They passed a truck that had run off the side of the road and was ablaze with fire, men scrambling around it, their hands on their heads in disbelief. That warranted only a passing grunt from Helmut as they roared past.
They came back down to earth only when they reached the outskirts of Berlin. It was late afternoon, maybe too late to arrange a train to France. She would talk to the hotel manager; maybe there was a midnight express she could catch.
The Mercedes pulled up in front of the Hotel Adlon. She half-expected that monster from the SS to be there, waiting there to pounce with a squad of his goons. If they’d found the gun, they would have good cause to arrest her. She might yet fall into that evil man’s clutches again, she knew. Her fingers were crossed, hoping on that midnight express to France.
There were no SS troops waiting for her. The count escorted her into the hotel and went to the manager alone. He spoke quietly to him and then returned to her.
“It’s all taken care of. They assure me your room is as exactly as you left it.”
“I’ll have to get them to print out a bill for the extra nights.”
“It’s all taken care of, Aubrey.”
“No, Helmut.”
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “My pleasure.” He took her hands in his. She studied his face; there was the glint of a tear in his eye. Or was it just fatigue?
“I don’t have much time,” Helmut said.
“I understand,” Aubrey said.
“When will you be leaving Berlin?”
“Tonight, if I can swing it.”
“Will you be seeing your friend the journalist?”
That made her mad; he was still obsessing on this innocent connection she had to no more than a total stranger.
“Yes. I might ring him up, see how he made out,” she said flippantly.
Helmut nodded his head and squeezed her hands. “This is goodbye.”
“Not ‘until we meet again’?”
“I don’t know, Aubrey. Isn’t it better this way? l look forward to reading your articles.”
It was her turn to nod dismissively. “And I’ll do what I can to follow your company. If you ever make that trip to the States, please look me up.”
“I will, my sweet. I will.” He hugged her, kissed her hard, once. Pulled her waist into him so her head bent back in a dramatic gesture. She was as limp as a rag doll. Then he turned and was gone. There was just the slight chirp of the tires as the large German car sped away.
The manager had watched with a smile as Aubrey’s benefactor departed the scene. That smile fell into a straight-lined, blank stare as he saw Aubrey looking at him. Evidently, he did not think highly of the count’s American floozy. All the more reason to depart the scene herself. She had no choice but to deal with him, though, if she wanted to get out of the city.
“Pardon me, can you please enquire about trains to the border?”
“Which border, Fraulein Endeavours?”
She almost replied, Any border will do. “France, please.” That bastion of democracy and freedoms. Get me there soonest, post-haste. If I have to sit in the baggage car, so be it. If I have to strap myself to the roof of the dining car and duck down for the tunnels, no problem. Let’s make it happen.
The hotel manager spoke to his assistant. “We’re checking, Fraulein Endeavours.”
The woman came back with a timetable and picked up a phone. A quick conversation with the train station and she whispered something to the manager.
“Fraulein Endeavours, you are in luck. There is a train tonight, at eleven pm, and there are seats available. Shall we make a reservation for you? You can purchase your ticket at Anhalter Bahnhof, the station.”
“Yes, please do so. And thank you. Now I will retire to my room.”
“Oh, Fraulein Endeavours, I’ve just been informed that you have a note here for you. My apologies—I got distracted with making your travel arrangements.”
Aubrey took the note, assuming it was from Richard. She debated calling him while she rode the slow elevator up to her floor. Aubrey was reading the note, perplexed by its meaning, as she opened her bedroom door. She almost tripped over the broken chair lying on the floor.
Her jaw dropped as she was confronted with the state of her ransacked room. The note slid from her hand.
25
She quickly closed the door. The mattress was torn down the middle and the stuffing ripped out and spread everywhere. Her clothes were spilled on top of her bags, some of them lying in a heap on the floor. The magazine she’d left out with its corner pointed at the bedpost was ripped to shreds. What could they possibly have been looking for there? Even the picture of the room, which obviously belonged to the hotel, was askew. They’d left the light on in the small washroom, and she could see her toiletries lying on the tiled floor.
“My gosh,” she said. Aubrey lifted the destroyed mattress and, to her relief, saw the large American-made .45 lying there in all its shiny, black, deadly beauty. Her only friend left in this country. A friend that could get her out of trouble as quickly as it could get her into it.
She let the mattress flop back down. There would be time for that later. She retrieved the note and read it again.
It was from Lydia, the girl she’d met days before.
Miss Endeavours, we need your help. Please go to the Bierkeller house on the Kurfurstendamm tonight. Order a gin fizz.
Aubrey sat on the decimated bed and thought about the note. Finally, she ripped it into tiny shreds and, despite the carnage around her, put the pieces in the wastebasket. She lifted the mattress again, hesitated, then pulled the pistol free. It fit nicely in her Louis Vuitton bag.
# #
The Kurfurstendamm was blocks from her hotel, so she cabbed it. Her
