Snow was coming down hard by the time the Jeeps were halfway back to the Greenbrier. There didn’t seem to be any wind but the snow slanted in at an angle nonetheless, coating the dead leaves that clung to the oaks on the mountainsides and layering itself on the faded green leaves of the mountain laurel. Ty thought it might have been pleasant to watch the storm out the window while sitting in one of the resort’s old leather chairs, fireplace crackling and glass of brandy in hand. An old-fashioned Currier & Ives print from his grandparents’ house come to life. But they were out in the thick of it. The snow was dry as sand and sifted under their collars and stung their eyes. It was like driving through a snow globe.
“Goddamn!” Ty shouted, fighting the wheel as the Jeep skidded on the slick road.
“Better slow down,” Kit recommended. “And those idiots behind us need to get off our tail. If you hit the brakes they’re gonna slide a bumper right up our ying-yang.”
Ty took his eyes off the road long enough to see that the second Jeep was too close. He waved them back. The third Jeep, with the ever-competent Sergeant Crandall at the wheel, had kept its distance.
When they left the woods and entered an open area, it was hard to tell the road from the surrounding field. Ty slowed the Jeep to a crawl. He still managed to drive off into the field, churning up grass and dirt until he got all four tires back on the macadam. Frustrated, he resigned himself to a slow drive back to the resort.
“You know, that sniper must have brass balls to leave a shell casing behind for us to find in the barn,” Kit said. “I don’t think he was being careless, not a guy like that. He wanted to let us know he was here. Why would he give himself away like that?”
“It’s his calling card,” Ty said. At this low speed he didn’t have to shout to make himself heard, but snow filled his mouth.
“Say again?”
“When Yancey flew in, he brought some classified material with him about German and Russian snipers.”
“We’re keeping tabs on the Reds too, huh? I thought they were on our side.”
“They are right now. But for how long? Anyway, the Germans and the Russians have highly developed sniper warfare programs. We even have some information about individual snipers. When we get back to the resort I’m going to look this guy up.”
“I dunno, Ty.” Kit seemed to shrug, but he was so bulky in his winter coat that it was hard to tell. “The Eastern Front is awful goddamn far from Greenbrier County, West Virginia.”
Ty took one hand off the wheel long enough to gesture at the snowy fields. “Maybe it isn’t. Seems to me that a winter sniper would feel right at home here right about now.”
Ty considered what to do next. Comb the roads looking for the two men who had fled the farm? He doubted they would be traveling out in the open where a patrol could pick them up; most likely they had taken to the woods, where two highly trained and experienced men could stay hidden as long as they wanted, no matter how many soldiers Ty sent to search for them. The farmer had insisted that they leave him to tend to his cows and Ty had agreed, promising to have someone bring the old man’s battered pickup by after the storm. The farmer had promised to telephone if the missing hands turned up. Ty thought it was unlikely that the two would reappear. And if they did, he doubted that the old man would get a chance to call for help.
No, his only choice now was to set the trap that might draw the sniper out of the winter woods. He and Yancey had been discussing the plan for the last couple of days. It was risky, but it just might work. Anything was better than putting Ike at risk with this waiting game. Not only that, but he liked the idea of turning the tables on this German sniper.
Hess welcomed the snow. He listened to the flakes hiss down through the dry oak leaves and settle on the forest floor, coating everything in white. For some reason, falling snow did not muffle sound but made it carry farther. In the quiet woods, he would easily hear a patrol tramping through the trees if they came looking for him. Even a lone man would have a hard time moving silently.In his opinion, the storm was better than having a ring of sentries protecting his position.
Out on the road he could hear the low-pitched whine of several vehicles moving slowly. Jeeps? Hard to say; he couldn’t see the distant road through the trees.
Anyone more than ten feet away would not have seen Hess. The barrel of the Russian sniper rifle was wrapped in the white sacking and he himself was camouflaged in the sheet. The camouflage was makeshift but as effective as any winter issue. Under it all he wore his Iron Cross. Since abandoning his uniform after the U-boat went down, it was his only proof that he was a German soldier, not an assassin.
