warm. She let the towel fall and reached for her clothes, then with a
start remembered that she had none. As she bent to retrieve her towel,
she caught her reflection in a dressing mirror.
Straightening up, she stared at her belly, drawn taut and flat from lack
of food.
With her forefinger she traced a line from her pubic triangle to her
navel. How long? she wondered. How long before You begin to show,
little one? A sftwge serenity slOwlY warmed Ilse,s heart. In spite of
the desperate situation, she felt a powerful conviction that she had but
one obligation now-to survive. Not for herself, but for her child. And
with this realization came a resolution: no matter what horrors or indig
nines she might face in the next hours or days, she would not act in any
way that might cause her harm. Not even she wanted to die.
Because harm done to her would be harm done to her baby, and that was
simply unacceptable. She still felt nauseated, which was surprising
because so far she had not experienced any morning sickness.
Then with a shiver she again recalled the needle on the plane. Oh no,
she thought dizzily, her mouth suddenly dry. Could the drug have hurt
my baby-?
Without warning, the bedroom door banged open. Ilse froze in terror.
Looming in the doorway stood a black woman who appeared to be at least
six feet tall. She could have been thirty or sixty; her ebony skin was
smooth, but her deep eyes glowed like ancient onyx stones.
'Madam will dress,' she said in stilted German. She stepped forward and
set a soft bundle on the edge of the bed.
Ilse recognized the bundle as her clothes. They had been washed and
neatly folded. 'Where am I?' she asked. 'What day is this?'
'Madam will dress, please,' the woman repeated in a deep, resonant
voice. She pointed to the small end table by, the bed. 'It is nearly
three of the clock. I come in one quarter of the hour. Dinner then.'
Before Ilse could speak again, the giant black woman, f@ slipped out and
shut the door. Ilse sprang forward, but the doorknob would not turn.
Alone again, she fought back another wave of tears and reached for her
clothes.
Alfred Horn sat in his wheelchair in the study, his hunched back to a
low fire. He watched his Afrikaner security chief put down a red
telephone. 'Well, Pieter?'
'Linah says Frau Apfel is awake now, sir.'
'She slept so long,' Horn said worriedly. 'I don't mind waiting dinner,
of course, even until three in the morning.
But it seems very odd.'
Pieter Smuts sighed wearily. 'Sir, do you really think you have time to
dally with this young girl?'
'Pieter, Pieter,' Horn admonished. '-It's much more than that. I don't
expect you to understand, but it's been years since I dined with a real
German.
And a Frau at me this indulgence.'
Smuts looked unconvinced.
'What is she like, Pieter? Tell me.
'She's quite young. Early twenties, I'd guess. And bea tiful, I must
admit. Tall and slender with fair skin.'
'Her hair?'
'Blond.'
'Eyes?'
Smuts hesitated for an instant. 'I didn't see her eyes, sir.
She was unconscious when she arrived.'
'Unconscious?' Horn asked sharply'I'm afraid so.'
'But I instructed that no drugs of any kind be used.'
'Yes, sir. I'm afraid Frau Apfel arrived in rather poor condition, sir.
She had bruises about her legs and torso. I ordered the doctor to
examine her. She wasn't sexually molested, but he thinks the police
lieutenant who accompanied her from Berlin probably used an intravenous
barbiturate to quiet her.'
Quivering with rage, Horn wheeled around to face the fire. 'Can no one
follow orders!' he screeched. 'Where is the swine?'
Smuts heard the old man wheezing, as if unable to get enou h oxygen.
'Hq's in one of the basement cells, sir. Do you have a particular
punishment in mind?'
Horn did not reply, but when he finally@ turned back around, his
distorted face had regained its composure. 'All in good time,' he
mumbled. 'Help me, Pieter.'
Smuts moved behind the wheelchair, but the old man -shook his head
impatiently. 'No, come around front.'
'Beg your pardon, sir?'
.'Help me up,' Horn demanded.
'Up, sir?'
'Do it!'
Smuts bent slightly and with slim but powerful arms drew the old man
bodily out of the chair. 'Are you sure, sir?' he @Absolutely,' Horn
croaked, trying to subdue the pain in ruined leg joints. 'The Jungfrau
will see me as a natural n before she sees me as ... an invalid. Even
after these it two years, Pieter, I still can't accept it. That 1, once
a mfior athlete, should be reduced to this. It's obscene.'
'It comes to all of us, sir,' Smuts commiserated.
that's no comfort. None at all. Is dinner ready?'
'When you are, sir.'
Horn's dun legs trembled. 'Let's go, then.'
'Take my arm, sir.'
'Only to the hallway, Pieter. Then I'm on my own.'
Smuts nodded. He knew the old man was in great pain, but he also knew
that if Alfred Horn meant to walk to the dining room under his own
power, nothing would stop him.
Seated in the huge dining room, Ilse tried desperately to conceal the
panic that knotted her stomach. She sensed the presence of the tall
black woman behind her, watching.
Fighting the urge to turn, she concentrated on the spectacular table.
She had never seen such splendor gathered in one place before:
Hutschenreuther china rimmed with eighteenkarat gold; fine lead crystal
from Dresden; antique silver from Augsburg. The fact that each piece
