Dangerous Allies (5 page)

He glanced at his watch, looked at her evening gown and jewels then down at his own tuxedo. “We both need to change.”

“Yes. We’ll take my car, which is still at the theater.” Which they both knew was only three blocks from her home.

“Right, then. We’ll meet outside the theater at—” he began before he checked his watch again “—0130 hours. I trust that suits you?”

Head high, she moved to the front door and jerked it open without looking back at him. “Of course.”

He reached around her and swung the door shut with a bang.

She spun about to glare at him. “What are you doing?”

Reminding us both who’s in control.

With nothing showing on his face, he angled his forearm against the wall above her head and waited until her eyes lifted to his. “I leave the way I came.”

She took a hard breath but held his gaze. For an instant, he was struck again by her determination and courage.

The back of his throat began to burn.

“Then I drive,” she said without blinking.

“By all means.” He pushed away and headed toward the open window, but then he surprised them both by returning to her and cupping her cheek. “I’m warning you now, Katarina. At the first sign of trouble, we abort. No questions asked.”

“Whatever you say, Herr Reiter.” The mutinous light in her eyes ruined any pretense of compliance on her part.

Jack sensed he was in serious trouble with this woman. He had to get matters back in his control. “One more thing,” he said.

She angled her head at him.

“Make sure you dress warmly.” He shifted to the window, dipped and then swung his leg over the ledge. “It’s going to be a long, chilly night.”

T
he drive to Wilhelmshaven began in silence, and continued that way for most of the journey. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, Jack surveyed the passing landscape. There was no horizon, no clear distinction between land and sky, just an inky blend of dark and darker. An occasional shadow slid out of the night, only to retreat as they sped by. Wind shrieked through the invisible slits of the car’s windows.

Concentrating on the road, Kerensky drove cautiously, with both hands on the wheel. She hadn’t looked at Jack since they’d left the city limits of Hamburg. Which was just as well. Between the poor quality of the road and the poorer quality of the car’s headlights, driving required her undivided attention.

He took the opportunity to study her out of the corner of his eye. She was dressed head to toe in black wool. Black pants, black sweater, black gloves—the perfect ensemble for blending with the night. She’d slicked her thick, fiery hair off her face and twisted it into an intricate braid that hung halfway down her back.

He could almost feel the vibration of her carefully contained energy. Like a sleek, untamed animal poised for a fight.

She baffled him, tugged at him. She had a face meant for the movies and was so lovely his chest ached every time he looked at her. But he also knew how much depth lay below that exquisite surface.

Never once had he caught a hint of the corruption or selfishness that drove most spies. His instincts told him that she had her own personal agenda for working with the British. Those same instincts also told him that her motivation was connected to a dark secret she kept well hidden from the world.

He understood all about dark secrets and hidden motives, as well as the moral confusion that came from lying and stealing every day. For too many years, Jack had relinquished his Christian integrity—
no,
his very soul—to carry out other men’s agendas. German. American. What did it matter if he was Jack Anderson, Friedrich Reiter, or someone else entirely? One face, two names, no identity. Those were the legacies the bureaucrats had created for him.

Now this woman, with her strength and determination, made him think beyond the mindless killing machine he’d become. She made him toy with the idea of a future beyond the war. He suddenly wanted something…more. More than hate. More than vengeance. Something that went beyond his own humanity.

Worst of all, the woman made him hope for a better world, where belief in God meant something beyond a faded memory.

This was the wrong business to feel emotions,
any
emotion, especially ones that made him soft toward a woman.

“You’re too beautiful,” he blurted out.

She whipped her head around so their gazes met in the dim light.

She gave a deep sigh of frustration before returning her attention to the road. “It’s called
heredity.
”

Heredity. Right. The word tugged at a thought hovering in the back of his mind. Jack forced himself to remember he was having this conversation for her benefit. “Your beauty could be used against you.” He’d seen it often enough.

“Or to my advantage. Lucky for you, there’s more to me than a pretty face.” She sounded weary, as though she’d given this speech countless times before.

Jack wasn’t impressed. He was responsible for keeping them both alive. He had to be able to predict her behavior and gauge what she would do if she ended up in a crisis. “This mission depends on your quick reflexes and ability to think on your feet. For at least five minutes you’ll be alone inside the
Kriegsmarine
headquarters.”

“I’ll only need three.”

