The Double Agent, page 20
“Yet you Germans are all so good at following orders,” said Francesco.
“Francesco!” his mother snapped.
“This I concede,” Alexsi said.
“Since we are all at the mercy of power and orders, what about choice?” Francesco demanded.
“Francesco,” his mother warned.
“Sometimes survival is the only choice,” said Alexsi.
Francesco snorted again.
“You may leave the table,” the princess said to him.
Francesco slapped his napkin down on the table and stalked off.
“I apologize,” the princess said. “You are our guest.”
“I remember being seventeen all too well,” Alexsi replied. Though he had always been a survivalist, not an idealist.
There was no dessert, and Alexsi knew why. Sugar in wartime was worth its weight in gold. Instead the servants brought little cups of coffee. It looked like real coffee, which Alexsi imagined was why the cups were so small. He waited until the others did so, then took a sip.
He thought his eyeballs might explode from his skull. It was coffee in a concentration until now unknown to him. He could feel it rushing through his brain, especially after so many mornings of German ersatz.
The servants cleared away the dishes. Alexsi knew little of Italian food, though he knew poor people’s food. And this had been poor people’s food, no matter how perfectly prepared or served upon fine porcelain and eaten with silver utensils. It was like back on the kolkhoz in Azerbaijan, where the paint came out from under lock and key only when a boss from the district soviet was due to inspect.
Except this hadn’t been for him. It was their way of persuading themselves they were still as rich as their house.
He turned to the princess. “Thank you for a wonderful meal, and your hospitality. Perhaps I have imposed upon it too much.”
“Absolutely not,” she said. “Let us take our coffee, and I will show you about as I promised.”
Alexsi stood. The silent daughter was about to bolt anyway. He bowed to her. She blushed deeply again and dashed off.
The princess walked him through the house. Each room was more magnificent than the last. Alexsi allowed his imagination to run free, envisioning merchants and cardinals from the Renaissance wandering about.
The lights suddenly went out. Not an unusual occurrence in wartime Rome.
The princess took his arm. “Let us go out to the garden while candles are lit. We will not have to worry about the blackout.”
She led him through paneled double glass doors. There was a light breeze, and Alexsi could smell the fresh green of the early spring plants. Kesselring had declared Rome an open city. Though there were still Germans using it, so the Allies were still bombing it. They were quite careful, however, by the standards of bombing. Alexsi had to give them that.
“I’m sure there would be quite a view,” he said. “If we could see anything.”
She laughed beside him.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Alexsi saw shadows moving very slowly. “Are any of your people out here?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her voice showing her puzzlement at the question. “The gardener is of course at home, and the rest of mine are clearing from dinner and lighting candles.”
“No watchman?”
“No,” she said, concern in her voice.
“Plug your ears,” he said.
“What?”
In one smooth motion Alexsi unslung the Beretta and brought it up to his shoulder. He thumbed off the safety catch and placed his finger on the rearmost of the double triggers.
He fired the first short burst just over the top of the shadows in the garden. As he paused, there was loud shouting and the shadows began running. Alexsi fired another burst to speed them along.
An instant later three dark shapes went over the light-colored garden wall. Alexsi fired a last short burst into the wall beside them, to speed them on their way.
His ears rang, and his nostrils were filled with the smell of gunpowder.
Alexsi swapped out the magazine for a fresh one, even though he had used less than half. The Beretta was slung back over his shoulder before the princess took her fingers out of her ears.
Servants came running out of the house, and the princess spoke quickly and reassuringly to them in Italian. Two of them began crossing through the garden and beating the shrubbery with sticks.
“Thieves,” Alexsi said. “Your people won’t find any bodies there. I was just shooting to give them a good fright and send them on their way. They won’t bother you again. They’ll look for something easier.”
“Thank you,” the princess said simply.
The head servant spoke to her behind them.
“The candles are lit,” she said. “Shall we go back inside? I think I have lost my taste for the night air.”
“As you wish.”
“Let me show you upstairs.”
With one hand on the banister and the other on his arm, she gave him the names and brief histories of the descendants whose portraits marked the route up. Alexsi held the candlestick they used to see by.
Down a long hall lined with enough paintings to make a museum. At the end the princess opened a door and led him through.
Alexsi swept the candle in a circle to take it all in.
“This is my bedroom,” she said. Standing in front of his candle very small and slightly afraid, as someone who had made a decision and wondered if what happened next would be good or bad, comfortable or humiliating.
Alexsi found himself standing on the tightrope again. He said, “My name is Peter.”
Her face softened into a smile. “Please call me Abrianna.”
She took a step forward. He leaned down and she kissed him. That was the way to describe it, Alexsi thought. She kissed him, not the other way around.
“Excuse me for a moment,” she said.
When she disappeared into the bath, Alexsi leaned the submachine gun against a side table and tucked the ammunition belt away underneath it. His Walther, however, went underneath the mattress. No sense in being completely stupid.
