Fritz Number One shook his head.
'I asked. I asked more than once, but he would not tell me this name.
But he said it was a sweetheart deal. That is what his words were.
Lieutenant Hart. Sweetheart. I did not understand this either, until he explained it to me.'
Tommy frowned. He was not sure that he totally believed the ferret.
Nor was he at all sure he disbelieved him. Something in between. And it certainly hadn't turned into a sweetheart deal for one man.
'Okay, so you didn't get the name. So where did you steal the knife?
From Von Reiter?'
Fritz Number One shook his head rapidly.
'No, no, I could never do that! Commandant Von Reiter is a great man!
I would be dead a long time ago, fighting the Ivans, if he had not brought me here with him when he received his orders. I was only a mechanic on his flight crew, but he knew I had the gift for languages, and so I accompanied him. It was death to remain behind, in Russia!
Death. Winter, freezing cold, and death. Lieutenant Hart. That was all there was for us in Russia. Commandant Von Reiter saved me! I shall never be able to fully repay Commandant Von Reiter! If I am able to live through the war, it will be because of him! And here, I serve the commandant as best I can. I would never steal from him!'
'From someone else, then?'
Again Fritz shook his head. He whispered his response frantically, his words almost hissing, like air escaping from a punctured tire.
'To steal this item from a German officer, and then trade it to an Allied airman, lieutenant, this would be a death warrant! The Gestapo would come for you! Especially so, if Hauptmann Visser were to discover it!'
'So you didn't steal it?'
Fritz continued to shake his head.
'Hauptmann Visser does not know of this dagger. Lieutenant Hart! He suspects, but he does not know for certain. Please, he cannot learn.
It would mean great trouble for me…' In the slight hesitation at the end of his voice, Tommy heard distinctly that it would not be Fritz alone who suffered if this particular trade were exposed.
And so he asked the obvious question.
'And who else, Fritz? Who else would be in trouble?'
'I will not say.'
Tommy stopped. He could see the tremor in Fritz's jaw, and he believed he knew the answer to his question. Fritz had already told him. And,
Tommy thought, there was probably only one man in the camp who could have provided that specific dagger without first stealing it. He decided to press the ferret further.
'Tell me about the commandant and Visser,' Tommy asked suddenly.
'Do they ' 'They despise each other,' Fritz interrupted.
'Really?'
'It is a deep and terrible hatred. Two men who have worked closely together for months. But they have nothing together but contempt.
Contempt and complete hatred for each other.
Each would be gladdened greatly to see an Allied bomb drop in the lap of the other.'
'Why is that?'
The ferret shrugged, sighing, but his voice was shaky, almost like an old woman's.
'Visser is a Nazi. He wishes the camp were his to command. The policeman son of a provincial schoolteacher. His father's party number is less than one thousand! He hates all the Allies, but especially the Americans because he once lived among you and the British fighter pilots because one of them took his arm. He hates that Oberst Von Reiter treats all the prisoners with respect! Commandant Von Reiter, he comes from an old, important family, who have served in the Wehrmacht and the Luftwaffe for many generations. There is no love lost between the two.
I should not be speaking of these things. Lieutenant Hart! I will say no more.'
Tommy nodded. This didn't surprise him terribly. He scratched at his own cheek, feeling the day's stubble growing there, then fired another question, taking the ferret by surprise.
'What did you get, Fritz? When you traded the knife?'
Fritz Number One shuddered, almost as if a sudden fever had slid through his body. Either the damp rain or sweat had broken out on his forehead, and his words continued to quiver.
'I got nothing,' he answered, shaking his head back and forth.
Tommy snorted.
'That doesn't make any damn sense!
You're telling me that this was a big deal, the biggest deal, and that Trader Vic had a buyer already lined up ready to pay through the nose, and now you're saying you got nothing in return? Bullshit! Maybe I should go talk to Visser. I'm sure he has all sorts of extremely clever and decidedly unpleasant methods for extracting information…'
Fritz Number One shot out his hand, grasping Tommy by the arm.
'Please, Lieutenant Hart, I am begging you. Do not speak to the
Hauptmann of these matters! I fear that even Oberst Von Reiter would not be able to protect me!'
'Then what did you get? What was the trade?'
Fritz Number One lifted his head, eyes skyward, as if wracked by sudden pain. Then he lowered his eyes, and whispered to Tommy Hart: 'The payment was due the night Captain Bedford was murdered!' The ferret's voice was so low, Tommy had to crane forward.
'He was to meet me with the payment in the dark that night. But he never arrived at our meeting place.'
Tommy inhaled slowly. There was the explanation for the ferret being in the camp after lights out.
'What was the payment?' Tommy insisted.
Fritz Number One straightened up suddenly, leaning back against the wall of the hut as if Tommy had thrust a weapon into his chest. He shook his head. He was breathing hard, as if he'd just sprinted some distance.
'Do not ask me this question, Mr. Hart! I cannot say more.
Please, I am begging you now, my life depends on it, other lives, as well as my own, but I cannot say to you more of this matter.'
Tommy could see tears in the corner of the ferret's eyes.
His face had turned a wan, gray color, like the sky overhead, the sickly, agonizingly fearful appearance of a man who can see his own death lurking close by and beckoning. Tommy was surprised, and he took a small step back, as if the look on Fritz Number One's face scared him as well.
'All right,' he said.
'All right for now. I'll keep my mouth shut. For now. No promises for later, but for now, we'll keep this between ourselves.'
The German quivered again and broke into a grateful smile filled with reprieve. He seized Tommy's hand and shook it hard.
'I shall never forget this kindness, Lieutenant Hart.
Never!'
The ferret took a step back, away from Tommy.
'I will be in your debt. Lieutenant Hart! I will not forget this.'
And with that, he lurched away, hurrying out into the dank morning.
