‘Touch her, mate, an’ I’ll put a hole in you.’
Eduard might not have spoken French fluently, but he understood enough to flush an angry red.
‘Who are you to give me orders?’
‘I’m the one what’s holding the gun.’
‘Leave off, Ulysse.’ I used his codename to remind him that this was my operation, and despite Eduard’s untimely appearance, I was in control. ‘He’s angry, but he won’t hurt me.’
‘Not your skin I’m worried about, princess. Me, I don’t like the idea of being in the same room as the Gestapo.’
‘Abwehr,’ Eduard corrected. ‘I am not Gestapo.’
‘Maybe you’re not.’ His voice was conversational. ‘But the princess here, she seems fond of you. So if you’re stayin’, I’ll take me leave.’
‘Stay.’
I stared at Eduard, hoping instead he’d leave.
He didn’t. He stared at me with an unreadable expression, his eyes moving from Bertie to me and back.
‘If you have something to say, Eduard, then bloody say it. I don’t have time to play games.’
He raised one eyebrow. When I remained silent, he relented.
‘I know where he is.’
‘I’ll bet you do,’ Bertie drawled. His gun was still centred on Eduard’s chest.
‘Put the gun down, Ulysse,’ I snapped, my voice as short as my patience. He gave me a level look, but obeyed.
Eduard’s anger hadn’t quite subsided but it appeared that he was beginning to realise what he was dealing with.
‘You’re serious about seeing this through?’
‘I am.’
He stared at me for a few seconds before he sighed and turned to Bertie.
‘Put that map back down. I’ll tell you how we’re going to get Harrington out.’
‘And you’d do this why, Herr Major?’
I could see indecision warring against the anger. He lifted my glass from the table and drained it before putting it down with a loud thud.
‘I could say it’s because I don’t want her to go alone.’
‘She won’t be alone, mate. Why are you really doin’ this?’
Eduard stared at Bertie, assessing him. Whatever he saw must have reassured him because when he spoke, each word came as a blow.
‘I need Harrington alive.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Because he is facilitating a meeting that is very important to me.’ He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before revealing the truth, in front of a witness, that undid me. ‘And to the people I represent.’
Chapter Forty
Represent? Who do you represent, other than the Third bloody Reich?’ I snarled, to hide my shock. ‘And how the hell did you know to come here? Do you have someone watching me?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Claudine telephoned. She said she saw a burglar breaking into your home.’ He looked Bertie up and down. ‘It would seem I found him.’
Bertie raised his glass in a mocking salute.
‘Weren’t lost.’
Eduard pretended not to notice. ‘I ran out of a meeting thinking you were in trouble. Foolish me.’
‘Sit down, mate. Give the lass a break. She and the diplomat go way back.’
Bertie switched from French to English as he offered up more than one truth to Eduard. I dropped my head into my hands. In mere minutes, Bertie had confirmed more to Eduard than I had in all the months we had shared a bed.
‘And you know this how?’ Eduard answered in the same language, surprising me. His accent was almost perfect. Where had he learnt it? And, more importantly, why? What was happening? He’d said he was bad with languages.
‘She saved me from being deported. She and the toff what got kidnapped the other day. Could say I owe them.’
‘Deported, why?’
‘I seem to have upset your lot back in France.’
Eduard closed his eyes. ‘I asked you not to get involved with anything stupid, Solange. I begged you.’
My patience was at an end and I snapped at him.
‘You don’t need to be involved in this, Eduard. I’m sure the party you represent will be just as happy if we free Matthew without your assistance.’
‘What do you think you can accomplish? You and that thug?’
‘Sticks and stones . . .’ Bertie murmured.
‘Don’t underestimate us, Eduard. Your help would be brilliant, but quite unnecessary.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘That thug there . . .’ I pointed to Bertie. ‘That thug was trained to do things you could never imagine.’
‘Speak for yerself,’ Bertie murmured.
The penny dropped. ‘The Department of Dirty Tricks,’ Eduard groaned. ‘God in Heaven.’
I was angry enough to continue: ‘And so was I.’
‘You? Special Operations?’ He rubbed his face. ‘I really am a fool.’
‘I wasn’t the one who used you as a cover story!’
‘When did I do that?’
‘Our first date. Your meeting in the Avenida.’
His face flushed, red and angry. ‘I didn’t use you, Angel. I wanted to take you out, but I had to meet someone that night. Someone who would leave the next morning.’
He acted as if Bertie wasn’t there. Maybe he trusted his words to go no further. Maybe he didn’t care. But I knew one thing: Köhler hadn’t left the next morning. Or at any point after that. I couldn’t let it go.
‘Someone who needed to be kept incognito? I saw Köhler, you know.’
He returned to the window, staring out into the inky blackness as he collected his thoughts.
‘He was not the man I intended to meet, but do you know who he is?’
‘Gestapo.’ The storm outside had passed. Inside, it had only begun. ‘What are you involved in, Eduard?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Can’t.’ His eyes met mine and I could see the regret in them. ‘I will tell you, when I can. But not yet, Angel. I am sorry.’
‘Let me see if I understand this – you can’t tell me why you’re involved with the Gestapo?’
Bertie was more of a barometer for trouble than I was, but he was also a good judge of character. Now he was looking at Eduard as if considering options. And those options seemed to exclude, at least for now, murder.
‘Maybe, princess,’ he said slowly, his eyes now locked with Eduard’s. ‘Maybe you should tell Fritz here just why you want the toff back.’
Eduard’s jaw clenched, but turned his gaze to me. ‘Angel?’
‘What the devil
