Winter Sniper: A World War II Novel

Chapter 13

"Build a fire in the drawing room and see that you bring in enough wood for the night," Eva said.

Old Mr. Dorsey nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am.” He soon returned shortly with an armful of newly split oak and Eva watched as the old black man built a fire so skillfully that he might have conjured the flames in the hearth.

"That will be all for now," Eva said once he brought another load of wood. Alone, she paced in front of the fire.

She was surprised at how nervous she felt about seeing Ty Walker again for the first time in more than a year. She put on one outfit, and then another, before finally settling on a simple gown that showed off her shoulders. It was a bit cold in the house for that, so she had had Dorsey build the fire. She might simply have turned up the thermostat, but she could barely afford to heat the old house. Besides, Eva thought the roaring fire added a nice touch of romance. She sank into the aptly named loveseat she had asked Dorsey to pull close to the fireplace. Chairs would have made what she had planned awkward and a bearskin rug stretched before the fire would have been too forthright. As night fell, the flames cast flickering shadows around the old-fashioned room with its tall windows and high ceilings. She wanted something to drink to take the edge off her nerves, but decided to wait until Ty arrived.

When the doorbell finally rang, Eva practically jumped up. She strained to hear who it might be — the last person she wanted to see at the moment was Colonel Fleischman — and was rewarded with the sound of Petra and a young man laughing in the hallway. Definitely not the colonel, then. Nor Bruno Hess, for that matter. Neither man was likely to make anyone laugh.

The voices came down the hall. She looked up to see Ty Walker pause in the doorway, hat in hand. Petra hovered in the hallway just behind him. He did not say anything at first, but only smiled at the sight of Eva sitting beside the fire. Eva felt her heart race a bit. Ty was every bit as handsome as she remembered. He looked thinner and, as a result, his face had lost some of its boyishness. The white silk scarf she had sent him was draped carelessly around his neck and his long military overcoat was open as if Ty was oblivious to the January cold. The brass buttons of his uniform gleamed in the fire light.

"I hope you haven't been sitting in that chair since I left," he said.

Eva laughed. "This feels like the first time I have sat since then! Petra, take Lieutenant Walker's hat and coat."

"Captain Walker now," he reminded her, touching the silver bars on his collar.

"Of course.” Eva rose from the loveseat to meet him halfway across the room. She took his hands in both of hers and they kissed. As their lips touched, it seemed to Eva that the room had suddenly turned warm. You are acting like a schoolgirl, she admonished herself. "You will be a general before the war is over."

"Let's hope it's over sooner than that," Ty said. "The adventure of it all is starting to wear thin."

"Come sit by the fire," she said. Still holding his hand, she led him to one of the chairs. "Petra, bring something for Captain Walker to eat. I am sure he is hungry."

Ty turned to Petra. "Don't go to any trouble on my account," he said.

"Go," Eva said, and dismissed the girl with a little wave. Americans really had no idea how to treat servants, she thought. Once they were alone, she looked into his eyes and said, "I have missed you."

"Me too," he said. "What I mean is, I missed you."

"I thought you might have come back from London with some sweet young English girl on your arm. I hear that the girls there practically throw themselves at American officers."

Ty reddened. By his reaction, Eva guessed that he had not exactly been living the life of a monk. That was all right. She had not behaved like a nun. Eva found it charming that a captain in the United States Army could blush at the mention of girls.

"It's a long way from home," was all Ty said.

"What about your general?" Eva asked. "There are rumors about him and that English girl on his staff."

Ty seemed to hesitate, then shook his head. "It's none of my business. Anyway, Ike is home now to see his wife. That's all that matters, right?"

"And you have come to see me.” Eva smiled when she realized that Ty had not handed the silk scarf off to Petra but still wore it around his neck. "The scarf makes you look dashing, Captain Walker. Are you trying to seduce me?"

He blushed again. "Actually, I was thinking that it's cold enough to hang meat in here," he said. "But if you're willing to be seduced, I'm willing to try."

Eva smiled. She realized that she hated Ty for being an American — and thus her enemy. She also hated him for being so young. Eva hid her age well, but she knew Ty could not have been unaware of the fact that she was an older woman. Did Ty consider her to be another wartime adventure? Suddenly, she was glad of the firelight that softened her features.

Eva sat back in her chair, signaling a change in subjects. "How have you been, Ty? You look thin. Don't they have any food in London?"

"It's a bit on the scarce side," Ty said. "Then again, it's not like Ike wines and dines his staff. Dinner for him most nights is a cup of coffee and a hotdog at his desk. The man is a workaholic and most of us can barely keep up with him."

"He must be keeping busy on his visit to Washington," Eva said. "Keeping you busy as well."

