Chapter 10: In the Woodwork
Staring at the door wouldn't accomplish anything, but staring seemed a much better option than leaving her bedroom, and so Adelgiese stood there, face darkened with unpleasant thoughts, just staring. One would think that an entire night would have prepared her for this, but she doubted that an entire week could ready her for facing Landa should he ask unwanted questions.
Deflect them like always.
Lie through your teeth.
The problem was that the man seemed to be a walking lie detector, but even he had to be fallible. If she couldn't sound utterly convincing when discussing her scar, she could at least distract him and delay his prying—a tactic that would quickly wear off, but it was better than nothing. Maybe he wouldn't even broach the subject.
"Stop lying to yourself," she scoffed, moving to the bedroom window and looking down at the yard. What was Marlene doing with a blanket and a basket at this early hour? She watched with interest as the woman disappeared into the gardener's shed, the door shutting tightly behind her as the morning sun rose a little higher into the sky. When the Frenchwoman finally reappeared several minutes later, her once ladened arms were bare, making Adelgiese frown as she continued to stare at the shed. What time was it anyway? 6:30? She needed to get dressed and ready for the day lest her work load become doubled.
Choosing a dark blue blouse and a cream-colored skirt, she combed her hair out and slipped into her shoes, enjoying her privacy as she did so. Having a room in the house was actually quite nice given the room's beauty and comfort, but she would still take her old apartment over this luxury any day—not least of all due to the effect that this likely had on the staff. Since the medicine incident, Elle had been less vocal about her dislike of Germans, but on the whole, Adelgiese found that dwelling among the officers like a guest was not proving beneficial to her reputation. And on top of that, Landa could now keep a closer eye on her.
The wonderful complications of my life, and she exited her room, breathing in relief when she realized that the hallway beyond was empty. She almost expected Landa to be lurking around a corner, waiting to pounce, but she smiled when she realized how ridiculous she was being. The colonel been out late last night, which she knew for a fact since she'd stayed awake, just waiting for him return with Brigitte. How strange it had been to see him carrying her niece cradled in his arms, the girl wrapped in his jacket and sleeping. He'd looked so unassuming at that moment—as if he were a normal man and even a loving father simply keeping watch over his child. It had eased Adelgiese's fears that the party had negatively impacted her niece, and it'd even calmed her reservations concerning how Landa interacted with the girl when she wasn't present.
Too bad Landa wasn't just a normal man.
Moving to the kitchen to catch a quick breakfast, Adelgiese noticed the tray that was laid out on the counter with toast, butter, milk, and scrambled eggs. She glanced questioningly at Pierre, but received no explanation as she helped herself to a crescent, the flaky, buttery bread nearly melting in her mouth. Now this was a good way to start the day.
"Del," Marlene said, entering the kitchen in her usual, forcefully brisk manner. "The colonel wants his breakfast delivered. Now." And just like that, the crescent lost its joy.
"I need to start on the linen before the others wake up. Can't Elle take it?" she suggested.
"Landa specifically asked for you," Marlene intoned, finishing the conversation. It was on such orders that Adelgiese found herself with a tray balanced on her right shoulder, feet heading straight toward Landa's bedroom. He'd never ordered breakfast to be brought to his room before—sometimes to his study, yes, but the man didn't seem to put much emphasis on morning meals, as if a cup of coffee was enough to fuel him until lunch. She wondered if he was still in bed as she knocked on his door, her face adopting a neutral expression as she did so. This was far worse than standing in a basement to watch bullets being put through heads, and with that thought, she focused on preventing the tray that she carried from shaking in time with her nerves.
"Come in," Landa called, voice muffled by the door. Blue eyes hardening, Adelgiese stepped inside, finding the room vacant and the bed already made, but the bathroom door was half-way open, the sound of running water filtering through the opening. She heard something metallic tap against the sink. Perhaps he was shaving?
"Guten Morgen, Herr Oberst," she greeted, sounding friendly for the sake of appearances. "Where would you like your breakfast?"
"The desk beside my bed, bitte." Well, at least the man sounded as chipper and friendly as usual, but Adelgiese's suspicions would not be waylaid so easily. She walked around the king-size bed, tray sliding from her shoulder as she moved to set it down, but the desk was cluttered with papers, and she didn't want to annoy Landa by damaging his documents. She'd just slide them aside, and then...
