Author's note: We've been dancing around the Tiger Hunt episodes for quite some time already, but in this chapter we're really going to encroach upon it – including the literal use of some dialogue. So to give credit where credit is due: this whole Parisian adventure is based on the premise of the double HH episode A Tiger Hunt in Paris, written by Richard M. Powell. All guest characters present in the episodes (Backscheider, Müller, Sonntag, Marya and Tiger) are of course the property of Bing Crosby Productions and/or Mr. Ruddy. As are all the main and regular cast characters from the show appearing in this whole story.
Special thanks go to Goldleaf and Snooky, who helped me to untangle an incredibly messed up sentence in this chapter, and to Hildegaarde, who just contacted me to correct an idiomatic mistake!
And a warning for everyone: this may well be the longest chapter yet...
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"Who?" Maryse turned to steal a glance at the newcomers: a balding officer in Luftwaffe blue, wildly gesticulating, followed in his wake by an elderly oversized Luftwaffe soldier.
"I can't understand why the Gestapo would commandeer my staff car. With all my uniforms!" she heard the officer lament to his aide.
She turned back and raised her eyebrows in inquiry.
"It's Kommandant Klink. From Stalag 13. And Schultz," Karl whispered.
Maryse had to fight the urge to take another look, and instead took another piece of baguette from the basket. "Well, we should be alright," she observed as she calmly began to butter it. "You may not be in any major disguise, but it's certainly enough to fool acquaintances. And they've never met me, so..."
Karl breathed out. "Yes. You're right of course." He visibly relaxed and resumed their previous small talk.
But Maryse just focused on her breakfast and let him do most of the talking. True – she had something important to tell him herself. After all, it was only some thirty-five hours to the fateful Sunday evening, seven o'clock. But with the little sleep she had gotten last night, right now she simply didn't feel up to the inevitable debate that would follow the announcement. Better leave it till tonight therefore, with the added advantage that Karl wouldn't have to be somewhere at a certain time. Late as it was to tell him they were getting married anyway, a few more hours wouldn't make much difference.
It was about an hour later – 9.30 sharp – when there was a brisk knock on the door of Marya's souterrain apartment.
"Entrez!" she called, putting down her powder puff and standing in an appropriate pose to receive her visitor.
In came Colonel Backscheider, followed by his two minions Müller and Sonntag. The former gulped, the latter distended his eyes at the sight of the seductive dream before him.
And Backscheider removed his pince-nez glasses, took the outstretched hand and pressed a gallant kiss on it. "Guten Morgen, my dear. You look absolutely radiant this morning."
"I hope so." Marya winked at Sonntag, who immediately blushed all the way up to under his hat. She saw with satisfaction that the older Müller cast an astonished glance at his companion – the exchange certainly had not gone unnoticed. Good.
Meanwhile, she guided Backscheider in a rather provocative way over to the sofa and made him sit down. "Well then, did you bring your chart?"
"Of course." Backscheider snapped his fingers. "Müller."
"Sonntag."
Sonntag hurried forward with a large roll of paper, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness to please both his boss and the lady. Another wink from Marya made him turn scarlet, but unfortunately that's where the fun ended, for Backscheider sent both his aides outside.
"Now then." Backscheider rolled out his chart. "What do you say?"
Marya studied the chart in silence with half-closed eyes, but didn't make a reply.
"I have been thinking," Backscheider said after a while. "Remember you told me that someone was going to make a fool of me?"
Marya nodded, refusing to look up for fear that the laughter would show in her eyes.
"Well, I thought maybe it's this Durkin."
"Durkin?"
"The black market man. I told you about him yesterday."
"Ah! Yes, I remember," she purred. "The American deserter."
"Yes, that's right. Does it say anything about him in the stars?"
Marya spread out her hands. "My dear Colonel, the stars give indications of events. They don't spell out names."
"Yes. Of course." A pause. "Maybe I should just shoot this Durkin as a precaution then. I don't trust that man."
A graceful shrug. "Then you might as well shoot everybody. There is no telling who the culprit will be until he does it. Or she," she added pensively.
Backscheider sat up as if there were a spring inside him. "She? Is it a woman who is going to make a fool of me?"
Marya tilted her head. "I didn't say that. But considering the comparative division of the sexes, there is as much chance that it'll be a woman as that it'll be a man."
"But what do the stars say?"
Marya pointed out the intersection in question. "Merely that someone is going to make a fool of you sometime soon. No 'who', no 'when', no 'how'."
"Hm."
She patted his arm. "But do not worry, my dear Colonel. All in all, the stars are very favourable for you at this time of month."
"They are?"
"Oh yes. Whatever you undertake in the upcoming days will have a positive outcome. Especially..." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Especially business deals will turn out very favourable for you." Maybe that would make him focus on that Durkin instead of on the Tigerwoman.
