Von Stein reflected upon his good luck and became even more unhappy.
“This matter grows more complicated by the minute,” he growled, sinking his chin into his hand and staring out the window.
“Sir?” Heinz ventured nervously. He was sitting on a straight-backed chair, highly polished boots square, knees together, clipboard straight and pencil poised.
“Again, run through it for me,” Von Stein ordered.
“All of it?”
“The highlights will do, but start from the beginning.”
Heinz cleared his throat and looked down at the clipboard. “As you know, sir, Berlin issued orders that we were to find and follow a man of a certain description who would be arriving in Ankara on the weekly train. If we were to follow him carefully, without giving ourselves away, he would lead us directly to the Divine Wind.”
“Which we did.”
“Which we did,” Heinz agreed. “You sent your best hunter, Richenburg, and a small troop of men, with orders to commission reinforcements from the post at Ankara. Then Richenburg found the man on the train and followed him. The man did not appear to know he was being followed. Nevertheless, Richenburg very nearly lost him on at least three separate occasions, for the man used a series of loops and cut-offs designed to throw off any pursuit.
“The man proceeded to a country hostel on the outskirts of the city. He disappeared inside and emerged a day later dressed as a Bedouin. He had a horse, well-ladened with supplies and while Richenburg contrived to follow him by borrowing a vehicle, the major in charge of the troop requisitioned mounts and supplies from the base and waited for Richenburg to report in.
“Richenburg successfully followed the man to eastern Anatolia, to a camp of Bedouins. At the camp, the man was taken into the tent of the leader and did not re-emerge. Given what we know about the Divine Wind, it was presumed this was the Divine Wind’s camp and that the man had reached his goal.
“The major brought the troop within rifle range of the camp and ordered them to attack.”
“The first mistake,” Von Stein murmured.
“Yes, sir,” Heinz said expressionlessly.
“You do not agree?”
“Oh, it was a bad choice strategically, sir. I do not argue with you, but I can guess at the temper of the men. Three weeks without action following an erratic wanderer, would not have endeared them to him. Then, to be within hailing distance of the Divine Wind—the man who has caused so much grief amongst their fellow soldiers over the last few years? If I had been told I must walk away and leave the Divine Wind in peace, after suffering three weeks of discomfort to find him, I am not sure I would have been especially pleased.”
“‘Especially pleased’? That is a beautiful understatement, Heinz.” Von Stein’s mouth curled a little. “You have a point. Besides, the major was a long way from his command. Under the circumstances I believe we can forgive him for giving the order to attack.”
Heinz nodded and glanced back at his clipboard.
“During the running battle that followed, some Bedouin were captured. But not many—not as many as should have been caught. They were good fighters and they know the trick of blending in with the sand and disappearing. They slipped away like water from the hand.”
“Of course they are good at escaping us, Heinz. They’ve been practicing it for three years.”
“Yes, sir.” Heinz checked his clipboard again. “Richenburg had seen their leader emerge from the tent a few times and examined both the prisoners and the bodies but none of them was the Divine Wind.”
“And now the Divine Wind and his men are dotted about Anatolia and will be impossible to pick up unless we hunt down each of them, one Arab at a time.”
“However, Richenburg did follow the trail of the man who had led them to the camp. He had apparently been shot at one point and a blood trail lay through a cave system that gave access to the next valley. In that valley they found the man himself. He was in such a state that he could not have made his way there unassisted, yet his helpers had deserted him.”
“Yet no one knows who the helpers were.”
“Richenburg suspects and the major concurs, that it was probably the woman the Divine Wind kept in the tent with him. She was not captured and the tent was quite close to the cave system. As she dropped her water skin during her escape, they are confident that she will perish in the desert. Besides,” and Heinz smiled, “they had a better prize on their hands.”
“The injured man,” Von Stein added.
“Indeed. There is a Turkish outpost not far from the camp and they took him there for emergency treatment. His wound was attended and his clothes and all he carried examined. The Divine Wind had apparently begun the same task for they found the traveler’s saddle bags inside the command tent and they examined these also.”
“That is how they discovered the man is English,” Von Stein concluded, “which makes the entire expedition extremely messy and complicated.”
Heinz frowned. “I’m not sure I understand how uncovering an English agent could be considered messy.”
