A/N: sorry for the slight delay! It was my birthday yesterday so the weekend left very little time for writing! I hope you enjoy the update.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE MESSAGE
Georg watched in turmoil from his hiding place in the shadows, gripping the banister for support as Maria ushered a reluctant Max back out the front door and closed it behind him. Their conversation had been too quiet for Georg to hear, despite his best efforts - and his relief at seeing the impresario on the doorstep had been short lived. The dread that gripped him upon Max's departure, however, was nothing compared to the sheer panic that had frozen his heart when it had been Landa standing on the threshold of his home not half an hour earlier.
Of all the people that could've been calling on Maria that very morning, the colonel was without a doubt the worst of them. What Landa was hoping to achieve from his visit remained unclear, but regardless of whether it was an amorous meeting or a malicious one, Georg didn't think he could bear it. For how long would Maria be able to avoid the wolf's advances without raising suspicion? The thought of his wife being subjected to Landa's touch made him seethe with rage, but the alternative - being on the receiving end of his violence - was even more disturbing.
"Shall we?" came Landa's purr from below as he gestured for Maria to rejoin him in the drawing room. They disappeared from sight once again and Georg wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his promise of remaining hidden. His feet itched with the need to move, to break into a run and hurl himself down the staircase in pursuit of-
All of a sudden the thought died in his head when, quite without warning, a hand of steel wrapped around his mouth from behind and he was suddenly yanked forcefully backwards. Fear immediately sparked through his veins and he flailed helplessly as his assailant dragged him into the darkness of the governess' room behind them. Wrestling with all his might, Georg eventually managed to slip free and whirled around on the spot, his fist drawn back in a gesture of attack - but the punch remained suspended in mid air, as his eyes focused on the intruder through the shadows.
"Georg, calm down!" Max panted, palms raised in surrender, "it's just me!"
Mind still reeling, Georg had half a mind to punch his friend square in the face anyway, just for his impertinence.
"What the Christ is going on!" He spat, lowering his fist while still being careful to keep his voice down, "How the hell did you get in here?!"
"The very same way you did," the impresario revealed defensively, pointing through the darkness toward the open window over at the other side of the room. Positively livid, Georg opened his mouth to chastise the impresario, but the words lodged in his throat and his eyes bugged out of his head at the sight that suddenly greeted him. Right there in the open window, an unmistakable coif of blonde hair suddenly appeared - and its owner proceeded to drag herself none-too-elegantly through the frame, collapsing in an undignified heap of skirts on the floor below.
"For goodness sake Max darling, my shoes are ruined!" Elsa fumed, hauling herself to her feet and gesturing to her mud-caked heels while simultaneously attempting to right her clothes, "was scrambling up the trellis really necessary?!"
Straightening up and pulling a twig from her hair with apparent disgust, she clocked Georg for the first time since her unseemly entrance and her face spread into a relieved smile, "oh well done, you found him!" she trilled to the impresario happily, before her eyes narrowed at her former fiancee, "Close your mouth Georg, darling - it's unbecoming."
Georg abruptly shut his gaping jaw and sputtered through the first of many unanswered questions that were swimming around in his brain, "What the hell are you doing here?!"
"Charming as ever, I see!" Elsa bristled, thoroughly affronted, "it's lovey to see you too, by the way."
"Elsa.." came his low warning.
The socialite rolled her eyes but offered him an immediate explanation nonetheless, "I've been trying to get hold of Max about something urgent," she said unapologetically, "and when I had no luck, I decided to come straight here myself."
"From Vienna?" Georg asked, astonished.
"But of course darling, where else?" Elsa simpered, "I left the bores to their own devices. This simply couldn't wait."
"I'll tell you what simply can't wait!" Georg growled, his surprise rapidly morphing into anger. How could this woman stand there so nonchalantly, practically forcing entry into his home without so much as a mention of the hell she had quite knowingly been putting him through. She didn't even have the good grace to look ashamed of herself!
"I want an explanation, Elsa - right this minute!" He demanded angrily, "What the hell have you been playing at, forcing Maria to pose as some kind of-"
"There's no time for that now, Georg," Max interrupted gravely, a firm hand gripping his shoulder, "Landa knows."
"What?" Georg hissed, too busy glaring at his former fiancée from across the room to register what his friend had just told him.
"Landa's men intercepted a telegram from Elsa that was meant for Maria," the impresario revealed, "I think that young boy Rolf had something to do with it. The telegram didn't say anything too detrimental, but the game is up. That's what we came here to tell you - Landa knows."
Cold fear instantly tore through Georg's body, the remaining breath syphoning from his lungs. Surely it wasn't possible! If Landa knew, then why hadn't he confronted Maria the second he'd crossed the threshold? The only possible explanation that Georg could think of was that the colonel, like a snake on the hunt, was merely biding his time. Maria had unwittingly crawled into the heart of the spider's web - and the spider himself was merely toying with her, waiting for the opportune moment in which to devour his unsuspecting prey.
After twenty years in the navy, Georg had experienced so much horror that he was rarely ever gripped by fear anymore. Most of the time he considered himself rather unflappable - and even in the most life-threatening of situations he'd always managed to keep a cool head, doing whatever was necessary to keep himself and his crewmen safe. Now however, unbridled panic had him clutching desperately for the nearest piece of furniture in order to prevent his legs from buckling beneath him.
"Christ," he rasped, stomach churning, "Landa's down there with Maria as we speak!"
"We know," Elsa interjected urgently, "Max just tried to warn her, but he didn't count on Hans already being here. I've known that man for many years Georg, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that we need to get Maria out of there. Now."
All the blood drained from Georg's face as another panicked thought suddenly occurred to him, making him feel sick with apprehension.
"My God. The children..." he murmured, thinking of his unsuspecting brood curled up in their beds, "what about the children?"
