Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [112]
An ironing board was in front of the windows, which were hidden by blackout curtains. Under the board was an open box of spools of thread, arranged by color, light to dark. A pile of patterns lay on a chair. Beads of different sizes and shapes were displayed in two dozen small bottles. A headless wood mannequin stood at the end of the ironing board, a tape measure draped over a shoulder. KARSTADT'S DEFT. STORE was stenciled on the mannequin's belly.
Cray looked at a pole suspended horizontally from two wires. Perhaps twenty outfits including Wehrmacht and SS uniforms hung from the bar on hangers.
She followed his gaze. "Senior officers come to me to tailor their uniforms. Sometimes they never come back to collect them. Killed in action, I suppose. I've got a nice collection. You are welcome to them."
"I might take you up on that. Nothing less than a captain, though. I have certain standards."
She laughed, pushing her needle through his skin again. "But most of my work is taking in women's dresses and men's pants. There's no food in Berlin, and so my customers are losing weight. Pleats in the skirts, darts in the pants. That's most of my business now." She guided the needle into his skin again. "Just a couple more stitches. This is going to leave a scar. You won't mind, judging from the looks of you."
"Ma'am..."
"I'm properly called 'Countess.' Countess Gabriella Hohenberg."
"Countess, how is it you know Katrin?"
"Her mother and I were friends since childhood. We used to ride together."
Cray said, "Katrin calls you 'Auntie.' "
"Just a nickname."
"You aren't related?"
"No, but Katrin has known me all her life." She reached for a pair of scissors. "It's unlikely anyone would make the connection between her and me, if that's what you are wondering."
"Are you still in touch with Katrin's mother?"
"She died several years ago. Didn't Katrin tell you?"
"She doesn't tell me much." Cray looked again at his shoulder. "I'm surprised you didn't use some fancy double stitch, make me suffer a little more."
She cackled, and clipped the thread. "You're a nice young man. I'm glad to see Katrin has found someone."
"She didn't find me. I found her. And I'm none to her liking." After a moment Cray added, "I don't know why."
"It's probably your looks."
He smiled. "That's it."
"Would you like some coffee?"
"What's it made of?" he asked.
"Acorns."
"I'll pass."
"I've got the cloth to make you a new shirt. Or, better yet, I'll alter one of the uniforms belonging to a dead customer. Won't take me longer. You can borrow another shirt from that pile."
Cray found a blue flannel shirt that had long sleeves. While he was buttoning it, the sound of footfalls came from the outside hallway. His hand touched the pistol in his belt.
A key sounded in the lock, then Katrin entered the apartment. Her coat was cinched tightly around her waist, and the shoulders were damp from rain. She was using both hands to carry a burlap bag, and was breathing quickly from hauling it up the stairs. She lowered the bag in front of Cray, brushed drops of rain from her shoulders, then pulled an envelope from under her coat. Katrin had received a coded message on her pack radio, an address on Kordt Street, where she was to find an envelope in a milk box, and a burlap sack near the box.
From the bag Cray pulled out three Tellermines, German antitank mines each containing twelve pounds of the explosive amatol. They were olive-green, about a foot in diameter, with