And indeed – "They will?" A happy, but greedy look spread over the detestable man's face. "They will! Perhaps I should wait with shooting this Durkin then, shouldn't I? Thank you, my dear – thank you!" He took off his glasses again (odd habit) to press an ardent kiss on her hand. "I don't know what I would do without you. What do you say we meet again for lunch?"
Marya smiled her languid smile. "I will be flattered." And lose my appetite no doubt. But if it would keep the guy away from the Tigerwoman... "So where shall we meet?"
"There is a nice little café just around the corner from Gestapo Headquarters. 'East Bank', it's called, in the Rue Pascal. I will meet you there at twelve o'clock." He checked his watch. "But I have to go now. I have a meeting with this Durkin, and with your assurances, my dear, I'm quite looking forward to doing business with him!"
On that note he left, leaving Karl with some time to kill before his task could continue. But at least as long as Backscheider was busy with this Durkin, he'd leave the Tigerwoman in peace.
He sighed, and wondered what Maryse was up to...
After a little extra morning nap to make up for the near sleepless night, and a long luxurious bath in a real bath tub, Maryse realized she really needed to get something to eat now first. The hotel only served breakfast, but earlier this week she had seen a promising café just around the corner. That would probably be the closest.
So once she had dried her hair, she got dressed and went over to Café Le Mirage.
It was surprisingly busy there for this hour of the day, and all the tables outside were taken. But the man and the lady at one of the corner tables in the back were just getting up to leave, and Maryse was quick to take their place. An attentive garçon quickly cleared the table for her, and asked what she would like to drink.
"Un café au lait, s'il vous plaît," Maryse replied in her best school French. "Et vous avez quelque chose à manger?"
He quickly rattled off the available dishes, but when he saw she didn't quite follow him, he promised to bring her the menu.
It was nice sitting here in the sun, watching the world go by. If she'd have some company, it would be even nicer. Karl... How long was it going to take them to get that Tiger out?
The wait for the croque monsieur she'd ordered was considerable, especially with an already rumbling stomach. But just as she was about to take her first bite, a large shadow fell over the little table and a friendly voice inquired, "Excusez-moi, Mademoiselle. Is this place free?"
It was Sergeant Schultz.
"Oh! Yes. Sure." She smiled, and gestured invitingly to the empty chair. This could get interesting. She only knew Schultz from Karl's and Udo's stories about the prison camp. Going by those, she sure wouldn't object to getting to know the man personally.
"Danke." Schultz gently lowered his bulk on the rickety chair and imperiously snapped his fingers at the passing garçon. "Young man, I would like a bottle of your best red wine, and two glasses." He turned to his table companion. "If the fair lady would agree to join me for a glass?"
"Well..." Maryse began, but for Schultz, that was enough of an approval.
"Good. And what is that you have there? It looks delicious! I will have one of those, too," he told the waiter.
"Certainement, Monsieur," the waiter bowed and hurried back inside to pass on the order.
And Schultz focused his attention on the lady at his table again. "Forgive me if I am too forward, Fräulein, but did I not see you in the breakfast room at the hotel this morning? Hotel La Fontaine?"
Maryse smiled, and nodded.
Schultz beamed. "I thought so! Now what – if I may ask – is a pretty young lady like yourself doing in a hotel for German bachelor officers?"
She cast him a sharp glance at the insinuation, but one look at that kind-hearted face was enough for her to realize he didn't mean it that way. So she replied obligingly that she was there with her boy-friend who was on leave from the Wehrmacht. "But to be honest, it's not much of a leave. His superiors keep calling him to do things for them. All very hush-hush. We've been here for over a week now, and so far I've hardly seen him."
"Ah, those big shots! They take all the fun out of leaves, don't they," Schultz commiserated with her. "Mine, too. His staff car got stolen the moment we arrived here. And now he wants me to walk the streets of Paris to try and spot it!" He shook his head. "But if I walk down this street, then the car will drive up the next street, and when I walk up the next street, the car will drive down this street. Therefore, it is much better if I remain in one spot – that way I can't miss it."
Maryse couldn't help a chuckle. "True."
"And besides..." He leaned over to her a little and whispered, "Don't tell anyone, but I know who took it. And I'm sure they'll give it back once the Kommandant's leave is up and it's time to return to Stalag 13."
Maryse pricked up her ears. That sounded almost as if...!
But Schultz's ongoing prattle left her no chance to really focus on her own train of thought.
"Ach ja, our little Stalag 13... 'The toughest POW-camp in all of Germany', they call it. But if you ask me, it's more like the craziest POW-camp in all of Germany. The things that happen there! Only last month, for example. They kidnapped a general, stole his airplane, bombed a refinery with it, and then they made me jump out with a parachute!"
To that, only one question was suitable. Even if she could easily guess the answer. "Who did?"
