Annabel glanced about the terrace, looking for her uncle. Waiters moved swiftly through the crowd, perfectly balancing large, terrifyingly loaded silver trays of filled champagne glasses, as well as plates of canapés of assorted puff pastry delights with various tastes to offer: cheese, ham, shaved truffles, mushrooms, smoked salmon.
She knew that this was just a prelude to a splendid dinner of caviar and lobster. She’d seen the seafood truck this morning, laden with all the red and blue lobsters being delivered in large crates. The fisherman believed that keeping lobsters in water tanks was an abomination, so they were nestled in moist seaweed and stacked in their boxes, then placed in a refrigerated room at the entrance to the kitchen.
“There’s your uncle,” Scott said in a low voice. Oncle JP was standing unobtrusively at one side of the terrace, talking to his staff and surveying everything with that appraising, eagle-eyed gaze of his.
As Scott stepped away to say hello to someone, Annabel hurried over to her uncle.
“Ah!” he said, smiling. “I see you got your birthday gift. Delphine helped me select it. It suits you, as I knew it would,” he said modestly.
“Oncle JP, thank you so much. I love it!” Annabel said, putting a hand on the beautiful pendant, then giving him a kiss. He actually blushed with pride.
“Step over here,” Oncle JP murmured, still gazing at the crowd and nodding whenever someone smiled at him. He drew Annabel into the shadows. “The sooner you get rid of that ‘package’ in your purse, the safer you will be,” he said in a low voice.
She opened her purse, and her uncle, without even looking down, skillfully reached inside, took the codebook, and put it into his jacket pocket.
With some satisfaction he said, “I will photograph its pages right away, and then I’ll see that it is returned. Where was it? Did anyone see you?”
She told him exactly where she’d found it, then added that she’d had to hide in the closet when a man briefly entered the villa.
“But he didn’t see me,” Annabel assured him. A thought occurred to her now. “Did you send a man to the villa?” she asked.
“Non!” Oncle JP shook his head.
She said, “He spoke French, and he said ‘all is ready.’ What can that mean?”
Her uncle’s eyes narrowed, but all he said was, “Hmmm.” So she told him about the little confrontation that she’d just had with Téa and Herr Ubel.
Oncle JP glanced sharply around at the crowd. Téa was now standing close to Jack, and the two of them were smiling and posing obligingly whenever a photographer asked. Herr Ubel had gone over to the bar under the pines.
Oncle JP said calmly, “You did well, Annabel, but from now on, avoid engaging with Téa or Herr Ubel. Your job is done. Just relax, and try to enjoy the party. You do not have to watch anyone; I have people on my staff looking out for us tonight. But if you should see anything unusual, or need any help, tell me at once. I will be in my office. So go; dance with your date.”
Annabel found Scott in a corner, talking and laughing with a bright-faced, blue-eyed Irishman who had a very high forehead and a dazzling smile, which made his whole face light up with sharp intelligence.
“Annabel, meet James Cagney,” Scott said.
“Oh, it’s such a pleasure!” Annabel exclaimed. Here was the actor who’d just starred in the prison movie Each Dawn I Die, and now he had a new gangster film coming out with his co-star Humphrey Bogart called The Roaring Twenties, which sounded fascinating. Annabel told him so, and she loved listening to Mr. Cagney’s soft voice with its strong New York attitude.
“Why, thank you very much, you’re very kind,” he said, looking at her searchingly as if he feared he ought to recognize her.
“Annabel is my amanuensis,” Scott offered grandly.
“You said a mouthful, brother,” Cagney teased him.
But his gaze alighted upon a group of rather unpleasant-looking men standing with Herr Ubel at the bar under the pine trees on the terrace. Nazi cohorts were laughing and talking loudly in German.
“There’s always a skunk at every garden party,” Cagney remarked in his most fighting-Irish tone. “But tonight I’d say we’ve got a whole passel of them stinking up the joint. Who invited that lot?”
“They seem to be celebrating something tonight,” Scott observed. “They’ve got the giddy look of people who’ve won big at a casino and are showing off their winnings by buying drinks all ’round.”
“They’re not all hotel guests,” Annabel commented. “Some of them get invited to lunch by the ones who are guests, and they hang out for the cocktail hour. The bartenders say the Nazis have made that side of the terrace their hangout, no matter whose private party it intrudes on, and they just refuse to budge.”
