The Honor of Spies

"Here goes. You knew all about me before you set me up with Werner . . ." True. I knew everything about you except your ability to sexually arouse me as no other woman ever has. Arouse and then satsify me.

". . . so you know that not only are we from the same background . . ."

Partially true. You are upper bourgeoisie. Your family had money. My family is noble but had no money. Where is she going with this?

". . . but also are survivors. When we're knocked down, we get up again."

That's at least partially true. I didn't quit when I was nearly on the dole in the army. I put up with it, starved, until I saw an opportunity to better myself.

"Is there a point to this, Inge?"

"And then there is the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"What happened to us the first time we were alone. And again just now."

Okay, now I understand. I wonder why I didn't see it coming?

She wants to buy my protection with her body.

Well, what the hell, let her think that. What have I got to lose?

When the time comes, I can eliminate her.

"Yes," he said, and gave in to the temptation to put his hand into the opening of the terry-cloth robe.

God, she's got a great body!

Control yourself, for Christ's sake!

He withdrew his hand as she put her hand on the sheet covering him.

"You said something about money in the poufter's safe?"

"About two hundred thousand American dollars and fifty thousand English pounds."

A pound is worth four point one U.S. dollars. She's talking about another $200,000. My God!

"Why so much?"

"Well, after they decided to go to Paraguay, Werner just about stopped sending money to Germany. They're going to take it with them when they go."

Well, if he left all that money here, he's going to come back for it.

"When do you think he'll be coming back?"

"I don't really know. Probably not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. They're driving, and the road from the Brazilian border isn't really safe at night.

God, am I glad I asked that question!

"As much as I hate to say this, Inge, you're going to have to put your clothing back on. . . ."

"Oh, really?" she said, and made a sad face.

"And go to your house and bring everything in the safe back here. Everything."

He saw the look in her eyes.

"You're going to have to trust me, Inge," he said, and took her hand. "Before this situation gets out of control and we're both in trouble."

She considered that a moment.

"How do you know you can trust me?" she asked. "I mean, I might just drive to the house, get the money, get back in the car, and go to Brazil myself."

She met his eyes when he didn't immediately reply.

Then he said: "But, as you said a moment ago, we're survivors, and then there's that other thing."

"Manfred, you're naughty!" Inge said. And then she asked, "You are going to take care of me, aren't you?"

"Of course."

"Say it. I'm a woman. I can usually tell when a man is lying."

"I'm going to take care of you, Inge."

Just as long as you don't cause me problems.

She kept looking into his eyes.

After a long moment, she said, "I hope I'm not making a fool of myself, but I believe you."

Inge slid off the bed and started collecting her clothing. She put on her brassiere and then picked up her torn underpants.

She held them out for von Deitzberg to see.

"You're naughty, Manfred. Look at what you did!"

He felt a stirring at his groin as he looked at her standing there wearing nothing but the brassiere.

"Well, I'll just have to get another pair at the house," Inge said, and dropped the underpants into a wastebasket.

"Don't do it on my account," he said. "I like you better without them."

"You're naughty, naughty, naughty!"

She walked to him and kissed him rather lasciviously.

"I like it," she said.

"In the morning, Major von Wachtstein--You remember him?"

"The Luftwaffe officer who flies that little airplane?"

"The Fieseler Storch. That's him. You know him?"

"Slightly."