“I’ve got to file this piece,” Rudman said. “And I need to get more background on this Trace fellow. You know anything about him?”
“He’s a major.”
“Everybody in the military over here seems to be a major.”
“It has a nice ring to it.”
“Good afternoon,” Rudman said cheerily as Vanessa approached the table.
She nodded at him politely, then smiled sweetly at Keegan.
“How did it go at the embassy?” she asked.
“Diplomacy is rampant over there,” Keegan chuckled.
“I hear you’re leaving us,” said Rudman to Vanessa.
“Yes. My daddy has taken a cottage at Saratoga every year since I was born. He still thinks I’m ten years old and
“It’ll be a nice place to dry out,” Keegan said with a snicker.
“I never liked the afternoon tea dances, even when I was ten. And I don’t
“Well, Berlin won’t be the same without you,” Rudman offered with a sincere smile.
“What a sweet thing to say. Did you hear that, Frankie?”
“I’ve been listening to his malarkey for years.”
“How can you stand him?” Rudman said, fishing for his wallet. “He’s such a cynic.”
“It’s all
“Put your wallet away,” said Keegan. “I’ll spring for your beer.”
“Bloody generous of you. I’m sure I’ll be bumping into you in the next day or two. If not, maybe I’ll swing over to Paris for the races, if you think that nag of’ yours really has a chance.”
“She’ll run their legs off.”
“You have a racehorse?” Vanessa asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“He’s got half a dozen racehorses,” Rudman said. “And I bet there’s a lot you don’t know about Mr. Keegan.” He smiled, stood up, kissed her hand and left the table with a wave.
“Have you two been friends long?” she asked.
“Since the war,” Keegan said. “He’s a good guy, but he’s going to get in a lot of trouble.”
“Why?”
“He’s obsessed with the whole Nazi thing. If he’s not careful he’ll end up like Reinhardt.”
“Oh no, the little man you were talking about this morning? What happened to him?”
“He’s dead,” Keegan said, taking out his wallet and studying the check.
“Did they . . . did they kill him?”
Keegan looked around the crowded bar without answering her. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like the company.”
“All right.” she said. But she didn’t move, she leaned back in her chair and studied his face. His expression scared her a little bit. And not much scared Vanessa Bromley. She took a long-stemmed rose from the tube vase in the middle of the table and stroked it slowly and gently down Keegan’s cheek. “I have a wonderful idea.”
He looked up at her questioningly.
“Dinner in the room. I’ll charge it to the bank. I really don’t feel like getting dressed again tonight. Besides, most of my things are packed.”
“I suppose you’ll be wanting to borrow another bathrobe,” he said softly.
“The train doesn’t leave until one tomorrow,” she said.
“I just happen to be free until one tomorrow,” He took her hand. “Let’s vamoose.”
He paid the check and they headed for the door. As they approached the revolving door leading to the street, a short, ferret-faced man in an SS uniform limped into the bar, accompanied by several officers. He stared at Vanessa for a moment, then nodded with a smile as they passed him.
“That little man has a club foot,” she whispered when they were outside.
“That little man is Paul Joseph Goebbels,” Keegan said. “Master liar of the master race.”
She shivered. “Are they all so
“Ugly?” Keegan offered.
“Yes, ugly.”
“Heart and soul,” Keegan answered, hailing a cab.
She cuddled against him and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. He could feel her relaxing as she had the
