully releasing the child. Landa laughed while he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Brigitte's shoulders. The girl looked incredibly confused as he merrily chuckled, smiling down at her while Adelgiese stood.

"Am I in trouble?" Brigitte asked.

"Nein, nein," Landa said, laughter subsiding. "Come inside and we'll get you cleaned up. Both of you," he stressed, eyes roaming toward Adelgiese. She wasn't looking at him, but running hands through her brown hair instead, blue eyes distant once more. "Fraulein Hoffman...? Del."

"Ja?"

"Major Schneider is going to escort you inside and see that you get a bath and some new clothing. Unless you like having blood on your dress..." That got her attention, and he watched as Schneider led her away, her steps already regaining some of their surety as she moved. Even distracted by thought, she was graceful, and he now had quite the conundrum on his hands. The maid lied to him and had a connection to the Hoffman family, but he doubted that she was working with his enemies considering this recent turn of events. She'd stabbed a man for his daughter, acting selflessly to save the child of a hated man. Of course, that meant nothing concerning himself, but there were many possibilities here that entertained him as he turned the evidence this way and that with interest. He could hardly wait for his expected files to arrive.

****************

The bath water was warm, and Adelgiese allowed it to envelope her as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. Schneider had brought her here, to a bathroom with a decidedly masculine air, and she knew without a doubt that she was in Landa's personal chambers. She hadn't cleaned them before, but she knew for a fact that she wasn't in one of the other two bathrooms in the house. One was for servant use and in the basement, and the other was for more general use, upstairs and connecting two separate bedrooms. Perhaps Brigitte was using that one, which left the master suite's bathroom for her use.

She opened her eyes and stared at the blue robe hanging on the back of the door, her vision than drifting toward the small ledge above the sink where a bottle of cologne sat. Landa must be pleased with her having saved his daughter to be allowed into his private quarters, but she wasn't particularly happy about her role in said events. A quiet day would have been much better.

And cleaner. The blood from her fingers had been the first thing that she'd cleaned, her memory replaying the motions of the knife in her hand until she forced herself to stop. It wouldn't do to allow something that had been necessary to bother her, but nor did she like to think of herself as indifferent. Indifference concerning her limited capabilities to change what she disliked was one thing, but feeling cold when it came to being the direct source of someone's pain...? No, the thought didn't sit well with her at all, but there was nothing that she could do to change what had happened. She'd stabbed a man in self-defense, and that was that.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Fraulein Hoffman?"

"Ja?" she asked, sitting up in the bathtub at the sound of Landa's voice. "I'll be done in a moment."

"Please, take your time. It's the least that you deserve after what you've done, and I've never forced a woman to rush her domestic rituals. I'm the Jew Hunter, not the Bath Disrupter," he joked, and she could hear the laughter in his words. "Feel free to use my robe if you're concerned about your modesty when you've finished, but no one will be in my room. A dress is waiting for you on my bed, and I do hope that it's to your liking." She couldn't imagine what he'd chosen and gotten on such short notice.

"Danke, Herr Oberst," she called, feeling exposed merely by being naked as he spoke to her. Please, she frowned. As if he's a peeping tom looking through the keyhole. Stop being stupid.

"It is I who should thank you this time," Landa continued, voice mellow and magnetic. "Until you've finished, I bid you ado." She listened as he left, and taking his advice, she decided to sit in the tub until the water grew too cold for comfort. It was only then that she dried off, standing before the bathroom mirror as she squeezed her hair with a towel and looked at the toothbrush and scissors sitting along the sink. Her hair always looked so much darker when wet, appearing almost black as she ran fingers through it.

"I love your hair, sis."

"Be quiet. You wouldn't trade your blond hair for the world."

Adelgiese faintly smiled at the memory as she pulled her hair back, which revealed her bare shoulders and breasts to the mirror, her skin rising in goosebumps in the cool air. Her eyes unconsciously drifted to the callous marking of an iron cross on her left shoulder, the wound an X of raised scar tissue that was still discolored around the edges. She hated looking at the old wound, for it always conjured memories of running in terror—of scratching nails and flailing limbs, and the man who'd so cruelly lowered the hot metal onto her skin.

Enough.

She wrapped Landa's robe about her, not trusting that the room would be empty should she enter it unannounced, and opened the door to let steam drift into the bedroom. She knew that she had nothing to ashamed of, but she'd be damned if she showed Landa her goods or scar and gave him the wrong impression. Men, after all, were very similar when it came to naked women whether they were cunning and unusual like Landa or a shy country boy.

It smells good, she vaguely realized, sniffing the soft, blue fabric of the robe. Then she walked into the bedroom and saw the dress that had been selected for her. Damn that man to hell, but what was he thinking in selecting this for her? Heels with rhinestones and a cocktail dress to match? Adelgiese gritted her teeth as she quickly calculated whether the dress would cover her scar or not, for the only other option was walking about in a towel. She could imagine him smirking at that, but she was hardly amused that he was using this situation to dress her up, and she wouldn't put it past him to have intentionally done this for his entertainment either.

Perturbed as she was, she glanced around his room with its simple but elegant trappings, and then dropped the towel as she moved to get dressed. There was a lighter sitting on the nightstand beside his bed, and how fitting that it should bear an iron cross on its surface. Why couldn't the man have given her something comfortable to wear after a harrowing day? This dressing up seemed utterly inappropriate as well as inconsiderate, but there were small pleasures to be had in life. She grabbed the lighter and stuffed it into her bra, knowing that he would notice but be unable to find it.

There was a difference between cooperating and being a plaything—between keeping below suspicion and appearing pliable. She knew the difference, and so did he.


A longer chapter than usual. Hope that you all like it.