"The prisoners of course! Oh, they're good boys otherwise, but they can be a bit naughty. Imagine – making me jump out of an airplane! With a parachute! I'm too old to jump out of airplanes! And too big to jump out of airplanes! Not to mention too heavy!"
"But if they were escaping, why didn't they take you along to England?"
"Oh, they weren't escaping. They come and they go, so to say. That's why I know the Kommandant's staff car will show up again. They're good boys – they're just borrowing it."
That clenched it: Colonel Hogan was in Paris. To help rescue the Tigerwoman no doubt. He must have conned the Kommandant into going to Paris the moment he heard the news from Maurice Dubois. That Tiger must be one formidable lady to merit such extreme action from the American colonel!
And if Colonel Hogan was here to take care of it...
"By the way," the big man next to her said. "My name is Schultz. Sergeant Hans Schultz. And you are...?"
"Take a card." Marya held out the fan of tarot cards to the young couple across the table.
Hesitantly, the petite young lady took one and turned it over. She peered at the picture. "What does that mean?"
"Ah! The Lovers!" Marya beamed at her. "Very good choice, ma chérie. Now you, Monsieur."
The guy with the build of a wrestler pulled out the Sun card.
Marya took the chosen cards from them and placed them in the center of the table. "'Love' and 'Happiness'. A very promising combination indeed. May I read your loveline?"
"Excuse us, Fräulein," came a sudden interruption from a white overcoat. "May we have a word with you?"
She waved him away. "In a moment. Just get in line."
"It's a rather pressing matter," the man insisted, and pulled over a chair from a nearby table.
"In a moment, I said!" Marya repeated with some irritation. "Can't you see that I'm busy?" Finally getting an unobscured look at the intrusive stranger who now sat down with them, Karl only just managed to suppress his surprise – it was Colonel Hogan! What the heck was he doing here?
But there was no time to contemplate on that now – action was required first. Karl felt more than he saw that someone else appeared at his left elbow, and across the table Marya still had her two customers to attend to. Two customers of whom especially the male looked rather annoyed at the interruption. And he had a right to.
So with eyes flashing, she lashed out at the intruder, "Are you deaf perhaps? I said I'd talk to you in a moment! Now go away – you're disrupting my business."
"But..."
"I said, go away! If you're willing to pay double the fee, I'll take your 'pressing matter' next. But these people were here first!"
"Alright, alright." Visibly annoyed, Colonel Hogan got up and he and his little friend moved to a table by the back wall.
Marya glared after them, with all kinds of urgent questions chasing each other in Karl's mind. What were they doing here? How had they found him, in disguise and all? Did they even know who they were talking to? And if not, should he reveal himself? No – better not. Not with all the public in the café around.
He forced his mind back to his two customers. Nonsense or not, they had paid for Marya's services, so they deserved his full attention.
Marya shook her head. "Some people just don't have any manners, do they."
The man agreed.
"So..." She spread her hands on the table. "Where were we? Love and happiness – yes."
She took her time telling their fortune – much more time than she usually spent on customers of this nature. It not only served to atone for the rude interruption, but also to show Colonel Hogan there were limits to him getting his own way.
When at last she bade the young couple farewell with all the best wishes for their future happiness, she picked up her tarot cards and idly started shuffling them with her eyes downcast.
Within a few seconds the chairs on either side of her were occupied: Colonel Hogan on her right, and on her left the little French cook from Stalag 13 – he didn't recall his name, but Schultz called him the Cockroach.
"Well," she said in a slow disapproving tone, looking from one to the other. "Didn't your mother teach you to wait for your turn?"
The Cockroach just stared at her with huge calf-eyes and a heavenly smile on his face – he seemed simply enthralled by any word that left her lips. But the Colonel sighed and gave in. "Okay, you're right – it wasn't very polite. But we really need to talk to you. That is – you are Backscheider's Russian astrologer Marya, aren't you?"
"White Russian, but yes." She eyed him speculatively. "And who might you be? Your features are not French. Nor German."
"I'm French," the small one put in, his hopes obviously running sky high.
But Colonel Hogan silenced him with a look. "I'm an American deserter. The name is Durkin."
So he was Durkin!?
Marya nodded slowly, while Karl was feverishly trying to put the pieces together. "So... what is this 'pressing matter' of yours?"
"I want to make a deal with you."
"What kind of a deal? Shall I show you what is to come?" She took his hand to study its lines, but he pulled it back.
"I want to make a business deal with you."
"Aha. And what about you?" She turned to the little French cook. "You are here to make a deal, too?"
The wide eyes with which the little man was drinking in Marya's features spoke volumes, and indeed, "I want to marry you."
Oh brother... But she granted him her most bewitching smile and placed her hand over his. And glanced back at Colonel Hogan alias Durkin. "I like his deal better." Draw him out – find out what this is all about...
