Chapter Eight
“I told you to follow and watch, not confront!” Hans Voss said furiously, jogging down the spiral steps of the library to the first floor. “How dare you disobey my order!”
“She was retrieving something Karl Gerst left here,” the man argued, hurrying to keep up.
Hans stopped suddenly and swung around, causing the man to pull up short or plow into him.
“You don’t know that! I wanted her watched until I came. Instead, you caused a scene!”
“I didn’t cause a scene.”
“You confronted her and she hit you. I’m curious. What would you call that, if not a scene?” He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and turned to stride angrily across the lobby to the front entrance of the library. “Now we’ve lost her and anyone else who might have been with her.”
“There was no one with her,” the man muttered.
Hans sent him a scathing look. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for that, Herr Sturmmann Maurer.”
Herr Maurer’s lips tightened and he was silent as they strode outside. Hans looked up and down the busy road and shook his head in disgust.
“She’s long gone, and who would blame her?”
“If she wasn’t doing anything wrong, then she had nothing to fear,” Herr Maurer pointed out. “Yet she was afraid. I could smell it.”
“Of course she was! You accosted her and grabbed her arm in a secluded section of a library!” Hans turned his arctic gaze on him. “How many times have I told you that if you want to attract bears, you must use honey? There is a time to threaten, and a time to placate.”
“But she had retrieved—”
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! An empty envelope!” Hans took a few steps then stopped and swung around again in his frustration. “Which probably did indeed hold theatre tickets at one point in time! She was never a suspect, you fool!”
Herr Maurer stared at him. “Then why did you have me follow her?”
“To see if she met with anyone else.” Hans turned and continued walking back towards the tram stop. “We know Herr Gerst brought something with him from Munich, but we don’t know what. He met with her, yes, but we have no proof that he gave it to her. In fact, I saw nothing of the sort. The only thing he handed her was a cigarette, which she took from his case herself!”
“But we saw him come out of the library earlier!” Herr Maurer protested. “Why else would he have gone to a library if not to hide what he brought across the border?”
“Agreed. But there is no indication that Fräulein Richardson was the intended recipient.”
“She went to the same library!”
“Which is also the closest library to the café! Think! She is a reporter. Where would a reporter go to write? I swear you had a brain when you were first assigned to me. What happened? Are you bored? Shall I recommend a transfer for you? To Vienna, perhaps?”
Herr Maurer’s face flushed a dull red.
“Perhaps it is you who have grown too cautious,” he retorted. “You are quiet and polite when we should be asserting our will.”
Hans glared at him.
“You will watch your words carefully when you address me, Herr Sturmmann Maurer,” he said icily, stressing the other man’s enlisted rank.
Herr Maurer swallowed and inclined his head deferentially. “My apologies, Herr Untersturmführer.”
Hans held his gaze for a long moment coldly, then finally gave a clipped nod. Herr Maurer breathed a sigh of relief.
“You would have me charge in like an American cowboy, causing a scene in a French city when the Führer has expressly ordered that no confrontations take place outside of German borders?” he demanded. “Why? To what purpose?”
“To get back whatever Karl Gerst stole from the Fatherland,” Herr Maurer answered promptly.
“I can promise you this,” Hans said as the tram rumbled towards them, “whatever Karl Gerst brought across the border is not worth the repercussions of going against a direct order. Not that I’d expect you to appreciate that. You seem to take great delight in disregarding direct orders.”
“I did what I thought was best at the time. I had to make a decision. It was clear that she had moved to retrieve the information.”
“Clear?” Hans arched one eyebrow. “Was it?”
Something in the look on his face made his companion flush again and uncertainty crept across his face.
“Not quite as clear as you thought, eh Herr Sturmmann?”
The tram stopped before them and he climbed on, heading to the back where they could speak without fear of being overheard. Strasbourg had been part of Germany for the better part of fifty years before the Treaty of Versailles awarded it back to France. Many of the population spoke German, even if they now predominantly used French. He sank into a seat and looked out the window over the city street. If the Führer had his way, Strasbourg would once more be part of the Reich. When that day came, the French would be expelled and the city would return to what it was meant to be.
“Let me suggest an alternate scenario,” he said as Herr Maurer seated himself beside him, not taking his gaze from the street. “Herr Gerst met with a man in Strasbourg twice before. This we know. He comes this time carrying information stolen from the Reich. But he knows we are following him. He cannot give the information to his contact. He thinks he lost us in the city and goes to the library. He is inside for nine minutes and twenty-three seconds precisely before he leaves and goes to the café.”
“This is hardly an alternate scenario. It’s what happened.”
Hans waved a hand impatiently. “You assume that the person he is meeting at the café is his contact.”
“Who else would it be?”
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