A/N: thank you again for your feedback! This chapter was good fun to write.
CHAPTER NINE: THE TRUTH
When Georg finally came to, he couldn't see a thing - and he realised it was because his kidnappers had covered his head with a bag. All at once, panic gripped him, freezing his heart before sending it slamming against his ribs at twice its normal speed. Blindly he attempted to rise from the chair he was strapped to, only to realise his wrists were bound behind his back.
Immediately his head swam with unpleasant images, vivid thoughts of the pain he would surely suffer at Landa's hand. He'd endured torture once before, had kept his mouth shut despite the agony - and he still remembered the blood-curdling sound of his own screams reverberating off the walls. With his vision compromised, he concentrated on tuning in to every other sense, knowing it might be his only chance of survival.
But he needn't have bothered, for quite without warning the bag was ripped from his head and he was hit by a wave of blinding light. Eyes burning, he growled in protest, blinking through the blur until a dinghy little room with a single table and a couple of chairs came into focus. What held his attention captive however, were the two figures looming over him like vultures eyeing a mouse.
Muller and Fischer stared at their prisoner, their faces a pair of passive masks - and Georg gave a derisive laugh.
"Of course," he sneered with bitter acceptance, "Come on then. Let's get this over with. Where is he?"
Staring bravely at the battered door, he waited for Landa's imminent arrival. And sure enough, there was the sound of booted footsteps approaching - slow, calculated steps meant to instil doubt and fear. Dread churning his insides, Georg held firm, ready to accept whatever fate had in store for him. Nothing however, could've prepared him for the almighty blow that shook through his entire body when it wasn't Landa, but rather his father-in-law, who crossed the threshold.
The resulting silence was deafening as both men locked eyes - before Georg's shock immediately morphed into fury.
"You bastard!" he snarled, writhing in vain against the chair he was strapped to - but John merely studied his nails in apparent boredom while he waited for his son-in-law to calm down.
"Are you quite finished?" He remarked coolly once Georg had given up the struggle, "My sincerest apologies for the dramatic kidnapping but you left me with little choice."
"I've been trying to get hold of you myself!" Georg fired back, "But Charlotte told me you were out of the country!"
"And she wasn't wrong," his father-in-law replied, pulling up a nearby chair and taking a seat, "I've been here in Austria. Keeping an eye on you!"
"Well your timing couldn't be better," Georg snarled, "because I've got a bone to pick with you!"
"And I you! But since you're the one in a bind-" John eyed the ropes around Georg's wrists pointedly, "- I think I'll be going first."
Baring his teeth in anger, Georg struggled to free himself again but to no avail.
"Untie the man," John instructed Fischer impatiently, "the rope is hardly necessary."
After being cut loose, Georg rubbed his sore wrists, scowling at his father-in-law as the man launched from his seat and started to pace the floor.
"I'm not a patient man Georg, so I'll get straight to the point," he began authoritatively, tugging on his greying beard in agitation, "I don't know what you and Maria think you're playing at with Landa, but you need to get her out of there! I've got my own operation going on and your meddling is threatening to blow everything."
Georg felt as though he'd been doused in cold water.
"Wait.. what?"
"When you went off grid, I enlisted my own men- " John gave a jut of his chin towards Muller and Fischer, who stood dutifully close by, "-men I could trust to get the job done without a bottle of cognac lodged in their brains. But if I'd have known you and Maria were carrying out your own little operation, I would've done things differently."
Panic and confusion clashed sickeningly in Georg's stomach, "What the hell are you talking about!"
"This little charade.. " John gestured sweepingly, "the divorce, getting Maria to cosy up with Landa. It's inspired Georg, really it is. But it's dangerous. You've put your own wife in the firing line! You should've told me, I could've offered protection. We could've worked together!"
"Wait wait wait - just stop for one moment!" Georg interrupted, his head swimming while the blood pounded in his ears, "The divorce wasn't your idea?"
John halted his pacing, staring at him blankly.
"Why in God's name would it be my idea? Your private affairs are none of my concern."
"But..." Georg spluttered, dumbfounded,"so Maria isn't working for you?"
His father-in-law looked at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted a second head.
"You're losing the plot, Georg my boy. Like I said, I've got my own men to get the job done."
"Like Max Detweiler, you mean!" Georg remarked scathingly - a feeble attempt to regain the upper hand.
"Max?" John scoffed incredulously, "That boy couldn't keep tabs on a squirrel! I haven't even spoken to Max..."
"But.. " Georg stammered once again, feeling increasingly more shaken, "Max told me that you've enlisted him!"
John's eyebrows shot into his hairline, "Well it sounds as though little Max has been telling quite a few porky pies..."
Utterly flummoxed, Georg's mind reeled as he tried to make sense of what he had just discovered.
"So Max isn't working for you?" He rasped.
"No."
"And Maria isn't working for you?"