"Now look!" The Colonel's voice was laced with frustration when he saw the lady he needed for his plans turn back to her undersized admirer.
"I adore you!" the lovesick Cockroach whispered, and he brought her hand to his lips for an ardent kiss.
"Fräulein, I..."
"It's Marya," she corrected the Colonel without taking her eyes off the little Frenchman.
"Marya, fine." Colonel Hogan sighed with impatient annoyance. He certainly wasn't used to being deliberately ignored, but he plodded on nonetheless. "Now look, we know you've got something going with this Backscheider from the Gestapo, and..."
"Yes. He has told me about you," Marya interrupted without breaking her passionate eye-lock with the Colonel's little aide. "Durkin, the black market man." She almost slurred the words. "He doesn't trust you though," she added matter-of-factly. "He wants to shoot you."
"I know."
Marya sent him a grave glance. "Good." And turned back to the little Frenchman who huskily declared, "Vous êtes la plus belle femme du monde!"
She tickled him under the chin. "And you are the cutest little man I have ever seen! May I read your loveline?"
"But of course!" He held out his hand to her, and Marya studied it with arch interest.
"A very strong line of romance. Very strong! Aha, you have been bad – very bad!"
"Marry me and I shall reform – I swear!" She believed him.
But Colonel Hogan was chomping at the bit by now. "Get married on your time, not mine. Are we going to talk business or not?"
"Unfortunate choice of friends," Marya continued unperturbed as if she were still reading the little Frenchman's hand.
"Yes or no?" Colonel Hogan demanded.
And finally, Marya graced him with her attention. "Well, my chart said to be very careful of business transactions today. Buy a little silverware, plant some petunias..."
"Meet someone short," the little Frenchman filled in, and she blew him a kiss.
"Alright, alright..." Colonel Hogan threw a rolled up bunch of French banknotes on the table.
"Do a little business..." Marya continued in the same tone, speculatively fingering the bundle. Karl saw in a flash that it was quite a sum – but knowing Colonel Hogan, he doubted it was real. So she glanced up at him, her eyes asking what he wanted.
"Let's not dance around – we don't have time," the Colonel began quickly, lest he'd lose the lady's fickle attention again. "We know you've got something going with Backscheider. I don't care what, but he's holding a woman who works for me, and I want her sprung."
Suddenly the pieces fell into place – hadn't Maryse mentioned something about Monsieur Antoine contacting Colonel Hogan to help free the Tigerwoman? So they were actually working on the same problem here! Then he'd better make sure Colonel Hogan was aware of that, too – even if he wasn't sure yet whether or not he should reveal himself to him as his Underground ally from Hamelburg. Considering that they were in contact with Backscheider as well, it might be better to stick with Marya for now.
So she looked at the little Frenchman (who was practically drooling) and back at 'Durkin' and pretended to guess, "Tiger?"
That certainly threw them both. "How did you know?"
A graceful shrug. "From the amount of money, she's a very big fish. My Colonel has told me why she was in Germany: to find the new German fighter bases."
The Colonel scowled. "I don't care about that. I'm in the black market and I need her."
Marya shook her head. "Not very convincing." What he needed were some acting lessons. "May I read your truthline?"
But again he pulled back his hand. "I told you – I'm an American deserter."
Yeah, right. "I hope you lie better to men," she told him gravely, hoping he'd figure out himself that his charade lacked credibility – and not just because Marya happened to be aware of his true identity. But first things first. "Look – you want something, I shall name a price."
"Name it."
"When you find out where the fighter bases are, you will also give me the information."
She could see the cogwheels in the Colonel's mind working at top speed. "Aren't you afraid I'm going to denounce you to Backscheider?" Still keeping up the blackmarketeer charade, wasn't he...
So Marya shrugged with tranquil indifference. "He would not believe you. He knows my character – from the bumps on my head."
The sarcasm in that last line apparently was finally enough to convince the man that she was no great fan of Backscheider's either. But still he persisted, "I don't get it. Why do you want the information, when we may be more or less on the same side?"
"More on the same side," Marya explained with some exasperation – men could be so dense – , "So that we can work together at times. Just enough less, so that I would like the information." And if you get yourself shot by Backscheider and we won't be able to get Tiger out, there will still be someone with the necessary information to destroy those bases.
"I trust her," the little Frenchman put in.
Marya granted him her most promising smile. "I shall marry you – some time." When the cows come home. But exchanging an airkiss was nothing compromising, and she returned his with fervour.
"Alright, it's crazy, but it's a deal," Colonel Hogan decided. "When will you see Backscheider?"
She pulled at his sleeve to be able to look at his watch. "In about a minute. He's always very prompt. I mean..." She shrugged almost apologetically. "It doesn't make up for everything else, but it is something."
Colonel Hogan got up. "Well, then we'll duck out and come back later."
