March 21st, 1943; Sunday
In the days following Krista and Landa's adventure in sexual desire, they had not seen even a quick glimpse of each other. She was thankful for that though, because the fewer distractions the better.
In those days, her conflicted brain felt foggy, and she felt like chewed gum. Hans Landa was inescapable. She could still hear his voice, dripping with lust in her ear... She could still feel his lips on her skin and his hands in her hair like a ghostly lullaby. What she should have felt was regret because and gave herself up so easily to a man that could make her disappear forever.
Whenever her mind drifted beyond frenzied touching and hurried kissing, she nearly felt ill. There had to be a logical explanation for his benevolence but she began to wonder if it was purely for his own gain on a later occasion. She could only assume that his intentions were to attempt to use her to get intel on the Allies. That was...If he thought her to be a spy, which she most certainly was not. If that truly was his goal, he was going to be very disappointed at the finish line.
Krista pulled herself back into the present and peered into cracked mirror above the sink at her makeup free face and sighed deeply. Landa's marks. She truly could not escape him. He was everywhere around her but nowhere to be seen.
She tightened her long, faux fur robe around her waist, and tied the tie into a neat bow.
'Knock, knock, knock'...
"Ah shit," she mouthed to herself before frantically shoving all of her personal belongings back into her suitcase and out of sight just in case she had to make a run for it. "Uh... Un moment, s'il vous plaît," she managed as she packed the last of her things away and securely latched the suitcase.
"Je suis désolé," she said with an apologetic chuckle as she opened the door to see Hans Landa standing on the other side. "Standartenführer Landa." She offered him a smile then and leaned against the door frame with crossed arms. "I honestly didn't think I'd be seeing you again." Krista took a step to the side and allowed him into her motel room. "What brings you here?" She asked him, closing the door tightly once he was inside.
He flashed her a lazy smile. "You," he answered simply.
"Oh really? Couldn't stop thinking about me?" She teased as she sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly.
"Well, yes. That is true. But I actually came by to extend a dinner invitation to you." Hans placed his hand on one of her thighs after sitting beside her, his fingers curling around it.
'Oh not right now...' She pleaded to herself. "Oh, I don't know about that. I'm not really the type of girl that you take to dinner." She didn't like fancy. She liked hole in the wall taco shops with Corona for $1.50 on Thursdays.
He removed his hand from her thigh and moved to rest it on his own. "I assure you this is nothing extravagant. Simply two adults sharing a meal." He smiled warmly. In actuality, it was an ideal opportunity to audit her without outside environmental distractions. He wanted to pick her brain apart because he felt the need to get to the bottom of what she was truly after. Her story seemed phony; an American woman traveling alone in wartime Paris in search of her 'family' seemed dishonest. Especially when, coincidentally, the 'family' he suspected she was searching for was a single officer under his command. Something about this just didn't feel quite right to him.
She swallowed and nodded, knowing his eyes were unwavering on her, scrutinizing her every move. "I guess I can't argue with that. When is this dinner?"
He nearly had her right where he wanted her. "Tonight. I will send someone to fetch you at eight o'clock."
"Sounds good." She returned the same warm smile he had given her earlier and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear because she suddenly felt very anxious and was in need of something to busy her hands.
"Ausgezeichnet," he said before he stood up. He took her hand then and brought her up to her feet. His hand slowly drifted upward, where he closed his fingers gently but firmly around around her forearm. "Wear something flattering if you could, my dear," he drawled in her ear. "I'll see you tonight," he added before placing a barely there kiss to the shell of her ear.
He pulled away, releasing her arm finally. "I look forward to it," she lied. The thought of being alone with him for an actual conversation made her sort of jittery.
He nodded to her once more and turned to leave, closing the door behind him.
Krista took one last look in the mirror and combed a hand through her hair. She took a deep, shaky breath and crossed the room back to the bed to slip into her heels. Her hands smoothed down the front of her black dress one final time before making her way out the door to wait for her ride.
She didn't wait long. Right on time; it was exactly eight o'clock. The driver didn't bother with shutting the car off when he got out, and when he turned to face her, she recognized him immediately. He was the major that she remembered from when she was basically naked in Landa's office. This was going to be awkward...