"No."
"Well neither of them are working for me!" he exclaimed incredulously.
John's brow knitted before he cursed heavily under his breath, slamming his fist down upon the table in frustration, "Could they both be working for Landa?"
"I wondered that myself," Georg replied, shaking his head in disbelief, "but something just doesn't add up."
Cursing again, John anchored his hands to his hips. He was not a man accustomed to being left in the dark and Georg could tell he was positively livid.
"Well if you're not meddling and I'm not meddling," he roared angrily, "just who the bloody hell is?!"
Elsa Shraeder turned up the collar of her coat against the cool breeze that swept through Vienna's side streets. She moved quickly, knowing that she was up against the clock. The instructions she'd received had been very specific and she didn't have time to waste. Rounding a corner, she bustled into the Hotel Altstadt, making her way to the back of the lobby where the public telephones were located. Hurriedly, she lifted the receiver and put in her request with the operator. Pulse quickening, she listened to the chime of the ringtone patiently - but her contact failed to pick up.
Shaking her head hopelessly, she slammed the receiver down again.
"Damn it, Max darling," she muttered to herself, double checking the clock on the wall, "where are you!"
"How long is this going to take?" Georg pestered, tapping his fingers restlessly against the table top.
John shot his cuff and checked his watch, "it won't take them very long," he reasoned, "Max isn't the sharpest tool in the box so I'd wager Fischer and Muller will find him without much difficulty."
Nodding, Georg continued his incessant tapping, casting his eyes around the dinghy room in an attempt to kill more time.
"Where are we anyway?" He asked curiously.
"Never you mind," John retorted - and then, at his son-in-law's pointed look, he added, "we're not far outside Salzburg. This dilapidated old hunter's shed is in the middle of nowhere, no one knows we're here."
Georg nodded again, resuming his bored tapping. It had been a few hours now since Fischer and Muller had left and he was growing increasingly more impatient. In light of recent revelations, he was anxious to confront the impresario so that he could quiet the cacophony of unanswered questions catapulting through his mind. There had to be a explanation for Max's lies, he reasoned - and he'd bet his entire life's savings that the explanation had something to do with Maria...
True to John's word, his men barrelled through the door several minutes later, clutching their hooded victim by the arms. With nothing more than a nod of instruction from John, they plonked the impresario unceremoniously into the room's only unoccupied chair.
"For God's sake," Georg chastised, "don't you think the bag is a little over the top?"
The two gargoyles exchanged shrugs and grunted something that sounded like an unintelligible apology before resuming their lookout posts by the door. With an impatient roll of his eyes, Georg grabbed the bag firmly in his fist and wrenched it from Max's head. Confronted by the sudden glare of harsh light, the impresario blinked rapidly several times, until his bleary eyes eventually focused.
"Oh bugger," he cursed, upon identifying his captors.
"Oh bugger indeed!" Georg growled sardonically, resisting the urge to throttle the man, "working for John are you?"
"Funny," John added scathingly, arms crossed in front of his chest like a scolding father, "that's the first I've heard of it!"
Max's eyes darted frantically from one man to the other, a sheen of sweat marking his brow.
"Georg.. John.." he chuckled nervously, "I promise you, it's not what it looks like.."
"Really?" Georg challenged, leaning forward in his seat, "because it looks very much to me like you lied about working for John because you're carrying out some little scheme of your own with Maria as your bait!"
The impresario swallowed.
"Okay then, it's exactly what it looks like," he back-pedalled sheepishly, "but you have to believe me, I had no choice!"
"What do you mean you had no choice?" John needled, stepping closer, "start from the very beginning!"
Heaving a deep sigh of defeat, Max nodded his acquiescence, knowing there was no use fighting.
"Just over a month ago," he began, turning to Georg, "I was contacted by the British Secret Service. They'd discovered that you were helping the Royal Navy and they threatened to expose your treachery to the Nazis if we refused to cooperate."
"We?" Georg's eyes narrowed, heart pounding against his ribs.
"Maria," Max revealed, "the Secret Service didn't just want eyes on Landa, they wanted someone to get beneath the surface. Under his skin. To learn his habits, his weaknesses, his thoughts, his feelings. They needed someone local with no previous ties. Someone who could be trusted, while also being the last person in the world that Landa might suspect," he gave an apologetic shrug, "Maria fit the bill. And she agreed, in exchange for your protection."
"So the divorce...?" Georg trailed, the colour draining from his face.
"Was a direct order from the Secret Service," Max confirmed.
"And the relationship with Landa..?"
"A direct order from the Secret Service."
"And the Mauthausen telegram I found in my study.." Georg realised.
"A direct order from the Secret-"
"Yes thank you Max," he gritted, "I've cottoned on! Only you could be stupid enough to leave it under my very nose."
The impresario opened his mouth to retort but John cut him off.