The little Frenchman followed his example, and as Marya got up, too, he grabbed her hand with burning passion and declared, "I adore you!"
Oh brother, Karl thought. He was going to have his hands full with that one.
But Marya dutifully took the lovesick Cockroach in her arms and told him she could not resist short men. That would have to do for now.
At that moment there was some commotion behind the bamboo curtain at the entrance. A loud, whiny voice was heard over the sociable murmur in the smoky taproom. "What a holiday!"
Karl felt more than he saw Colonel Hogan stiffen.
"A week in romantic Paris and I have to go out with you!"
And indeed – it was the Kommandant who haphazardly worked his way through the bamboo curtain, followed by an equally awkward Schultz. This was getting ridiculous. How had they ended up here? The East Bank Café was miles from the hotel!
"We better get going," Colonel Hogan said tersely. And with a last longing look, even the little Frenchman let go of his lovedream and followed his commanding officer out the back. And Marya watched with amusement as they made their way blatantly past the bleating Kommandant, with the Colonel even clumsily bumping into him in the hurry.
"Oh! A thousand pardons!" the Kommandant gushed.
He couldn't make out the Colonel's reply, but apparently it suddenly got the Kommandant's brain to work. "Hogan! LeBeau! Schultz! You must stop them at once!"
"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."
Karl hesitated as he saw the Kommandant go after his two so-called prisoners. Should he interfere? But no – Colonel Hogan could handle the Kommandant. Even if clearly the Kommandant wasn't supposed to know that he was here.
So Marya sat down, only to turn around again right away at the sound of a frantic Kommandant Klink running back into the room. "Schultz! Schultz!" But just as he reached the bamboo curtain appeared... "Backscheider?"
Marya smiled, and turned her back on the radio play that was likely to unfold next. And she wasn't disappointed.
"What is all the shouting about, Klink?" Backscheider demanded.
"Colonel Backscheider, I just saw two of my prisoners from Stalag 13!"
"I thought no one ever escaped from Stalag 13."
"Of course not. Of course not, of course not, Colonel Backscheider. Never. Nev... Schultz! Schultz, did I see them? Did I see them?" Funny how he repeated everything when he was nervous.
And there was Schultz's voice. "No. No, no, no, he saw nothing, and I... I saw nothing!"
Schultz's declaration of ignorance was followed by silence – Karl easily visualized the glare the poor man got from Backscheider – and then the Gestapo colonel appeared at her side. "Good evening, my dear." He clicked his heels and bowed, and then took off his pince-nez and pressed a kiss on her hand. "My apologies for the delay. As you could see, that fool Klink waylaid me again with his idiotic claims."
Marya pursed her lips. "But you handled him beautifully, darling. Beautifully!" She patted the chair on which LeBeau had been sitting a moment ago. "Sit down."
Backscheider did as he was told, and signalled something to Müller and Sonntag at the entrance, who made themselves scarce.
"So," Marya began. "Was your afternoon as lucrative as you expected?"
"Oh, more than that!" Backscheider's eyes lit up. "I've made some excellent business deals. And I have you to thank for it, my dear!"
Marya made a gesture of (not entirely truthful) modesty. "Ah, it was nothing. It's the stars that are favourable to you."
"But if you hadn't alerted me to their favour, these opportunities I encashed today would have passed me by. So..." He fished in his pocket. "As a token of my gratitude, I would like to present you with this." From his hand dangled two small keys on a keyring.
Marya raised her eyebrows, her eyes glittering with laughter. "A pair of keys? Ah, that is extremely generous of you, Colonel!"
"They're the keys to a car," Backscheider clarified. "A German staff car, to be exact."
Now she barely held back her merriment. "Klink's staff car!"
"Exactly." He gave her the keys and placed his hand over hers. "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to ignore most business opportunities for a while though."
"Oh?" That was not good news. Or was it? "Why – has some other pressing matter come up? You great men are always running from one emergency to another."
"It is our duty," Backscheider replied proudly, squeezing her hand. "But I got a phone call from my superiors in Berlin tonight. They're very anxious to know whether this Tiger indeed found the information she was looking for, and if so, if she's had a chance to pass it on. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to focus on interrogating her for a while. At least until I get the necessary information out of her."
"I see." Marya sounded a bit absent-minded, and Backscheider hurried to assure her.
"Do not worry, my dear. There will be plenty of time to meet you. I wouldn't dream of making any major decisions without consulting your knowledge of the stars!"
"Of course not." But I need to come up with something on the double, or this whole charade has been for nought!
"I'll start with some routine questioning tonight. I still promised that Durkin fellow that he could see her one more time tomorrow morning, so I can't start my experiments on her yet. I don't want to upset this Durkin too much – he can still be of use to me in business matters, you know. But once that visit is over and done with, I'll..."
