Dangerous Allies (2 page)

I
n spite of the dim lighting backstage, Katia easily picked out her contact by the single bloodred rose he wore on his lapel. He stood on the fringe of the post-production party, his face hidden by the shadows. She couldn’t decide if the lack of light made him appear mysterious. Or sinister.

He lifted two fingers in silent salute then settled his broad shoulder against the wall behind him once more.

Katia didn’t particularly like the way he watched her with those long, speculative looks. The quiet intensity in him made her heart beat in hard jerks. How much did he know about her? Did he know her secret?

A sense of unease skittered up her spine, but she boldly kept her eyes on his. She drew a careful breath. The man made her nervous. The tingling weakness in her limbs distressed her further, until she realized he was deliberately trying to intimidate her.

Another man who underestimated her.

Annoyance replaced her anxiety. Katia hiked her chin
up a notch. Many before him had seen her as a liability. And, like them, this one would ultimately come to view her as his greatest asset.

Or he would fail.

As he continued to study her with those smart, patient eyes, she felt a quick churn of hope in her stomach. But that made no sense. She refused to allow his assessment to go unmatched. With equal intensity she ran her gaze across him.

On the surface he looked like a young, wealthy German out for an entertaining evening at the theater. Dressed in an expensive tuxedo, black tie and crisp white shirt, he could pass as a financier. Maybe a bored aristocrat. Even one of Hitler’s secret agents or a henchman for Heinrich Himmler.

Her breath came short and fast at that last thought. Did the Nazis know she was a mole for the British? Had they sent this man to trap her?

If it wasn’t for the red rose, she’d give in to her fears. The operative’s behavior certainly wasn’t helping matters. His stance was anything but friendly. The intense control he held over his body spoke of hard physical training. Probably military. An officer, no doubt. A man used to giving orders, and having them obeyed.

She wanted to distrust him immediately.

She found herself intrigued instead.

He turned his head into the light, a gesture that allowed her to see his face for the first time without dark shadows hindering her inspection.

His sharp eyes and tall, lean body reminded her
of a big cat. Unwavering, patient. And very, very dangerous.

Code name, Cougar.

It fit him to perfection. With his dark blond hair, piercing blue eyes and strong, obstinate jaw he could hail from any number of northern European countries. Austria, Norway, Great Britain.

Germany.

She turned from that disturbing thought and focused her full attention on her understudy, pretending grave interest in the other woman’s enthusiastic compliments.

Unable to stop herself, she slid another glance at her contact from beneath lowered lashes. The watchful look in his eyes suddenly vanished and, just as quickly, a pleasant smile rode across his lips.

The effortless charm put her on instant alert.

He shoved away from the wall and began pacing toward her. Slowly, deliberately.

The hunter stalking his prey.

A little stab of panic penetrated her attempts at calm. No. She would not show weakness.

He stopped in front of her, an inch closer than was polite, then offered a formal nod. Her understudy melted away, muttering something about needing a plate of food.

The scent of musk, expensive tobacco and dominant male was far too unsettling, the handsome face far too attractive.

In a purely self-defensive move, Katia gave her head an arrogant little toss. Lifting a single eyebrow, she
concentrated on the planned greeting she was supposed to use with him tonight. “Did you enjoy the play?”

He nodded and stuck to the script, as well. “It was enlightening.”

The words rolled off his tongue in perfect German, with just a hint of Austria clinging to the edges.

Relief had her fear smoothly vanishing. He was her British contact, after all.

She kept to the words MI6 had given them for this first meeting. “I’m glad.”

“Perhaps we could discuss the finer points of your performance in a more private place?”

She swallowed but held his stare. He was following the script, so why did she get the sense he was toying with her? “Yes, I would like that.”

His smile deepened in response, revealing a row of straight, white teeth. Her heart gave one powerful kick against her ribs. The charm was there, urging her into complacency, and yet his eyes were so stark and empty.

For a moment she glimpsed something that looked like despair behind his flawless performance, giving her the impression that this man needed someone to reach him, perhaps even to save him.

For a second she felt herself softening toward him, but only for a second. This was no romantic interlude. This was a serious game of war. Loss of control, even for a moment, meant death. And then who would protect her mother?

Katia quickly adjusted her thoughts by focusing on
her mother and all they had to lose if Katia became reckless.

She started to take a step back but her contact captured her hand, turned it over and studied her palm.

Her pulse raced at his light touch.

Not wanting to draw attention to them, she tried to ease her hand free, but he released her first.