"We've had a lot of meetings," Ty agreed. "In fact, I can't stay long tonight because we're due at the White House for dinner in an hour. Ike will have my hide if I’m late, but I wanted to see you."

Eva could not hide her surprise. "You are having dinner with the president?"

"That's the plan. Pretty exciting, huh? I've never met Roosevelt.” Ty suddenly looked awkward. "Geez, I hope I don't sound rude. It's not like I can bring a date, otherwise, I would bring you. This is strictly business. Not even Mamie Eisenhower will be there, and she's none too happy about having to share Ike with the president, let me tell you."

"He and the general must have a great deal to discuss."

"Oh, yeah. There are some things going on. We're going to get France back from the Krauts — sorry, I mean the Germans. But I'm not supposed to say anything else.” Ty grinned. "I mean, what if you were a spy for Hitler or something? Ike could have me shot for spilling the beans."

Eva had not been a screen star without good reason, and she gave an excellent performance now, laughing at Ty's remark that she might be a spy. Deep down, however, she felt a chill go through her. Was Ty truly joking, or had he guessed at something?

She put that thought aside as a dozen questions popped into her head. Where would the Allies attack? Would they come across the English Channel or push north from Italy? When would this happen? Surely, not before spring. Ty's comment just now about spying was the only thing that kept her from blurting out a direct question.

"I hope you're not going to be leading the attack yourself?" she asked instead.

"Me? Heck, no. I'll be back in London with Ike.” Ty paused. "Not that I wouldn't mind seeing some action. I've been thinking about asking for a transfer. I mean, it doesn't seem very brave to sit out the war safe at headquarters while the other guy is risking his neck."

Eva chose her next words carefully. The last thing she wanted was for her direct pipeline into Allied headquarters to be reassigned to a combat unit. "Anyone can wave a rifle and call himself a soldier," Eva said. "But it takes another sort of man to be a staff officer who helps plan victory."

Petra entered with a tray of food. Salty Underwood canned ham on crackers, chunks of cheese, Vienna sausages.

"If I had known you were having dinner —"

"Don't worry," Ty said, reaching for a cracker piled with ham. "I'll be too nervous to eat anything."

"Why don't you pour us a drink?" Eva said.

"Good idea," Ty said. "We need something to wash down this grub."

Petra also had brought a small pail of ice and she flicked her eyes at Ty and smiled shyly as she put the ice on the sideboard that held several bottles of liquor. Petra's gesture was not lost on Eva. "That will be all, Petra," she said, and sent the girl from the room.

Ty filled two glasses with ice, then poured a generous amount of vodka into each glass. "The Russians love this stuff," he said. "We've had a couple of them visit headquarters in London, and they drink booze like it's water."

"Russians are — how do you say — intemperate," Eva said.

"I think they were just celebrating being someplace where the Germans weren't shooting at them," Ty said, handing Eva her drink.

"The Russians visit headquarters often?" she asked.

Ty took a deep drink of his vodka. "These guys were some kind of liaisons sent by Stalin. Supposedly, they were there to meet some of the members of the British and American high command. You want to know the truth? I think Stalin sent them to spy on us. He doesn't trust the Allies. God knows, we don't trust him."

"The Russians, they are helping in the invasion?"

"No, they're keeping the Wehrmacht tied up on the Eastern Front while we make our own push.” Ty reached for another cracker. "Damn, this ham is good. This stuff is hard to find as gold over in London."

"When does all this happen?" Eva asked, trying to sound casual.

"Who knows? That's what Ike's going to figure out when we get back to London."

"I wish you were going to be here longer," Eva said. "Everything is so rushed … even tonight."

"We had some good times, Eva, didn't we?"

"I probably should not tell you this, Ty, because I do not want to be a burden on you while you are working so hard to win the war. But I think of you often. I remember the good times too."

She paused to look into Ty's face. He was staring back at her. Eva was reminded of a half-dozen scenes where she had waited for an actor to kiss her exactly at moments such as this. However, it was clear that Ty did not have a script. To help him along, she closed her eyes and leaned toward him. Their lips met, and they kissed open-mouthed, long and deep. Once they had begun, Ty's kisses grew more urgent. She let herself be forced back against the cushions of the loveseat. Ty's hands fumbled at her breasts, then seemed to be everywhere at once. Eva smiled as she thought that English girls hadn't taught her old lover much. She took one hand and guided it to her bare leg. She made encouraging noises as Ty figured out what to do next.

They made love in front of the fire. They did not bother to undress all the way; besides, the room was so cold that any bare flesh beyond the reach of the heat from the fireplace quickly became covered in goose bumps. When they finished, she nestled in Ty's arms as he pulled his uniform jacket over them both. The only sound was the pop of the burning wood.

"I have to go, Eva," Ty finally said.

"Yes," she said. "The president. You don't want to be late."

