“Jesus Christ! We weren’t having an argument, although I don’t deny our voices were raised. Worstead was bloody upset, and I was trying to calm him down—he was almost hysterical. I decided to call dinner off, and yes, somewhat against his wishes, I took him out by his arm. But the idea that I looked as though I meant to harm him is pure bunk. Besides, it’s not even evidence.”

“Well, it’s enough to make them hunt for more.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid they don’t believe your story.”

“This is absurd. Do they really think I would hang about next to somebody I had just shot? Can’t you do something, Strasser?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Of course you can! You must believe me—go and tell them that they’re wasting their time.”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

“So you’re going to do nothing?”

“Yes. Because nothing is all I can do.”

“Leni!”

“Yes?”

It was Waltraut, the maid, outside her door.

“It’s a telegram for you.”

Leni looked at the clock next to the bed, the one she had looked at so many times as she had been with so many men. It was five o’clock in the afternoon, and, rarely for a Monday, she had already had one client, a Rumanian sturmbannführer who had been mercifully quick. She got out of bed and put on her silk robe. Telegrams were not uncommon. They were usually from regulars expressing gratitude for “a wonderful time, my little Leni,” or informing her that she could expect the sender at the end of next week, and would she keep the bed warm for him?

She opened the door, and Waltraut handed her the telegram.

“I expect it’s from another admirer,” said Waltraut. “You get so many more telegrams than the others.”

Leni smiled.

“Thank you, Waltraut.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

Leni ripped open the envelope and removed the telegram. Before she unfolded it, she noticed that Waltraut was still standing there, obviously nosy about the contents of the message.

“Thank you, Waltraut.”

“Sorry, madam.”

Leni shut the door. The poor old dear—she loved to gossip. She let herself fall back down on the bed, and sighing, opened the telegram. Which general was this one from?

But it wasn’t from any General. It was from Pugh.

+ + + Starts

Our friend is trapped and dying to get out STOP Summon your boyfriend immediately STOP Ask him to let our friend go free STOP Use all your charms because our friend is desperate STOP

Ends + + +

12:34

12.6

She knew what it meant. She rushed to the door, and hurriedly pulled it open.

“Waltraut!” she shouted down the corridor.

No sign. She ran out of her room.

“Waltraut!”

She turned a corner, where she found Waltraut looking at her quizzically.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Is Kitty here?”

“No, I think she’s out shopping.”