Karl tuned out. Not only did he really not want to hear this, he also had much bigger problems on his mind. And as long as Marya kept up the façade of interest...
First of all he'd have to keep Backscheider occupied tonight, to the point that the guy's only wish in the end was to go home and go to bed. Tiresome work, but it was manageable.
And secondly, he'd have to come up with some emergency that carried even more weight with Backscheider than the impatience of his superiors. Now that needed some stiff thinking...
Meanwhile, Backscheider prattled on and on, and was getting more excited with every new experiment he described. His words went in one ear with Karl – allowing Marya to react appropriately at the appropriate times – and out the other. At least he hoped they did.
Clearly, what he needed was something that Backscheider valued even more than the good opinion of his superiors. A family emergency might do the trick, but apart from Backscheider being a bachelor, they knew absolutely nothing about any relatives. And it wouldn't do to invent a dying mother if his mother had been dead for twenty years, would it. Monsieur Antoine's people might be able to find out about these things, but that would take time. Time Tiger didn't have.
Now what would a bachelor career officer want – or fear – most of all? Colonel Klink for example. The thought of using the ever edgy Kommandant as a model for that haughty creep Backscheider may be too ridiculous for words, but at least it gave him a starting point.
So what did the Kommandant want most of all? No escapes, yes. And to please his superiors, like General Burkhalter. Or simply anyone outranking him, in the hope of... Wait a second...
A seed for a plan began to germinate in his mind. Backscheider was eager to please his superiors, too, right? So what about his superiors' superiors?
Carefully, with a tiny little smile playing around Marya's lips, he followed that line of thought, as Backscheider's enthusiastic descriptions became more and more revolting, and Marya kept up her feigned interest in them...
"My dear! Marya!"
A hand was waved in front of his eyes, and Karl started out of his thoughts.
Backscheider laughed a little. "I am not boring you with my business talk, am I?"
"No, no!" Marya was back on the ball and rested her shining eyes on her companion. "I was just talking with my grandmother."
Backscheider managed to look both doubtful and interested at the same time. "Your... grandmother?" He glanced around, and only now did Karl realize that the café was pretty much deserted. It must be close to civilian curfew then. Or even past, for of course the head of the Gestapo was exempt from such ludicrous things as curfews.
"Where is she?" a tentative Backscheider asked.
"My grandmother? She's right there." Excitement glittered in her eyes as Marya pointed at the unoccupied table next to them. "I hadn't seen her for months, but she says she envies me my escort." She purred. "She thinks you are a most handsome young man."
Backscheider straightened up like a proud peacock. "She does? But..." Nervously, he glanced at the neighbouring table, and whispered, "You mean you can communicate with the dead?"
Marya shrugged a little. "Only with my grandmother Natasha. And only when she initiates the contact."
Backscheider stared at the neighbouring table with boiling intensity. "I believe I see her," he murmured. "Very vaguely, but..." His eyes narrowed. "She looks just like you. Only older."
"Of course. That's why we have this connection – because I'm so much like her." Marya glanced at her companion. He was absolutely intrigued. Good. "Would you like me to ask her something? About your future perhaps?"
His head snapped in her direction. "She can foretell the future?"
"But of course, darling! If she feels like it, that is. But she seems to like you, so..."
"Oh yes, please!" Backscheider was back at staring at the nothing at the neighbouring table again. "She's Russian, isn't she. I can tell from the clothes."
"Of course she's Russian. She's my grandmother." Marya's fingers played with a beerspill. "She was killed in the October revolution. We were very close. I loved her very much."
They sat in silence for a moment, while Marya's twirling of the beerspill made the flame of the candle on the table waver.
"Look." Backscheider pointed. "Her breath affects the flame."
Marya smiled indulgently.
"So? Are you going to ask her about me?" Backscheider pressed. "I suppose you have to ask her in Russian, don't you?"
Oh help... "Yes. She's never left her home country during her life." She hesitated. "You don't speak Russian yourself by any chance, do you?"
Backscheider shivered involuntarily. "No, I don't."
Good. Then he wouldn't notice that Marya couldn't put a complete sentence together in her supposed native language either.
She sat quiet for a moment, with Karl trying to drag up some forgotten memories from his childhood: the few Russian words and phrases his friend Peter had taught him at the time. Who'd have thought they'd ever come in handy to fight the Nazis?
A deep breath, and, "Zdrasdweetse, babushka. Kak di la? Bozhe moy! Lyeva brava, vi gavaryityu po nyemichki?"
Silence. Backscheider stared, Marya 'listened'.
"Da, garoshe. Minya zavut Backscheider. Adyin dwa tri chtiri, ya nye panimayu."
A longer silence this time. Backscheider looked at her as if he wanted to ask what the old lady was saying, but it seemed his fear of disturbing the connection was holding him back.
