Chapter 36 Chapter Thirty-Five

Dieter was almost exhausted.In order to print and distribute the thousand notices within half a day, he persuaded and threatened him, exhausting all his energy.He can be patient and persistent all the time, and he can also lose his temper and throw a tantrum when necessary.Also, he hadn't slept the night before.His nerves fluttered, his head ached, and his temper grew more irritable. But as soon as he entered the apartment complex perched at the kennel doors overlooking the Bois de Boulogne, he immediately felt a sense of peace descend upon him.The job he was doing for Rommel required him to travel all over northern France, so he had to keep his headquarters in Paris, but getting such a place required all sorts of bribes and intimidation.It's certainly worth it for Dieter.He loves the dark mahogany paneling, heavy drapes, high ceilings and 18th-century sideboard silver.Walking around the cool, dimly lit apartment, he reacquainted with his cherished possessions: a Rodin sculpted hand, a Degas pastel painting of a ballerina in her slipper, the first Collector's Edition.Sitting in front of the Steinway baby grand piano, he played a loose variation of the famous jazz song "Will You Be Honest":

Before the war, the apartment and most of its furniture belonged to an engineer from Lyon who made his fortune making small appliances, vacuum cleaners, radios and doorbells.Dieter learned this from his neighbor, a wealthy widow whose husband had been a leading figure in the Fascist party in France in the 1930s.The engineer, she said, was a vulgar nouveau riche who had the wallpaper and antiques chosen to match him, but only collected these fine objects to please his wife's friends.Then he went to America, and the people there were all vulgar, said the widow.She's glad the apartment now has a tenant who truly appreciates it.

Dieter took off his coat and shirt and washed the dirt of Paris off his face and neck.Then he put on a clean white shirt, put gold cuffs on the French cuffs, and chose a silver-gray tie.While he was putting on his tie, he turned on the radio.The news from Italy was all bad.The announcer said that the Germans were fighting fiercely and guarding the rear.Dieter speculates that Rome will fall in the next few days. But Italy is not France. He was now waiting for Felicity Clarets to be discovered.Of course, he couldn't be sure that she would pass through Paris, but besides Lance, this was undoubtedly the most likely place to find her.Anyway, there was only so much he could do.He wished he could have brought Stephanie from Reims.He needed her to occupy the house on Du Bois Avenue, though.There may be more Allied agents descending on the ground, looking for them.The important thing is to lead them into the net skillfully.He had left instructions that Michelle and Dr. Baller must not be tortured in his absence, and he kept them for other purposes.

There was a bottle of Dom Perignon in the fridge.He uncorked the bottle and poured some into a crystal goblet.Then, with a frame of mind for the good life, he sat down at the table to read a letter that had come to him. The letter was from his wife, Walter Lauder. Dieter forgot his own birthday.He looked at the date on the Cartier clock.Today is June 3rd.He will be forty years old today.He poured another glass of champagne to celebrate. His wife's envelope contained two other letters.His seven-year-old daughter, Marguerite (everyone calls her Moisie), drew him a picture of him standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in military uniform.In the painting, he is taller than the iron tower: children always exaggerate their fathers in this way.His son Rudy, ten years old, wrote letters more like a grown-up child's, using blue-black ink in delicate, rounded letters.

Dieter closed his eyes in pain.The thought of bombing the city where his children lived was too much for him to bear.He cursed the RAF murderers, even though he was well aware that German bombs were also dropped on British school children. He looked at the phone on his desk and planned to call home.Calls are likely to be difficult to get through, with the French phone system overloaded and military calls being prioritized, private calls can take hours to get through.Still, he decided to try.He longed suddenly to hear the voices of his children, to reassure himself that they were still alive.

He was about to grab the phone when it rang first. He picked up the receiver: "I'm Major Frank." "I'm Lieutenant Hesse." Dieter's pulse quickened. "Have you found Felicity Clarets?" "No, but one thing is just as nice."