Page 23 of Beloved Beast

Luke wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin then stood. Through the half-open curtains, he observed a young lad ascending the stairs carrying a satchel across his shoulders. Luke recognized the boy. One of Fred’s telegraph messengers. He opened the door, took the envelope, and slipped the lad a few shillings. After watching the boy drive away, he opened the correspondence and scanned over the instructions. Two o’clock an auto would be delivered. Good.

What caught his attention: Our mutual friend, OK, is dead, having passed away five months ago while at camp. The official cause is pneumonia. My condolences.

Fred’s note was half in code on the outside chance it was intercepted, but Luke knew what he meant. Kroger perished at a concentration camp, no doubt of malnourishment, which in turn caused the pneumonia. God, he didn’t relish informing Gillian of the news. The rest of the instructions told of Miss Simm taking up her new position and to leave the key to the Anglia hidden in the shed under his mat for an operative to retrieve later. Efficient and cautious as usual.

“Gillian, it’s safe,” he called out.

Holding her empty dishes, she entered the parlor area. He held up the note. “An update from Fred. Take a seat.” She did, as did he, then poured them more coffee. “Your sister is safely away from her flat and settled in with Fred’s parents. He will be paying her a good wage.”

“Where do they reside?”

“In London, the outskirts actually, in a quiet residential area. It is all I can tell you. Oh, and Fred will be giving her a new identification. You can lay your worries aside about your sister at least.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“Our new transportation will be delivered and parked down the street around two this afternoon.” He held up two keys. “Another Anglia, only an older model and a dark blue color. We will have to wait until dusk to fetch it and load it. Your belongings will be in the boot. No need for us to make another stop on the way to Charlwood.”

She nodded as she sipped her coffee. “Mr. Parker is proficient.”

“Yes, he is.” Luke paused, wondering if he should keep the information on Kroger to himself, but it didn’t sit well with him. She cared for the man once; maybe she still did, considering the way she broke down in Fred’s office. Gillian had a right to know. He cleared his throat. “Concerning Kroger. Are you still infatuated with him?”

She looked up, her brows furrowing. “Is that pertaining to this assignment, or are you asking the question on a more personal level?”

He rubbed his earlobe, uncomfortable with this conversation already. “Both, I suppose.”

“No. What was between us could not last. The circumstances were hopeless and mired in lies and deception on both our parts. I’ve come to believe if I actually cared for him, I would have stayed with him.”

“Yet,” Luke said softly, “you cried for him in Fred’s office.”

She set her mug on the table. “I did. It seems I’ve been bottling up a lot of guilt concerning Otto. It came out in a rush. I assure you I’m usually not this flighty. My nerves have not been the best lately either. I jumped at the chance when the administrative clerical-translator position was offered to me. My spy days are over. Or so I thought.”

“They will be once we get you resettled.” Luke paused, and his voice softened further. “I have news. Thanks to double agents we were able to find out Otto Kroger’s fate. I am sorry to inform you he died in a concentration camp five months ago. Pneumonia. My deepest condolences, Gillian.”

Her face fell, her lower lip trembled. “I have no more tears. What kind of cold, unfeeling woman am I? It’s all my fault. He’s dead because of me.”

Luke reached across the table and clasped her shaky hand. “No. His wife put him in harm’s way. And if he kept the photos, even after he had doubts about you, then that is on him. Was he loyal to the Nazi party?”

Shaking her head, she laced her fingers through his. “No, not in a serious manner. But his wife was. Otto went through the motions because it was expected, because of his business.” She paused. “In truth, Otto Kroger was dead long before he was put in a concentration camp. He was dead when he aligned himself with the Nazi Party, the moment he swore an oath to Adolf Hitler. One cannot ally himself to the devil and expect to come out of it unscathed in some way.”

He nodded. “Living in Berlin he was well aware of the danger. He acted recklessly keeping the photos. We have one advantage on our side. The Nazis are not skilled in espionage, as I told you. We have the upper hand, and we will continue forward with the plan.”

With a groan, she pulled her hand from his and laid it across her stomach. “I don’t feel well.” She retched then flew down the hall toward the bathing room. Luke followed right on her heels. He found her on her knees in front of the loo, bringing up the breakfast she’d eaten. Leaning down, he held back her hair until she finished, pulled her upright, reached for a cloth, and gently wiped her mouth. It was then tears trickled down her cheeks. She did not sob or wail, but quietly shed tears for a man she’d once cared for.

Pulling her close, he tucked her head under his chin. “Cry. Let it out. Acknowledge your feelings and grieve. It is all right. Remember him fondly, not with guilt or regret, but with the knowledge that for a brief time, you were loved. Some people never have that.” Words he should heed as well. “You do learn to live a life without the person you’ve lost. Trust me on this. Deep inside, they are always with you.”

A mournful sob left her throat, and he held her close. His heart ached for her. But something worried him. It was easy to dismiss the ineptitude of Nazi spies, but he was well aware there were a few good ones. In fact, good enough that SIS knew nothing about them. Did they send one of those dangerous, amoral men after Gillian?

At this thought, he held her a little tighter as he stared at the wall. He would protect this woman with his life. With his last breath.

Chapter 10

Rainer Herrmann thrust away inside the older woman writhing beneath him, her moans of pleasure filling the hotel room he’d procured for the night. Twice a week for the past month and a half, he met the widow, Mrs. Helen Travers, at various hotels throughout London for this specific purpose. The fact she was the executive secretary to Frederick Parker, Head Operative of L Division, stood as the only reason he would bother to fuck a woman more than twenty years his senior.

His well-ordered mind reviewed his upcoming schedule as he continued to pound into her. Later tonight he was meeting a baron’s wife for drinks and no doubt another tumble in the sheets. Since he spoke impeccable English and could easily mimic a well-educated Londoner or an East End Cockney, he could adapt to any situation. He could move in London society undetected and found the women particularly easy to seduce. Most were lonely either from neglect or the fact their husbands were busy with the war in whatever capacity.

Seducing widows also presented few difficulties, especially ones with insatiable sexual appetites like Helen Travers. He’d followed her for two months before approaching her. Seeing she had clandestine meetings with younger men in hotels much like this one, he formulated his plan. Rainer struck up a conversation with her one night at a club, and the result was a full-blown affair. To her credit, considering she was well into her mid-fifties, she was still attractive enough for him to be able to perform, though sex was merely a means to an end. It meant nothing to him. And neither did the women.

Patience was the trademark of a spy. Rainer brought her along slowly, allowing trust to build between them. In the past couple of weeks, his persistence paid off. Small tidbits of information he could pass on to his immediate handler in the Adwehr, Vice-Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, like confirmation of the fact Frederick Parker often relocated MI-6 agents to other countries for their own safety.