Chapter 13 Chapter Twelve

Dieter slept until ten o'clock and woke up with a faint headache from the morphine, but otherwise excited, optimistic, and confident.The bloody interrogation yesterday provided him with an important clue.The woman code-named "Middle Bourgeois," and her house on the Rue du Bois, might lead him closer to the heart of the French Resistance. But it can also lead to a dead end. He drank a liter of water, swallowed three more aspirins to shake off the morphine hangover, and picked up the phone. He first called Lieutenant Hesse. He also lived in this hotel, but the room was of a lower class. "Good morning, Hans, have you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Major. I went to City Hall and checked the address on Du Bois Avenue." "Good job, man," said Dieter. "What did you find?" "The owner and resident of that house are the same person, Miss Jenny Remus." "But it's also possible that other people lived there." "I also drove by there to check the situation, and it looked very quiet." "Get ready, leave within an hour, drive my car." "OK." "And, Hans—you did a good job of taking the initiative." "thank you, sir."

Dieter hung up the phone.He wondered what this Miss Remus was like.No one in the Bollinger resistance had ever seen her, Gaston said, and Dieter believed he wasn't lying, and that the house was a "cutoff."The new agent doesn't know anything other than being there with this woman.If caught, they will not reveal any resistance information.At least in theory, but no security precaution is perfect. It is estimated that Miss Remus is single and unmarried.She might be young, inheriting a property from her parents, or a middle-aged woman, or an old maid.He thought that it would be helpful for him to bring a woman with him.

He goes back to the bedroom.Stephanie was sitting on the bed, brushing her thick red hair, her breasts sticking out of the sheets.She does know how to make herself look more attractive. But he resisted the urge to climb into bed again. "Can you do something for me?" he said. "I would do anything for you." "Anything?" He sat down on the bed and stroked her bare shoulder. "Would you like to see me with another woman?" "Of course," she said, "I'll lick her tits when you make love to her." "I know you will." He smiled contentedly.He had had other mistresses before, but none like her. "But not this kind of thing. I want you and me to arrest a woman from the Resistance."

There was no expression on her face. "Very well," she said quietly. He wanted to test her reaction, to ask her what she thought about this, if she was really happy about it.But he has the right to decide and accept her consent, not to delve into it. "Thank you." He said, turned and went back to the living room. Miss Remus might be alone, but on the other hand, the house might be full of Allied agents, all armed to the teeth, and he needs backup.He checked his notebook and gave Rommel's La Roche-Guillon number to the hotel operator. By the time the Germans occupied the country, the French telephone system was overwhelmed.Since then, the Germans have improved the equipment, added thousands of kilometers of cables, and installed automatic switches.The system is still overloaded now, but it is much better than before.

He went to Rommel's assistant, Major Model.After a while, he heard that familiar, cold and clear voice. "Model." "I'm Dieter Frank," he said. "How are you, Walter?" "Very busy," said Mordel dryly. "What's the matter?" "I've made a lot of progress here. I can't go into detail because it's a call from the hotel and I'm going to arrest at least one spy, maybe several. I think the Marshal would like to hear that." "I'll tell him." "But I would like some support. Now the whole thing is just me and a lieutenant. I'm desperate. I'm asking my French girlfriend to help me."

"That doesn't seem very sensible." "Well, she's dependable, but she won't work against a well-trained terrorist. Can you send me six capable soldiers?" "With the Gestapo, that's what they do." "They're unreliable. You know they don't want to work with us. I need people who can be trusted." "That's impossible," said Mordel. "You see, Walter, you know how important this was to Rommel, who asked me to do this job, to make sure the resistance didn't hinder our mobility." "Yes, but the Marshal's expectation is that you do it yourself and not use his combat troops."

"I'm not sure about that." "My God, that's enough!" Model raised his voice, "We're defending the entire Atlantic coastline with very few troops, but you're surrounded by strong men The old Jew with nothing else to do. Go do your business and leave me alone!" The phone hung up with a click. Dieter was taken aback. It was really abnormal for Model to lose his temper like this.No doubt it was because of the threat of invasion that made them very nervous.But the result is already obvious, Dieter must rely on his own strength. After a sigh, he looked up other numbers and called the Château Saint-Cécile.

