Muller went to her and grabbed her shoulders and put his face close to hers.
“It would be very dangerous for you, my girl, to lie about von Fulmar’s relationship to your father,” he said.
Gisella was now shaking.
“I swear before Christ he never met him,” she said.
“He was your lover and he never even met your father? Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want him involved,” she said.
“When was the last time you heard from Fulmar?”
“I’ve been over this again and again and again. I don’t know where he went, and he never told me he was going.”
“And you have not had any contact with him since May of 1940?”
“No. I swear, I don’t know anything about him.
My God, why won’t you believe me?” Muller let her go, walked to his tunic, and took out a package of cigarettes. He handed her one and lit it, then lit another for himself.
“Gisella,” he said, almost in a fatherly tone, al want you to consider your answer very carefully before you give it. If you should be contacted in any way by Eric von Fulmar, in any way at all, would you promptly notify Hauptsturmfuhrer Peis?” She took a deep breath.
“Yes, of course I would,” she said, “if that is what is desired of me.
”
“I don’t believe you,” Muller said matter-of-factly.
She looked at him in horror.
“Peis would. I don’t. Which is a good thing for you.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said helplessly.
“Eric von Fulmar is now an officer in the United States Army,” Muller said. “He sent a postcard, postmarked Bad Ems, to a mutual friend, asking that his regards be given to your father–”
“I tell you,” she said desperately, interrupting him, zhe doesn’t know my father!” And then the implications of what he had said sank in. He didn’t sound as if he were a security officer looking for a spy or a spy’s accomplices.
Gisella stared at Muller in utter confusion.
“–and I want to know what he meant by that,” Muller finished.
“He didn’t know my father,” she wailed. “He doesn’t know my father.”
“Fulmar sent his regards, “Muller said flatly. “We have to find out what the hell he meant by it. My life, and now yours, Gisella, may damned well hang on that.”
“I don’t understand_ n she began, and he shut her off.
“Yes, you do.” he said. “You’re a very intelligent young woman.”
“Has this anything to do with Reichsminister Speer?” Gisella asked.
She saw immediately in his eyes that the question confused him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “If you’re asking if I am making inquiries on behalf of Speer, no.
Quite the opposite, Gisella.” She looked at him curiously, and he nodded his head to confirm her suspicions.
“I want you to ask your father, right out, if he can think of any reason why Fulmar would send him his regards,” Muller said. “Do you understand?
If he can’t think of anything, have him guess. Whatever he tells you, you tell me. III decide whether it’s important or not.” He kept looking at her until finally she nodded her head, and said, very softly, “All right. All right.” He nodded, then turned from her and stripped down to his underwear and got in the bed.
Baffled, she crawled in bed beside him, careful not to touch him.
Was Muller up to something with Peis? Or was he up to something deeper than Peis was ever capable of?
She had a nightmare. Peis was slapping her face, and this time Muller was watching. When Peis ripped her blouse and brassiere off and applied the tip of his cigarette to her nipple, she woke up, breathing heavily, soaked in sweat.
“I f “What’s the matter?” Muller asked.
“I had a nightmare,” she said.
He sort of chortled. But it was not unkind.
“I was in it?”
“You and Peis,” she said. “He was burning my breast with a cigarette.”
“He did that to you?”
“Yes, when Eric disappeared and I had no idea where he was, or even that he was going.
“That may happen again,” Muller said, “I am sorry to say.” She started to shiver.