“It brings Berlin into the affair. When I was informed of the man’s nationality I, in turn, informed Berlin. In response, I was treated to a flurry of wires which insisted I bring the man to Constantinople, treat him like I would my own brother and wait for Berlin to deal with him.” Von Stein sighed. “They’re sending someone to take over the man’s interrogation.”
“It would appear the Englisher is more important than we first realized,” Heinz concluded.
“He had no identifying papers on him at all?”
Heinz pursed his lips as he consulted the clipboard. “Only Turkish traveling papers for the name Raki, which we assumed was false. However, the western clothing beneath his Arab robes was tailored in London and other possessions were of British manufacture.”
“It’s the details that trip a man up,” Von Stein observed.
“I do not believe he thought he would have to stand up to close examination.”
“Possibly not but it was careless of him. What of the hostel he used in Ankara?”
“The major got word to the base in Ankara and a few men were sent to investigate. The house was empty, the owners fled. Richenburg says the Englisher would have told them to go away for a while, as a purely precautionary measure. It is what he would have done under similar circumstances.”
“So we cannot follow that path of investigation. The owners would have learned by now that Germans were in their home. They won’t come back.”
“Which leaves us with the Englisher we are not permitted to speak to,” Heinz summarized.
“Oh, we can speak to him,” Von Stein returned.
“Sir?”
Von Stein swiveled away from the window to properly face his desk and Heinz. “Berlin won’t tell me who this Englisher is. Very well. I will find out for myself. He has been in the city at least once—that much is clear, as he was on the weekly train from Constantinople. It’s possible he is the source of information the Divine Wind has been using to track German and Turkish troop movements and activities. I would confirm that before I put the man into the hands of higher authorities.”
He tapped his desk thoughtfully. “Do you speak English, Heinz?”
“No sir. The Englisher does not speak German or Turkish.”
“I need to find someone with English. Someone from outside the barracks. None of my usual translators. I want to keep this quiet. No word, no rumor must reach back to Berlin.”
Heinz frowned. “If it is discretion you want, then perhaps…well….”
“What?” von Stein snapped.
“I hesitate, sir, because it is a most unconventional proposal.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Sir, Madam Häfner, I believe, speaks English well enough.”
“Madeline?” Von Stein frowned. “How odd.”
“She learned it as a child, for she had an English nanny. Although Major Häfner had the grace to be embarrassed when he admitted it.”
“She has been ill—indisposed.”
“William says she is well again and I saw her myself, sir, this morning. She used the car. Some dressmaker appointment—she was excited about a fabric shade she’d acquired.”
Von Stein pursed his lips, then nodded. “See to it, Heinz. Have Häfner ask her, or do it yourself. If we do this correctly and can get the Englisher to talk, then we may finally learn more about the structure of the allied agents’ network in the city.”
“The woman—Fairuza—was of no use?”
Von Stein grimaced. “She’s strong, that one. I’m beginning to think we won’t get anything from her. Not now.”
“But now we have the Englisher.”
“Yes, the Englisher. He’s important. Berlin’s frantic activities tell me that. I want to learn his secrets. I want to open up the secrets of this entire city.” He grinned. “That would make a prize well worth all the messiness and complications, Heinz.”
* * * * *
The officer called Von Stein appeared on the fifth morning of Holmes’ incarceration at the barracks of Harbiye.
He strolled into Holmes’ cell with the casual pace of a passerby. Holmes had seen lions at London Zoo pad about their cages with the same loose gait and his sense of caution leapt high.
This man was not to be dismissed nonchalantly.
He was looking around the moderately sized cell with mild interest, inspecting the appointments.
The fold-down bed was semi-comfortable, the thin mattress clean and free of vermin. The stone floor and walls were smooth and unmarked, although in the early morning hours a chill seeped from them that the daylight and warm air from the tiny barred window high up in the outside wall did little to disperse.
During those hours, Holmes wrapped the blanket from the bunk about his shoulders.
Because of the splints and bandaging on his leg it was more comfortable to stay on the bunk. There was no other seating in the room.
Von Stein stopped in the corner and turned to face Holmes, his hands behind his back. He glanced at the crisp white fresh bandaging. “Ich sehe, daß sie Ihre Verletzungen besucht haben.”
