I apologise for the delay in posting - I decided this chapter needed some extra work, which turned into a series of complete rewrites. It was meant to get to the end of the story, but...
Major Hochstetter, radiating ill-temper with every step, strode across the busy market square towards Lindenstraße, where he and his men had been keeping the watchmaker's shop under surveillance for almost a week.
Not that he begrudged the hours wasted, or the manpower committed to the task, or even the running costs of the Blumenladen. It would all be justified, if only he got a result; if only he could apprehend the traitor Freischütz before he could make his escape.
None of this was responsible for the volcanic rage gradually building up inside the major's chest. The cause of his fury was nothing more or less than the flowers.
It had seemed like such a sensible way to avoid arousing suspicion. The obvious reason for visiting a florist was to buy flowers. At this time of year there were all kinds available with which to make a discreet, unobtrusive nosegay; sweet peas, anemones, bluebells, all were in bloom. Yet whenever Hochstetter needed a pretext for calling in, that fool Geisler had nothing in stock but tulips or peonies. If the man wasn't such an idiot, one might almost suspect he was doing it on purpose.
If he tries to send me away with a bunch of sunflowers, his next floral arrangement will be his own funeral wreath.
Hochstetter stomped around the corner into Lindenstraße, barely avoiding a collision with an elderly lady who was tottering along in front of him. Somehow he managed to dodge around her safely, muttering an apology which could easily have passed for a curse, and a few moments later, he stormed into the scented atmosphere of the florist's shop, setting the bell on the door jangling.
"Guten Morgen, Herr Major." Geisler, engaged in arranging pink and white flower spikes, let them fall. Even after several days of working under cover, he automatically came to attention as soon as Hochstetter appeared. He no longer saluted, but the reflex to do manifested in an urge to pat the artificial blonde curls above his right ear, a gesture which, for reasons he couldn't quite fathom, made Hochstetter vaguely uneasy.
With hindsight, perhaps allowing even the shortest, most slightly built of his men to adopt a female disguise might have been an error in judgement.
Aware of his superior's discomfiture, Geisler modulated into a placatory tone: "I have hyacinths today."
"So I see." The mass of fragrant blossoms should have wilted under the major's contemptuous scrutiny; but apparently hyacinths were sturdier than they looked.
"I was just going to make up a bouquet for you. I thought perhaps with a few ferns for contrast, and maybe some gypsophila..." Geisler trailed off, as the withering glare shifted from the hyacinths, and fixed on him.
"What have you to report?" snapped Hochstetter.
Geisler snapped to attention again. "Bitte, Herr Major, there has been no unusual activity. The watchmaker must have woken early, because I saw him open the blackout curtain at the window of his flat above the shop just before six a.m. At seven thirty, he left the shop by the front door, carrying a shopping basket and proceeded towards the market square. He returned half an hour later, at which time the basket appeared to contain a loaf of bread, a lettuce, a bunch of onions and a large Mettwurst. He opened his door for business at nine as usual, but so far today he has not had any customers."
Acknowledging the information with a dissatisfied grunt, Hochstetter turned to glare through the shop window at the front of Spiegelmann's place of business. "I don't understand," he muttered. "The information came from a reliable source. Freischütz should have been here by now."
"Perhaps he changed his mind," said Geisler.
Hochstetter's eyes narrowed. "We will wait for another twenty-four hours. If there is no sign of the traitor by then..."
His peroration came to a sudden stop with the tinkling of the doorbell. Geisler straightened his apron, smoothed his wig, and spoke in an oddly husky voice: "Guten Tag, gnädige Frau."
"Grüß Gott," warbled the old lady who had just entered. "Oh, my, how pretty! And so are the flowers." Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses.
Geisler blushed, and glanced deprecatingly at Hochstetter. "Is madame looking for something particular today?"
"Well, my dear, I was just passing by, when your lovely hyacinths caught my eye." The Frau hitched up her shawl, and cast a simper at Hochstetter. "Of course, I see you're busy...why, aren't you that nice young man who just spoke to me in the street?"
Hochstetter, who had moved away, and was inspecting a sweet little bridal arrangement as if he suspected it of treason, turned his head. "I believe so, madame," he replied. "Please, transact your business. I have not yet decided what to buy."
"I can see why." The old lady glanced at Geisler. "Oh, don't blush, dearie. You must have plenty of handsome young men who come to call on you. Why, when I was a pretty little thing like you, I had all the boys making excuses to see me."
Geisler went even redder, and suddenly became very interested in his hyacinths and gypsophila, while Hochstetter swung round, prepared to repudiate any such idea with vigour, before remembering that to do so would completely demolish his cover. By a monumental effort, he swallowed his wrath, and even managed to clench his teeth into something approaching a smile. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, gnädige Frau. I merely came in to buy some flowers."
"Good heavens, there's no need to be embarrassed," tittered the old woman. "Young love is nothing to be ashamed of, you know. My, oh my, but you remind me of one of my beaus from the old days. He had just such a glow in his eyes whenever he looked at me. It used to make me quite weak at the knees...and it still does." She fanned herself with the edge of her shawl. Geisler emitted a slightly hysterical giggle, and Hochstetter seethed.