She emerged wearing a sheer nightgown, again expensive. Alexsi just stood there smiling warmly at her in the candlelight. As part of his spy training, the NKVD, with their Russian practicality and Communist lack of scruples, had put him through a course of instruction in making love to women. First classroom training and then practical application with the instructor sitting there watching him with the poor girls they had recruited for that task. Like all their courses, it was one that you did not dare fail. Though if you lacked sexual endurance, which he certainly did at seventeen, a dour secret policeman critiquing your staying power was exactly what the doctor ordered. It had taken Alexsi two weeks to orgasm at all, let alone normally, after that class was over.
The princess walked up to him and kissed him again. Alexsi pressed his hand gently but firmly between her legs, and kept it still. She moaned during the kiss and pressed harder against him. As they kissed she unbuttoned his tunic. If she wanted to undress him, he would stand back and let her. He kept his hand where it was.
With his suspenders off and trousers unbuttoned, he stepped out of his boots. Underwear off. She had him in her hand, appraisingly. Women liked to see if they had that immediate power over you. Even if it hadn’t been a long time, she was a beauty.
Alexsi kissed her again, and with one hand opened the buttons of her nightgown.
“Let me blow out the candle,” she whispered.
Alexsi smiled at her and shook his head. “Not a chance, Princess.”
She looked up at him openly. He swept the nightgown off her shoulders. Taking both her hands, he took a step back to view her in full, smiling appreciatively. She dropped her eyes, but he cupped his hand under her chin and kissed her again.
She led him over to the bed and turned it down, his arm around her waist.
She lay down on her back, and from the way she positioned herself he could see that her husband had been a man of limited imagination.
Alexsi lay down beside her, took her in his arms, and whispered in her ear, “Tell me what excites you.”
It wasn’t something the Russians had taught him. He had once asked a woman that in bed, really just out of politeness, and she had opened up like a beautiful flower.
She pulled her head back to look him in the eyes, and took his face in both her hands. Looking at him like no man had ever asked that question, which they probably hadn’t. Then she kissed him and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
She got him a silk scarf and he blindfolded her. Stretching her hands over her head, he held them down gently with one of his as he went exploring down her body.
Alexsi was always curious about why people were the way they were. He imagined this might be a Catholic thing. Since she was being made to do it, she was without sin. It could also have been being made to do it by a German soldier. Though he had also seen the same thing in aristocratic Iranian ladies in Teheran. They spent all day bossing the servants and their children, and in bed they wanted the opposite. Usually their husbands were ineffectual.
He was fine with a light spanking, but had been beaten enough by his father to balk at hurting anyone even for their own pleasure. But that wasn’t what she wanted.
He decided to take advantage of the blindfold to surprise her. Which he did. He worked his way down her body with his mouth and free hand, taking unexpected turns. Soon she was squirming and moaning. He whispered to her not to move.
When he needed both his hands he told her to grasp the headboard and not let go. With his head between her legs and both hands free, she went wild. Though she did not let go of the arms of the headboard. Clearly, despite the reputation of the Italian male, this was not something her husband was interested in.
She came twice, and then he urged her on top of him.
“I can’t,” she said.
“I know you’re sensitive now,” Alexsi told her. “But if you just push past it, it will be all right.”
He had her mount him from above. Still wearing the blindfold. Which let him keep surprising her with his hands.
She moved very slowly, taking her pleasure. “You were right,” she murmured.
The things the husbands of the world did not concern themselves with, Alexsi thought. Their own loss. He had to thank the Russians for this, at least.
He could feel her getting close, but her pace did not alter. As if she did not quite know how to get there. Alexsi took her hands in his, and she gasped at that. Then he kept her still, poised above him, and began moving faster and faster himself.
Her moaning became louder and louder, and he could feel her tension building. He went as fast as he could, and then she exploded. That was the only word for it. A noise came from her that was close to a scream. Her entire body spasmed; her back arched, and then she collapsed upon him, shaking.
She sobbed on top of him. Alexsi wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear that it was all right.
It was something men were supposed to be notorious for, but she fell asleep right on top of him. He gently slid her off him, and rolled onto his side. Might as well take a little sleep for himself. It had been a long day.
Alexsi awoke with the movement of the bed. Someone getting off it. His hand automatically went for the Walther under the mattress.
“You are a very light sleeper,” the princess said, standing beside the bed in the darkness.
“An occupational hazard for a soldier,” Alexsi replied. Not to mention a spy.
“Tell me,” she said. “Do you love me?”
“Of course not,” Alexsi replied, half into the pillow. “I’ve only known you for a few hours.”
She laughed uproariously, and Alexsi was afraid she would wake the house.
“An Italian man would be professing his undying love. How marvelous the truth is. I never thought I would find so much to like about the Germans.”
“I warn you, I’m not your typical German.” That at least was the truth.
“I had already come to that conclusion,” she said. “Don’t fall back asleep. When I return from the bathroom, we should continue our discussions.”
That was a nice way to put it, Alexsi thought, watching her sway off naked in the moonlight through the open window. The candle had burned down. He probably ought not hold out any hope for more sleep.