“Perhaps we should go to…” He allowed his words to trail off, as planned, giving her the choice of the location for their real meeting.

Happy to take the lead, she cocked her head toward a room off to her right. “My dressing room is just over there.” Her territory.

His smile turned into a roguish grin. “Perfect.”

The boyish tilt of his lips made her want to believe everything he said from this point on, even when she knew—knew for a
fact
—he made his life telling lies and using intrigue to accomplish his mission.

She opened her mouth to speak, reconsidered and then snapped it shut. Let him take command for a while, as expected.

“You were remarkable,” he drawled, his words no longer following their scripted first meeting. His expression dared her to remark on his audacity.

She couldn’t. She was too busy trying to shove aside the pleasure that swelled inside her at his impulsive remark. If there was anything she didn’t trust it was a spontaneous, sincere compliment. It hit at a vulnerable spot deep within, the place no one had touched since her
father’s murder. The place that had once believed in a loving God.

She lifted a shoulder, pretending his deliberate shift in the conversation didn’t bother her in the least. “Dying onstage has its own unique drama. Poetic and sizzling.” She smiled, opened her heart just a little. “Wonderful, really.”

His eyebrows drew together in an expression of genuine fascination. “Is that why you do it, then? For the drama?”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the stage.

Oh, he was a smooth one, intentionally forcing her further off track with an intriguing question. She would not be defeated by such a transparent maneuver. “Among other reasons.”

She slanted him a warning glare. His questions were getting too personal. Too insightful. Too…dangerous.

Just how much did this man know about her?

Their association was supposed to be simple. But the curling in her stomach told her this mission had become entirely too complicated already. She had to remember they would work together only three days, then never see each other again.

She wouldn’t even learn his real name. As far as she was concerned, he was Friedrich Reiter, a wealthy shipbuilder who frequented the theater.

Pushing the spark of remorse aside, Katia touched his arm, but then quickly dropped her hand at the shocking sense of comfort she felt on contact. “Why don’t we—”

Her words were drowned out by voices coming from the backstage door leading into the alley.

Happy greetings rang out, one after another. Katia turned toward the sound of a familiar feminine voice, barely catching sight of her elegant mother before being greeted with a kiss on her cheek.

Taking a step back, Katia scooped a breath into her lungs and tried to focus her chaotic thoughts.

What was her mother doing here, tonight of all nights? Elena Kerensky rarely attended the theater and she never appeared backstage. Mingling with the masses was simply
not
done. It was one of her mother’s cardinal rules.

So what had sparked this unprecedented visit?

Katia took another long breath and swept a furtive glance over her mother. Elena Kerensky was still a striking woman at forty-seven, one who knew how to dress for any occasion. Tonight, she’d chosen a form-fitting gown of ice-blue that matched the color of her eyes. She’d pulled her pale blond hair into a refined chignon, showing off the expensive jewels around her neck. The ensemble made her look every bit the brave Russian princess in exile.

“My darling Katarina.” Elena spoke in her trademark breathy whisper. “You were lovely this evening. Perfectly charming. I am a very proud mother.”

For a moment Katia’s practiced facade deserted her. She, unlike her mother, had very few rules in life and only one unbreakable commandment: never, under any circumstance, involve her mother in a mission.

She had to send Elena on her way before propriety
required Katia to introduce the MI6 operative. Even though he had backed off a few steps, most likely to give her room to deal with this unexpected interruption, he remained close.

To further complicate matters, her mother wasn’t alone. She’d brought her favorite escort of late, Hermann Schmidt, a cold-hearted naval officer in his early fifties.

Despite the air clogging in her throat, Katia needed to concentrate. What was Elena thinking? Not only did Schmidt hold the high-ranking position of captain in the
Kriegsmarine,
he had an unholy obsession for the Fatherland and a stark hatred of Jews.

Perhaps her mother didn’t recognize the risks. Or perhaps she was simply hiding in plain sight.

“Katia, my dear, you remember Hermann?” Elena swept her hand in a graceful arc between them. “It was his idea to come backstage and congratulate you personally.”

Which could mean…anything.

Far more worried about her mother’s safety than the British operative standing to her right, frightening possibilities raced through Katia’s mind, each more terrible than the last. Her heartbeat slowed to a painful thump…thump…thump.

How could her own mother willingly choose to align her loyalties with a Nazi like Hermann Schmidt? It was true, the Nazis hated the Communists as much as Elena Kerensky did, but that did not make them—or this man—her ally. Especially when Elena carried such a dangerous secret hidden in her lineage.