Hess shivered. His nest under the windfall was not exactly cozy, but he was in no danger of freezing. He was glad that it was so cold because the snow wasn’t melting as it fell.He would lay there all night, the storm completely covering the tracks he might have left in the old snow.
Hess knew something about winter storms, having hunted in them before. He guessed that the snow would end during the night and that the stars would come out. It would be clear and cold once more. The sun would come up over a dazzlingly white world. He knew that General Eisenhower was an outdoorsman and an early riser. The general would be out in the morning to ski on the trails around the lodge. When he did so, he would cross the field in front of Hess. With a clear line of fire, this time there would be no chance of missing.
“Grab another sack of potatoes, will ya?”
Zumwald nodded and hurried off to the pantry, hefting one of the twenty-pound bags and scrambling for the kitchen, where a small army of cooks sliced, diced, stirred and fried. After the truckload of soldiers had dropped him off, he had headed right for the kitchen. The soldiers had assumed he worked here, so why not take the hint? Besides, with the storm coming, he didn’t want to take his chances heading out on the road again. Then there was the small matter of that convoy of Jeeps headed for the farm where he and Hess had been staying. Had they been riding horses, it would have had all the makings of an Old West posse. When they came up empty they would start scouring the roads. Better to stay in the kitchen until both storms had blown over.
Because this was a private hotel, the staff was mostly made up of sturdy local ladies with fat arms that jiggled as they rolled out pastry or beat eggs. There were a few girls and boys mixed in. Zumwald was a little old for the job, but he nodded and smiled at every order until everyone seemed to accept that he was the idiot son of one of the local farmers. His English was good, but the fact that no one even bothered to engage him in conversation was fine with him. No chance to slip up with a ya or nein.
He grabbed some dirty pots and pans, then hustled them toward the big metal sinks and got to work. Nobody thought twice about an errand boy and dishwasher. He had already scouted out a quiet spot to spend the night in the pantry. When things calmed down and the roads cleared, he would be on his way out West again, leaving this crazy war behind for good.
“How was that?” Ty asked. He was stretched across the foot of the bed, his head resting near Eva’s feet.
“A gentleman never asks, darling.” But Eva smiled as she said it. She would have purred for him if she had been a cat.
“I was a gentleman up until about half an hour ago,” he said. Ty worked his way back up, taking his time along the inside of her thigh. When he paused halfway up, Eva reached back and grabbed the headboard so she would have something to hang onto this time. She wouldn’t have thought that was possible again. When he was finished, she took him by the hair and pulled his face up to kiss him. Ty kneed her legs apart and slipped inside. She wrapped her legs around the small of his back and let him pump away. The headboard thudded rhythmically against the wall, letting anyone who cared to know exactly what was going on in Room 301.
Finally, Ty shuddered over her and then rolled off. A sheen of sweat covered them both; Eva propped herself up in bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Snow whispered against the dark pane of glass. Cozy in bed with Ty, she almost wished that this winter’s night would go on forever.
She had suffered her share of lovers in Washington, but there was been little pleasure in it. With Ty it was very different. Eva was tempted to feel bad about betraying him, but she reminded herself that he was merely a means to an end, like all the others. Anyhow, that was what her head told her. It was just that her body and her heart had a hard time listening.
“What are you going to do?” Eva asked. She didn’t have to explain what she was asking. Ty had told her about the sniper and the raid on the farm. Hess. She felt a sense of relief. Her orders from Berlin had been specific — to make sure Eisenhower did not return to Europe. It was enough to make Eva wonder if her spymasters were madmen, after all.
Eva could not see herself as an assassin, but she could clear the line of fire for one. Recalling his cut-glass eyes and cold manner, she was not surprised that Hess had tracked Eisenhower to this corner of American forest. She shivered. The man was a killer.
“Cold?” Ty pulled her closer beneath the quilt. If it was possible to melt into someone, Eva might have done it at that moment. “Anyhow, I’m not going to make things easy for the assassin. Ike refuses to change his routine or make any concessions to an assassin he isn’t convinced exists. The things about Ike is that he’s very stubborn. Guess he wouldn’t be a general if he weren’t. He also doesn’t see himself as special or deserving of special treatment. All admirable qualities, but ones that can drive you nuts.”