Adelgiese's breath caught in her throat, and she would have dropped the tray were she not already resting it on the edge of the desk, her eyes fixed in horror on a large photo that sat atop the other documents. Elfriede. Father. Mother. Wolfgang. Heinrich. The familiar faces of her family members met her gaze one by one, each smiling countenance watching her from the photograph as if they could actually see her, their carefree expressions rattling her to the core. This vacation photo had once sat framed on the desk in her father's study, and he'd often joked about her eyes being closed in this picture, but he'd kept it anyway. That was her in the sundress—the girl with the grin cemented in place, daddy's favorite as suggested by the arm that he had around her shoulders.
Oh my God.
Adelgiese resisted the urge to pull away from the sight before her, the emotions that the photo evoked nearly suffocating her. Elfriede had said that the photo disappeared from father's desk immediately after the pronouncement of exile, but it hadn't been destroyed as Adelgiese had always assumed. Like the mail that he didn't want to keep, she'd always imagined her father throwing the photo into the fireplace with contempt, but no; he'd kept it all of those years, and she could hear the faint sound of a crack forming within her heart—a sound that rivaled the beating of her heart as she remembered where she was: Paris. Shaving. Landa. Not good.
Adelgiese lifted the photo with reluctant hands, one finger brushing across her father's face. How had Hans Landa gotten his hands on this? This wasn't even suppose to exist anymore, and to find it here...No, it was private, personal, something that an SD officer was never meant to touch with his inquiring hands. Damn it, but for Nazis to stick their hands down into the cracks of someone else's tragedy stank of desecration. What did Landa's cold eyes see when he looked at his picture?
Clink. And the sound of trickling water ceased.
"I hope that you didn't want jelly, sir," she loudly spoke, hiding the photo beneath the other documents, and sliding the tray to the desk's center. "I didn't bring any, but if you'd like, I can fetch some." The bastard had no doubt placed the photo there knowing that she'd see it. He could only be trying to unsettle and bait her—threaten and make her cower in fear of his knowledge—but she settled for lifting the fork meant for his eggs and buffing it with her apron.
"I'll do without the jelly," Landa stated, the bathroom door fully opening. Adelgiese turned and found him watching her expectantly, his gaze intent and powerful as he offered her a smile. He was only wearing grey slacks and a brown dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His blond hair was uncombed and messy, but his impeccable image was hardly tarnished as he strolled closer, the easy control of his casual movements undercut by the imposing nature of his presence.
"Guten Morgen," he belatedly greeted, and somehow Adelgiese's hand ended up in his, his lips brushing across her knuckles. "You're a lovely sight to wake up to, Fraulein Hoffman."
"Back to being formal?" she asked, retracting her hand and offering him a small smile. "Really, Oberst, I never know what mood you'll be in. Enjoy your breakfast, sir."
"Are you so anxious to leave my presence?" Landa asked in mock hurt. "Please, have a seat. I could do with some company besides that of my men. It's all business once I walk out of those doors." And it's not now? Adelgiese found herself staring the man down as he lifted a slice of toast and took a tentative bite, but holding his gaze was more difficult than ever.
"I'm afraid that I have other work to do, sir," she told him. "And I'm only a maid. I'd prefer not to be called a hussy behind my back merely because I dally in your room. Slander ought to at least be accurate." Her bluntness made him smile, and his delight seemed strangely genuine as he retrieved a chair from the other side of the room and set it near his own at the desk. Naturally, he also set her chair facing his so that she would have to look at him. "What could we possibly discuss, sir?" she stiffly asked.
"We have much to discuss, Fraulein," Landa darkly intoned. "Sit." He pointed at the chair, and Adelgiese did as instructed, but not without calmly crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap as if she hadn't a care in the world. All of her troubling thoughts seemed to vanish as she sat with him, their legs nearly touching, and the danger of the moment overriding her senses. He was too close for comfort, their proximity such that she could not direct her vision elsewhere, and she could even smell his aftershave, the minty scent wafting over her as his smile faded into a sterner expression.
Do your worst, Herr Oberst, and if his returned stare was any indication, he was delighted to meet her challenge.
"I take an interest in my staff, Del," Landa casually began. "You're my responsibility in many ways—your conduct, welfare, job performance, und so weiter—and if anything is unsatisfactory, I purge it from my life as I would anything else. I don't tolerate insubordination or undo difficulties from my men, so you can imagine how I am with household staff. And, I admit," he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he took a sip of milk. "I have my share of enemies, so I must be careful when it comes to those around me. I wouldn't want to be stabbed in the back."
"Are you dissatisfied with my work, Oberst?" Adelgiese asked.
"Not at all," he said, sounding surprised. "You've been an absolute delight. Your sister—now she was a bit grating at times, but you," he smiled, "you aren't a thing like her despite the familial resemblance. Why, from prior experience, I would guess that she'd be in hysterics by now, and you know how I feel about hysterical women. No, you're much more controlled, Del, and I feel that I've done you a great disservice by trying to compare you to your sister. Do forgive me for that."