Under the stress of the moment, neither of them noticed the pedestrian dressed in workman's clothes, who had stopped to admire the massed lilies in the shop window. He loitered for a few seconds, watching the performance going on behind the glass, then took his cap off, dusted it, and put it back on.
At the corner of the first cross-street, another nondescript young worker was watching for that gesture. He hastened back to the delivery van which was parked just along the street.
"LeBeau's just signalled all clear, Colonel," he said.
Colonel Hogan nodded. "All right, Carter. Remember, you wait until LeBeau gives you the nod, then bring the truck round and park in front of Spiegelmann's. If anything goes wrong, you and LeBeau get lost. That's an order." He straightened the lapel of his coat, and strolled off, the perfect example of an honest citizen of the town of Hammelburg, going about his daily business. Pausing in front of Spiegelmann's, he glanced across at the flower shop to check whether Hochstetter was still fully occupied. Then, ducking his head in the low doorway, he entered the watchmaker's shop.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the interior. With the blinds pulled down over the windows, and the dark, heavy timber fittings which must have been there since the Kaiser was a small boy, the little shop had a close, gloomy atmosphere, broken only by a bright pool of electric light centred on the high old-fashioned counter and the workbench behind it. The proprietor, a jeweller's glass in his eye, kept his head bent over his work. "Ein Moment, bitte," he mumbled.
"Actually, I'm in a hurry," replied Hogan.
Spiegelmann looked up, his white hair forming a nimbus in the light. "Servus, Colonel Hogan. I suppose you have come to take Freischütz to safety. I am curious about how you will manage it. Did you know the Gestapo have this building under constant watch?"
"I know all about it. In fact, our friend Hochstetter is across the street right now."
"Then you were reckless to come yourself," grumbled Spiegelmann. "If he sees you..."
Hogan cut him off. "Don't worry about Hochstetter. I've got someone keeping him occupied. Where's Freischütz?"
"Upstairs." The watchmaker nodded towards the doorway at the back of the shop, where the end of a flight of stairs could just be made out in the shadows. "He's not very happy."
"Afraid of being captured?"
"Tired of hitting his head. I have low ceilings." Spiegelmann chuckled; then, as Hogan started towards the stairs, the watchmaker waved him back. "Better if I go. The turn of the stairs is quite sharp." He let the glass fall from his eye, caught it neatly and laid it on the bench. In a single fluid movement he rose from his stool and seized the crutch which was propped against the counter; and with the ease of familiarity, he stumped across the floor and vanished into the stairwell.
Going by the series of thumping noises, alternately soft and loud, which marked his progress, he moved pretty fast for a one-legged man. It took less than a minute for him to return.
"Vorsicht," he grunted over his shoulder. A moment later, the crack of a forehead meeting the timber door frame heralded the entrance of the defector, Martin Freischütz.
Even though Hogan had warning, he was taken aback by the sheer scale of the man, and for a moment he wondered whether they should have gotten a bigger van. Apart from his height, however, Freischütz now bore little resemblance to the well-groomed, self-assured soldier whose military and political career had been so spectacularly successful, at least until he had realised that, for the Third Reich, the winds of war were blowing unfavourably, and decided to turn his coat accordingly. Wearing an ill-fitting, shabby suit and a sulky expression, petulantly rubbing the bump on his brow, he seemed more like a ridiculously overgrown schoolboy than a ruthless functionary of the Nazi regime.
"Freischütz?" Hogan nodded in greeting; there was no way he would offer this man a handshake. "I'm here to move you out."
"Impossible," snapped the defector. "The Gestapo will arrest me the moment I step out of this building. I knew it was a mistake to trust my life to you people, and you see I was right. I might as well surrender at once, and save them the trouble of pursuit."
"Glad to see you're keeping your spirits up," said Hogan. "Spiegelmann, you're coming along, too. Now they've got you on their radar, you have to disappear."
Spiegelmann accepted the news with a shrug. "I'll just pack up my tools."
"Make it snappy. You've only got a couple of minutes," replied Hogan.
"Are you mad?" said Freischütz. "Even if I managed to avoid being seen by the Gestapo, I would still have to risk being seen on the street. I am well known throughout Germany. Someone is sure to recognise me."
"You won't be seen. I've organised transport. Our ride will pull up any minute now," replied Hogan.
The defector rolled his eyes in frustration; the watchmaker looked puzzled. "A vehicle stopping will certainly make Hochstetter suspicious," he said.
"I don't think Hochstetter's going to be a problem." Hogan went to the window, and looked out. "He's going to have something else on his mind."
From here, he couldn't see what was going on inside the flower shop. If all had gone well, Hochstetter wouldn't notice if the band of the Coldstream Guards marched past playing Rule Britannia. If not, Newkirk might already be under arrest; and he'd soon have plenty of company.