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Chapters (46)
  1. The Man Who Loved Mata Hari
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PART I: The Early Years
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. PART II: The Middle Years
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. PART III: The War Years
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-One
  29. Chapter Twenty-Two
  30. PART IV: The Last Year
  31. Chapter Twenty-Three
  32. Chapter Twenty-Four
  33. Chapter Twenty-Five
  34. Chapter Twenty-Six
  35. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  36. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  37. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  38. Chapter Thirty
  39. Chapter Thirty-One
  40. Chapter Thirty-Two
  41. Chapter Thirty-Three
  42. Chapter Thirty-Four
  43. Chapter Thirty-Five
  44. Montserrat
  45. Author’s Afterword
  46. Table of Contents

"No, I just don't underestimate them. Listen to me. First they send you to Cramer to set the price. Remember his money offer, and you even negotiated it, thinking how you were finally being repaid for your bloody furs. Then they send you to Merrick to size you up, and he pronounces you fit and ready. Then it's on to Ladoux to prepare you for the slaughter, and then they send you to me, promising to let me save you if you're innocent. Only they get impatient, annoyed that I'm not producing. And of course they don't trust me. So they gave you to Spangler's man here."

She was half smiling, a smile he was sure she had used in the presence of hopeless lovers.

"The French are giving me an opportunity to clear myself, Nicky, an opportunity that I wanted and intend to take."

"Oh Christ, open your eyes. They're fattening you up for the kill. They don't want you to spy on von Kalle. They just want you to be seen with him—the Madrid arm of the spymaster Spangler. Can't you understand that?"

But her eyes were on his in the mirror, while her hands were locked into fists. "I'll tell you what I begin to understand, Nicky. That you've been saying anything to keep me for yourself, in your bed. You've tried to turn me against every man I've ever been with, every man with the . . . the means to give me a life— Rolland, Rudolph, Vadime, even Charles—all so you could have me for yourself. I see that you tried to smother me from the first moment we met, from the first time you painted me, captured me on your precious canvas." Her voice rose to a shout. "Well, you never just wanted to paint me. You wanted to possess me.

And of course he had to acknowledge to himself that she was more than a little right. But she was also so wrong, so tragically wrong, not to believe him now . . .

It was about a mile from the Palace to the Bristol, a twisted mile through a warren of half-lit streets. He knew he was feeling ill, with a fever, as he stumbled along, but he did not know how ill he was until he reached his room. Then he lay down on the bed without undressing, and waited for the howitzers to open a barrage in his head. Once again he realized she had been right about him, which made her unable to believe him when her life depended on it.