“Surely you can use any radio transmitter, so long as you know the frequency assigned to him?”
Dieter shook his head. “Every transmitter sounds different to the experienced ear. And these little suitcase radios are particularly distinctive. All nonessential circuits are omitted, to minimize the size, and the result is poor tone quality. If we had one exactly like his, captured from another agent, it might be similar enough to take the risk.”
“We may have one somewhere.”
“If we do, it will be in Berlin. It’s easier to find Helicopter’s.”
“How will you do that?”
“The girl will tell me where it is.”
For the rest of the journey, Dieter brooded over his interrogation strategy. He could torture the girl in front of the men, but they might resist that. More promising would be to torture the men in front of the girl. But there might be an easier way.
A plan was forming in his mind when they passed the public library in the center of Reims. He had noticed the building before. It was a little jewel, an art deco design in tan stone, standing in a small garden. “Would you mind stopping the car for a moment, please, Major Weber?” he said.
Weber muttered an order to his driver.
“Do you have any tools in the trunk?”
“I have no idea,” said Weber. “What is this about?”
The driver said, “Of course, Major, we have the regulation tool kit.”
“Is there a good-sized hammer?”
“Yes.” The driver jumped out.
“This won’t take a moment,” Dieter said. He got out of the car.
The driver handed him a long-handled hammer with a chunky steel head. Dieter walked past a bust of Andrew Carnegie up to the library. The place was closed and dark, of course. The glass doors were protected by an elaborate wrought-iron grille. He walked around to the side of the building and found a basement entrance with a plain wood door marked Archives Municipales.
Dieter swung at the door with the hammer, hitting the lock. It broke after four blows. He went inside, turning on the lights. He ran up a narrow staircase to the main floor and crossed the lobby to the fiction section. There he located the letter F for Flaubert and picked out a copy of the book he was looking for, Madame Bovary. It was not particularly lucky: that was the one book that must be available in every library in the country.
He turned to nine and located the passage he was thinking about. He had remembered it accurately. It would serve his purpose very well.
He returned to the car. Goedel was looking amused. Weber said incredulously, “You needed something to read?”
“Sometimes I find it difficult to get to sleep,” Dieter replied.
Goedel laughed. He took the book from Dieter and read its title. “A classic of world literature,” he said. “All the same, I imagine that’s the first time someone broke down the library door to borrow it.”
They drove on to Sainte-C‚cile. By the time they reached the chƒteau, Dieter’s plan was fully formed.
He ordered Lieutenant Hesse to prepare Michel by stripping him naked and tying him to a chair in the torture chamber. “Show him the instrument used for pulling out fingernails,” he said. “Leave it on the table in front of him.” While that was being done, he got a pen, a bottle of ink, and a pad of letter paper from the offices on the upper floor. Walter Goedel ensconced himself in a corner of the torture chamber to watch. Dieter studied Michel for a few moments. The Resistance leader was a tall man, with attractive wrinkles around his eyes. He had a kind of bad-boy look that women liked. Now he was scared but determined. He was thinking grimly about how to hold out as long as possible against torture, Dieter guessed.
Dieter put the pen, ink, and paper on the table next to the fingernail pliers, to show that they were alternatives. “Untie his hands,” he said.
Hesse complied. Michel’s face showed enormous relief combined with a fear that this might not be real.
Dieter explained to Walter Goedel, “Before questioning the prisoners, I will take samples of their handwriting.”