It was late when he extinguished the lamps, much too late for anything except a few last random thoughts: Spangler was back, just as one day Dunbar would probably be back, just as finally the others would come back, some that she wouldn't even remember. They would come when she least expected it, demanding retribution or worse; and even if it were possible to shoot them all, their ghosts would still come, just as the ghost of Michard kept coming back to him now and again on balmy nights.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

LIKE others from the formative years of German intelligence, Rudolph Spangler would always remain an elusive figure. Whole decades of his life have never been accounted for, and even his name is suspect. Because he habitually changed his appearance, the few existent photographs are unreliable.

Of his early years all that is known for certain is that he was born to a family of modest means somewhere north of Bremen. His father was an unsuccessful merchant, and probably an alcoholic. His mother was consumptive. He entered the military at a young age, and seems to have distinguished himself in one of the German colonial wars. Although there is no indication of where or when he was initiated into the secret world, it is quite possible that he was one of the last surviving protégés of the remarkable Wilhelm Stieber, Bismarck's prince of foxes.

Despite humble origins he was an urbane and well-read man. He was also, according to Mata Hari, a decidedly handsome man. His hair was fair. His eyes were gray-blue. He was slender but muscular and stood about six feet tall. Although his rank was unknown he generally wore the uniform of a Bavarian cavalry officer, and was said to have been an accomplished horseman and hunter with appropriate rights on all the better estates.

This was undoubtedly the Rudolph Spangler who captivated Mata Hari during that Viennese winter of 1908: an engaging soldier with obvious means and taste. Although she would never recall having met him before (in his earlier incarnation as the Swiss financier, Diderot), she would always insist that there had been a subconscious recognition, as if they had been lovers in a previous life.

Their initial meeting, as Dunbar had described it: One evening while attending an embassy soiree, Margaretha sensed the gaze of a man across the room. Turning, her eyes met those of a solitary German officer. He held two glasses of champagne in one hand, the stems between his fingers. In response to her casual smile he merely extended his arm and nodded. Moments later they adjourned to a terrace where conversation remained polite but suggestive. Still later they danced to selections of popular waltzes including "The Blue Danube."