Embarrassed now, Ty awkwardly buttoned up his clothing and tucked in his shirt. Eva reached up to straighten his tie, then draped the silk scarf around his neck once more. She gave him a little smile. "You can use the telephone in the hall to call a taxicab."

He started for the door, then stopped. "Eva —"

She touched a finger to his lips. "You will write me, darling, won't you?" she said. "Promise me that, in case we do not see each other again before you return to London."

"I will," he said.

"Good night, Captain Walker."

"Good night, Frau Von Stahl."

And then he was gone, leaving Eva alone in the cold room. Quickly, she straightened her own clothes. She would not allow herself to feel used, or worse, lonely. She reminded herself that she was the one who had used him. How could she be proud of that? What kind of woman had she become? No matter. Tonight, she would have a great deal of information to radio her U-boat off the coast of America.

High above Pennsylvania Avenue, Hess watched General Eisenhower leave the hotel just before 6 o'clock. He kept his eye pressed to the rifle scope and his finger on the trigger, but the general swept out of the hotel doors and into a car waiting at the curb so swiftly that a shot never presented itself. The general was surrounded as usual by staff members, who filled two more cars. Briefly, Hess considered trying for a shot as the vehicles passed below. He might get lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the general in profile.

Hess quickly moved to the window and rested the rifle directly on the windowsill to that he could aim down toward the street. Kneeling, he decided it was a fairly good shooting position, though the muzzle flash would give him away. It was crazy to make such a drastic change in plans; then again, sometimes one had to improvise to succeed. But then the trio of vehicles executed a complete U-turn and headed in the opposite direction. Hess watched the red taillights until they became lost in traffic.

He got up and returned to the shooting rest at the table. He pushed away any thoughts of disappointment. A sharpshooter must not hurry, he reminded himself. Patience would be rewarded. Briefly, he considered what his chances might be if he opted to rush Eisenhower on the street, going after him with a pistol or a knife. Just as quickly, Hess dismissed the idea. Such a plan had an air of madness and desperation about it. He was a German sharpshooter. When death came for the general, it would be certain and unseen as the hand of God.

Night air washed through the window, filling the room with the January cold. He had read in the newspaper that Washington was suffering through a cold snap. Hardly at all what he had experienced in Russia, he thought bitterly, where the temperature dropped so low that rubber tires froze and shattered, brittle as glass in the cold. It was not nearly that cold here, but the air had a damp, raw quality from its proximity to the Chesapeake Bay.

No matter. Hess flexed his fingers to keep some warmth in them. He would need to be ready when the general returned. Hess settled down to wait, still as death itself.

"I got to let you out here, buddy."

The taxi deposited Ty at the gate to the White House, but could go no further due to security regulations. He handed the driver a bill and got out, wondering what to do next. His tryst with Eva had meant he would be late getting back to the hotel, so he had opted to have the taxi take him right to the presidential mansion. The only problem was that Ike was his ticket inside. There was no way the guards would let a lowly, unknown captain through the gate — one who had to walk in, no less. His arrival had caught the attention of the guards, who shifted their rifles as they kept an eye on him.

The last time Ty had seen the White House, it was not surrounded by a security fence and soldiers did not patrol the lawn. That had been before the war. He had been a tourist then, gawking at the Washington Monument and the Capitol dome along with the White House. Now, he could even make out sandbags surrounding an anti-aircraft battery on the mansion grounds. Until that moment, Ty realized it hadn't quite sunk in just how serious the wartime situation was.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of three cars that swung into the White House entrance, forcing Ty to get out of their way. He recognized Sergeant Crandall at the wheel of the lead vehicle and waved frantically to get someone's attention before they drove right past him. Crandall didn't see him, but the third vehicle stopped and Kit Henderson leaned out the window.

"I don't believe military vehicles are allowed to pick up hitch-hikers," he said, grinning.

Ty got in and the car shot off to catch up with the other vehicles. "I'm glad I ran into you guys," he said.

"Ike pitched a fit when you weren't there," Henderson said. "You might have a little explaining to do. Care to try out your explanation on me first?"

"I went to see an old friend."

"Ah, yes. The actress. Ike won't be happy, but I doubt he'll have you shot because you were busy dipping your wick.” When Ty didn't answer, Henderson added, "Hmm. I thought so."

Ty felt his face flush and was glad Henderson couldn't see him in the darkness. Then they were pulling up in front of the White House. They joined the group of officers shuffling outside as a uniformed butler came out to meet them. Ike nodded at Ty without showing the slightest curiosity as to how he had managed to rejoin the group. He had other things on his mind.

"Here goes," said Ike, leading his men inside.

Ty had been under the impression that he and the rest of Ike's staff were there for dinner with the president, but he was quickly disappointed. Judging by the array of hors d'oeuvres and the bar that had been set up, the visit to the White House was not going to include a sit-down meal.

