The Bavarian Gate By John Dalmas

“There may be difficulty getting near enough to recognize individual personnel, but perhaps we can work around that.” From one envelope he took photo prints of uniformed men. “Here are enlarged photos of all the major ones: Eisenhower, Tedder, Montgomery, Smith, Leigh-Mallory … all of them. The names are on the bottom. And here are photos of some of the lesser fish, with their names and what they do. Can he work from photos?”

“I don’t know that he’s ever tried,” Anna said. “And I must tell you, being in a strange country has affected him. He has always been shy; now he’s become somewhat depressed. He will be happier when he has things to do. In training he was sometimes like a happy child.”

She paused, frowning thoughtfully. “Do you have a photo of someone we can test him on?They’d need to be in a building he can see-in a known part of the building–and we’d need some way of knowing whether he’s had an effect or not. We should look into that before we go further.”

Hansi nodded. “I believe you are right. But first we should eat.”

He took them back into the sitting room, where Bahn was already fixing lunch. They had open-faced sandwiches with cheese paste, a kind of fish Macurdy wasn’t familiar with, potato, rice pudding, and tea-not a lot of any of it. Macurdy decided that in countries where civilian rationing was tight, he’d been fortunate in eating military meals.

After lunch, Hansi showed Anna and Montag a picture of a man, obese and middle-aged. After having Montag study it, he took them by cab to a small park not far away, where he pointed out a building across the street and down half a block Speaking English, he directed Anna’s attention to a 3rd-floor window. “That’s his office. He’s probably there right now. I know him well, and his secretary even better. He’s an underworld associate of mine, a barrister who sometimes provides me with useful connections. Have Mr. Monday give it a try, then I’ll drop in on him.”

In an undertone, Anna briefed Montag as if he’d understood none of it, then showed him the man’s picture again. “I want you to frighten this man, Kurt. Frighten him very badly.”

Macurdy stared at the picture, then at the window, then closed his eyes. After two or three minutes, he nodded without akin g. Hansi crossed the street and walked briskly down block to the building. Some minutes later they saw him returning; as he approached, he looked almost gleeful.

“It worked!” he said in English, and clapped Montag on the shoulder. “I asked to see him, and when his secretary buzzed, he didn’t answer. She hesitated before she went to his door, as if she’d heard something peculiar. When she looked in, she backed away for a moment before stepping inside and closing the door.”

When she came out, she was pale as a ghost, and said he couldn’t see me just then. I pretended to be upset. `When did Chas start giving me the cold shoulder? I asked her. `We’re supposed to be buddies!’ She told me he was sick, and to `please go now.’

“So I left, but stopped outside the door and listened. I could hear her on the phone, urgent and upset-something about a doctor.”

Hansi turned again to Montag, shook his hand, and congratulated him softly in German. “You did well! If der Fuhrer were here, he’d shake your hand himself!”

Montag’s lips moved as if mumbling silently, never looking at Hansi’s face.

Hansi shook Anna’s hand too, and spoke in English again: “I admit I had my doubts, but he did it, and without you, he’d never have gotten here. This mission will be a major coup, I’m sure of it, and you’re as vital to it as he is. You are a remarkable woman!”

While Hansi was speaking to Anna, Macurdy had looked up, and what he saw startled him-Hansi’s aura reflected a sexual intention toward her. He found himself offended by it.

Hansi took them back to his apartment then. He had arrangements to make, he said. Meanwhile they would sleep in his spare bedroom. Then he left, and to kill time for both of them, Anna read to Montag again.

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