been bold enough to make one. Von Eckhart was at his desk and looked up with a smile at Max’s sudden appearance—a smile Max wanted to smash from his face.
“Tell him to shut the door behind him,” Max said. How calm he sounded, deceptively so.
Von Eckhart nodded to the sentry and the man backed out.
“Max! This is an unexpected pleasure. I thought you’d gone home to Käethe.”
“I’m back.”
“Oh? And how is she?”
Max never took his eyes from von Eckhart’s. “I want to know about Genevieve Kirkland and Isabelle Lassone.”
“Oh, so you’ve heard about our most recent arrests? We haven’t entirely stopped that foul paper, but we’re closer than ever, I promise you that. And I suppose I should really thank you, Max. If it wasn’t for you, I never would have met your Fräulein Lassone or continued having her shadowed by my informant.”
“Don’t give me credit for your false arrest. I came here to clear up this nonsense.”
“False arrest?” He laughed. “You’re too late. The trial was two days ago, and they’ve both been found guilty. With plenty of evidence, I might add. Do you mean to tell me you never once heard that press running in the cellar? smelled the ink?”
“I can guarantee that Frau Kirkland had nothing to do with it.”
“There I must disagree, my friend. Surely she knew; she was one of them. In all probability she was the distraction to prevent you from finding out about the whole thing.”
Max’s jaw clenched—even if that was a scenario he’d already considered. “You said the trial is over. I came straight from the train. Tell me Frau Kirkland’s sentence.”
Von Eckhart stood. “Ten thousand francs. Three years’ penal servitude.”
“Either, or?”
“Both.”
For the first time since entering the building, Max’s anger failed him. He looked behind for a chair and, seeing one, sank into it.
Von Eckhart came around to the front of his desk and sat on the edge closest to Max. “Look, old man, I didn’t know you cared for the woman. I thought when you went back home, you’d found out about the press but didn’t want to be the one to betray them. I know you’re the loyal type.”
Max barely listened. Three years. “Is she still in Brussels?”
“Frau Kirkland is at St. Gilles. She won’t be moved until after the Kaiser’s birthday. Everything waits until the celebration. Did you know we’re going to have cameras? Filming the Grand Place with cheering civilians, so happy to wish their benevolent new leader a happy birthday.” He laughed again. “Of course, those civilians will be Germans and not Belgians, but who will know? Fortunately for us, cameras do not record the sound of German voices.”
Max stared at von Eckhart. “There was a fine assigned. I’ve heard rumors about such matters. If I offer to pay that fine . . . along with, shall we say, an extra incentive . . . might they agree to pardon the rest?”
Von Eckhart sucked in a breath. “I don’t know. The press was found under the roof where she lived. The sentence was light, considering that.”
Max sprang up, fighting for balance with his cane. “I tell you, she never touched a copy of that blasted paper.”
Von Eckhart wasn’t afraid; Max could see that. But he knew von Eckhart respected him, or had once, and Max had never been more earnest in his life.
“You can vouch for her whereabouts, I assume?” von Eckhart whispered. “Day . . . and night?”
“Think whatever you like, but get her out of there.”
“Not so fast, my friend! I need to see some money first.”
Max turned away. After receiving Father Antoine’s note, he’d gone to his family home, where he had money hidden in a vault. But it had dwindled considerably, evidently drained by Käethe before she went to live in the abbey. He had barely enough to cover the initial fine—in Marks, but he doubted von Eckhart would care.
Max handed over what he had. “Consider this the first installment. Tell me what more it will take, and I will get it.”
Von Eckhart took a moment to count it, then looked up at his old friend. “Double this and she will walk out with you.”
“I want to see her,” Max said.
But to that von Eckhart shook his head. “That would not be wise if we’re going to alter her sentence, old man. For now it’s best we keep this between you and me.”
Max had no leverage. He must accept what he could get. He headed to the door, hearing von Eckhart retreat