He got through to Willie Webb. "I'm going to raid the resistance compound," he said, "and I may need to transfer some elite soldiers from you. Can you send four fighters and a car to the Frankfurt Hotel? Shall I talk to Rommel again talk?" This threatening sentence was superfluous, and Weber was more than willing to let his men participate in the operation, so that the Gestapo could claim credit for it.He promised to send a car over in half an hour. Working with the Gestapo worried Dieter, he couldn't control them, but he had no choice. He started shaving while the radio was on, tuned to a German station.He had heard that the first tank battle in the Pacific theater had begun yesterday on Biak Island, and that the Japanese occupying forces had driven the invading American 162d Infantry Regiment back to their beachhead.Time to push them into the sea, Dieter thought.

He put on a dark gray worsted coat with a light gray pinstriped cotton shirt and a black tie with white polka dots.Those little dots were not printed, but woven in, and this little detail delighted him.He considered it, then took off his coat and slung the leather holster over his shoulder.He took out the Walther P38 automatic pistol from the closet and put it in the holster, then put on the coat. He sat down with a cup of tea and watched Stephanie get dressed.The French made the most beautiful underwear in the world, he thought, seeing her in a cream-coloured romper.He liked to see her in stockings, the smooth silk covering her thighs. "Why don't master painters paint this scene?" he said.