"Krista Jäger?" He asked.
She cleared her throat before she spoke. "Ja, Sturmbannführer," she answered in his mother tongue, not willing to see what happened if she spoke English.
He gestured to the back seat of the long black Mercedes, opening the door for her once she approached. "Danke," she said politely as she slid onto the bench seat.
The young major says nothing in return when he closed her door, and promptly reclaiming the driver's seat.
They had been driving for close to ten minutes before he spoke again. "Where are you from, Krista Jäger?" His German was clean and flawless.
"Austria," Krista answered bluntly, hoping that she wasn't being too obvious with her lie.
The major shifted his eyes to the rear view mirror to get a better look at her before turning back to the road. He didn't buy it. "I see."
The remainder of the ride was silent sans the humming of the tires on the uneven trail like roads and the grumbling of the exhaust out the open window.
It felt as if they were traveling for about thirty minutes total give or take, and it was mostly a straight shot east, which she committed to memory.
The major finally brought the car to a halt at the end of a short but windy dirt trail. The house that sat situated there was small and quaint with a small wooded area to the rear. It looked to be all the way out of the city and bordering some sort of forest, but Krista wasn't as familiar with French geography as she was the language, so she couldn't be sure. It sure was cute though.
The man quickly left his seat again to open Krista's door and escort her to the house. He knocked twice on the dark wooden door, and waited for Landa to answer. "Just who I was waiting for," she translated to herself from German. "Thank you, Major Hellstrom. You may take your leave now."
Major Hellstrom. Good to know.
He slid his heels together and offered Hans a salute before seeing himself back to the car. Krista watched as he turned around and headed back the way he came. Now they were alone. Her fingers trembled, forcing her to clasp them together to calm them.
"It's been a while," he joked, allowing her into the house.
"It's only been two hours," she said with a laugh as she slowly wandered further inside.
Her eyes fell upon a painting hanging alone on the wall opposite the door. Clearly, the goal was for it to be the first thing you see when you open the door. It had been painted in a style that she recognized from her AP Art History class in high school. It was clearly from the Impressionist Period, and with that knowledge, she was able to deduce the artist must have been none other than the great Claude Monet. From their distance, it looked like one of the many paintings from his Water Lilies series. The series consisted of some two hundred or so painting containing similar subject matter, if her memory served her correctly. She couldn't be sure of which exact painting this was in the series, but nonetheless, it was stunning. "May I?" She asked, pointing in the direction of the painting.
Hans led her to the painting and slipped his hands into his pockets so he could comfortably stand back and admire the artwork. "It's incredible isn't it?"
She was speechless. It felt wrong to be so close to such a fine piece of art without the protection of glass. It made her feel like letting her fingertips grow familiar with the deliberate and choppy brushstrokes.
"It is. Monet is my favorite Impressionist." Then her stomach suddenly sank. The Nazi regime had been notorious for looting invaluable pieces of art across Europe from anywhere they could get ahold of it. She again recalled a handful of lessons from the same Art History class where they had discussed the looting of works of art and how many of them had still not been accounted for. With that being said, she was to assume that the painting that hung before her could very well be one of those that had been confiscated from who knows where. She wondered if this specific painting was one of the ones that had never been found following the end of the war.
Her immediate attraction to the painting was unexpected. She must be an educated woman. That gave him the idea for his first test. He wanted to see how she'd react to the mention of The Führer to determine how to proceed with his planned sneaky inquiry of her. "It was a gift from The Führer in return for offering my services and here in France." He watched her closely, patiently waiting for some sort of wince or shudder. She did neither which told him that she was excellent at making her views or she truly wasn't fazed. She sort of passed the test, but he couldn't trust her by default.
Her green eyes followed the movement that Claude Monet had laid down until she stopped at his signature. It was unbelievable. "I sense that you're very important," she mused, finally turning back to him. "How long have you been stationed here?"
Her question seemed innocent enough to answer truthfully. "Two years and counting. A detective's work is never through." He left her side briefly to fill two wine glasses over at the wooden table in the kitchen and returned. "For the lady."