That spark in his eyes. He was sickeningly thrilled to back her into a corner, the charming bastard. Palms sweaty, Adelgiese tilted her head to the side with a stony expression.
"And forgive me for being blunt," she replied, deciding that she wasn't going to play this game. "You obviously know who I am, Oberst. So are you going to put a bullet between my eyes or simply dismiss me?" His smile dropped immediately as he set his fork aside and gave her his undivided attention. There was a coldness to his expression that matched her own as he studied her solid countenance, and she couldn't deny that his focus made her acutely aware of her faults. He wasn't the only one who could remain calm while facing an opponent though, and if she was going to be punished for her deceit, she would at least leave this world with dignity and defiance.
"Very well, my dear," he allowed. "I was trying to be polite, but if the lady wants bluntness, that's what she'll get. What are you doing working as a maid in my household, Adelgiese? What is the daughter of a rich man doing as a maid in the first place?" Her eyes briefly landed on the gun sitting atop his desk, and she suspected that he'd intentionally left that there as well. "There's no need to be nervous," he stated, having seen the direction of her gaze. "I've no reason to harm you unless you give me a reason. Now, why aren't you in Berlin sipping cocktails with the elite instead of scrubbing their toilets?"
"And if I refuse to answer?" she sharply asked. Landa began to answer, but she dismissed his formulating words with a thin, forced smile. "No, I'm not that foolish, Herr Oberst. You're right; I'm Elfriede's sister, the one that was father's favorite until 1934. I'm surprised that you have such an interest in my past, sir. Whatever I was, I'm now nothing but a maid."
"Am I suppose to believe that when you've been lying to me this entire time?" Landa asked, eating his eggs as if they were discussing something of no importance. "Don't be so tense, Del," he told her, setting the fork aside and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "This is a formality and questions that need to be asked given our situation. If I thought that you'd try to kill me, we wouldn't be having such a pleasant time right now. I'm afraid that work usually requires me to be much less obliging, but please, continue. You were telling me about what happened between yourself and your father in 1934."
She tucked hair behind her ear and stared at his expectant face.
"More milk, sir?" she asked, raising the pitcher and holding it above his empty glass.
"Bitte." And she felt his eyes traveling down the length of her arm to her shoulder where the scar was. He seemed genuinely pleased as she set the pitcher aside, a sigh escaping her lips.
"I cannot help but be nervous, Oberst," she admitted. "I have not shared this story with anyone, and I fear losing my position on your staff." And fear you digging for more information if this doesn't satisfy you. "As you've noticed, I take a special interest in your daughter. She is my niece, and I don't wish to be forced to leave her side because of this mistake." Please believe it. It sounded convincing enough given that her words were grounded in truth.
"1934, Fraulein," Landa simply stated, sounding professional as he took a giant gulp of milk, but the action didn't fool Adelgiese's sharp eyes. She could see that he was hiding a smile by pressing the glass to his lips. Something was pleasing him, and she wondered if it was her discomfort or his ability to see through her attempts at delaying him. How much did he already know or suspect about her past? Any lie could be her downfall.
"I was engaged to an officer in the SA," she honestly stated. "It was my father's choice, not mine. I only accepted the man's proposal under pressure, and then I convinced myself that it might not be so bad. To be honest, I didn't know the man well, so it was easy to tell myself that my objections were groundless. I figured that I had enough time to grow acquainted with him, and enough time to escape the marriage if I wanted to, but one evening my fiance," and a note of disgust crept into her voice. "One day he came to a dinner party and bragged about a violent raid on civilians." She boldly met Landa's eyes and allowed him to see the disapproval in her expression, her voice emotionless.
"We were in my father's house and surrounded by his friends, but I didn't care," she continued. "I knew what raid my fiance was referring to, even if he thought that I was ignorant. So I got my message across in a simple gesture that even he could understand: I threw my engagement ring at his head. My father was so enraged when I proceeded to argue with him in front of the guests that he publicly disowned me until I 'saw fit to change my attitude'. That is why I'm a maid, sir. I have to support myself somehow, and it was hard enough on my own in the city without a child."
There. She's said it, and to his credit, Landa was attentive and charming enough to wordlessly encourage her to tell more of the story than she'd intended to.
"So you came to me," he concluded, face thoughtful. "But why hide your identity? I'm an expert at finding and identifying people. You must have had great confidence in your acting abilities, but even actors give away too much about themselves by the roles that they choose."
"I thought a maid beneath notice, sir."
"A woman of your beauty?" he teased. "Inconceivable."