Katia would have to speak to her mother in private. But not now. Now, she had to don the comfortable role of silly, spoiled daughter. “Good evening, Herr…
Korvettenkapitän.
It is always a pleasure to see you.”

Schmidt’s eyes narrowed into hard, uncompromising slits. “It is
Kapitän zur See,
Fräulein Kerensky. Just as it was the last time you made the same mistake. And the time before that.”

“Oh, dear, of course.”

Arrogant beast.

Tossing her head back, Katia gave a little self-conscious giggle. “My apologies. I never seem to be able to distinguish the ranks of the
Kriegsmarine.
”

She continued chattering nonsensical words that indicated her ignorance of all things military, ever mindful of the British operative moving back to her side once again. Beneath her lashes, she slid a covert glance his way, quickly catching the doubt in his bearing.

And why wouldn’t he be suspicious of her now?

Katia’s mission was to help him gain access to the blueprints of a Nazi secret weapon, a revolutionary mine that had sunk countless merchant ships over the last three months. Yet here she was, fraternizing with a U-boat captain. Then again…

Perhaps she could use the Nazi’s unexpected appearance to her advantage. How was the British spy to know that Hermann Schmidt was not one of her most useful contacts?

The key was to keep Hermann thinking she was an imbecile, all the while convincing the British operative
she was a brilliant actress in a necessary performance to protect her mother.

Tricky. But achievable.

Elena, however, provided the one complication Katia could not defuse with any of her well-practiced roles. “Darling, please do us the honor of introducing your…
friend.
”

T
he moment all three gazes turned toward Jack his gut twisted into a hard knot. For a fraction of a second all the intense emotions—the guilt, the anger, the need for vengeance—threatened to break free and sweep away his control. But if he relaxed his guard for a moment, no matter the cause, someone would end up dead to night.

Hardening his resolve, Jack searched Kerensky’s face for signs of a hidden agenda. There was obvious distress in her eyes, a clear indication this interruption was not planned. But the woman was a world-renowned actress, one who knew how to drag sympathy out of a man.

He would be a fool to trust her.

As though sensing his reservation, she flashed him a smile and he lost his train of thought. Clenching his jaw, he forced his heartbeat to settle. Yet, no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn’t look away from those remarkable eyes staring into his.

Kerensky blinked once, twice, finally breaking the spell between them. “Herr Reiter,” she began, address
ing him by his assumed alias. “This is my mother, Elena Kerensky, and her escort, Hermann Schmidt.”

Acknowledging the woman first, Jack took Elena’s hand and touched his lips to her knuckles. “It is an honor to meet you. I now see where Katarina gets her beauty.”

“Thank you, Herr Reiter. You are very kind.” She turned to her companion and motioned him forward. “Come, Hermann, say hello to Katarina’s friend.”

As expected of all loyal Germans, Jack stepped back and gave the required Third Reich salute. “
Heil
Hitler,
Kapitän zur See.
”

The Nazi returned the gesture with quiet relish. “
Heil
Hitler.”

On the surface, Hermann Schmidt looked like a typical naval officer, but there was something in his arrogant stance that turned Jack’s blood to ice—an unyielding ruthlessness that he’d seen in too many high-ranking Nazis.

It was the same look that now stared back at him from the mirror every morning.

Was Jack becoming one of them?

Was he losing the last shreds of his humanity?

With each new mission, he played roulette with his soul. He could no longer expect God to hear his prayers or his pleas. Not after the horrors he’d committed in the name of war.

There could be no turning back, no chance of forgiveness. He had to start thinking like the man he was: a man with no future, no hope and a single goal—to hunt and destroy the enemy that had stolen his life from him.

Patience, Jack told himself. In spite of the urgency of his current mission, in spite of the tight deadline, time was his ally. He’d worked too hard building his cover to let an unexpected player in the game throw him off balance now.

Cutting through his thoughts, Elena Kerensky cleared her throat. “Herr Reiter, I don’t believe we’ve met before. Have you known my Katia long?”

Jack noted the concern in the woman’s eyes and decided to use it to ferret out how far Kerensky was willing to go to help the British. “I’ve known
Katarina—
” he rolled her name off his tongue in a slow caress “—long enough to come to the conclusion that she is a remarkable woman whom I wish to know better.”

Hitting her cue perfectly, Kerensky slid her arm through his and smiled up at him with unmistakable affection. “What a lovely thing to say, darling.”

With surprisingly little effort, he returned her smile as though they’d already become lovers.

Her gaze filled with female vulnerability, and she snuggled closer to him.