Marya smiled. "Da. Spaseeba." She turned back to Backscheider, who was clearly on tenterhooks.
"What'd she say?"
A languid smile. "She said you will soon get a visit from a most important person."
Backscheider gulped with excitement. "When? Who? Did she say who?"
A graceful shrug. "Just that he is a most important person. Now who could that be?"
His eyes suddenly distended. "The... the Führer perhaps? The Führer himself is coming to Paris?"
Marya was a picture of innocent ignorance. "Is he a most important person?"
"A most important...?" Backscheider nearly choked on his indignation. "He is the most important person! But..." He shook his head in bewilderment. "Why would he come to Paris? To see me? But why?"
"I don't know." Marya began to study her nails – clearly she'd lost interest in the 'most important person'. But truth be told, he longed for his bed. What time was it anyway?
But Backscheider was still following his own train of thought. "We'll need to get the place in shipshape. And the files will need updating – we've been a bit lax on that. And..."
"My dear Colonel," Marya interrupted him. "If you want to make a good impression on this 'most important person', what you need most of all is a good night's sleep. You've got bags under your eyes the size of a plum! No officer who boasts about his own efficiency will ever have bags under his eyes."
Backscheider's face lit up. "You're right!" he almost sang. "You're always right, my dear! Getting the office ready will have to wait until tomorrow. First I need a good night's sleep. Müller! Sonntag!"
After a moment, the two aides came ambling over from a dark corner. Especially Sonntag looked like he'd just woken up.
"Colonel?" Müller stifled a yawn.
"Müller, Sonntag – we've got a lot of work to do tomorrow. But first I need a good night's sleep. So I will take Fräulein Marya home in her new car, and you two will follow us, and then take me to my quarters. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," the two men mumbled.
"So go and get the cars. We'll see you outside in a minute. Müller?"
"Sonntag?"
"Yes, sir." And Sonntag went outside the fetch the cars. He even forgot to salute and click his heels...
A good ten minutes later, Karl pulled the door of Marya's apartment quietly shut behind him. Good heavens – he was deadbeat. What time was it anyway?
His eyes found the little clock on the dressing table. Ten to two. No wonder.
He kicked off his shoes, pulled off the wig and... Oh, man, did that sofa look tempting... Perhaps just five minutes, before...?
No. He was pretty sure that if he'd lie down, he'd be asleep within seconds. And he wouldn't put it past Maryse to still be waiting up for him, and worrying her head off that he wasn't back yet. So no matter how tempting it was to stay here tonight, he really couldn't do that to her.
So with a sigh he forced his eyes away from the alluring sofa and sat down at the dressing table to change Marya back into Captain Dehner. Come to think of it – if they were to arrange a visit from Hitler, he'd better give Monsieur Antoine as much time as possible to organize a proper outfit. It wouldn't do to wake him up at this hour of the night of course, but he could leave a note.
It took a moment to locate paper and a pencil, but then he scribbled down, "We may need a 'Hitler' to visit B. Can you please find suitable clothes? And please destroy this note. D."
Right. Lights out, door locked, note in the mailbox, and out into the cool night he went for the long walk back to Hôtel La Fontaine.
The night porter let him in without a word, and coming up to the second floor, Karl immediately noticed the light still coming from under Maryse's door. So she had indeed waited up for him – or at least tried to.
He knocked softly, unwilling to wake her up in case she had fallen asleep.
But the reply was immediate. "Yes?"
He opened the door and stuck his head in. "Hi. I'm back."
"Karl!" Already she was coming towards him, dressed in nightgown and dressing-gown, but clearly wide awake. Certainly more awake than he felt, even after his nocturnal stroll. Oh well. He might as well come in and bask himself in her embrace for a minute.
"How did it go?" Maryse inquired.
"Mm," was all he replied at first. It sure felt good to come home into her arms. But then he looked up. "You'll never guess who I ran into though."
Maryse put on a mien of mischievous innocence. "Colonel Hogan perhaps?"
"Huh? How did you know?" That certainly woke him up!
She chuckled. "I had lunch with Sergeant Schultz today. And he pretty much gave away that Colonel Hogan is here in Paris, too. To help rescue the Tigerwoman no doubt."
"Yeah." Karl sighed. "It turns out he is that blackmarketeer Durkin that Backscheider keeps going on about. And now he wants to make a deal with Marya to help spring Tiger, but Backscheider has been whistled back by his superiors that he needs to work on Tiger instead of cutting profitable business deals for himself. So I hope I've gotten Backscheider off on another tangent for tomorrow, but... How does Colonel Hogan fit into all this?" he interrupted himself full of irritation. "Is he working with Monsieur Antoine? Is that how he knew about Marya? But if he knew that she was with the Underground – even if Monsieur Antoine hadn't told him it was me – then why that whole silly blackmarketeer charade?"
