Read Online The Eagle's Covenant by Michael Parker - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Parker
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everybody knows that you speak German.”
“I don’t follow you.”
Hoffman hadn’t expected her to. He explained what was causing him a little excitement. “As far as I am aware, you never give interviews. Is that correct?”
Joanna nodded. “It’s an almost unwritten condition being a member of the Schiller family.” She looked at Schiller who showed his acquiescence by nodding slowly.
Hoffman stood up then. He found pacing the floor helped his train of thought. “It could mean that she wasn’t sure how good your German might be, which is why she spoke to you in your own language.”
“That’s a fairly weak conclusion, Hoffman,” Schiller interjected. “If she was South African as my daughter-in-law suggests, then she was merely talking to her in their common tongue.”
“Unless she was a Boer, then she might have spoken Afrikaans.”
“What does it matter, anyway?” Joanna asked in despair. “How can it help?”
Hoffman took his eyes away from Schiller who was glaring at him again. He wondered if the old man was upset by the kidnap or the fact that he was no longer in control. He spoke to Joanna.
“She might have been told to address you in English. Or she might even have spoken to you before.”
Joanna shook her head vigorously. “No, I don’t believe it.”
Hoffman didn’t expect her to. “Could you describe her to me?”
She shook her head. “Not really. She was wearing a camouflage uniform. Rather like a paramilitary. And she had a ski mask pulled over her head. All I could see was her eyes.”
Joanna stopped there.
Hoffman waited for her to continue, but it was if she had seen something, or remembered something significant.
“What is it?” he asked. Schiller was now caught by this little development. He put a hand out to Joanna, quietly urging her to speak.
“Her eyes.” She looked at Hoffman. “I’ll never forget her eyes.” Neither of the men said a thing. They both waited. “So sinister and so evil.” She looked at Schiller. “Didn’t you see it Manfred?”
He apologised quietly. He hadn’t of course. Fear had blotted it all out. “I was afraid, meine liebchen , blind with terror I think.” His voice trembled a little as he spoke.
“I will never forget her eyes, never!” Joanna spoke with understated venom which Hoffman found quite understandable. He wondered, obliquely, what would happen if the two women ever came face to face.
“Frau Schiller, if we were able to produce any photographs of women we suspect, would you look at them?”
Joanna made a sarcastic grimace. “You mean mug shots? Every time you see a picture of some hapless convict staring at the camera, their eyes always seem to be glazed over. I doubt if I could help you.”
“Not even if it was, say, a natural photograph?”
Joanna folded her arms, tucking each hand beneath under her arms. She rocked back and forth, tears beginning to well up. She kept her face down, trying hard not to cry.
“Oh my God, I could kill the fucking bitch. I could, I could.” She started sobbing. Schiller immediately went to comfort her. Hoffman knew the interview was at an end.
“We’ll speak again tomorrow Herr Schiller.” He turned towards Joanna. “Frau Schiller.” Hoffman expected no acknowledgement and got none as he indicated to the policewoman that they should leave.
Hoffman sat in his official car deep in thought as it negotiated the winding road away from Schiller’s house. Something teased at his brain. A nagging thought that would not go away. One that made him think that Joanna had kept something from him.
*
“Do it now Jo-Jo! Now!”
Breggie was fighting with the buttons on Schneider’s shirt, her fingers trembling with anticipation. They were sprawled on a long, leather Chesterfield settee. Schneider was astride Breggie. He had been teasing her mercilessly. He knew what state she would be in because she was always the same after a field operation. He loved this moment; Breggie would
“I don’t follow you.”
Hoffman hadn’t expected her to. He explained what was causing him a little excitement. “As far as I am aware, you never give interviews. Is that correct?”
Joanna nodded. “It’s an almost unwritten condition being a member of the Schiller family.” She looked at Schiller who showed his acquiescence by nodding slowly.
Hoffman stood up then. He found pacing the floor helped his train of thought. “It could mean that she wasn’t sure how good your German might be, which is why she spoke to you in your own language.”
“That’s a fairly weak conclusion, Hoffman,” Schiller interjected. “If she was South African as my daughter-in-law suggests, then she was merely talking to her in their common tongue.”
“Unless she was a Boer, then she might have spoken Afrikaans.”
“What does it matter, anyway?” Joanna asked in despair. “How can it help?”
Hoffman took his eyes away from Schiller who was glaring at him again. He wondered if the old man was upset by the kidnap or the fact that he was no longer in control. He spoke to Joanna.
“She might have been told to address you in English. Or she might even have spoken to you before.”
Joanna shook her head vigorously. “No, I don’t believe it.”
Hoffman didn’t expect her to. “Could you describe her to me?”
She shook her head. “Not really. She was wearing a camouflage uniform. Rather like a paramilitary. And she had a ski mask pulled over her head. All I could see was her eyes.”
Joanna stopped there.
Hoffman waited for her to continue, but it was if she had seen something, or remembered something significant.
“What is it?” he asked. Schiller was now caught by this little development. He put a hand out to Joanna, quietly urging her to speak.
“Her eyes.” She looked at Hoffman. “I’ll never forget her eyes.” Neither of the men said a thing. They both waited. “So sinister and so evil.” She looked at Schiller. “Didn’t you see it Manfred?”
He apologised quietly. He hadn’t of course. Fear had blotted it all out. “I was afraid, meine liebchen , blind with terror I think.” His voice trembled a little as he spoke.
“I will never forget her eyes, never!” Joanna spoke with understated venom which Hoffman found quite understandable. He wondered, obliquely, what would happen if the two women ever came face to face.
“Frau Schiller, if we were able to produce any photographs of women we suspect, would you look at them?”
Joanna made a sarcastic grimace. “You mean mug shots? Every time you see a picture of some hapless convict staring at the camera, their eyes always seem to be glazed over. I doubt if I could help you.”
“Not even if it was, say, a natural photograph?”
Joanna folded her arms, tucking each hand beneath under her arms. She rocked back and forth, tears beginning to well up. She kept her face down, trying hard not to cry.
“Oh my God, I could kill the fucking bitch. I could, I could.” She started sobbing. Schiller immediately went to comfort her. Hoffman knew the interview was at an end.
“We’ll speak again tomorrow Herr Schiller.” He turned towards Joanna. “Frau Schiller.” Hoffman expected no acknowledgement and got none as he indicated to the policewoman that they should leave.
Hoffman sat in his official car deep in thought as it negotiated the winding road away from Schiller’s house. Something teased at his brain. A nagging thought that would not go away. One that made him think that Joanna had kept something from him.
*
“Do it now Jo-Jo! Now!”
Breggie was fighting with the buttons on Schneider’s shirt, her fingers trembling with anticipation. They were sprawled on a long, leather Chesterfield settee. Schneider was astride Breggie. He had been teasing her mercilessly. He knew what state she would be in because she was always the same after a field operation. He loved this moment; Breggie would
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