"I'm no actress," she sighed, as if weary of the lies. "I merely wanted to provide for my niece and not draw attention to myself. You did have my sister killed, and I didn't think that you'd allow me to stay with the girl as a guest. It would be impractical to do so. A maid, however, is perfectly practical, and when she does her job well, someone who's always present but ignored. If I was wrong, sir, I offer my sincerest apologies, but my only motivation was to avoid trouble."
"You seem to invite trouble wherever you go, my dear," Landa mused, sitting back with a slight smile that almost conveyed fondness. What he was thinking behind those brown eyes of his was anyone's guess, and guess Adelgiese did as she faced him. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met before, and he almost looked boyish with his messy hair and faint smile, but his eyes were again shifting toward her shoulder, dispelling the relaxation that had nearly settled over them. Even if he accepted her latest apology and explanation, there seemed to be no cure for his curiosity except utter exposure of another's secrets. The unearthing of those secrets would undoubtedly cause stress and frustration, but not for him—not, that is, unless he couldn't learn what he wanted to know for once.
"Unbutton your blouse and show me your right shoulder," he suddenly ordered.
He doesn't trust you.
Adelgiese didn't move as he waited, torn between continuing to sound apologetic or smacking him as she was sorely tempted to do. He'd been playing with her this entire time, for he obviously knew more about her past if he was asking about that scar with such a serious face. Maybe he was only fishing for leads, waiting to see how she reacted to his request and what she would say about the scar. Brown met blue, and her hands wanted to move under his directing stare, but she kept them still, mouth dry as his knee brushed against hers.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Herr Oberst," Schneider's voice called through the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's urgent."
"Ein Moment." Adelgiese was still staring into his eyes when Landa rose and stood beside her shoulder, one of his hands brushing hair away from her neck to expose soft skin.
"You're making me uncomfortable, sir," she stated, raising her hand to grab his before he could reach for anything besides her hair. His skin was warm against hers as she tilted her head to show him a relaxed but shy face. "Will you allow me to stay, Herr Oberst? I'll continue to earn my keep, and I swear that I'll never hurt you or Brigitte." He bent, bringing his lips close to her ear as one of his fingers ran across her jawline.
"Of course you wouldn't," he said, his voice somehow feeling like a threat and caress at the same time. "We'll talk another time. Keep to your duties until then, and Adelgiese." She looked up to find his face unreadable. "If you ever betray my trust again, I might not be so kind." Then his hand was gone, and she was hurrying to collect the tray while he opened the door for Schneider. "What's so urgent?"
"Der Führer would like to attend the premier," Schneider answered, voice hushed as Adelgiese passed him. She glanced at Landa, who was watching her, and then went straight for the kitchen, having bought herself time once again. He wasn't sated; that she could see, but the colonel apparently didn't think of her as a threat either. He wouldn't execute or fire her, but now he had a threat in his arsenal, and she wondered how her interactions with him would continue now that he knew of her relationship to Brigitte.
"I'll handle it," Landa told Schneider, Adelgiese already out of hearing range. "But do me a favor, major. Call Scheller. Tell him to find an incident report involving the burning of an iron cross on a woman's shoulder. It will be listed as unsolved, the woman involved unnamed, and tell him to check political unrest files in Berlin first. He can skip Frankfurt for now, although I'm looking for information on the same woman. Tell him to get it done as soon as possible."
"Jawohl."
**************
Marlene and Elle kept to themselves as they walked down the street and then into a simple dish shop, porcelain finery displayed in the windows, and no customers present to disturb them. The man at the counter merely nodded in acknowledgment as they passed, and they left the merchandise behind as they entered the store's back room where boxes were stacked atop one another. Some even had a swastika burned into the wood, marking the dishes as ones to be shipped to German officials who were probably using them at state dinners. The thought made Marlene frown as the man awaiting her arrival looked up from where he sat on a rickety stool.
"You're finally here," he greeted. "Marlene. Elle."
"Jacob," Elle sweetly smiled, receiving a grin in return.
"We have to be careful when we go out," Marlene stated, ignoring the tender look that had passed between the two younger rebels. "There is a new maid in the house—a German. She's probably working for Zissel, and she's always nearby."
"They gave her David's room," Elle complained. "And she insists that it's not her doing."
"Maybe it isn't," Marlene harshly interjected. "Did she or did she not save the medicine that you foolishly dropped, Elle?" The younger woman shut her mouth, and Jacob laughed, his thick, brown hair hanging about his face and in desperate need of a haircut. He'd stopped grooming himself since going into hiding, but Marlene thought that the wilder look matched his mischievous face with its dimples and round nose.
"We can't spare much time," she continued. "What did you want to talk about?"
