gentleman.”
“You would if you barbarians ever went to the theater,” said Noelle with stinging
contempt. “Are we under arrest or may we leave?”
The young corporal was aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He had to make an instant
decision. “Of course the Fräulein and her friend are not under arrest,” he said. “I apologize
if I have inconvenienced you. I—”
Israel Katz looked up at the soldier and said coolly, “It’s raining outside, Corporal. I
wonder if one of your men could find us a taxi.”
“Of course. At once.”
Israel got into the taxi with Noelle, and the German corporal stood in the rain
watching as they drove away. When the taxi stopped for a traffic light three blocks away,
Israel opened the door, squeezed Noelle’s hand once and disappeared without a word into
the night.
At seven o’clock that evening when Noelle walked into her theater dressing room,
there were two men waiting for her. One of them was the young German corporal from the
bistro that afternoon. The other was in mufti. He was an albino, completely hairless, with
pink eyes, and he somehow reminded Noelle of an unformed baby. He was in his thirties,
with a moon face. His voice was high-pitched and almost laughably feminine, but there
was an ineffable quality, a deadliness about him that was chilling. “Miss Noelle Page?”
“Yes.”
“I am Colonel Kurt Mueller, Gestapo. I believe you have met Corporal Schultz.”
Noelle turned to the corporal, indifferently, “No, I don’t believe I have.”
“At the kaffehause this afternoon,” the corporal said helpfully.
Noelle turned to Mueller. “I meet so many people.”
The colonel nodded. “It must be difficult to remember everyone when you have so
many friends, Fräulein.”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
“For example, this friend you were with this afternoon.” He paused, watching
Noelle’s eyes. “You told Corporal Schultz that he is starring in the show with you?”
Noelle looked at the Gestapo man in surprise. “The corporal must have
misunderstood me.”
“Nein, Fräulein,” the corporal replied indignantly, “You said…”
The colonel turned to give him a freezing look, and the corporal’s mouth snapped
closed in mid-sentence.
“Perhaps,” said Kurt Mueller amiably. “This kind of thing can happen so easily when
one is trying to communicate in a foreign language.”