Holmes did not look down at his leg. “I don’t speak German.” He gave a little shrug.
“Kein Deutsch? Wie günstig.”
Von Stein stepped to the door, opened it and called out in German, “Please request Madame Häfner to attend.”
“Yes, sir!” came the response.
“And get two chairs!”
“Yes, sir!”
Two hard straight-backed chairs were brought to the cell and Von Stein arranged them facing Holmes. He sat on one, watching Holmes. “I am almost certain you do understand German, my friend. But I will play out your whimsy.”
Holmes stared blankly at him.
Light footsteps in the passage heralded Madame Häfner’s arrival. Von Stein stood and watched the door expectantly.
Holmes looked up as the door opened to reveal Madame Häfner. She was a dark-haired, perfectly coiffed woman in her forties, dressed in a shimmering, expensive dinner dress, a fur stole and glittering jewels. Tall, slim, with sharp, intelligent green eyes.
Holmes fought to keep his face expressionless, overriding the natural reaction of deep shock with sheer, iron will.
It was Elizabeth.
Von Stein held out his hand. “Madame Häfner…Madeline… I am so sorry to interrupt your evening meal and card game.”
“You can make up for it later, Alexander,” Elizabeth told him with a smile. “By escorting me back for schnapps.”
“You must forgive me for asking this of you. I am well aware of your abhorrence for the gruesome side of my trade. You must take that as a measure of my great need.”
“Heinz did convince me of this necessity, Alex.”
“I will spare you as much of the unpleasantness as I can.”
“Alex…enough. We are at war. I want to do my part.”
He smiled and kissed the back of her hand.
Only then did she look at Holmes, her face completely neutral. “This is the Englishman?”
“He’s not much to look at, is he?”
“He is older than I expected.” She glanced at Holmes’ cast. “You’ve been rather careless with him, haven’t you?”
“Not I. His comrades left him at our feet in that condition.”
“I see they are loyal to a fault,” she said dryly. “I suppose it is a little better than shooting their wounded if they slow them down.”
“For this man, it is worse. He is something of a prize catch, Madeline.” He handed Elizabeth to the chair. “Would you like to see if he is willing to talk?”
Elizabeth gave a dry laugh. “You are ever an optimist, Alexander.” She looked at Holmes, settling her hands in her lap. “Good evening, Englisher,” she said in English threaded with a light German accent. “Generalmajor Von Stein wishes to ask if you are willing to tell us about yourself.” She leaned forward. “I would advise co-operation. Von Stein, I have been told, is very clever and inventive at extracting information.”
Holmes shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t.”
She glanced at Von Stein. “No,” she told him.
“So I gathered,” he replied, watching Holmes with eagle eyes. He sighed. “We’re in for a long night, Madeline.”
“That’s all right, Alex. I was losing anyway.”
* * * * *
Much later, Von Stein lifted the woman’s hand to his lips. “Madeline. Thank you so much. Your help has been invaluable.”
“I am sorry you did not get what you were looking for. He did not speak, not even when you roughed him a little.”
“That is to be expected.”
“What will happen to him now?”
“Oh, we will continue to question him, if I can presume upon you as the need arises?”
“Of course.” She frowned, her mouth pouting. “Alex, I do not have a very good imagination but it seems to me that to make a man reveal information he does not want to part with would require more than simply questioning him.”
“You are correct,” Von Stein agreed.
“You must have an entire arsenal of methods for doing just that, yes?”
“Madeline, you surprise me. Your questions show an interest in those nasty areas you profess to detest.”
“Oh, I do detest them! I am not asking for details, Alex. But it does seem to me that more is required in this situation than simple questions and I am wondering why you are stinting yourself. Is it because of me?”
“Partly, my dear.”
She bit her lip, frowning. “You cannot speak to him without me. If you must do unpleasant things to make him talk, then you should do that. I will help you. I can be brave, Alex.”
“I am utterly sure of that.” He placed his hand over his heart and bowed. “Your patriotism is laudable, Madeline, but that is not all that stays my hand. I’m sure Heinz explained that I am moving against direct orders from Berlin. Those orders also insist that the Englisher be physically cared for. As some of my—what did you call it?—my arsenal of methods, yes. They can be somewhat intrusive, so I must practice a little restraint.”
“That is a pity,” she returned.