"Because Renaissance women didn't wear pure silk stockings," said Stephanie. When she was dressed, they went out. Hans Hesse was waiting for them beside Dieter's Hispano-Sousa.The young man stared at Stephanie with a mixture of admiration and admiration. To him, she was both attractive and unattainable.Dieter thought it was like a poor woman looking at the big window of a Cartier store. Behind Dieter's car was a black front-wheel-drive Citroen sedan with four Gestapo officers in civilian clothes.Major Weber also decided to go out himself, and Dieter saw him sitting next to the driver in the front seat, wearing a green tweed suit, like a farmer going to church. "Follow me," Dieter told him. "When we get there, please stay in your car until I call you." Webb said, "Where the hell did you get this car?" "It was a bribe from a Jew," Dieter said. "I helped him escape to America." Waver snorted in disbelief, but it was true. Bluffing is the best way to deal with a guy like Webb.If Dieter had hidden Stephanie, Weber would have immediately suspected that she was Jewish and probably would have started an investigation long ago.But Dieter always led her around, so no doubts ever crossed Weber's mind. Hans started the car and they set off on Dubois Avenue.Reims is a wealthy town with a population of over 100,000, but there are not many cars on the streets.The only people driving were policemen on official duty, doctors, firefighters and, of course, Germans.Citizens go out by bicycle or on foot.Gasoline was used to transport food and other basic supplies, but many goods were transported by horse-drawn carts.Champagne is the main industry here.Dieter loves all kinds of champagne, old nut champagne, new or light blended champagne of different years, as well as refined blanc de blanc champagne, all kinds of semi-dry dessert champagne, and even the playful champagne loved by Parisian courtesans. pink champagne. Du Bois Avenue is a pleasant tree-lined street on the edge of town.Hans stopped the car in front of a big house with a small courtyard on one side, which was the home of Miss Remus.Can Dieter break through her mental defenses?Women are harder to deal with than men.They are prone to screaming, but they last longer.He had missed a few times with women, but never with men.If he was thwarted this time, his investigation would come to an end. "Come over as soon as I wave," he said to Stephanie as he got out of the car.Weber's Citroen was parked behind, and the Gestapo men were instructed to stay in the car. Dieter glanced towards the courtyard next to the house, where there was a garage.Besides, he saw a small garden, with trimmed hedges and rectangular flower-beds, and a path of gravel raked with a rake, which the owner seemed to be very good at keeping up. Beside the front door was an old-fashioned red and yellow rope, and he pulled it, and heard the metallic clang of a mechanical bell coming from within. The woman who answered the door was about sixty years old, her white hair was tied back with a tortoiseshell barrette, she was wearing a blue dress with a pattern of small white flowers on it, and a clean white apron over it. "Good morning, sir," she said politely. Dieter smiled.She was an impeccable, urbane provincial woman.He had already considered how to torture her, and he felt hopeful and refreshed. He said, "Good morning... is this Miss Remus?" She sensed something from his clothes, the car parked on the side of the road, and maybe his German accent, and there was a trace of fear in her eyes.Her voice trembled when she spoke: "Is there anything I can help you with?" "Are you alone, miss?" He watched her face carefully. "Yes," she said, "just me." She was telling the truth, he was sure of that.If such a woman were to tell a lie, her eyes would betray themselves. He turned and motioned for Stephanie to come over. "This is my colleague." He no longer needs Weber's gang, "I have a few questions for you." "Question? What's the problem?" "May I come inside?" "Can." The living room in the front is furnished with dark wood furniture, polished to a bright finish.A dust cover covers a piano, and an engraving of Reims Cathedral hangs on the wall.There were a few ornaments on the fireplace, a fiberglass swan, a china doll, a transparent glass ball with a model of the Palace of Versailles inside, and three wooden camels. Dieter sat down on the plush upholstered sofa, Stephanie sat next to him, and Miss Remus sat opposite in a straight-backed chair.She was plump, Dieter noticed.After four years of occupation, there are few fat people in France, and eating is obviously her weakness. There was a box of cigarettes and a large lighter on the small table. Dieter opened the box and found that it was full of cigarettes. "If you want to smoke, feel free," he said. She seemed slightly offended that women of her generation had never been exposed to tobacco. "I don't smoke." "Then who smokes?" She touched her chin, a sign of dishonesty. "Visitor." "What kind of visitor?" "Friends, neighbors..." She was a little uneasy. "And British spies." "This is ridiculous." Dieter gave her the most charming smile. "You are a very respectable lady who has clearly been misled into criminal activity," he said in a friendly, frank tone. "I will not play tricks on you, and I hope you will not be too stupid to lie to me." "I'm not going to tell you anything," she said. Dieter feigned disappointment, but he was actually delighted that things had progressed so quickly.She had given up pretending she didn't know what he was talking about.It's like confessing. "I'm going to ask you some questions," he said, "and if you don't answer, I'm going to keep asking them at Gestapo headquarters." She looked at him defiantly. He said: "Where did you meet the British secret service?" She said nothing. "How do they connect with you?" Her gaze met his, very firm.She had collected herself and let him do what he wanted.Such a brave woman, he thought, and she might be difficult to deal with. "What's the code?" She doesn't answer. "Who do you pass these agents on to? How do you get in touch with the Resistance? Who's