“Is he staying on this floor?” Eva asked as innocently as possible.
“Just down the hall. He and Mamie have the corner suite.”
“Is he doing any work while he’s here?”
“What is this, an interrogation?” Ty grinned. “Ike is all about work. He’s got a whole table in there covered with maps. Just because he’s supposed to be on vacation doesn’t mean he’s forgotten that he’s in charge of the whole damn operation in Europe. No, not Ike.”
The storm chose that moment to buffet the bedroom window. Snow whispered against the dark glass and the fireplace seemed to crackle in reply. “Listen to that, darling,” she said. It sounded to Eva as if the wind was shifting direction.
“The way that snow is coming down, we’re not going to get out of here for days.”
That was fine with Eva. A little more time was just what she and Hess needed.
Sometime before dawn, Hess allowed himself to drift off to sleep. It was not a deep sleep, but more like dozing, the kind of soldier’s sleep where you left one eye open. The change in the weather sometime before dawn woke him. By then the snow had stopped and the stars were starting to come out. The wind picked up, but not so much that it would be a problem when it came time to shoot.
Slowly, the light came up in the east. The rising sun revealed a landscape that had been transformed. Deep snow covered everything underbrush, parked vehicles and fields. Hess estimated the snow was twenty centimeters deep. It was the kind of light, powdery snow that came with really cold weather. Even the distant road was deep in snow, without so much as a single wheel rut breaking the surface. The plows would have a job ahead of them, but they hadn’t started yet, so the bright morning was empty of sound except for the breeze in the trees and the occasional chirp of some winter bird.
Hess thought with satisfaction that he was perfectly hidden by the snowfall. He might as well have dropped by parachute into these woods — not so much as a track showed to give him away. He rolled onto his side, undid the buttons on his trousers and urinated into a bottle he had brought for that very purpose so that he wouldn’t have to shift from his sniper’s nest.
The first sign of human life arrived when Hess watched a man come out of the resort, snow shovel in hand, and start clearing a path in front of the entrance doors. The hotel guests would want to come out and play in the snow. Through the telescopic sight, Hess saw the man shovel steadily. He scooped up a shovelful of snow and tossed it before the noise of his shovel scraping on concrete reached Hess. He played the sight post across the man’s head. The rifle felt almost hungry, willing him to pull the trigger. But why scare off the stag by shooting the squirrel. Wait, he told himself. There would be blood on the snow soon enough.
Ty was gone when Eva woke up. She reached over to touch the space he had occupied in the bed, but it was already cold. These military men were such early risers. She heard sounds in the hallway, men’s voices talking low. It was too early to get up, she thought, even if sunlight streamed through the window. She sat up and stretched, smiling at the memory of last night. Then the smile faded as she remembered where she was and why she was there. She imagined that this might be a little how a soldier felt on the morning before a battle. A lot was going to happen today, and who knew how it would turn out.
She hadn’t been so bold as to bring her robe up to Ty’s room last night, so she would have to make do with dressing in yesterday’s clothes for now. At least she had insisted on Ty letting her lay her dress carefully across the back of a chair so that it wasn’t too wrinkled. The old hotel’s antiquated heating pipes popped and groaned, trying to keep pace with the cold morning. She slipped out of bed naked and dressed quickly, cold snapping at her flesh and raising goose flesh. She pulled back her hair and glanced at herself in the mirror. Eva had never been one to labor over her appearance. Even early on a winter’s morning, having slept in a bed not her own, she was almost surprised by the striking face that gazed back at her. Perhaps there was a line or two that had not been there the year before, but she still had the face and body of a movie star.
A flood of memories came crashing back at once — all the glamor of Berlin and Paris, limousines and champagne, a waltz with the Fuhrer himself. It all seemed so far and alien from this cold room in what passed for a resort hotel in America. The memories and the glimpse of her old self in the mirror gave Eva fresh confidence for what lay ahead.