He did his best not to react to her bravado. “Wrong attitude. You can’t be impatient. Impatient equals careless. And careless equals one dead female spy.”

A nerve flexed in her jaw. “Have I given you the impression that I’m stupid?”

“One mistake is all it takes.”

“It won’t be mine.”

She returned to clenching her teeth.

He returned to holding on to his temper.

“Fancy words, Kerensky. Will you be able to back them up?”

He didn’t know her well enough to judge for himself. And for five long minutes he would be unable to control the situation, unable to protect her if Admiral Doenitz awakened. Jack knew she was hiding something from him. And he thought he knew exactly what it was.

Heredity.

If he was right, the woman could not be caught. Ever.

He knew what they would do to her, where they would send her.

No emotion.
He reminded himself of his personal motto that kept him alive.
Nothing personal.

Who was he kidding? “How much Jewish blood runs in your veins?”

Her sharp intake of air was barely audible, but he’d heard it all the same. Already knowing the answer, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her response to his bold question with a mixture of dread and hope. When she held to her silence, he wondered if he might have been wrong in his assessment.

Jack Anderson was never wrong. “How much?”

Her hands tensed on the wheel, the only sign of her agitation. Making a soft sound of irritation, she adjusted herself with a swoosh of wool against leather. “We do not speak of these things in Germany. We do not even whisper them in the dark confines of a car.”

He had no easy response. She was right, of course.
Even if she was only part Jewish she could not reveal such a secret to him.

No emotion,
he reminded himself again.
Nothing personal.

“Consider the subject closed,” he said.

She locked her gaze with his for a full heartbeat, two. Three. Then she began a very slow, very thorough once-over of him. Since the road ahead of them was long and straight, he sat perfectly still under her perusal. He owed her that much at least.

Eventually, she turned her head back to the road. “We’re nearly there. Soon, this will all be a distant memory for us both.”

Jack took a hard breath. He wished he could ignore the risks of going through the front door with nothing more than a loaded gun. This would be a good time for prayer, if he was still a praying man. “Are you sure I won’t fit through the window?”

She snatched her eyes off the road, looked at his chest and then shook her head. “You won’t.”

Her voice sounded strong, confident, but she looked bleak. And her hands shook slightly.

Was she having second thoughts? Had he thrown her off balance by accusing her of being a Jew?

He knew touching her was a bad idea.
Don’t do it,
he told himself.
She is not a harmless female. Not this one.

He ignored his own warning and reached out, lightly fingering a lock of hair that had come loose from her braid.

She took a shuddering breath.

He dropped his hand. “I don’t like the idea of sending you in there alone.”

Her shoulders stiffened and all signs of her distress disappeared. “We’ve been through this already. I’m going into that room, end of discussion.”

“What discussion?” he muttered.

She flipped him a smug look. “Exactly.”

“Careful, Kerensky.” Jack jammed a hand through his hair. “You’re treading on razor-thin ice with me.”

She bared her teeth. “Good thing I’m light on my feet.”

“You’re a difficult woman.”

“So I’ve been told.” She cleared her expression and pointed ahead of her. “Look up there, on your right. The harbor.”

In the next instant, before he could stop her, she swung the car down a dark alley and cut the engine.

The night swallowed them, pitching the interior of the car into blinding darkness. A hot, nagging itch settled in his gut.

Unable to make out anything other than a heavy nothingness, Jack squinted into the eerie gloom. Still…
nothing.

A sudden blast of anger left his nerves raw.

It was too dark. Too remote. Too isolated.

He’d allowed Kerensky to park the car facing toward the back of the alley. If an ambush awaited them, there would be no getting out alive. Very,
very
stupid.

He touched the panel in his sweater where he’d sewn
a cyanide pill into the stitching. Trained to choose death over revealing secrets, Jack Anderson knew his duty. He’d seen men with stronger convictions break. He’d seen innocent men break, too. Jack would not join their ranks. Too many lives were at stake. The Nazis could never be allowed to get to the information he had stored in his head.

Suicide was the only solution. His own damnation was well worth the lives he would save with his permanent silence.

Tonight, however, there was a woman’s life at stake. He would make sure the choice between disclosure and death never happened. Jack would do what he must to ensure the cyanide pill made it through another mission unused.

“Turn the car facing out,” he said, his voice flat and hard.

“What?”

“Either do what I say, or I do it myself.”