* * *
Before dawn he was dressing in the darkness. She stirred, and he whispered in her ear. “I must return to report for duty this morning.”
She lifted herself up on one elbow, hair falling down across her eyes. “I understand.”
“I hope we will see each other again,” Alexsi said. “I will understand if we do not.”
“From now on,” she said, “if Colonel Kappler wants something from me, you will bring me the message.”
“I would like that,” Alexsi said. “Thank you for your courtesy, Princess. And your hospitality.”
She fell back upon the pillow, laughing. “Peter, when you write to your family, please thank them for the good manners they gave to you.”
Despite his best efforts, Alexsi felt his face become serious. “What good manners I have, came from my aunt.”
“Then please thank her, from me.”
“She is gone now.”
“That is sad,” the princess said.
“Yes,” said Alexsi. “Yes it is.”
33
1944
ROME, ITALY
“Did you fuck her?” Kappler demanded.
“Yes, Colonel,” Alexsi replied.
Kappler hammered the desktop with his fist, in pure delight. He bounded up and practically skipped around the desk. “Fantastic! Both for you and for me.”
Alexsi held back a yawn.
Kappler placed both hands on his shoulders in an almost fatherly gesture. “Now, you’re a good-looking fellow, Bauer. And I’m sure quite a charmer. But I don’t want you to think she fell in love with you at first sight.”
“No, Colonel,” Alexsi said.
“After all, you’re the signals chief of my headquarters. I’m sure she wormed that out of you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“You’re the man who sees every message, sent and received. If I was going to recruit a spy, it would be you.”
Alexsi kept his face very still.
“So now she’s going to use you to find out what’s going on here,” said Kappler. “And she’ll use what women always use to get their way.”
“I understand, Colonel,” Alexsi said. “You do not want me to see her again.”
“No, no, no,” Kappler moaned, squeezing Alexsi’s shoulders as if to squeeze some sense into him. “You must see her again. It is imperative. She will think she is getting information out of you. But you will actually be working for me. A double agent.”
“I’m sorry, Colonel,” Alexsi said, maintaining his straight face. “A double agent? I don’t know what that is.”
“Look, sit down,” said Kappler, leading him over to a chair and then standing over him. “I know you’re a signaler and don’t understand these matters like an SD man. Which is why I chose you for this job. Try to follow me, now. She will think that you are spying on me, for her. Because you are sympathetic to her, and she is fucking your brains out. But actually, you are working for me. Spying on her. Whatever she asks you, you will tell to me. And that will tell me everything I need to know about her. A double agent. Are you following?”
“I think so, Colonel.” And then, plaintively, “But Colonel, as you said. I am a signaler, not an SD man. I am over my head in these matters. What if I should do something wrong? Say something wrong?”
“You will be fine,” Kappler said authoritatively, though still in his fatherly voice. “All you have to do is act besotted by her. I doubt this will be difficult. Whatever she asks you, just play dumb. Tell her you don’t know, but you will try and find out for her. Let her keep fucking you. Then come back and tell me everything. I will then tell you what to tell her. It will be easy, you see?”
“I don’t know, Colonel…” Alexsi said, playing hard to get.
“I’m counting on you, Bauer,” Kappler said. “You told me you were my man. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Colonel,” Alexsi said grudgingly.
“Good. Believe me, you will come to enjoy this intrigue. Plus, I’m sure you will be getting more sex than anyone in this building besides Priebke. And you will not have to pay for it.”
Alexsi was certain he was going to have to pay for it, one way or another. “I’m sure with your help I will be able to grasp it, Colonel.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Kappler.
The phone on his desk rang. He picked it up. “Yes?” He listened for a moment. “What? Are you sure? All right, turn out everyone available. Yes, including Koch’s Italians. Everyone. Have my staff car out front. Yes, now!”
He hung up the phone. “Bauer, have the wireless truck manned and waiting out front at once.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Something has happened on the Via Rasella.”
34
1944
ROME, ITALY
The acrid smell of TNT hung in the air of the narrow street. It would be hard to convince anyone but a soldier that blood had a smell, Alexsi thought. But if there was enough on the ground you could definitely smell it. There was enough on the pavement here that the soldiers were splashing through it like rain puddles. Clinging to that was another odor, of spilled bowel. Again understandable, considering the circumstances.
Gunfire kept ringing out, Alexsi trying not to flinch at each shot. The German troops who responded had lost their heads. Even as their comrades were turning the residents of the street out of their apartments, they were shooting up at the windows even though no one was shooting back. A woman was hanging half out of a third-floor window, dead, her blood staining the wall below her. Shot while sticking her head out to see what was happening, Alexsi thought. Killed by curiosity.
The shell-shocked survivors of the Bozen police regiment were lurching about the Via Rasella picking up the bodies and pieces of their comrades from the cobblestones and laying them out with Germanic order in a neat row along the sidewalk. A sergeant was walking up and down, tears streaming down his face, carrying a human arm and looking for the correct body to reunite it with.
