“Where the hell is Muller?” Fulmar countered. “He was supposed to be here. Or send word when he would be.” Instead of replying, she put her finger in front of her lips and pulled him into the kitchen and turned the water faucets on.
“Where the hell is Muller?” Fulmar repeated.
He sent a message through Peis that he couldn’t make it,” Gisella said.
“That’s not what I asked,” Fulmar snapped.
She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
Fulmar decided that she really didn’t know. The decision had to be made, and he made it.
“We’ll have to go without him,” he said.
“We can’t do that,” she said. “He’ll be here next weekend, if not before.” -Right about now, there’s going to be a lot of people looking for me,” Fulmar said. “We go now.”
“What about papers?
Passports? Travel authority? How do you plan to get us across the Dutch border? We’ll need a car.”
“We don’t need a car. We’ll go by train, and we’re going to Vienna, not Holland. I have documents,” he said.
“Vienna?” she asked. “What happened to Holland?”
“The plans have been changed,” Fulmar said. “Muller knew that.
Maybe the reason he’s not here is because he’ll meet us in Vienna.” And maybe he’s changed his mind. And maybe he’s been arrested.
“He sent word that he had documents,” Gisella said. “Travel documents, I mean. Johnny said theater tickets, but I’m sure he meant documents. But he didn’t say anything about Vienna.”
“”Johnny’?” Fulmar parroted accusingly. “Well, it was ‘projected’ that Johnny’ might not be able to make it. And an alternative plan was set up.
How long will it take you to get ready?”
“I’m not sure my father will go with you,” Gisella said. “I’m not sure I want to. You’re no longer a little boy, but Vienna?”
“Your father doesn’t have any choice,” Fulmar said. He waited until she looked at him, then finished, “I was driven here by an SS-SD sergeant from the local office. He knows I’m here, and so does your concierge.
They will know I’ve been here.” “So what?” she said. “I’ll worry about that. I’ll think of something to tell them, if they ask.” Another decision had to be made, and he made it without very much thought.
“Gisella, my orders are that neither you nor your father are to be available for interrogation,” he said.
“Meaning what?” she asked, nastily sarcastic.
“The reason they will be looking for me is that it was necessary to eliminate a Gestapo agent on the train on the way here,” Fulmar said.
“If necessary, I will eliminate you and your father.”
“Are you serious?” He ignored that. “Where’s your father?”
“At the doctor’s,” she said. She looked at her wristwatch. “He should be here within the half hour.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Fulmar demanded.
“He had a cough, a bad one,” she said.
“Use the half hour to pack,” he said. “Nothing of value. Just what you would take in the way of clothing for a couple of days.”
“I think I’m going to be sick to my stomach,” she said.
“Well, then, go ahead and throw up,” Fulmar said. “Just do it where I can see you.” She looked at him with horror and loathing, but she did not throw up.
There was a knock five minutes later at the door.
“Is that your father?” Fulmar whispered.
She shook her head.
“He would have a key,” she whispered, and then raised her voice.
“Who is there?”
“Hauptsturmfuhrer Peis, Fraulein Dyer,” Peis called.
Gisella looked at Fulmar to see what to do.
Fulmar walked on the balls of his feet to the door, then gestured for Gisella to open it.
She walked to the door and opened it.
“Guten Tag,” she said politely.
“I understand we have a visitor from Berlin,” Peis said. “I thought I would ask if I could be of any–” Fulmar killed him as he had killed the Gestapo agent on the train, quickly, soundlessly, by inserting the narrow, very sharp Fairbairn blade into his skull so quickly that brain death was virtually instantaneous. Peis’s body, as Lorin Wahl’s had, flopped around in his arms for a moment before the nerve reflexes died.