They were ushered into another room, where President Roosevelt was there to greet them, sitting in a chair by the fireplace. He was a weary looking old man with bags under his eyes, not at all the dynamic leader that Ty knew from the newsreels. Roosevelt did not get up, but Ty and the others approached the president until he had shaken hands all around, grinning at them as they introduced themselves. The president spoke just a few words.

"Thank you for coming," he said. "I know that the job you are about to undertake in planning this endeavor is of the utmost importance to the outcome of the war.” He looked around the group at each of them, allowing the words to sink in. "Now, if you will excuse us, please make yourselves at home in the other room while I borrow your boss for a few minutes."

Then Ty and the rest of Ike's staff shuffled out, the door closing behind them.

Colonel Carl Fleischmann sorted through the paperwork on his desk. The forms, memos and correspondence had a tendency to pile up like a snowdrift in a blizzard if he didn't attend to them. His goal each day was to clear up enough paperwork that he saw at least some of the surface of his oak desk.

One of his primary duties at the Office of Strategic Services was to keep apprised of threats against President Roosevelt. While it was the role of the Secret Service to investigate these threats and provide security for the White House, he passed information received by OSS agents to the Secret Service. In turn, the Secret Service sent him a weekly summary of threats they had received and investigated. While it was unusual for two intelligence branches to share information freely, OSS director Colonel "Wild Bill" Donovan and the Secret Service had found it was in their best interest — and in the interest of the United States — to stay mutually informed of dangers to the president. Most of the threats were from crackpots or else disgruntled Americans who had dashed off irate letters care of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The threats didn't amount to much, but they were still on the radar screen.

One item in particular stood out on top of the neat stack of memos and reports and White House security threats that his secretary had prepared. It was a plain, cream-colored envelope with his name handwritten upon it. Unless he was mistaken, he could detect a slight smell of perfume wafting from the envelope. The scent was familiar but he could not place it. This was not the usual sort of paperwork he dealt with. Curious, he picked it up, a bit miffed that his secretary had not already opened the envelope, and consequently placed it on the pile of threats. Strange, he thought, because it didn't look like an official communication. The brief note was typed on a sheet of fine stationery that matched the envelope. His curiosity turned to shock as he saw who had sent the note, and what it said.

All he could manage to do was mutter, "My God."

Fleischman had not known that General Eisenhower was in the United States. As far as he understood, the general was still in London. If the note had come from almost anyone else, he would have dismissed it. But he knew that Eva had her sources — the woman thrived on gossip the way some people breathed air. He also knew that Eva had been friendly with Ty Walker, a young captain on Ike's staff. Eva didn't think he knew about Ty — or about General Caulfield, for that matter. It made sense that if Eisenhower were secretly in town with some of his staff, then Ty Walker would have been in touch with her.

Fleischman had been tired, but now all the fatigue of the evening vanished as he sprang into action. He grabbed for the phone, then just as quickly hung up. Who could he call? The front desk at the Metropolitan Hotel? That simply wouldn't do. Damn it all! Did anyone else even know that Ike was in town? His own boss, Wild Bill Donovan, would shit a brick when he found out. Ike had nothing but disdain for Donovan’s organization and it would be just like him to plan a visit home without keeping OSS in the loop.

Fleischmann grabbed a pad of stationery inscribed with his name and scribbled a hasty note, then stuffed it into an envelope. He hesitated a moment out of simply jealously before he wrote Captain Ty Walker's name on it — that was the only one of General Eisenhower's officers he knew by name. He knew his note had a much better chance of being personally delivered to and read by a captain than it did of ever being seen by the general himself. He sealed the enveloped and called out, "Hopkins!"

An OSS lieutenant who had been working at a desk outside Fleischman's office appeared.

"Sir?" The young officer seemed alarmed that the colonel appeared so anxious. "Is something wrong?"

"I need you to get your ass to the Metropolitan Hotel.” Fleischman held out the envelope. "Make sure you deliver this personally. Captain Walker is part of General Eisenhower's staff."

"General Eisenhower? Sir, I don't understand."

"You're not here to understand, Lieutenant. You're here to follow orders. Now get this to Captain Walker. And I mean now. If he's not at the hotel, find out where he's gone and get it to him. One more thing. I want you to stand there until he's read it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The lieutenant hurried out of the room.

Fleischman got his own coat from a hook on the wall and shrugged into it. He could have stayed in the office and gotten on the phone, calling anyone and everyone to let them know about the situation. He trusted that Ike and his staff could handle themselves. He also decided this was something that was best dealt with quietly. He would find a couple of soldiers and take a car directly to Eva's house. He had one nagging thought as he went out the door. How had Eva known about the sniper? The note didn't say, so he intended to have her enlighten him.