“Oh, it’s mere a temporary inconvenience,” Von Stein assured her. “One must become more creative when faced with unexpected difficulties.”
She shivered and wrapped the fur about her more tightly. “I believe that is all the detail I can stand, just now,” she added.
Von Stein opened the cell door. “I will see you from the building.”
She stepped out of the cell, not even glancing in Holmes’ direction.
The cell door shut behind them.
Von Stein escorted her toward the reception area where an Unteroffizier manned a small desk and kept record of who entered or left the holding cells.
“Madeline, you are an astonishing delight. What an unexpected performance!”
“I said everything you wanted me to say, at the end just then, about there being worse to come and so on. I was sufficient, then?”
“You were brilliant, my dear. You have my deepest admiration for your performance. You were utterly convincing.”
She smiled a little. “That is because I spoke only the truth, Alex.” They stepped out into the reception area, while the Unteroffizier studiously studied the wall beside him, his pen capped and sitting unused on the table.
Von Stein picked up her hand one more time and kissed it properly. “You may well find some of it uncomfortable to watch but I ask out of deepest need.”
She nodded. “I understand. Call me when you need me again.”
“Please give my regard to Häfner. I gather he has no objections to my borrowing of his lovely wife?”
“Only when he is winning, Alex. How can he have any complaints? When I am here in this accursed town, at his side?”
“Devotion and loveliness. Goodnight, Madeline my dear.”
“Goodnight, Alexander.” With a sweep of silky skirts, she turned and left, while Von Stein watched her, admiration on his face.
For a small moment he had wavered in his decision to use her as a translator but need had genuinely overcome his reluctance. Now, watching her lovely, mobile face and the sparkling green eyes made him consider what the impact might be upon Madeline herself. What if he was forced to maim the Englisher? Could she remain calm enough to translate whatever he said? Would she carry the image to her nighttime pillow as so many of them did?
She had spoken nothing but truth in the cell, she had just said. That meant she was willing to participate no matter what lengths he went to.
He had his answer and once more marveling at the power of loyalty to the Fatherland, he returned to his office.
* * * * *
“There has to be a way!” Elizabeth railed, pacing the oriental carpet with quick, angry steps, the taffeta swishing along with her.
William Häfner remained seated, with an outward calm. She had rarely seen his demeanor change from this placid state but right now, it merely increased her anger. She yanked the irritating fur from about her shoulders and dumped it upon the couch as she passed by.
“Well?” she demanded, as his silence stretched on.
“You know the facts as well as I, now. You want to extract a prisoner from Harbiye Barracks—the largest barracks this side of the Horn and the Bosphorus, which just happens to be jammed to the rafters with Turks and a crack German cavalry brigade. Not only that, you want to pull that prisoner out in such a way your identity is not revealed and there will be no pursuit. A prisoner who is, in all practicality, immobile.”
“I have inside help. You. And now I have access to the barracks myself too.”
“Only when Von Stein calls for you.”
“They are genuine advantages.”
“Granted, but they are our only advantages. Elizabeth, you set up this operation for information gathering and that is all. Military strategies of the kind you are asking me to dream up for you require resources we don’t have—men and equipment being the top two.”
“Then you will have to make do with a woman and ingenuity,” she snapped. “We have to get him out. As soon as possible. He will not let them break him and I won’t let him die because of it.”
“Why not?” Häfner asked reasonably. “You’ve made harsher decisions than that before now.”
She paused her pacing and stood head down, her arms wrapped about her, staring at the colored tufts of the rug. “He’s there because he came to Constantinople in search of me.”
“He came for Hadiya, not you.”
“I am Hadiya.”
“There is a difference to him,” Häfner argued.
“Not any more. Von Stein wants him broken and spilling his secrets and that’s exactly what Holmes won’t do, because one of those secrets is me. That is why I have to get him out.”
“Are you are so sure he won’t break?”
“I know him. He will not break. He will not entertain even the possibility of it.”
Häfner considered this. “You would be risking so much to get him out. If you are sure he will not betray you, then perhaps you should not take that risk.”
“You mean, leave him there?”
“Why not? If he does not break, then Von Stein will ensure he is dead, instead. Dead men tell no tales.”
Thoughtfully, Elizabeth resumed her pacing.