in charge there?" silence. Dieter stood up. "Follow me, please." "Well," she said firmly, "perhaps you'll allow me to put my hat on." "Of course." He nodded to Stephanie, "Go with the lady, please don't let her use the phone or write anything down." He didn't want her to leave any messages. He waits in the living room.When they returned, Mademoiselle Remus had taken off her apron and had put on a light overcoat and a cloche of a style which had been out of style before the war broke out.She was carrying a sturdy brown handbag.The three were walking towards the front door when Miss Remus said, "Oh! I forgot my key." "It's not necessary," Dieter said. "The door locks automatically," she said, "and I have to use the key to open it when I get back." Dieter looked into her eyes. "Don't you understand?" he said, "you were hiding British terrorists in your house, and you're now under arrest, at the hands of the Gestapo." He shook his head, the look of sadness on his face not entirely fake Come out, "No matter what happens, miss, you're not coming home again." Realizing all the horrible things that were about to happen to her, she turned pale and staggered a few steps, grabbing onto the edge of a kidney-shaped table to get her footing.A Chinese vase with dried flowers on the table wobbled and almost fell over.Then Miss Remus calmed down, straightened up, let go of the table, gave him another provocative look, and walked out of her house with her head held high. Dieter put Stephanie in the front passenger seat and sat in the back with the prisoner.As Hans drove them to Saint-Cécile, Dieter began the conversation politely: "Were you born in Reims, mademoiselle?" "Yes, my father was the director of the cathedral choir." She has a religious background.Dieter's mind is planning, which is good news. "Has he retired?" "He died five years ago and has been ill for a long time." "Where's your mother?" "She died when I was very young." "So, you have been taking care of your sick father?" "Twenty years of care." "Oh." She has been single, so it turned out that because of this, she spent her whole life taking care of her sick father. "Then he left the house to you." She nodded. "Some would consider this a small reward for a lifetime of hard service," Dieter said sympathetically. She gave him a contemptuous look and said, "People don't do this kind of thing for pay." "Of course not." He didn't care about the accusations in her words. If she could make herself feel that she was superior to Dieter in morality and social status, then his plan would be more likely to be realized. "Do you have siblings?" "No." Dieter had seen it very clearly. The agents she was covering were young men and women, just like her own children.She was going to feed them, wash them, talk to them, maybe take care of their sexual relations, keep them from doing anything immoral, and at least keep them under her roof. Now she is going to die because of it. But first, he wanted her to tell him everything. Gestapo Citroens followed Dieter's car into Saint-Cecile.They parked in the castle courtyard, and Dieter said to Weber: "I'm going to take her upstairs and put her in an office." "Why? There are cells in the basement." "You'll know when the time comes." Dieter led the prisoners upstairs and into the Gestapo office area.Dieter looked at the offices and picked the busiest one, which was the typing room and mail room, filled with young men and women in smart shirts and ties.He left Miss Remus in the corridor, closed the door, and clapped his hands to attract everyone's attention.Then he said in a calm voice: "I'm bringing a French woman here. She's a prisoner, but I want you all to be nice and polite to her, understand? Treat her like a guest. Let She feels respected, and that's important." Dieter took her inside, sat her down at a table, murmured an apology, and handcuffed her ankles to the table legs.He asked Stephanie to accompany her, and called Hesse outside: "Go to the cafeteria to prepare lunch and set out trays. Soup, main course, a little red wine, a bottle of mineral water, and more coffee. And cutlery, glasses Come over with napkins. Everything has to be done nicely." The lieutenant grinned admiringly, not knowing exactly what his superior was up to, but he was sure it was a clever trick. A few minutes later, he returned with a tray.Dieter took it, entered the office, and sat down in front of Miss Remus. "Please," he said, "it's lunch time." "I can't eat, thank you." "Maybe just a little soup." He poured the wine into her glass. She mixed a little water with the wine, sipped it, and took another sip of the soup. "How about it?" "Very well," she said approvingly. "French food is so exquisite, we Germans can't imitate it." Dieter said casually, trying to make her relax, and she drank most of the soup.Dieter poured her another glass of water. Major Webb entered, looking suspiciously at the tray in front of the prisoner.He said to Dieter in German: "Are we rewarding people who harbor terrorists?" Dieter said: "Mademoiselle is a well-bred lady. We ought to treat her well." "My God." Weber said, turned and left. She declined the main course but drank all the coffee.Dieter is happy and everything is going according to plan.After she finished eating and drinking, he asked her again: "Where did you meet the Allied agents? How did they recognize you? What was the password for the meeting?" She looked anxious, but still refused to answer. He looked at her sadly. "It's a pity that you refused to cooperate with me, but I entertained you so kindly." She is slightly confused. "I appreciate your kindness, but I can't tell you anything." Sitting beside Dieter, Stephanie was also a little dazed.He could guess what she was thinking: Do you really think a good meal will make this woman talk? "Okay." He said standing up, as if to leave. "But, sir," said Mademoiselle Remus, looking embarrassed, "I want to... go to the ladies' dressing room." Dieter asked in a harsh voice: "Do you want to go to the bathroom?" She blushed. "Yes, that's what I mean." "I'm sorry, madam," said Dieter, "it's impossible."