Tapestry of Spies Part 33

The young commissar smiled deeply, his eyes merry with condescension. It was his huge sense of moral cert.i.tude that she loathed.

"My dear lady," he said through his grin, "could we not argue this all day? Perhaps if I refrain from attacking the POUM, you could refrain from defending it. Cigarette?"

"Thank you. No."

"You're a very attractive woman."

"What on earth does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do only with my romantic nature. A weakness for which I consistently apologize. So then. Let me ask you this. Could you explain your true relationship to this illegal organization."

"It wasn't illegal until this morning."

"Times change, Miss Lilliford. Answer, please."

"I said all I care to on the subject."

"You know, it would help if you would look upon me as a friend or at least an interested person. I'm not without a certain amount of sympathy in these matters. Could I have from you please a list of all the names of your-look, why don't you sit? I feel quite silly sitting in your presence."

"Then why don't you stand?"

He smiled again. His eyes took on the aspect of a person about to deliver a treasured and much-rehea.r.s.ed witticism. "Why are pretty women so headstrong? All my life I have wondered this. I think that your daddies did not spank you enough."

"Will you please get to the point?"

"Forgive my little jokes. I am not as serious as I should be. So: will you be prepared to provide a list of the names of your coworkers over the past six months. If you would list the names of all the people you have-"

"You must be joking."

"In my private life, Miss Lilliford, I joke all the time. I am indeed proud of my sense of humor, which is said to be rather keen. In this matter, pretty lady, alas, no, I do not joke. Serious charges have been raised. It's not our policy to make jokes."

"I've noticed."

"You'll cooperate?"

"Absolutely not."

"You could end up against the wall. Such a shame, a pretty woman like you."

"You are an exceedingly slimy young man."

"You are brave now, but when the Asaltos are getting ready to shoot you, you may find your courage somewhat reduced."

"I'm sure you are right. You are probably an expert; you have probably sent many women to their death. But I'm not frightened now. Not of an ugly little man like you."

"Well, no matter," he said.

"I demand to see the British consul."

"Miss Lilliford."

"This is an illegal detention. I demand to see my consul or representative of my government."

"I am sorry to report that such a demand cannot at this time be accommodated."

Another volley of shots crashed out; Sylvia jumped.

"You had better get used to the sound of gunfire, Miss Lilliford, if you expect to be a revolutionary."

The three coups de grace coups de grace came immediately. came immediately.

"Why?" she said. "For G.o.d's sake, why?" why?"

"It's a matter of discipline, one supposes. These things are ugly. I've seen them before."

"It's so pointless and awful."

"It is indeed awful, Miss Lilliford, but it is never pointless. Now let me ask you one more question. Now wait, don't interrupt me. You may even be surprised. The question is: If I let you go, will you do me the favor of leaving Spain as quickly as possible?"

"I-"

"You have friends, it seems, in high places. I will have a driver return you to the city. Please, please, leave Spain as fast as you can make the arrangements. As charming and lovely as you are, I have no desire to repeat our conversation. I might not be able to enjoy myself as much if I had to shoot you. And one word of advice: get out of that mono. Wear some womanly things. Be pretty. Return to the bourgeoisie. You will be safer."

Sylvia thought it some crude Russian prank. But in fact, at the young commissar's nod, two guards took her outside to an unmarked car, and a driver took her swiftly and without incident into the city. He told her there was a nice hotel across from the cathedral; would she like to go there? Yes, she said. She went and had no trouble getting a room. Then she went into the Gothic quarter and found a small dress shop and she bought a dress. They let her change in the rear.

She went back to her room and locked the door and sat breathing heavily. Occasionally through the night there was the sound of shooting, but in all other respects the city seemed much calmer. The sense of oppressiveness had vanished. There was no longer any feeling of waiting for something ominous to happen. It had.

Sylvia thought she'd been lucky. Some bureaucratic slip-up had somehow spared her. She looked at her calendar; June 16 had been a long day.

She might not have slept nearly so soundly as she did that night had she known that her escape from the firing squad occurred not by virtue of a slip-up. In fact, somebody in high places did did know her, or had that day learned of her. It was Colonel Bolodin, commander of the SIM. know her, or had that day learned of her. It was Colonel Bolodin, commander of the SIM.