Krista gladly accepted the wine, and raised her glass. "Prost?"
His glass meet hers, the sound of resonating glass vibrating in her ear like a tuning fork. "Prost." Their eyes were trained on one another's while they sipped slowly and the intensity of his gaze on her brought a rosy shade of pink to her cheeks. Hans grinned, turning to take a half a step toward her. The mood abruptly shifted. "Do I make you nervous, Fraulein?" His truth seeking eyes met hers and held them.
She could sense him scrutinizing her, but she wouldn't give him any traction. "Not at all Colonel," she answered, keeping her eyes locked firmly to his.
She wasn't perspiring. He couldn't smell her fear or see her pulse pounding her neck. Being unbothered by his intimidating presence was of slight concern. Regardless of the hospitality and kindness he'd showed her, at the end of the day they were still enemies. Their eyes never left each others as he closed the remaining space between them. His free hand wrapped around her throat loosely, forcing her head to tilt back, but it wasn't sexual in nature this time. It was more menacing... threatening even. He gave her a warning squeeze. "I should. Do you have any idea what I could do to you?" His voice was low and rough, void of lust and desire.
She studied his eyes for any sort of a bluff before opening her mouth to speak. "Yes."
Hans squeezed her throat again this time not releasing. "If I don't intimidate you, I can only be left to assume that I arouse you." He could feel her swallow beneath his grip, and he smirked a devilish smirk. "Am I correct, Fraulein?"
Krista wanted to roll her eyes so badly even though he was right. "Yes," she admitted.
The hand around her throat danced down her chest until it met one of her breasts. The pad of his thumb brushed over her erect nipple. "I can see that," he said proudly. "Power is a potent aphrodisiac, don't you agree?" He asked her while allowing his thumb to now graze over her jaw slowly.
His eyes fell down to her lips almost dreamily. "I suppose." She did agree. The power he had over here made her feel giddy and yes, very much so aroused.
Krista let out a breathy laugh before raising her glass to her lips and taking a swig rather than a sip. This was about to be a looong night.
Their meal was quiet. The simple small talk was nothing exciting. They sat across from each other at the table, silently sipping their wine and exchanging glances. "So Krista. You mentioned you were in search of your family. Do you have reason to believe they are here in France?"
She brought her elbows to the tabletop and landed her fingers together beneath her chin. "I do. I followed the trail back home, and it led me here."
Curious. "Is your family French?" He questioned.
She shook her head. "German, actually." He recalled the photo she had dropped the night they met. Jonas was German... obviously. Her story checked out so far, but he still wasn't fully convinced. "I was adopted when I was born, so I didn't have any sort of contact with my birth family until a handful of years ago." Her statement seemed sincere enough.
Here was his chance to catch her in a lie. "Do you know any of the names of your family members?"
She shrugged, biting the inside of her lip. "Last name is Fischer, but I'm afraid I don't recall first names."
Part of Hans truly wanted to believe her, but another part kept telling him she was playing games with him. "Does the name Jonas ring any bells?" He asked eventually.
Her heart sank. How did he know? How could he possibly know that? She stiffened slightly. "Yes, actually. How did you know that?"
Hans mimicked her, placing his elbows firmly on the table, his sight never leaving her. "Educated guess." His eyes were trained on her, pinning her down effectively.
Krista let her hands fold neatly in her lap. She couldn't even think of a reply. "I'm impressed," was all she could seem to manage.
The night was winding down as the clock struck ten o'clock, and she couldn't fathom how it had only been two hours that she'd been with Hans. It was like an eternity had past, and the minutes were dragging by. Krista wanted to be alone so she could unpack their evening in peace.
Hans's mood has lightened and the tension has marginally dissipated, but he was still on edge and it was obvious. He turned slightly to her, their legs brushing. "I must say. I'm very good at what I do; I'm very good at reading people. But you..." he placed his index finger gently under her chin, forcing their eyes together. "You are an enigma." This woman truly puzzled him. When she spoke, her words seemed carefully chosen and calculated as if she were concealing something. When he looked into her eyes though, he saw something much different. He saw the eyes of a temptress that were capable of taunting and seducing with effortless fluidity.