“The French are too damned genteel for those thugs,” Scott muttered. “That’s what Cary Grant told me.” He turned to Annabel and grinned. “You just missed Cary. He was skulking around, trying to duck Mae West after she pinched his cheek and told everybody that she was the one who discovered him, when he was a ‘sweet’ English boy just off the boat.”
“Is that so?” Cagney chuckled. He winked at Annabel, saying for her benefit, “You know, I remember when Cary used to sell shirts on the studio lot, to make a little extra on the side. I bought one once. Sky blue. It was fine.”
A fresh roar of rough laughter from the bar caused Cagney to return his gaze to the interlopers. He said, “Don’t those rats know we’ve got half the Hollywood Anti-Nazi League here tonight? What are we supposed to do, make nice?” But then he just shook his head and said, “It’s enough to make me want to go right back to the farm.”
“Heard you got a hundred acres in Martha’s Vineyard,” Scott said curiously.
“You bet. No concrete roads, no traffic, no fascists,” Cagney said. “And the land—it’s the best soil I ever saw. A man could be completely self-sufficient out there.” He and Scott launched into an earnest discussion of soil conservation.
“May I have this dance?” Rick suddenly appeared at Annabel’s side. He looked especially spiffy tonight, with his dark hair sleeked back with violet-scented pomade, his clothes impeccable. But he acted almost afraid that she’d turn down his request, so she gave him a gentle smile and took his hand as they moved out to dance.
Rick was not a natural dancer; he seemed to take a more athletic approach. Yet he managed to keep time and not step on her toes. “You’re light as a feather,” he murmured in her ear. “Like a beautiful bird, all in blue and violet.” He put his cheek near hers and held her like a boy cherishing a favorite teddy bear. As the music ended, he gave her a quick, enthusiastic hug, and she could feel his heart beating excitedly.
Yet no sooner had they stopped dancing than a woman with a high, nervous laugh swooped over to him and said, “Ricky, dance with me now!” and dragged him away.
Annabel stood with her back to the stone balustrades, watching Jack and Téa moving across the dance floor to the admiration of the crowd.
“Hello, ducks!” Elsa Lanchester said in a cheery tone, gliding nearer with a smile. Her curly hair had been tamed into an elegant, upswept swirl tonight. She wore a green gown and a paisley silk shawl with gold fringe.
“Hello! And where is Mr. Laughton?” Annabel asked.
“Oh, some photographer made him pose over there with Norma Shearer, just because they made The Barretts of Wimpole Street together,” Elsa said tolerantly, nodding in the direction where flashbulbs were popping. “Poor Charles, he’s a nervous wreck. It’s quite a responsibility, with the Hunchback screening kicking off the film festival in a few days. He says that on that big night, he’ll simply hide under his seat in the dark.”
“Well, he can’t do that tonight,” Annabel said in amusement, searching the crowd for a glimpse of him. “He’s the guest of honor at the Grand Hotel!”
Elsa spoke sotto voce. “Charles loves acting, and some people think he’s a ham, but I tell you for a fact, he’s not so fond of the limelight when he has to play himself among his peers.”
“He seems to be holding his own!” Annabel observed, now spotting Charles across the terrace, surrounded by reporters, appearing to answer their questions with aplomb and charm.
Elsa murmured, “Some journalist actually asked him to wear that dreadful Quasimodo costume for publicity shots, but Charles will never climb into the horrid thing again. My dear, it was made of rubber and weighed a ton. They put rubber makeup on his face, too. And they made a hump on his back that was four inches of foam, covered with just a thin layer of rubber ‘skin’ that went all the way across his bare shoulders and arms.”
“That sounds torturous!” Annabel exclaimed.
Elsa lowered her voice and said in contempt, “On top of that, the nasty director tied Charles to a revolving wheel and whipped him, over and over again, take after take, day after day, and he came home with painful welts on his body, poor lamb.”
“Who was the director?” Annabel asked.
“That ghastly Dieterle—we shall never forgive him. Such a strange man. Shows up on the set wearing white gloves, because he’s terrified of picking up germs. All sadists and bullies are actually cowards at heart, dearie.”