"Don't worry about them," Max said firmly, "Elsa has organised everything."
Words uncharacteristically failing him, Georg turned to the socialite with questioning eyes, silently demanding reassurance - and Elsa was apparently more than happy to give it to him.
"When I first found out that we'd been compromised, I got in touch with the Reverend Mother at Nonnberg," she explained, as though the Mother Abbess was one of her closest gossiping companions and contacting her for a favour was nothing out of the ordinary, "she's going to give you all refuge. And then when it's deemed safe enough, you can use the caretaker's car to drive over the border."
Who in God's name was this woman? Georg asked himself in utter astonishment. During the summer she'd spent with his family in Aigen, Elsa Shraeder had been the perfect hostess, to be sure - charming, witty, graceful, demure, polite. Without any effort whatsoever, she'd made a place for herself by his side as an elegant though somewhat subservient partner - though of course it hadn't been enough for him in the end. Unlike Maria though, she'd never been the type to openly challenge him - instead favouring the airs and graces expected of a lady in her position.
Even when she'd suspected him of having feelings for the governess, she'd feigned ignorance right until the very end in favour of her pride - ducking out gracefully and with very little fuss when it'd eventually become clear she was fighting a losing battle. Indeed - as a woman who often did everything in her power to avoid confrontation, Elsa Shraeder was the last person in the world Georg would suspect of espionage against the Nazi regime. Now though, it was impossible to deny that she was a woman very much in command, a world away from the Viennese salons in which Georg had believed her to be firmly ensconced.
"I'll wake the children now," Max hurried, very much in military mode himself, "I won't tell them anything that's going to make them worry, I'll just get them ready. Elsa and I will take them to my car while you get Maria to safety."
"And how am I supposed to do that?!" Georg retorted incredulously, with all the petulance of a teenage boy, "pluck her out from right under Landa's nose?"
"You'll do whatever you have to do!" came Elsa's sharp command, in a tone of voice that Georg would never have associated with the aristocrat he remembered from two years ago, "get Maria to your car and we'll head to the abbey together. The Secret Service will take care of the rest."
"Fine!" Georg acquiesced, having neither the time nor the patience to argue with them. Every second that ticked by was another second wasted, another second in which Landa could strike. It didn't bear thinking about, what the colonel might be capable of doing in a fit of rage - and he wasn't going to wait around in order to find out. He did however, have one more thing to say.
"If he so much as lays a finger on her," he snarled, raising a warning finger at his two conspirators, "I'll have both your heads."
"You're very quiet liebling," Landa cooed curiously, cocking his head to the side with a little smirk, "Do I make you nervous?"
Maria forced a witless laugh from her lips, "Should I be nervous, Hans?" She flirted back coyly, looking at him from under her lashes, despite the bile rising in her throat.
A dark chuckle bubbled from the colonel's chest as he reached for his teacup again and raised it in a silent toast to her, "in my company?" He winked, "always, mein Shatzi."
"You're incorrigible," she trilled, hating herself for the simpering sound of her own voice.
Her head was still swimming with the aftermath of Max's unexpected visit and she wondered not only whether the impresario had understood her hidden message, but also whether Landa had somehow deciphered it as well. Even while sitting so close to him on the sofa, it was impossible to read his face, for he was a closed book - often speaking in riddles in order to keep his real motives hidden. In quite the opposite way however, Maria felt as though he could read every single thought flitting through her mind, his coal-black eyes cutting into her like those of a hawk descending on a rabbit.
"Charming fellow, that Herr Detweiler," he commented scathingly, in a way that suggested he thought the exact opposite held true, "does he often call upon you first thing in the morning?"
"Uncle Max?" She gave what she hoped was a flippant wave of the hand, "He's just concerned about the children after the storm, that's all. They really do adore him, you know."
Landa's lips curled into a wolfish smile that made her skin prickle with anxiety, "the little dears," he sneered insincerely, "Yes, I'm sure they'll miss their uncle Max terribly."
Maria frowned in confusion, "Er.. miss him?"
"Yes," Landa purred smugly, depositing his empty cup on the nearest table and knitting his hands together atop his knee as though he were a guest at a tea party, "I'm having both Herr Detweiler and your ex-husband called to Bremerhaven before the month is through. Their skills and expertise are needed urgently."
The news was delivered with the most casual of demeanours, but for Maria it felt as though the earth was bottoming out beneath her. Almost instantly, her heart twisted like a mangled lump of rotting flesh, making it hard for her to breathe.
"Bremerhaven?" She managed to choke, biting back the tears that burned her windpipe, "Wh..what an honour."
"Yes, it is," Landa agreed without an ounce of remorse, studying his nails in apparent boredom, "the highest honour, in fact. Though somehow I don't think your ex-husband will see it as such..."
As quickly as Maria's heart had flattened, it began hammering against her ribs again.
"Whatever do you mean?" She feigned ignorance, pulse thundering, "He and I may have our fair share of differences. But he's a keen supporter of the Reich, just as I am-"
"Ah ah ahhh," Landa chuckled, silencing her immediately with the raise of a teasing finger, "Yet again you underestimate me, mein Schatzi!" His eyes gleamed with unmistakable amusement, "Don't forget, as a detective, it's my job to notice everything! The reluctance behind a pledge of allegiance, for example. The choke of a lie on someone's lips. The quiver of an unsteady hand..."
Quite without warning the smile left his face, a menacing shadow darkened his features and his eyes - obsidian black with unbridled malice - slithered sickeningly slowly down to her throat.
"Even that curious bruise on your neck... " he murmured murderously, "A parting gift from your husband, perhaps?"
A/N: ahh I know, another cliffhanger! But it was the only logical place to end it without the chapter being way too long. I'll try and be quick with the next one!