32.

THE BRIDGE.

NOW LILI," JULIAN SAID, "LILI WAS A RARE BEAUTY. HER father's estate, near Breslau, had this wonderful hunting schloss, where the old brute went to shoot boar in the winter-and Lili and I had some exquisite weekends there. In the spring. Oh, it was wonderful." father's estate, near Breslau, had this wonderful hunting schloss, where the old brute went to shoot boar in the winter-and Lili and I had some exquisite weekends there. In the spring. Oh, it was wonderful."

Florry nodded enthusiastically. His breath was ragged and dry.

They had pa.s.sed unnoticed beyond the first construction sheds, where the Spanish workers had been quartered during the rebuilding. Up ahead there was some kind of guard post and beyond that Florry could see the bridge, an ancient rough stone arch, now b.u.t.tressed smartly with a gaudy framework of Krupp steel. Beneath it, a surprisingly mundane little river cut its muddy way through a deep gorge, but neither Florry nor Julian cared for a glimpse. Rather, they had by this time seen the low concrete blockhouse that had brought them all this way.

It seemed so utterly nondescript, a prosaic little cube of concrete ranged with gun slits. They were too far to see, but Florry guessed the Germans had at least four Maxims-one for each slot-in the little fort. Against and upon it now, a batch of Condor Legion troopers lounged in their undershirts, smoking and telling jokes. Indeed, all about the bridge, Condor Legion officers could be seen.

"They certainly don't look as if they're expecting raiders," said Florry. He glanced at his watch. It was five to twelve.

"Now Suzette," Julian was saying in German, "Suzette had wonderful, wonderful b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

"You! You there!" The voice had a commanding ring to it.

"Why, yes," replied Julian, turning mildly.

"Just who are you?" The officer, whose hair was cut short as peach fuzz, had a set of ball-bearing eyes and a scar running down his face as if his head had been once disa.s.sembled, then rea.s.sembled, though hastily and somewhat inexactly. On the one side of the line, the skin had a dead, plastic look, an abnormal sheen.

"Herr Leutnant Richard Von Paupel, Combat Engineers Section, Condor Legion, at your disposal, Your Excellency," said Julian crisply, snapping off a salute-the army's salute, not the Party thing.

The half-faced officer returned the snap perfunctorily.

"I'm here as an observer, Herr Colonel," Julian said coolly.

"Ah! And for whom, may I ask?" the officer demanded.

"Certain elements, sir."

"And what is that supposed to mean? Or do you mean to have me play a little guessing game?"

"Perhaps I'd best just say not only is the general staff interested in the outcome of this afternoon's exercise, Herr Colonel, but equally so are certain elements in Berlin. They have requested an independent report on the outcome."

"You're from Security?"

"I'm not Gestapo, Herr Colonel."

"If you were, I'd get you a seat on the lead tank into Huesca. And your skinny friend in the raincoat. You're out of uniform, Herr Leutnant," said the officer. "Your boots are not shined."

"You'll find, Herr Colonel," Julian took up and threw back the challenge, "that the new German hasn't time to shine his boots, he is so busy climbing the stairway of history, as our leader directs."

"Papers, Leutnant. Or I'll have to call my guards to escort you off the bridge. You may watch from the guardhouse. Perhaps you're the English dynamiters the Spaniards fear so adamantly."

He nodded to two noncoms, who reacted instantly and hurried toward them with machine carbines in hand.

"Herr Colonel," Julian began-but at that instant a roar arose in a sudden surge, and everybody looked for a cause and could see, just a the top of the slope, a column of dust.

"The panzers are coming," somebody yelled.

They must have left just after we we did, Florry thought. They were fast. He glanced at his watch. It was a minute till noon. The blockhouse was still almost fifty yards away. They hadn't even reached the bridge. If Portela attacked now- did, Florry thought. They were fast. He glanced at his watch. It was a minute till noon. The blockhouse was still almost fifty yards away. They hadn't even reached the bridge. If Portela attacked now- "My papers," said Julian, "are my blond hair, my blue eyes, my embodiment of the racial ideal. My credentials are my blood, sir."

