Five Past Midnight - James Thayer [68]
The fire was the only light in the room, which Germans call the good room. This good room still looked as it had since the turn of the century, everything in its place in a rigid geometry. In the middle of the room was a carpet, and centered on that carpet was a table, in the middle of the table was a crocheted mat, and in the center of the mat was a flower vase. Around the table were six chairs with plaited cane seats and red plush backs. Dark curtains hung over the windows. In one corner was a wicker flower stand for a miniature rubber tree. A small portrait of the German patron saint, St Boniface, occupied one wall and a copy of Brehm's Animal Life was on a pedestal table under a lamp with a silk shade. Katrin could not imagine anyone ever laughing in the room Except her and Adam. They had laughed here a lot, rolling and groping crazily in front of the fireplace on these very pillows. Then Adam had been taken away.
"Aren't you going to read the message?" she asked.
"Until I eat this steak, I don't care what's in that message." He cut off a large portion of meat and shoved it into his mouth.
She bit into the grease-soaked bread, then said around the wad in her mouth, "I've never tasted anything better than this."
They ate in silence, the only sound the rush and pop of the fire. She could not take her eyes off him. He ate with a singular dedication, his hand moving mechanically between plate and mouth. She thought she was repelled by him, but no emotions and few thoughts could compete with the flavors of the meal. She ate quickly, as if the American might decide to take away her food. She had also heard they were volatile.
He cleaned his plate with the bread, and only when the last of it was gone did he go to the kitchen for the message. When he returned, he was also carrying an open bottle of wine and two glasses. He sat next to the fire and used its light to read. Then he read it again. He brought his head up slowly and stared at the Brehm print, not appearing to be seeing it. Then he returned his gaze to the message.
He asked, "Do you know what this asks me to do?" She shook her head. "It's in English. I transposed the letters without understanding it."
The American poured wine into the glasses and passed one to her. "What's your name?"
"Katrin von Tornitz."
"Why was I sent here to you? Because you have the radio?" She shook her head. "That's the only reason I can think of."
"Your hand is shaking." His mouth turned up. "You're splashing wine out of the glass."
She dabbed at the drops of wine on the floor. "I'm afraid of you."
He seemed genuinely puzzled. "Why?"
"I just saw you kill three men with a knife. Three hard men, all of them armed."
He grinned. "Oh, that."
"Then you use your same knife to cut the steaks. Then you eat a huge meal, and now you're having a glass of wine and sitting cozily in front of this fire as if nothing happened at all, your charm on display."
He shrugged. "I'm a soldier."
"And you are frightening to look at."
He scratched his nose.
"Look in a mirror someday," she insisted. "Your face is as lough as you are. You'd frighten any child and most adults."
"We'll get along better if you don't try to flatter me." He grinned again.
"And your smile won't work with me. It's a tool for you, like your knife."
"I'm not the tough one." He leaned back on his elbows. "You are."
She looked away, into the fire.
After a moment the American said, "I need to visit the Reich Chancellery."
She turned to the fire and brought her knees up under her chin. "The Hand has ordered you to kill the Führer, hasn't it? That's the only reason someone like you would be sent to Berlin."
He drank from the glass. "Are you going to help me?
She was silent.
He said, "The Hand must think it will help win the war."
Her gaze swept back to him. "Winning the war? I'm not going to help you Americans win the war."
"Your radio transmissions are ..."
She cut him off. "I'm going to help stop the war, not help you win the war. I would never do anything to harm Germany and my people,"
"Well.. ."
She