Envisioning the whole scene as Elsa described it, Annabel was both enthralled and horrified. “I’ll never be able to think of anything else when I finally see the movie,” she said.
Elsa waved her hand. “No, no, it’s all just human sacrifice on the altar of art.”
Annabel noticed that Jack and Téa had stopped dancing, and Téa, with a charming smile, went over to Herr Hardtman, the man who’d demanded changes to Love Isn’t Easy.
Jack, unwilling to join Téa with the very man who’d caused the ruination of his first independent film, had crossed the dance floor and was heading toward Annabel.
Seeing him coming so purposefully to her, she felt suddenly lightheaded, torn between sensual attraction and the fear that he might be in cahoots with Téa.
Elsa, observing Jack approaching, whispered knowingly to Annabel, “Handsome curly-headed devil. Just remember—we are all only make-believe.” And she floated away.
“Annabel, let’s dance!” Jack said with his beautiful smile, offering her his arm.
Oncle JP was nowhere to be seen, but she was mindful of what he’d advised her. Act normal, she told herself. So she allowed Jack to lead her out and join the other dancers.
Jack moved in perfect time to the waltz, turning and turning slowly at first, then progressing with the speed of the music. Annabel found her thoughts and feelings whirling, too, in an impossible mix—she felt joyful to be in his arms, yet wondered why he was still involved with Téa. Couldn’t he see that Téa belonged with Herr Ubel and his friends?
“What’s the matter?” Jack asked, drawing his head back to get a good look at Annabel. “Are you all right? You feel so tense.”
She could bear it no longer. She had to know the truth. “Where do your loyalties lie?” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “With the free world—or with Nazi Germany?”
He looked astounded. “What’s come over you?” he inquired.
“Why do you love Téa? Don’t you know what she really is?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, wary now.
Annabel could not go so far as to say She’s a spy for Hitler! But she surprised herself by blurting out, “Well, for one thing, Téa—she—she assaulted me at the villa!”
“What?” Jack asked, bewildered. “You can’t possibly be serious!”
Feeling defensive, she told him that Téa had drugged her, undressed her, and sexually attacked her. “She behaved worse than Alan!”
The music stopped, and there was a brief silence before the band started again with a new tune.
Looking deeply concerned, Jack led Annabel to the other end of the terrace, where they could speak in private. “I don’t know what happened to you, but it couldn’t have been Téa.”
“It was too,” Annabel said stubbornly. “She was horrible to me. You should have heard her voice that day, so shrill and—and—angry. Of course, she acts sweet as pie when you’re around. But she was like a completely different person when she had me alone!”
A light seemed to break across Jack’s face. He glanced over his shoulder and said in a low tone, “Listen. I’m going to tell you something you mustn’t tell another soul. I think the person you saw was Téa’s brother, Georg.” He pronounced it the German way, Gay-org. “He was in prison in Germany. Téa’s been sick about it, but she finally got him out—for now, anyway.”
Annabel sucked in her breath. “Her brother!” she repeated. Then she realized that Jack had told her about Téa’s family back in Berlin.
“Yes. He’s a rather brilliant scientist, but also unstable, as brilliant people can be sometimes. Especially when being bullied! You can imagine what the fascists want from him.”
Jack gazed out toward the sea. “Herr Ubel and his gang brought her brother to Monte Carlo, but at first they only allowed Téa to see him on Herr Volney’s yacht. She finally got them to let Georg come ashore here and spend a day with her at the villa. But they’ve still got him on a short leash. That’s why Téa has to make nice with the Nazis. Those bastards have been using the situation to yank her chain the whole time we’ve been here.”
Annabel observed him guardedly. Clearly he trusted Téa utterly. Was he deliberately “looking the other way” about the strange goings-on, as so many people did nowadays, or was he simply blinded by Téa’s overwhelming vulnerability?
Looking sympathetic now, Jack said, “I’m sorry you were at the villa when Georg was. He shouldn’t have fooled around with you. Téa and her brother used to play tricks on people, pretending to be each other, taking turns, as it were. They’ve been doing that for years, because they look so much alike in that ethereal way, same hair, same eyes. When they were kids, Téa’s mother actually dressed them up in identical clothes, as if they were twins: as two boys on one day, and then as two girls the next day. Really screwed them up. Their mother died in an asylum. Georg never really got over that. He makes a lot of emotional demands on Téa, and he’s jealous. Because he’s never really been able to fend for himself.”
Annabel thought of the rough hands that had shaken her during that drugged episode on the sofa. And the voice that was like Téa’s—and yet so unlike it, so demanding and angry, but somehow frantic and pleading at the same time. It was not the voice she’d just heard in the villa, though. Something else was going on there that clearly Jack knew nothing about.
“But Téa and Georg both attacked me that awful night,” she told him.
Jack felt her shudder and said gently, “It’s hard to understand, I know, but try to. Berlin was a pretty weird, perverted place after the Great War. The fat cats got fatter and the poor were starving, so people did what they had to do to entertain the wealthy and catch whatever scraps they threw. That’s why Téa left. When she came to Hollywood, she had to leave her brother behind, and he didn’t handle it well. They’d been so close, and she was his anchor. But she sent him money and thought he was safe in Germany—until the Nazis put him in jail for ‘lewd behavior, moral delinquency, gross indecency, and perversion.’”
“Oh,” Annabel said quietly. “Yes, I’ve heard of that awful law.”
“The Nazis keep telling Téa that the only way her brother will be truly safe is if she returns to Berlin to make films and propaganda for Hitler; they say she and Georg can live in style and comfort there for the rest of their lives,” Jack said darkly.
Annabel felt that things were making sense, in a ghastly way. Having just found out that Herr Ubel had been the man in the satyr mask at the masked ball, she knew only too well what a bully he could be. He’d literally shoved her into a corner to imperiously demand that she do what he wanted. Herr Ubel saw me in Téa’s costume, so I bet he thought he was dancing with Téa and he was threatening her, she thought.
Jack took her by the shoulders and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I’m telling you all this because I know you are a good person at heart—so you must keep this to yourself, promise? For Téa’s sake and mine. Can we count on you?”
Annabel said gently, “Téa’s been pretty cozy with those guys tonight—maybe she’s already made up her mind to go back to Germany.”
“No, no! Téa’s only pretending to go along with them, but she’s really hoping to convince them to let her take her brother to America with us, right after the film festival. We all want to put Europe behind us, for good!”
“But—what about your new film at Sainte-Agnès? Aren’t you going to stay here and shoot it?” Annabel asked in a small voice, thinking, Wouldn’t you rather stay in France with me?
“Europe is finished,” he said flatly. “For now, anyway. I can shoot a lot of that film on a Hollywood studio set.”
An errant, chill breeze made Annabel shiver. She glanced across the terrace and saw that Téa and Herr Ubel’s group were no longer standing over by the bar but were leaving the terrace. “And where is Téa going now?” she asked pointedly.
“There’s a party on that film guy’s yacht—Herr Volney’s—they’re celebrating something, probably somebody’s birthday, so Téa must make an appearance, to stay in their good graces.”
Annabel felt so impatient now that she wanted to blurt out, But Téa is doing more than that to keep the Nazis happy! She killed the tennis player and stole his codebook and hid it in that fashionable luggage of hers. You really think she and her brother molested me just for fun? They wanted to know what I did with the Enigma machine. But Oncle JP had sworn her to secrecy.
So all she could do was say angrily, “Open your eyes, Jack! She’s one of them! Don’t you even care that she may be working against France and the entire free world?”
Jack looked truly alarmed. “Please, Annabel! Don’t say things like that. If you go around spreading rumors about Téa, I’ll never get her out of France!”
As they stood staring at each other, Annabel heard a low rumble of thunderclouds. But now Jack seemed to comprehend that she might know a lot more than she was letting on.
“Is there something else that you’re not telling me?” he demanded.
“I can’t give you the details,” she said earnestly. “I can only say that Téa is just not the person you think she is. She belongs to those thugs—not to you.”
He drew in his breath. “Well, if an innocent girl like you believes such things, then whatever Téa is being forced to do, her cover is blown. She can’t stay here at the Grand Hotel.”
Lightning suddenly split the sky, and there was an enormous clap of thunder. The guests shrieked like excited children, covering their ears. The storm was creeping closer, like a prowling beast. Annabel noticed that the heavens had blackened with quick-moving clouds that looked ready to explode. And the sea had turned a steely, battleship grey, its waves roiling and crashing in a spray of angry white foam against the rocky coves.
As everyone looked up, another enormous bolt of lightning flashed in a fiery branch, looking as if it had just torn the curtain of the sky in two. Then there was a cracking sound and an earthshaking thud, like the fall of a giant’s dead body.
“Watch out!” someone shouted, for a tree had been struck and fallen right near the hotel; and on its way down, part of it had hit the side door that led to the kitchen, damaging the door so that it fell off, exposing the little hallway to the kitchen.
The kitchen crew had just hauled the tower of lobster crates from the chilled pantry to the hall, but the broken door caused the whole tower to topple over and crash open.
“Look!” Annabel exclaimed as, incredibly, the lobsters themselves broke free, so desperate were they to escape from all the terrifying noise and confusion of the storm and the flurry of workers all around them.
Now the lawn seemed to be filled with escaping lobsters as they streamed across it, instinctively heading for the sea. It was a sight that, for the rest of her life, Annabel would never forget—all those terrified, hard-shelled creatures scurrying for freedom.
At first, everyone just stared in disbelief as the kitchen staff went chasing after them, their white uniforms bobbing across the lawn. Then the guests began to shriek as they, too, dashed out after the madly escaping lobsters, as if everyone were on a scavenger hunt.
The women in chiffon dresses flitted down the main path amid shrieks of laughter. Annabel saw a few men drunkenly staggering up the lawn, brandishing their shellfish captives and yelling, “Got one!”
But then the clouds finally burst, and the rain came down hard in sudden, heavy sheets. Everyone shouted and made a run for cover, back to the hotel.
All except Jack. He had been momentarily distracted by the sight of the lobsters, but now he was evidently thinking hard. Unexpectedly he kissed Annabel, as if he really meant it.
“Adieu, darling,” he said softly, turning away.
“Wait—where are you going in this pouring rain?” she exclaimed, putting a hand on his arm to detain him. They were both getting soaked, but she refused to budge.
“To find Téa. The Nazis were celebrating tonight. Maybe something’s really up this time,” he said worriedly. “And it might be a trap for Téa. If she gets on their boat, she may never be able to get out of Europe and come back to the States. We can’t wait until the end of the film festival. She’s got to get out, now.”
“Jack, please—just let her go!” Annabel said urgently, still holding his arm.
He shook her off, more roughly and decisively now. “Go inside, sweet girl. Be safe.”
And he turned and ran out into the night and the pouring rain. Annabel stood there, staring, until someone put a hand on her shoulder.
“Your uncle is looking for you,” Scott said. “Come on, Annabel. Come in from the rain.”
* * *
In the cool marble lobby, Elsa and Charles Laughton had escaped the downpour and were watching events unfold. Now Elsa spotted Annabel, so she took off her pretty evening shawl to put it round Annabel’s shivering shoulders.
“Mustn’t catch a cold, ducks,” Elsa said gently. “Heartache is one thing—you can get over that—but pneumonia’s a real killer.”
The other guests poured into the lobby and were milling about, chattering excitedly, waiting out the rain. But the storm, which had come so quickly, was already abating.
Annabel hurried into her uncle’s office. He had been giving instructions to the head waiters to usher the crowd to the indoor restaurant.
Now he turned his attention to Annabel.
“Thanks to you,” Oncle JP said in a low voice, “we have photographed everything we needed, and the codebook has been returned by the maid to where you said it belonged.”
Annabel quickly told him about her conversation with Jack, fearing that her uncle would scold her for having revealed too much about their suspicions. But Oncle JP seemed oddly resigned. “Téa Marlo doesn’t matter now. All things will have to take their course.”
“Oncle, what do you know?” Annabel asked apprehensively.
“The Germans have stepped up their radio activity. So have the Russians,” Oncle JP said. “Something is imminent. I was working on this, but now the storm is affecting my radio. But we will keep trying.”
“What does it mean?” she asked worriedly.
“We think the Germans and the Soviets have made a deal not to fight each other. If this is so, then Hitler will not have to worry about sending his armies to the Russian front. He can focus on the rest of us. There is nothing to stop him now. War is only a matter of days away—maybe even hours.”