He ran a fingertip along her cheek.

There was a time when the God-fearing man Jack had once been would have been appalled by their blatant sexual undertones. But that was before Jack had walked with the enemy, before he’d become an embittered U.S. sailor infiltrating the SS.

Much like this famous actress, he played whatever role was necessary to accomplish his mission. And yet…

As he stared into Kerensky’s beautiful green eyes, Jack couldn’t stop himself from wishing they’d met at another time, and under different circumstances. He wondered if her performance was a remarkable display of acting ability, or something else. Something inherently truthful? Or something coldly sinister?

In that instant, the words of his father came to him.

Always remember, Jack, a woman has more power to destroy a man than any other weapon.

Jack’s pulse soared through his veins. Was Kerensky playing both sides? Had the Germans found out about his deception? Were they using this accomplished actress to bring him down at last?

Subterfuge. Hidden agendas. Jack no longer knew where the intrigue ended and reality began. Even in his own mind he could no longer discern how much of Jack Anderson lived inside him, and how much had become Friedrich Reiter, the deadly SS henchman. Every new mission blurred the line between the two, threatening Jack’s soul bit by bit.

A smart military man always knew when to hold his ground, and when to retreat. For now, his work was done.

Tapping into the ruthless man the Nazis had created, the one who coldly witnessed brutalities without flinching, Jack extracted himself from Kerensky’s grip. Ignoring the sense of loss that took hold of him, he turned to her mother then nodded at Hermann Schmidt. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.”

Keeping his eyes on Kerensky’s face, he took her
hand in his and raised it to his lips. “I look forward to our next meeting, my darling.”

She made a soft sound of distress, but they both knew she wouldn’t voice an argument in front of her mother and the Nazi officer. It was a small victory, to be sure, but a victory that put Jack firmly in control of the mission.

He couldn’t have planned a more perfect finale to their first meeting.

Katia stared in muted astonishment as the British spy turned on his heel and headed toward the exit with ground-eating strides.

What now?

A wave of nausea hit, and for the first time all evening her smile threatened to waver. She stood perfectly still until the moment passed.

The man had gunmetal nerve, she’d give him that. Not only had he antagonized a high-ranking Nazi and her own mother with his boldness, he’d left Katia to deal with the messy consequences. Yet, even with frustration burning at the back of her throat, something about the British operative left her wanting…what?

What was it about the man that urged her to let down her guard, if only for a fraction of a second? For a moment tonight, with their arms twined together and their gazes bound in intimate familiarity, she’d forgotten all about playing a role. She’d merely been a woman enthralled with an intriguing man.

From the first moment their gazes had locked and held, she’d sensed her British contact was someone who knew what it meant to be an outsider. Just like her.

Was he a man she could trust?

A lethal thought.

Blind faith, she reminded herself, was nothing more than weakness, a trap that ultimately led to a one-way invitation to the concentration camps.

Another sick spasm clutched in her stomach, but she held her expression free of emotion. If the operative said he looked forward to their next meeting, then she had to believe there would indeed
be
a next meeting.

All was not lost.

For the moment, she simply needed to concentrate on placating a stunned parent and her suspicious escort.

Sliding a quick glance toward her mother, Katia cut off a sigh of frustration. Elena stood tall, her full attention focused on the British spy as he left through the back door.

“I don’t trust that man,” she muttered, regarding the exit with suspicious eyes. “Tell me again how you know Herr Reiter?”

Rule number one in espionage was to keep as close to the truth as possible. “He is a dear friend, one I see whenever he comes to Hamburg on business.”

Hermann Schmidt made a noise deep in his throat that sounded like a growl. “What, precisely,
is
his business?”

The uncharacteristic display of interest in her affairs chilled Katia down to the bone. This grim-faced Nazi was not a person with whom her mother should be spending her time. He was a formidable enemy, one who could ruin Elena if he uncovered her secret.

On full alert, Katia played her role cautiously. The key was to keep it simple. Consistent.

“I’m sure he told me once.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “I seem to remember him saying he owned a company that supplies the Third Reich with materials for the war.”

Schmidt’s features turned hard and inflexible, matching the severity of his tightly buttoned uniform and crisp white shirt underneath. “What sort of materials, exactly?”

Katia blinked at his impatience, the cold heat of the dangerous emotion flashing in his eyes. Fortunately, to Hermann Schmidt, beautiful equaled stupid.