"I don't know." Gently, Maryse stroked back his hair to try and soothe his irritation a bit. "But Monsieur Antoine told me they're going to have a meeting tomorrow night." She grimaced. "Or rather tonight. Apparently they've got a plan to get Tiger out."
"About time," Karl muttered.
"Yes. And they want you to be at the meeting, too."
"For heaven's sake..." Karl laid his head in his neck with an exasperated sigh. "Can't they do anything by themselves? What do they need me for?"
"Well, you've been in pretty close contact with this Backscheider these past days, so I reckon they want you to keep him occupied while they go in to get Tiger out. Or something like that. And of course they'd want you to be there when they coordinate the whole set-up."
Another sigh. "And is Colonel Hogan going to be there, too? If he's working with Monsieur Antoine..."
Maryse shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so." Not.
Yet another sigh – this one seemed to come all the way from his toes. "Alright then. I'll be there. When? Where?"
"Tomorrow evening – or rather this evening, seven o'clock. Rue d'Arcy 31."
"Where is that?"
Maryse picked up the city map from the nightstand and showed him. "It's just a few blocks from here, see? And Karl... I know you're rather dependent on what Backscheider wants from you, but... please, try to be there on time. Remember when Helga disappeared? Those same fears reign the Underground here, too. So please, don't be late."
He muttered something unintelligible, and then said, "I'll do my best – that's all I can promise." He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Meanwhile I'll have to try and think up some other wild goose chase to keep Backscheider busy tomorrow night if both Colonel Hogan and I have to be at that meeting."
Maryse hesitated. He was definitely not in the best of moods – and obviously very tired. But there was still one thing she really had to tell him about tomorrow. Maybe just...
"Karl?"
"Mm?"
"Could you do me a favour?"
He just waited for her to continue, and she felt bad for making even more demands on him when he had already expressed his irritation about being summoned to a 'meeting' on top of having to keep Backscheider in check.
But this was important. "Could you please come to that meeting as yourself – I mean, as Captain Dehner?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Why? It'll just take time to change back. And they all know about Marya, don't they?"
"Yes, but..." She lowered her eyes for a moment; then looked at him again. "I'm just asking this for me. I've hardly seen you these past days. So now that we'll finally have an hour or two to spend in each other's company, I'd much rather have you at my side than that insufferable Marya."
He let out a tired chuckle and took her in his arms again. "You don't like Marya very much, do you?"
"I sure don't," Maryse muttered darkly. "She seems like the kind of person I'd rather avoid having anything to do with. I'd much rather have you with me."
He sighed. And smiled. "Alright, Captain Dehner at your service, ma'am." He rested his head on her shoulder, closed his eyes and pressed a sleepy kiss somewhere behind her ear. Really – all he wanted now was to sleep...
But no such luck yet. "Do you like Marya?" his beloved still wanted to know.
"Not really," Karl mumbled somewhere in her neck. "She's kind of fun to play, but that's about it." A pause. "I'd never want to marry her."
Maryse chuckled, and hugged him tight. "Glad to hear it."
It remained silent. Karl just leaned heavily on her, and she felt how he simply radiated fatigue. Lovingly, she rubbed his back and kissed his hair. Tomorrow... Tomorrow she could take him in bed with her and let him sleep in her arms. But for now...
"Come on. Time for bed." She tried to disentangle herself from him. But he just moaned a little, and his passive resistance was still strong enough to let her attempts to untangle herself fail.
She laughed softly. "Hey, you're practically asleep on your feet! Come on, off to bed with you."
It took some persuasion, but in the end he let himself be guided to his own room, and Maryse helped him to take off his boots and his uniform jacket. It'd probably be better to take off the trousers as well, but getting married tomorrow or not, the idea of initiating that herself still felt rather awkward. And since Karl didn't make any attempt to do it himself and already began to lie down, she just let it be and simply tucked him in. And he seemed to be asleep before his head even touched the pillow.
She remained at his side for a moment, watching him sleep. Tomorrow evening when they'd go to bed, he'd be in her arms as her husband... That is of course, if everything went the way it should. The first hurdle had been taken: he had promised to be at the Rue d'Arcy tomorrow evening at seven. Now all she had to do was to tell him that this 'meeting' was merely a smokescreen to give them a chance to get married in secret.
She smiled. He looked so young and sweet when he was sleeping. She bent down over him and carefully caressed his hair. His breathing was calm and steady – definitely asleep.
"I love you, Karl," she whispered close to his ear. "And tomorrow, you and I are finally going to get married."
There was no reaction, not even when she pressed a gentle kiss on his sleepwarm cheek.
But at least now that she had told him once, it shouldn't be so difficult to tell him a second time tomorrow morning, right?
And with a last loving look at her soon-to-be-husband, she returned to her own room with a happy sense of relief.