side. I'll stick my head in and ask for a cup of coffee, for someone to please bring it out to me. In German-the two patrols were German."
"Suppose they see you're not the same guard?"
"I'll say the other guy got sick and I'm relieving him. It's why I need the coffee, I'm still half-asleep." Dietz hurriedly left the cabana and walked rapidly down the south area toward the kitchen door, Latham and Witkowski crouched in front of the tentlike flap, watching him. The commando abruptly stopped, froze, as two bright floodlights on the side of the chateau suddenly came on.
Dietz was fully exposed, the black shirt and trousers revealed for the misfits they were. A couple strode into the wash of bright light from the cavernous shadows beyond, a young miniskirted woman and a tall middle-aged man. The man reacted to the sight of the captain with alarm, then fury. He reached under his jacket; the commando had no choice. He fired a single silenced round into the man's head as he rushed to the woman whose scream was aborted by Dietz's chop to her throat. As she collapsed, the commando raised his weapon; two more spits exploded the floodlights. He then lifted the woman, throwing her over his shoulder, and started back to the cabana.
"Get the casualty! "'whispered the colonel sharply, pulling the flap back, addressing the Frenchman.
"I'll go," said Drew, racing forward. He reached the shadows;
the body of the dead man was vaguely outlined by the moonlight, which was in large measure blocked by the rising sides of the castle. He ran to the corpse as the door to the kitchen crashed open. Latham spun away, out of the line of sight, his weapon gripped firmly, his back against the wall. A face beneath a chef's hat peered outside and squinted at the darkness; the head shrugged and the cook went back into the kitchen. Perspiring, Drew strapped his gun over his shoulder and ran to the fallen man;
he leaned down, grabbed his feet, and started to drag the body back to the cabana.
"Que faites-vous?" said a female voice from the darkness.
"Halls-way," answered Latham haltingly, out of breath, adding hoarsely, "trop de whisky."
"Ah, un allemand! Votre [email protected] est mMiocre." A woman dressed in a long white diaphanous gown emerged in the dim moonlight. She laughed, staggering slightly, and continued in French.
"Too much whisky, you say? Who hasn't? I've a mind to throw myself into the pool."
"Gut," said Drew, understanding half of what she said.
"Shall I help you?"
"Nein, danke. "
"Oh, it is Heinernann you have there. He's a bull of a German, a perfect boot." Suddenly the woman gasped as Latham dragged the man named Heinemann into the open area, where the moonlight was brighter; she saw the blood-drenched head. Drew dropped the dead man's feet and yanked the small Beretta out of his pocket.
"You raise your voice, I'll have to kill you," he said in English.
"Can you understand me?"
"I understand perfectly," answered the woman, her English fluent, her weaving all but absent with her terror.
The two Etranger agents rushed up to them. Without speaking, Number Two pulled the corpse to the side of the wall, removing items from its pockets, while Number One walked behind the woman and shoved her toward the cabana, his hand gripping her neck. Latham followed, startled to realize that the bodies of the dead neo guards were no longer inside.
"What happened .. . ?"
"Our ..ors had urgent appointments," regev'ous visit replied Witowski.
"They flew away."
"Damn good work, Cons-Op," said Captain Dirtz, sitting next to his captive, both in striped canvas chairs, the small enclosure dimly lit by upturned blue penlights.
"Real cozy in here, isn't it?" he added as Etranger Two came back in.
The two women stared at each other.
"Adrienne?" said Latham's prisoner.
"Allo, Elyse," Dietz's prize responded despondently.
"We are finis, nest-ce pas?"
"You're Nazi whores!" accused Number One.
"Don't be foolish!" objected Elyse.
"We work where the money is best, politics have nothing to do with us."
"Do you know who these people are?" said Number Two.
"The beasts of the world! My grandfather died fighting them!"
"History," dismissed the cool, gowned Elyse.
"Decades before either of us was born."
"You haven't heard the stories?" Number One spat out.
"They're history also, and they also happen to be the truth. They're Fascists, they slaughter whole races of people. They would kill me and my entire family if they could, simply because we are Jews!"
"And we are merely temporary companions, here for a week or so every few months. We never discuss such issues. Besides,