Read Online Sleeper Agent by Ib Melchior - Free Book Online Page B

Steinmetz,” Larry said caustically, “I think you do!” He leaned across the table, his face close to hers. “And I will find out!” He smiled nastily. “Don’t think that the fact that you are a woman means anything to us,” he said in an ominously quiet tone of voice. “It does not. You should know that,” he finished with a smirk.
    He suddenly grabbed the girl’s chin and lifted her face. His eyes stabbed at hers. “So help me, Frau Gestapo Colonel Steinmetz”—he savored each word and spat it out as if offended by its taste—“I’ll get every bit of information you have out of you! I’ll grab hold of your brain, Frau Gestapo Colonel Steinmetz, and I’ll squeeze it until every drop of knowledge oozes from it!”
    Tom had been following the performance closely. He knew it was an act, and yet he felt genuinely disturbed. He shook the feeling off. He could not afford it. You did not last long in the ruthless world in which he functioned if you allowed yourself to become personally or emotionally involved with your subjects. For any reason.
    He frowned. He looked concerned. He had his part to play. He touched Larry on the arm. “Larry,” he said soberly, “take it easy.” He spoke in German as if unaware of the fact. It seemed completely natural. He lowered his voice to a confidential murmur, yet loud enough for the girl to overhear. “Don’t you think she’s gone through enough right now?”
    He gave the girl a sympathetic look. He turned back to his partner. “Why don’t you take a break? Let me talk to her for a while. . . . Go on.”
    Larry glared at him. Without a word he got up and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
    For a moment neither Tom nor the girl spoke. She sat rigidly, her hands clasped tightly before her, her head lowered.
    Then Tom began to talk, quietly, reassuringly. “Frau Steinmetz,” he said, “you must realize that it is best to be cooperative. For your own sake. For the sake of your little son.”
    He waited for a brief moment, then he went on, almost reluctantly. “Look, I . . . I really shouldn’t suggest this to you, Frau Steinmetz, but I do feel . . . regretful for what we had to do to you. . . . Look, my partner is determined to find out something from you. He is a hard man, Frau Steinmetz. . . . Why don’t you—” He hesitated, then seemingly made up his mind. “Look, you could tell us some unimportant facts perhaps—something that can’t harm your husband. I know you can’t do that. Just . . . anything, ,to satisfy him.”
    He knew only too well that once a subject begins to talk, to give any information at all, it becomes increasingly easy to get the next fact. And the next. Until there are no secrets left.
    He stood up. He walked behind, her. She tensed. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. He felt her shiver. “Why don’t you talk to me, Frau Steinmetz. Perhaps I can help you. I should like to.”
    In that moment he actually loathed himself, and yet not for a moment did he doubt that what he was doing was necessary—and right.
    “The war is over, Frau Steinmetz. Soon there will be no more killing. No more suffering. You and your boy are alive. And whole. Perhaps your husband is, too? Soon you may all be together again. And happy.” He spoke quietly, convincingly. “Even if your husband will have to face justice, perhaps be interned for a while, it won’t be forever. Think of it, Frau Steinmetz. Don’t spoil it by being unnecessarily stubborn. Think of it. Think of yourself. Think of your little boy.”
    He watched the knuckles grow white as the girl clenched her fists almost convulsively. He felt the suppressed sobs shake her body. He went back to sit across from her again. “Frau Steinmetz,” he said softly.
    She looked up slowly. Her eyes were moist with unshed tears brimming at her lids.
    “Where is your husband?”
    She looked haunted She did not speak.
    “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want