The 34th Degree

87

A phrodite slept in such fits throughout the night that when she awoke the next morning, she was surprised by the serenity that had descended upon her family’s estate.

She got out of bed, slipped into her dressing gown, and walked to the balcony. The sun was up, the birds were chirping. It was so pleasant that the previous night seemed to fade like a dream, as did the past several days. Then she saw the stain of blood on the stone balustrade.

She thought of Chris and prayed that he was all right. She could still hear him begging her to come with him and could see the hurt in his eyes when she refused. But he never would have escaped if he had tried to bring her.

Suddenly, she remembered the German SS uniform and walked over to her dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. She found it stuffed behind her nightgowns. It was soaked with blood. As she looked at it, she heard a knock on the door.

“Aphrodite?” It was Franz speaking.

She froze, the uniform still in her hands. “What is it?”

“The Baron wishes to have a word with you in his study.”

She quickly stuffed the uniform in the drawer and pushed it shut before calling back. “I need a few minutes to freshen up.”

“He wishes to see you now, Fraulein.” His voice was harsh.

She stepped away from the dresser and moved toward her bed. She heard the key rattle in the lock. A chill ran up her spine as the door opened.

“This way, Fraulein.”

Franz led her down the corridor and stood on the landing while he watched her descend the stairs. He’s going to search my room, she realized. Oh, God, please don’t let him find the uniform, she prayed frantically. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked back up toward the landing, but Franz was gone.

She proceeded toward the library, picturing in advance the sight of Hans-or whoever was responsible for the blood on Chris’s shirt-on the floor. But when she walked into the room, there were no bodies, there was no blood on the carpet. Only Ludwig seated behind his desk, dressed in the black uniform of an SS general. The French doors were open, she noticed, and a fresh breeze came in from the gardens.

“Aphrodite, please sit down.” His tone was icy. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

She sat down, realizing that the last time she had seen him in black was that fateful night when he “saved” her family from the Gestapo. “Something wrong, Ludwig?”

“Very. It seems Herr Andros and his entire family have disappeared. Not only that, but so has a film negative from my safe.”

Aphrodite followed his eyes to the safe and feigned surprise at its wide-open door. “Oh?”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Aphrodite tried to suppress the panic rising up inside her. “No, Ludwig.”

“That’s too bad, love,” he replied, his steel-blue eyes piercing right through her. “Because we may have a problem with your brother’s send-off this morning.”

“Please, Ludwig, don’t tell me Kostas won’t be freed.”

“Oh, your brother will go,” Ludwig replied. “I promised the Red Cross that Kostas Vasilis would be freed, and so he shall. A deal is a deal. Unfortunately, neither his family nor I will be able to see him off.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“I mean I will do what I can to intercede on your father’s behalf, but I’m afraid the evidence is quite incriminating,” Ludwig said, pointing to the open safe. “After all, he more than anybody else would know how to break into his own safe.”

Aphrodite knew he was not above using an implicit threat to her father’s safety to make her talk. But she refused to believe he would follow through on it.

“I don’t believe it,” she said simply. “And neither do you, Ludwig. My father is a shrewd businessman and has been more than accommodating to you. Since only you know the combination, he wouldn’t know how to open the safe in the first place, much less attempt it.”

“That has crossed my mind, and I must admit I am puzzled by this affair,” Ludwig answered. “I would like to believe there’s been a terrible mistake here and that your father will be vindicated. Your mother did her best to defend him. She tried to be diplomatic about it, told us something about Andros being in your bedroom last night, exposing himself to her.”

Franz walked in, carrying the bloodstained uniform she had hidden in her dresser.

“Ah, I see now.” Ludwig’s eyes flashed hurt and finally anger, as if the myth she was in his eyes had evaporated.

She sensed that something had snapped inside him. Any affection he ever had for her was broken, and she felt defenseless. “Ludwig, please, I can-”

“You told Andros about Corfu, didn’t you?” His stern blue eyes were looking right through her.

“No, I didn’t,” she replied truthfully.

He seemed genuinely puzzled. “Where did Andros say he was going?” he demanded. “Come, now, it’s too late for him. But not for you or your parents.”

“Salonika,” she lied. “He hopped a train to Salonika and jumped off halfway. He said the British had a caique by the sea to take him to Turkey. But you’re too late, Ludwig. He’s long gone, and your secrets are with the Allies. He’s a hero. He’s beaten you.”

As she spoke, the phone rang.

Ludwig looked at her and said, “We’ll see about that,” and picked it up. “Put him through.” He paused. “Yes, I know who you are.” He started writing out numbers on a pad of paper. “North of Monemvasia? Excellent. Of course. Double your usual reward.”

He hung up, a sinister smile crossing his face as he looked at Franz. “That was our friend the Minotaur. Seems that Herr Andros has made fools of us all. While our eyes were on the Turtle Dove, he slipped out last night on the Independence. Fortunately, he’s still within our grasp if we strike before tonight.”

“No, Ludwig!” she screamed. “Please-”

“You lied to me,” he told her coldly, ignoring her pleas and handing Franz the orders he had written. “Relay the coordinates of this rebel camp to our Luftwaffe base on Karpathos. I want Stukas for this job. Meanwhile, have Colonel Ulrich and his paratroopers drop in north of the encampment for the mop-up.”

Franz hesitated. “But Colonel Ulrich is dead, sir.”

For a moment Ludwig looked confused. “Yes, of course,” he said, regaining his senses. “I don’t know where my head was. Tell the new one, Colonel Spreicher, to have his Fallschirmjager on the next Junkers 52 transport available. And inform the airstrip to have my personal plane ready. We’re flying out to Corfu: you, me, and Fraulein Vasilis here. We’ve wasted enough time in Athens. There are fewer than forty-eight hours before my birthday-I mean, before the Fuhrer’s weapons conference.”

“Zu Befehl,” said Franz, and walked out, taking the bloodied uniform with him.

When Ludwig turned to her, his eyes had a deathly glaze. He looked at her triumphantly, and she turned cold inside. For a wild moment she sensed it was no longer Ludwig behind those eyes but someone else. Someone hideously evil. The Baron of the Black Order. Ludwig von Berg, she realized, was gone forever.

“Your friend is quite a clever man, love,” he told her. “Clever and foolish. And to leave you behind,” he added, “knowing you might suffer the same fate as your parents. That’s not very nice, is it?”

Aphrodite realized she hadn’t seen her mother or father since last night. A terrible fear gripped her, and her voice trembled. “Where are they?”

“In the garden, love.” The Baron sat back and folded his hands.

Wordlessly, she stood up and walked through the French doors onto the patio and around the back into the garden.

As she entered the garden, she saw them hanging from separate mango trees, the bodies of her mother and father. They were under the watch of two SS guards with gray-green uniforms and Schmeisser machine pistols. At the foot of each tree was a sign in Greek that said SUCH