jealous.'
Chapter 16.
By the time Major Smith made his third lunchtime visit to the houseboat, Wolff and Sonja had gotten into a slick routine. Wolff hid in the cupboard when the major approached. Sonja met him in the living room with a drink in her hand ready for him. She made him sit down there, ensuring that his briefcase was put down before they went into the bedroom. After a minute or two she began kissing him. By this time she could do what she liked with him, for he was paralyzed by lust. She contrived to get his, shorts off, then soon afterward took him into the bedroom.
It was clear to Wolff that nothing like this had ever happened to the major before: he was Sonja's slave as long as she allowed him to make love to her. Wolff was grateful: things would not have been quite so easy with a more strong-minded man.
As soon as Wolff heard the bed creak he came out of the cupboard. He took the key out of the shorts pocket and opened the case. His notebook and pencil were beside him, ready.
Smith's second visit had been disappointing, leading Wolff to wonder whether perhaps it was only occasionally that Smith saw battle plans. However, this time he struck gold again.
General Sir Claude Auchinleck, the C in C Middle East, had taken over direct control of the Eighth Army from General Neil Ritchie. As a sign of Allied panic, that alone would be welcome news to Rommel. It might also help Wolff, for it meant that battles were now being planned in Cairo rather than in the desert, in which case Smith was more likely to get copies.
The Allies bad retreated to a new defense line at Mersa Matruh, and the most important paper in Smith's briefcase was a summary of the new dispositions.
The new line began at the coastal village of Matruh and stretched south into the desert as far as an escarpment called Sidi Hamza. Tenth Corps was at Matruh; then there was a heavy minefield fifteen miles long; then a lighter minefield for ten miles; then the escarpment; then, south of the escarpment, the 13 Corps.
With half an ear on the noises from the bedroom, Wolff considered the position. The picture was fairly clear: the Allied line was strong at either end and weak in the middle.
Rommel's likeliest move, according to Allied thinking, was a dash around the southern end of the line, a classic Rommel outflanking maneuver, made more feasible by his capture of an estimated 500 tons of fuel at Tobruk. Such an advance would be repelled by the 13 Corps, which consisted of the strong 1st Armored Division and the 2 New Zealand Division, the latter-the summary noted helpfully freshly arrived from Syria. However, armed with Wolff's information, Rommel could instead hit the soft center of the line and pour his forces through the gap like a stream bursting a dam at its weakest point.
Wolff smiled to himself. He felt he was playing a major role in the struggle for German domination of North Africa: he found it enormously satisfying.
In the bedroom, a cork popped.
Smith always surprised Wolff by the rapidity of his lovemaking. The cork popping was the sign that it was all over, and Wolff had a few minutes in which to tidy up before Smith came in search of his shorts. He put the papers back in the case, locked it and put the key back in the shorts pocket. He no longer got back into the cupboard afterward--once had been enough. He put his shoes in his trousers pockets and tiptoed, soundlessly in his socks, up the ladder, across the deck, and down the gangplank to the towpath. Then he put his shoes on and went to lunch.
Kemel shook hands politely and said: 'I hope your injury is healing rapidly, Major.'
'Sit down,' Vandam said. 'The bandage is more damn nuisance than the wound.
What have you got'
Kemel sat down and crossed his legs, adjusting the crease of his black cotton trousers. 'I thought I would bring the surveillance report myself, although I'm afraid there's nothing of interest in it.'
Vandam took the proffered envelope and opened it. It contained a single typewritten sheet. He began to read.
Sonja had come home-presumably from the Cha-Cha Club-at eleven o'clock the previous night. She had been alone. She had surfaced at around ten the following morning, and had been seen on deck in a robe. The postman had come at one. Sonja had gone out at four and returned at six carrying a bag bearing the name of one of the more expensive dress shops in Cairo. At that hour the watcher had been relieved by the night man.
Yesterday Vandam had received by messenger a similar report from Kemel covering the first twelve hours of the surveillance. For two days, therefore, Sonja's behavior had been routine and wholly innocent, and neither Wolff nor anyone else had visited her on the houseboat. Vandam was bitterly disappointed.
Kemel said: 'The men I am using are completely reliable, and they are reporting directly to me.'
Vandam grunted, then roused himself to be courteous. 'Yes, I'm sure,' he said. 'Thank you for coming in.'
Kemel stood up. 'No trouble,' he said. 'Good-bye.' He went out. Vandam sat brooding. He read Kemel's report again, as if there might have been clues between the lines. If Sonja was connected with Wolff-and Vandam still believed she was, somehow--clearly the association was not a close one. If she was meeting anyone, the meetings must be taking place away from the houseboat.
Vandam went to the door and called: 'Jakes!'
'Sir!'
Vandam sat down again and Jakes came in. Vandam said: 'From now on I want you to spend your evenings at the Cha-Cha Club. Watch Sonja, and observe whom she sits with after the show. Also, bribe a waiter to tell you whether anyone goes to her dressing room.'
'Very good, sir.'
Vandam nodded dismissal, and added with a smile: 'Permission to enjoy yourself is granted.'
The smile was a mistake: it hurt. At least he was no longer trying to live on glucose dissolved in warm water:
