Lieutenant Otto Grunberger climbed the stairs to Delphine’s apartment, his brow creased with worry. While glancing over communiqués to General von Choltitz earlier in the day, he’d come across one that said Karl had left the Russian front and presently was speeding through the Ukraine on its way to Paris. At the rate it was moving, it would be in Paris the day after tomorrow. He shuddered to think of what would happen to Paris once Karl started firing two-and-a-half-ton shells around.
He approached Delphine’s door and knocked. Although he had a key of his own, he always knocked first because he didn’t want to disturb her while she was painting, and he didn’t want any of her visitors to know that she had a German boyfriend. Many French people didn’t approve of their women going out with German soldiers. Such women were contemptuously referred to as horizontal collaborators.
He didn’t hear her footsteps so he took out his key and inserted it into the lock. He opened the door and walked into her vestibule, fragrant with the musky perfume she wore. He closed the door, latched it, and flinched at the sight of clothes strewn all over the floor. Stepping into her living room, he saw the cushions of her furniture ripped open and the rug rolled up. Blinking and trying to digest the chaos before him, his jaw dropped open as two burly SS men stormed into the living room from Delphine’s studio.
“What are you doing here?” snarled one of them, a sergeant.
Grunberger stiffened. “How dare you speak to me that way!” he screamed. “I am an officer in the German Army and a member of General von Choltitz’s personal staff! What is the meaning of this outrage!”
“Hello there,” said a new voice.
Grunberger turned in its direction and saw a dapper SS major walk out of Delphine’s bedroom.
“I’m Major Kurt Richter of the Gestapo,” the man said. “May I inquire as to your name?”
Grunberger became terrified at the sight of this sinister figure and realized with dismay that something horrible had happened to Delphine. “I am Lieutenant Otto Grunberger and I am a member of General von Choltitz’s personal staff.”
“Hmmm,” said Richter, swaggering toward Grunberger and looking him up and down. “And you let yourself in here with a key?”
“That is correct,” Grunberger said stiffly.
“You must have been very friendly with the Countess de Chaulieu, then.”
“One might say that.”
“One might indeed,” Richter replied with a nasty little chuckle. “Are you aware that the countess is a spy for the French terrorists?”
“Impossible!” declared Grunberger.
“Then why did she go to see Andre Sechard, one of the most notorious terrorists in France?”
Grunberger swallowed hard. Now he knew what Delphine had meant when she said she’d take care of Karl. She must have gone to tell Sechard about Karl and got herself arrested.
“There must be some kind of mistake,” Grunberger said weakly.
“No, there was no mistake,” Richter told him. “We found her in the headquarters of Sechard, and she asked for him by name.”
Grunberger tried to smile. “I’m sure she went there for some harmless reason. The countess is not political at all.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Richter said, a new, hard tone in his voice. “Particularly now that I see you here. You say you are on General von Choltitz’s personal staff?”
“That is correct.”
“Then perhaps you have told something of importance to the Countess de Chaulieu, which she wanted to relay to Andre Sechard the terrorist. Perhaps you’ve been giving secrets to the Countess de Chaulieu all along!”
“How dare you say such a thing to me!” Grunberger screamed.
Richter looked at the SS men. “Seize him!”
The SS men grabbed Grunberger by the arms.
“You can’t do this to me!” Grunberger shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Oh no?” asked Richter, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
“I demand to speak with General von Choltitz immediately!”
“Don’t be absurd,” Richter told him. He looked at the SS men again. “Take him away.”
Grunberger struggled to get loose as the SS men dragged him to the door.