"Your blood is of very little interest to the German army, Herr Leutnant."

"And this-"

Julian reached into his tunic and removed a doc.u.ment and opened it up.

"There," he said, handing it over. "I "I think that should do the trick." think that should do the trick."

The German colonel looked at it intently for some seconds.

"All right, Herr Leutnant," he finally said. "You may of course position yourself where you want. But don't get in the way. I'd hate to wire Berlin its representatives had been squashed into Strudel."

"Thank you, Herr Colonel. Your cooperation will be noted."

Julian smartly walked past the man, and Florry trailed along behind. In seconds they had moved beyond the last guard post and were on it, on the bridge itself.

"What in G.o.d's name did you show him?"

"My party card. When I was in Germany in 'thirty-two I actually joined up one night as a drunken lark, under the name of a chap I was quite close to at the time, to see if I could get away with it. It was felt to be clever in the set I was running with at the time. I used to show it off at parties in London for laughs to prove how b.l.o.o.d.y stupid it all was. It's a very low number, I'm told; impressive to chaps who understand how such things work."

They turned to look at the brown water forty feet below, which trickled under the bridge.

"Robert, old chum, I've got that funny buzz again. About the next several minutes."

"Stop it," said Florry.

"I think my magic ring is fresh out of tricks. Tell my foolish old mother I loved her dearly."

"Don't be an idiot, Julian."

"Say tally-ho to all my friends."

"Julian-"

The first shot sounded, from high in the pines.

"Shall we go, old man?" whispered Julian, removing his pistol.

A klaxon sounded from somewhere, and the call "Partisans! Partisans!" in German arose. Yet panic did not break out among the professional German soldiers, who instead responded with crisp, economic movements. Or maybe it was that for Florry the entire universe seemed to slip into another gear: a monstrous, strange slowness slowness somehow overcame and then overwhelmed reality. More shooting began, rising in tempo from the occasional bang of a bullet to, several seconds later, what seemed like a crescendo of fire. somehow overcame and then overwhelmed reality. More shooting began, rising in tempo from the occasional bang of a bullet to, several seconds later, what seemed like a crescendo of fire.

Julian ran toward the blockhouse just a few feet ahead, his automatic out. A bullet kicked up a puff of dust nearby and then another and then another. A few of the Germans were already down. From the blockhouse there came a noise that sounded like strong men ripping plywood apart, and Florry realized one of the German machine guns had begun to fire. Yet still he could make no sense of events: he could not see the guerrillas, and in fact could see nothing except some stirred dust down the road.

"In, in," yelled Julian, and they ducked into the dark little entrance of the blockhouse, immediately finding themselves in subterranean blackness.

"Hold your fire, G.o.d d.a.m.n it," somebody was shouting in the closeness of the fortification. An electric light snapped on; Florry heard the snap and click of gunbolts being set and head the oily rattle of belts of ammunition being unlimbered. The officer with the half-dead face was shouting crisp orders, telling his gunner to prepare to engage targets at a range of about four hundred meters. Florry watched the gunners lift the weapons to their shoulders and move to adjust their positions against the firing slots. He recognized immediately that these weren't heavy Maxim guns at all, but some frighteningly streamlined new weapon, supported at the muzzle by a bipod, yet with a pistol grip rather like a Luger's and a rifle's b.u.t.tstock.

"Well, Herr Leutnant," said the colonel, "you're in luck and so are we. I was afraid our guests might not take the bait. But they're right on schedule. You'll get to see the new Model 34 in action against some Spanish guerrillas who think their horses are a match for hot steel. It should make an amusing few minutes."

Julian shot him in the throat.

Florry got out his four-five-five.

Julian shot the gunner, then he shot one of the guards. Florry shot the other guard.

The pistol shots in the close s.p.a.ce were painfully loud. There were six Germans left and Julian said very calmly, "Gentlemen, please drop your weapons or we shall kill all of you."

Florry saw something in the eyes of one of the other gunners and he shot him in the arm. He went quickly to the machine carbine one of the guards had dropped and picked it up, swinging it about on the remaining men.