He said, “0 Lord, forgive me for the suffering I inflict on my prisoners. You know I’m trying my best to do my duty. And forgive me for my sin with Stephanie. I know it’s wrong, but You made her so lovely that I can’t resist the temptation. Watch over my dear Waltraud, and help her to care for Rudi and little Mausi, and protect them from the bombs of the RAE And be with Field Marshal Rommel when the invasion comes, and give him the power to push the Allied invaders back into the sea. It’s a short prayer to have so much in it, but You know that I have a lot to do right now. Amen.”
He looked around. There was no service going on, but a handful of people were scattered around the pews in the side chapels, praying or just sitting quietly in the sacred stillness. A few tourists walked around the aisles, talking in hushed voices about the medieval architecture, bending their necks to peer up into the vastness of the vaulting.
If an Allied agent showed up today, Dieter planned simply to watch and make sure nothing went wrong. Ideally he would not have to do anything. Stephanie would talk to the agent, exchange passwords, and take him home to the rue du Bois.
After that, his plans were vaguer. Somehow, the agent would lead him to others. At some point, there would be a breakthrough: an unwise person would be found to have a written list of names and addresses; a wireless set and a code book would fall into Dieter’s hands; or he would capture someone like Flick Clairet, who would, under torture, betray half the French Resistance.
He checked his watch. It was five past three. Probably no one would come today. He looked up. To his horror, he saw Will Weber.
What the hell was he doing here?
Weber was in plain clothes, wearing his green tweed suit. With him was a younger Gestapo man in a check jacket. They were coming from the east end of the church, walking around the ambulatory toward Dieter, though they had not seen him. They drew level with the crypt door and stopped.
Dieter cursed under his breath. This could ruin everything. He almost hoped that no British agent would come today.
Looking along the north aisle, he saw a young man carrying a small suitcase. Dieter narrowed his eyes: most of the people in the church were older. The man was wearing a shabby blue suit of French cut, but he looked like a Viking, with red hair, blue eyes, and pale pink skin. It was a very English combination, but could also be German. At first glance, the young man might be an officer in mufti, seeing the sights or even intending to pray.
However, his behavior gave him away. He walked purposefully along the aisle, neither looking at the pillars like a tourist nor taking a seat like a worshiper. Dieter’s heart beat faster. An agent on the first day! And the bag he carried was almost certainly a suitcase radio. That meant he had a code book, too. This was more than Dieter had dared to hope for.
But Weber was here to mess everything up.
The agent passed Dieter and slowed his walk, obviously looking for the crypt.
Weber saw the man, gave him a hard look, then turned and pretended to study the fluting on a column.
Maybe it was going to be all right, Dieter thought. Weber had done a stupid thing in coming here, but perhaps he was just planning to observe. Surely he was not such an imbecile as to interfere? He could ruin a unique opportunity.
The agent found the crypt gate and disappeared down the stone steps.
Weber looked across the north transept and gave a nod. Following his gaze, Dieter saw two more Gestapo men lurking beneath the organ loft. That was a bad sign. Weber did not need four men just to observe. Dieter wondered if he had time to speak to Weber, get him to call his men off But Weber would argue, and there would be a row, and then- As it turned out, there was no time. Almost immediately, Stephanie came up from the crypt with the agent right behind her.