“General Schaumberg is the deputy commander of Berlin,” she explained. “He seems to spend most of his time touring Parisian brothels. Him and his adjutant, who’s a German count. The Graf Waldersee. And there’s a prince in tow as well: the Prince von Ratibor. The prince and his dog are here at least twice a week. All brothel certificates are issued by Schaumberg’s office, and together with Kestner and Willms they’ve already made it into a nice little racket. The Germans win both ways. They get paid off for a certificate. They get laid by the best whores. But the brains of the outfit is Willms. He used to be a flic, so he knows how a maison works. A bastard, too. Takes a slice of everything. Most evenings he’s in his office here up on the top floor, cooking the books to show Schaumberg.”

“Is he here now?”

“He was. I expect he’s already on the phone to Schaumberg’s office trying to find out what the hell’s going on. What is going on?”

I thought it best not to tell her any more than she needed to know.

After about half an hour, I went upstairs. There was no one to be seen, but I could hear someone on the floor above shouting in French. I quickened my steps and arrived on a landing outside an open office door. Willms was on the telephone behind a desk. He was sitting next to an open safe as if he thought it might keep him warm. Perhaps it would have done, too—there was enough money in it.

Seeing me there, he put down the phone and nodded.

“I suppose it was you,” he said. “The person who gave out that the gendarmerie was coming to raid this place.”

“That’s right. I didn’t want to embarrass any of those red stripes when I put you under arrest, Willms.”

“Me? Under arrest?” He chuckled. “It’s you who’s going to be in trouble, Gunther. Not me. Half of the general staff in Paris are sharing in this particular bottle, my friend. Some very important heads are going to feel sore about what you’ve done here tonight.”

“They’ll get over it. In a few days those Wehrmacht counts and princes will forget a rat like you ever even existed, Willms.”

“The amount of coal they’re raking back from this place? I don’t think so. See, you’re trying to flood a very nice little money pit here. The only question is, why? Or maybe you’ve got something against your brother officers having a thump now and again.”

“I’m not arresting you for being a pimp, Willms. Though that’s what you are. Personally, I’ve got nothing at all against pimps. A man can’t help what he is. No, I’m arresting you for attempted murder.”