“I…” She shifted in her seat, then sighed. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” Her voice held a slight shake, as though she’d stunned herself with her thoughtless behavior.

Another act? Or was she still upset over their conversation about her “heredity”? Upset enough to make a mistake in the admiral’s room, as well?

Before he could question her, she started the engine and put the car in gear. Jack stayed planted in his seat as she made quick work of the direction change.

Once she threw the brake, a thin bar of light from a nearby streetlight slid across the front of the car’s hood.

Better.

“Do you want to go over the hand signals one last time?” he asked, relief making his voice softer.

“No.” She cut the engine again, tapped her temple two times. “Got it all in here.”

Jack plucked the keys out of her hand before she could pocket them.

“What are you doing?” she growled.

Hardheaded, inflexible, full of pride. Did everything have to be a battle with her?

“You can’t carry these with you.” He jingled the keys in front of her nose. “Too much noise. And if you’re caught or hurt or any number of possibilities, I’ll need to be able to drive the car out of here.”

She opened her mouth to argue. Again.

He merely looked at her.

Her snort was quick and full of wounded pride. “It must be quite a burden, being perfect all the time.”

“You have no idea.”

“Humble, too.”

He ignored her goading. “Details are the most important aspect of any mission. Forget just one and a man
or—
” he gave her a meaningful look “—a woman will end up dead before there’s a chance to rethink the situation.”

“So you’re the detail man.” A statement, not a question.

Jack allowed himself a smile. “For better or worse, Kerensky, tonight we’re a team. You might as well accept it.”

And so should you,
he told himself, as he tucked the keys underneath the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, she picked up the black knit cap sitting on the seat next to her and began tucking her braid into it. Her eyes took on the excited gleam of a child’s at Christmas. “Curtain up.”

Such eagerness to get the job done, such conviction. I remember feeling that once, a lifetime ago,
Jack thought.

Where did my convictions go? When did they go?
The answer was simple enough. The day the Nazis sent the real Friedrich Reiter to kill him.

Lord,
he started to pray, then cut himself off. This was a time for action, not a time for useless prayer that would bring no immediate help to the mission.

Jack gave Kerensky a sharp nod. “Let’s go.”

As one, they climbed out of the car and snapped shut their respective doors without making a sound.

A few steps and the cloak of the alley’s gloom lifted. Icy damp air hit Jack’s face as it sliced off the sea. Sand and wet leaves waltzed around his ankles and clung.

Kerensky repositioned her hat. Jack took a moment to check his weapon, a 9 mm Luger P08—the most effective German handgun available. He examined the magazine, a simple eight-round in-line box, and then clicked the safety mechanism in place.

Kerensky’s eyes lingered on his gun’s tip. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“You don’t?”

She took a steadying breath. “I—”

“This isn’t make-believe, Katarina. And I won’t give
false assurances. Get that straight right now. Bad guys with guns are out there.” He hitched his shoulder toward the harbor.

Dragging her eyes away from his weapon, she looked at him dead-on. “And you always go in prepared. Is that it?”

“Exactly.”

She didn’t argue the point further. “I understand.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “No heroics. We abort at the first sign of trouble.”

“Right.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and set out at a clipped pace. Jack let her walk exactly three steps before he reached out and stopped her again. “Remember, Admiral Doenitz will be in that room tonight. Sleeping. We do this quietly.”

The intense green eyes that met his were level and clear. “I’m a cat. He won’t know I’m there.”

As she headed out again, Jack went into automatic mode. He memorized their route. Keeping the harbor always on his left, buildings on his right.

Stop. Gauge. Check bearings. Move on.

Again and again, he kept to the pattern as Kerensky wove them toward their destination. She led him along six streets, each thirty-eight strides long. On the seventh road they moved onto an open sidewalk lining a small park, passing four squat, identical stone buildings.

Kerensky stopped moving at the corner of the eighth street. She looked to her left, then to her right. Darting across an alley, she flattened against the closest wall.

Motioning with two fingers, she indicated the building
on her left. The two-story structure was made of colorless granite and stood guard over the drab waters that led into the North Sea.

Closing the distance, Jack mouthed a warning.
No mistakes.

Grimacing, she clamped a hand on his arm and folded him deeper into the shadows with her. She then gestured to the impossibly small window above their heads. Silently measuring the dimensions, Jack admitted to himself that she’d been correct. He’d never fit through the tiny opening.