"This is bloody ridiculous!" the man boomed furiously, pacing like a caged lion, "We're all on the same side with eyes on the same man! Who the hell is your contact?" he demanded, rounding on Max, "Secret Service or not, I'll have them keelhauled for this!"
"Ahhh.." the impresario shook his head firmly, "You're really not going to like this..."
"Try us," Georg snarled, invading his friend's personal space in an attempt to intimidate the information out of him.
Max swallowed hard but remained silent.
"Max?!"
"Alright, alright!" The impresario caved, unable to look his captors directly in the eye, "it's.. well," he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "It's Elsa Shraeder."
At first, Georg thought he'd simply misheard.
"Who?" He blabbered stupidly.
"Elsa Shraeder," the impresario repeated plainly, as casually as though they were discussing afternoon tea. This time around however, his words well and truly sank in.
"What?!" Georg roared, launching to his feet and sending his chair skidding helplessly backwards, blood rushing in his ears.
"I told you you wouldn't like it!" Max insisted.
"Your Elsa Shraeder is working for His Majesty's Secret Service?!" John spluttered, dumbfounded.
"So it would seem," the impresario confirmed.
If Georg didn't know any better, he might've wagered there was smoke coming out of his own nostrils, "Impossible!" he fired.
"Improbable," Max corrected matter-of-factly, "But not impossible.."
"But...why?"
The impresario gave a hapless shrug, "It appears Baroness Machiavelli has some political convictions after all! Who knew.."
"Well if she's so determined to double cross the Nazis, why didn't she volunteer herself to be Landa's plaything!" Georg snarled, fists clenched into rocks.
"She and Landa go way back," the impresario revealed, "they met through Zeller a while ago. She was too connected. It was too risky."
"The hell it was!" Georg boomed, "She wanted revenge - and what a way to deliver it! Targeting my wife when she was most vulnerable-"
"She's far from vulnerable I can assure you," Max chuckled, "She's been nothing short of brilliant! Sharp as a tack and fearless to boot. She's got Landa right where we want him."
"Where I want him is as far away from Maria as possible!" Georg raged.
A sigh escaped the impresario's lips, "Elsa's involvement wasn't personal, Georg. I wish it could've been different but it was all for the greater good."
Livid, Georg opened his mouth to protest, but John silenced him with a firm hand upon his shoulder.
"As much as I hate to admit it, the sponge is right," his father-in-law said, much to Georg's outrage, "Landa is the type of man who would've delighted in stealing away a potential rival's wife and flaunting her on his arm like a prize to be won. Maria makes for the perfect bait."
Max nodded wordlessly in affirmation - and begrudgingly, Georg found he couldn't dispute such a point. It was true that at every opportunity, Landa had taunted him about his relationship with Maria - had dangled her like a carrot and taken immense pleasure in watching him squirm as a result. Utterly defeated, he sank back down into the nearest chair, lest his legs threatened to buckle beneath him.
"Why didn't she tell me..." he whispered, feeling terribly ashamed that his wife had been forced to suffer such a plight alone.
"Come now, Georg," Max reasoned, "you know as well as I do you would've been after blood if you'd known."
Another indisputable truth, Georg thought bitterly. He would've wanted to kill whoever dared to approach his wife with such a dangerous proposition.
"What she must be going through.." he murmured to himself, the words catching in his throat, his heart tightening in a vice at the thought. All the signs had been there, he realised - the tears she'd shed when she'd asked for the divorce, her refusal to look him in the eye at Landa's party, the forsaking of her faith, the emptiness of her stare when he'd revealed he was leaving the country. Just as it had done two years ago, her unspoken devotion to him shone through like an unwavering beacon of light in every glance, every gesture, every word uttered, every accidental touch. He'd just been too blinded by despair to see it.
Mother still loves you. She cries everyday...
Leisl's words echoed like phantoms in his mind, a truth he could no longer turn his back on. And before he even knew what he was doing, he was launching to his feet, rounding on his father-in-law faster than a starved jaguar on a buffalo.
"Take me back to my car," he demanded.
"Now Georg," John hesitated, raising his palms in protest, "don't go doing anything rash-"
"I won't!" Georg snapped, "I just need to see her. I need to make sure she's alright."
"I assure you Georg," Max hastened to add, "she's perfectly safe-"
"Am I not making myself clear?!" Georg snarled with enough venom to make even John Whitehead take a cautionary step backwards, "I said take me to my car. Now."
A/N: it's all finally kicking off! I have to admit my initial plot line was going to be that John was behind it all, but you're all far too clever and worked it out very early on. So I thought I'd switch things up a bit and it ended up being even more fun to write!
Now that the truth has been revealed I can tell you I took some inspiration for the divorce part of this story from the film 'The Legend of Zorro'. Again, don't own anything, all for fun etc
The next update is likely to be M, but if people prefer I can keep it T.