"The others want to take a shot at Landa. He and his men have already uncovered and executed more Jews in the city than all the other investigators combined, and he just got the Red Cap."
"No," Elle gasped, blond curls bouncing as her head jerked toward Jacob. "You can't be serious. What's happened to Plan Hell then?" Marlene didn't know what this 'Plan Hell' was, and she didn't care as she watched Elle and Jacob lock eyes. There were priorities that needed to be handled before Elle ran off and got herself involved or killed in more aggressive actions against the Nazis, and she wouldn't risk the young woman ruining their chances to save the charge that they'd been given.
"The plan's done for," Jacob said, sounding dejected. "Which is why Landa needs to be killed. He's too good at what he does to be ignored, and our best chance at catching him off guard is to attack him while he's at home."
"Out of the question," Marlene bluntly stated, cutting his argument short.
"Mama Marlene!" Elle pleaded. "We have a chance to help everyone."
"I know," she replied, green eyes stilling Elle's tongue. "I'm not against attempting to kill Landa. I will strangle the bastard myself if and when I get the chance, but no one is entering that house with murderous intentions until we get the boy to safety. If something happens to us, he'll die, and I won't let that happen after everything we've risked to keep him safe."
"You're right," Elle grudgingly conceded. "But where can we send him that's safe? And how?"
"I might be able to help arrange something," Jacob offered, standing from the stool. "But it will take time, and Landa caught the last group that tried leaving the city. He has everyone too scared to breath let alone move. I'm not sure..." He shook his head and fixed Marlene with a stern stare. "You're certain that you won't help us unless the boy is safe?"
"That's what I said, and I won't change my mind."
"I see," Jacob frowned. "If that's how it must be, do everything that you can to get the boy to safety or at least moved to another house. I can't keep telling everyone to wait for my signal when their families and friends are dying." We've all had our losses, Marlene mused, wondering if she was being selfish. It was a foolish question really, for of course she was being selfish, but she refused to risk the last life of the only family she'd ever known. It was a selfishness that she felt entitled to as Jacob moved aside a crate to reveal a trapdoor.
"Until then, ladies," he said in departure. "Elle." He blew her a kiss, and then he was gone, Marlene hiding his makeshift home by replacing crates atop the trapdoor, and then she turned to Elle, who looked decidedly malcontent.
"Let's go home," Marlene said, leading the way back toward the streets.
"It doesn't feel like home anymore," the younger woman whispered from behind, and Marlene silently agreed. It didn't feel like home, but that was a blessing, for she didn't want to feel any connection or guilt when the time came to desecrate those familiar rooms by painting them with blood.
***************
Something was going on, and Adelgiese intended to find out while Marlene and Elle were out of the house. Old Guy had the day off, and Pierre was busy, so if she went around the house the long way...
She approached the gardener's shed quickly, making herself discreet as she slipped inside and shut the door behind her. The small building smelled of dampness and grease, tools hanging from the wall, and empty flower pots stacked in neat rows. There were also several boxes—large, old things with faded lettering on the side. It was difficult to tell, but she was certain that the smallest one, which sat atop the other two, said candles. An assortment of flower bulbs were stored inside of it, the knotty, brown masses nearly bursting from beneath the lid.
Nothing looked suspicious, and Adelgiese was about to leave when she heard the cough, the sound muted but audible. Her eyes trained on one of the lower boxes as the sound repeated, followed by a strained silence that left her unnerved as she moved smaller boxes aside to expose one of the largest ones. Hands gripped the edges of the a wooden lid as another cough sounded, this one more strangled and followed by the distinct sound of a sniffing nose.
Please let me be wrong.
The lid rose, but only by a fraction—only enough that she saw the fearful, narrow face and the tearful, panicked eyes set above a small mouth open and gasping for air. The boy's skin was so pale, and Adelgiese wondered how long he'd been hiding here, his body seemingly petrified as he remained in his cramped position. It had to be horribly uncomfortable, and in his pitiful state, he clutched a blanket to his chest as if it could protect him from her.
"Mein Gott," Adelgiese breathed, replacing the lid and leaning against the box, the boy beginning to cry from inside. He sounded as unwell as he looked, and Adelgiese cursed her curiosity for bringing her into this shed. It would have been better to know nothing of this child.
"Your secret is safe," she spoke in French. "I will tell no one." The others crates returned to their original positions, and she left the shed, eyes distant as she entered the house. One boy had survived his family's massacre, but how he had escaped Landa's detection was a mystery. Surely the shed had been searched, and the hiding spot was fairly obvious, so how was the boy still there? More importantly, how much longer could one person remain hidden so close to the Jew Hunter?