“You know your statistics, Fräulein,” Hans said, inclining his head. “The Führer promised that all Germans would have work and bread, and he has delivered.”
“I’m sure there is much that we can learn from your country, and I hope to open our readers’ eyes to see just what is possible.” Evelyn swallowed, resisting the urge to grimace at her own sugary enthusiasm. Good heavens, what complete drivel she was coming up with!
Hans studied her for a long time in silence, his cold blue eyes boring into hers as if he could read her soul. Evelyn remained still in her seat, refusing to squirm, and met his gaze squarely. She had no idea who his family was, but hers was one of the oldest in England and she would be damned if she would allow herself to be intimidated by a Jerry in a black coat.
“Tell me, Fräulein Richardson, when was the last time you were in Berlin?”
Hans finally broke his silence, dropping the cigarette stub onto the pavement and moving the toe of his shoe over it to crush it out.
“Oh, not for years,” she answered, waving a hand vaguely. “Goodness, it must have been close to ten years now.”
“You haven’t forgotten a single word of your German. It’s really quite impressive. You must have spent quite a bit of time there when you went.”
Evelyn smiled tightly. “I stayed for a few months at a time, and I’ve always had a fondness for languages. I’ve been told I have an ear for them.”
Those cold eyes touched on her face thoughtfully for a moment, then he stood up.
“I would love to show you Berlin as it is now,” he said. “You really must arrange to visit your family. I think you’ll find that it has changed for the better since you were last there.”
Evelyn stood up fluidly and smiled up at him, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. If it was trembling just a bit, he didn’t appear to notice.
“Is that where you’re from, Herr Untersturmführer Voss?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps I shall. Are all Untersturmführer in the Sicherheitsdienst as pleasant as you?”
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile and he was betrayed into a low chuckle.
“Alas, Fräulein, I think not.” He clicked his heels together and bowed slightly from his waist. “I wish you luck with your articles. If you ever find yourself in Berlin, I’d be very pleased to reacquaint you with my city.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Evelyn assured him, lowering her hand and turning towards the street. She paused and looked over her shoulder, giving him her best smile once again. “But how will I find you?”
Herr Voss smiled slowly, never taking his eyes from her face.
“Believe me Fräulein, if you ever come to Berlin, I’ll know, and I’ll find you.”
Evelyn swallowed as her mouth went suddenly dry and her skin went cold. A shiver went through her, but she kept her smile and tossed her head.
“I’ll hold you to that, Herr Untersturmführer,” she said, stepping off the curb. “Au revoir!”
She crossed the street swiftly, reaching the opposite side a moment later. Karl stood up quickly as she approached the table, shooting a look over her shoulder.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Where did he go?”
Evelyn turned to look and frowned, scanning the busy sidewalk opposite.
“He was just there!” she exclaimed. “He was standing right by the table. Where on earth did he go so quickly?”
Karl sank back into his seat. “They’re very good as disappearing,” he muttered, “and reappearing just when you don’t want them there.”
Evelyn seated herself and tore a piece off the baguette on the plate before her.
“I think I was able to buy you your twenty-four hours,” she said. “I told him I was a reporter from London. He seemed to believe me.”
“A reporter from London?” Karl stared at her, bemused.
“Yes. I told him I was writing a piece on German economics and how the Nazis have turned the country around. I convinced him that you were my primary source.” Evelyn popped the bread into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Actually, it wasn’t bad for a spur of the moment performance. I always was rather good at theatrics.”
“Wait, just…wait a minute.” Karl shook his head and pulled out his cigarette case. “You told him I was your source? Source for what?”
“Don’t look so worried! Nothing sensitive. I told him you were giving me examples and first-hand accounts of how life has changed for the better in Germany since the Führer and the National Socialists came to power.” Evelyn nodded when he automatically offered a cigarette and reached out to extract one from the case. “Merci! Once I convinced him that I was writing a favorable piece, he seemed to relax.”
“Ha! Gestapo don’t relax,” Karl said, lighting a match for her. “If you thought he was relaxed, it was because he wanted you to think that.”
Evelyn bent her head, lighting her cigarette.
“Perhaps,” she allowed, lifting her head and blowing a stream of smoke into the air above them. “I have no idea what he was thinking the whole time, but he seemed quite friendly in the end. I wouldn’t dawdle, though, if I were you. Get your family out of Munich quickly. I used the name of a real reporter, but it won’t hold up for long. He can easily find out that Miss. Richardson is still in London.”
Karl lit his own cigarette and looked at her in some consternation.
“Why did you do this?” he asked. “Why would you risk going over there and exposing yourself like that?”
“Why did you risk coming out of Germany when you had an Untersturmführer in the Sicherheitsdienst following you?” she countered.
He looked startled. “The Security Service?