The knowledge gave Katia a surge of courage, and a strong conviction to play this role to her utmost ability. Fluttering her lashes, she placed her hand on his arm and gave him an empty smile. Now, if only she wouldn’t throw up and ruin her act. “Is it really so important?”

“Yes.” He leaned over her, his eyes communicating an unmistakable ruthlessness. “It is
very
important you try to remember exactly what sort of business Herr Reiter owns.”

“You don’t have to take that tone with me.” Katia dropped her hand and pretended to pout, all the while gauging Schmidt’s mood from below her lashes. Why would a mere naval officer care what a man like Friedrich Reiter did for a living?

Before Schmidt responded, Elena pushed in front of him and softened her expression. “Try concentrating, dear.”

“Yes, all right, Mother. I shall try.”

She let out a sigh, careful not to overplay her role. This was no game. One misstep and her mother’s life could be in danger.

In truth, the British had told Katia very little about her contact. Standard operating procedure. For all she knew, Friedrich Reiter was exactly who he pretended to be—a wealthy Austrian shipbuilder.

Having stalled long enough, she drew her eyebrows into a frown. “Yes, I remember now. He is in construction. Or…shipbuilding, perhaps? One of the two.”

Schmidt’s lips flattened into a hard line. “Which is it? Construction or shipbuilding?”

She flung her hair over her shoulder, fully into her role in spite of the German’s open hostility. “Who can remember such tedious details?”

“You seem to have no problem remembering countless pages of dialogue.”

She gave him a pitying look and put the royal princess in her voice. “Herr Reiter is a patron of the arts and he adores me. Nothing else matters beyond that.”

Although he quirked an eyebrow at her, Hermann Schmidt visibly relaxed. “Of course, how could I have forgotten where your priorities lie?”

The sarcastic twist of his lips gave Katia pause. Like so many of his kind, this man was far too sharp to fool for long.

It was time to change the subject.

“Let’s not talk about Herr Reiter anymore.” She turned her focus back to her mother. “I had no idea you were coming to the theater this evening. You said nothing of it this afternoon at tea.”

A slow smile spread across Elena’s face. She looked at her escort with a question in her eyes. “Should I tell her?”

He nodded slowly, but there was a possessiveness in his gaze that had Katia swallowing hard.

Elena took both of Katia’s hands in hers and sighed. “Hermann and I have marvelous news to share with you.”

Katia looked from one to the other. At the happy expression they exchanged, a sick feeling of dread tangled in her stomach.

Oh, no. Please, please, no.
“What…what news?”

“We are engaged to be married.”

“Why, that’s…” Katia’s breath caught in her throat. Even if the Lord had long since abandoned Katia, God could not be so cruel. “I…I’m speechless.”

“I’ve been waiting for your mother for many years.” Masculine pride danced in Schmidt’s eyes as he spoke. And something more. Something dark and ugly. And very, very determined. “Now I have her at last.”

Elena moved to the Nazi’s side and positioned herself shoulder to shoulder with him. “As you know, Hermann and I were childhood friends, before I met your father.”

“I remember.” Katia had to sink her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from shouting at her mother to wake from the nightmare that held her in its clutches.

How could Elena, a devout Christian with a secret Jewish grandfather, agree to marry a man whose only god was Germany and whose professed savior was Adolf Hitler?

“Congratulations.” She nearly choked on the words. “I am very happy for you both.”

“Oh, darling.” Elena pulled her into a tight embrace. “I am so glad you’re pleased.”

“I only want you to be happy,” she whispered into her mother’s hair before stepping back.

“Hermann has three days before he ships out again.” Elena’s breath caught in her throat and tears shimmered in her eyes. “It is my fondest wish that all three of us spend time together during his visit.”

Three days?
How was Katia to complete her mission for the British with her mother demanding all her time? An unprecedented flush of desperation made her words rush out of her mouth. “But I am in the middle of a play. I have to be here every night and I—”

“Don’t worry, darling.” Elena patted her hand. “We’ll simply spend the days together then have a late supper after your performances.” Her tone was full of determination, a tone Katia knew well. In this, Elena would not relent.

Katia’s composure threatened to crack, then she remembered her British contact’s open declaration for her affections.

The man’s game had been an act, but a brilliant, impromptu one that could be used to her advantage now.

Her best chance was to continue the ruse. “I’m sorry, mother. I have already promised Herr Reiter I would spend the rest of the week with him.”

Elena dismissed the argument with a quick slash
of her hand. “Cancel your plans. You must take this opportunity to get to know Hermann.”

Knowing better than to argue at this point, Katia nodded. “Let me see what I can do.”