Eva opened the door and went out into the hallway. A passing officer she recognized as one of Ty’s fellow staff members smiled and nodded hello. She smiled back, wondering how long it would be before word got around that the ex-German movie star had been seen slipping out of Ty Walker’s room at seven a.m., still in her evening clothes. Well, she thought, a bit of scandal would entertain everyone.
Eva wasted no time. She walked down the hall, trying to look calm. For an actress, it was just another role to play. German refugee. Lover. Spy. The empty hallway smelled of damp wool and must wallpaper. Eva’s own room was on the floor below, so she assumed that this floor was reserved for General Eisenhower and his staff.
Ty had said that Eisenhower occupied the corner suite. With any luck, the general and his staff would be at breakfast. Eva made a final attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, hesitated, and then knocked at the door. There was no answer, so she knocked harder in case anyone within was still asleep. Then Eva tried the doorknob. Much to her surprise, the door was not locked.
Inside, there was a single, central sitting room. Here, too, the heating pipes popped and strained with little effect against the morning chill. There was only a pile of cold ashes in the fireplace. The maid had not been in yet because the ashtray on the coffee table between the sofa and loveseat overflowed with cigarette butts. On a sideboard were several cocktail glasses, a half-eaten bowl of peanuts and a few bottles of liquor. Eva shivered again, more out of nervousness than cold. If anyone appeared to ask what she thought she was doing in the general’s private suite, her plan was to appear flustered and lost, and then claim she was looking for Captain Walker. It might just work here. Americans were more trusting in nature. In Germany, the Gestapo would have taken her away for questioning — or worse.
Eva considered the two interior doors. Ty had said that the general — always working — used the suite as an office. She deduced that behind one door must be that room. Behind the other door she was likely to find Mamie Eisenhower still asleep. The general’s wife was famous for being anything but an early riser. Eva was sure that she would rather explain herself to an angry staff officer than to the general’s notoriously jealous wife.
Eva crossed the sitting room as silently as any thief. She chose the door on the right and turned the knob, half expecting to be confronted by an irate woman in hair curlers. But the sight that greeted Eva was a small room containing a desk covered in paperwork and ringed by three upholstered chairs. With a final glance over her shoulder to make certain that she was still alone, Eva entered Eisenhower’s private office. The desk was surprisingly messy. A coffee mug held freshly sharpened pencils and ballpoint pens. Piles of papers, stacked willy nilly, threatened to topple over. Eva spotted several folders and manila envelopes stamped in red with the words “Top Secret.” Even the trash can overflowed with crumpled documents. Where to begin?
Eva heard muffled voices in the hall. They seemed to pause just outside the door to the suite. She felt herself break out in a sweat. Was it Eisenhower coming back from breakfast? She half-retreated from the office, holding her breath until the voices moved down the hall.
She knew she did not have much time. Eva went to the desk and flipped through the files. Most seemed utterly useless — aircraft factory production reports and the like. Another folder seemed to contain nothing but lists of newly promoted lieutenant colonels. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears like a drum.
But then Eva came across a folder containing several maps. She recognized the coast of France. Someone had drawn Xs at various points along the coast and arrows showing, she assumed, the inward movement of troops after landing. Eva knew that with the exception of Italy there were no Allied troops in Europe. The maps must show potential invasion routes. With the Russians to the east and Americans advancing from France, Eva imagined Germany being crushed between the two vast armies like a walnut in a vise. She shuddered.
Another sheet of paper fluttered out. At first, she could not make sense of the numbers — it seemed to be some sort of timetable. But for what? And then Eva realized she was looking at a tide chart for May and June. Someone had circled the dates when the tide would be highest at particular beaches. Pas de Calais stood out.
Eva froze as she heard more voices in the hallway. She was snooping on borrowed time. Eva hadn’t any particular plan for how to smuggle out any documents she found. She only knew that she couldn’t very well walk out with a folder in hand. So she made use of the oldest hiding place in the world. She took the sheaf of maps and the tide table, folded them several times, and then stuffed the pages down her brassiere.
The voices grew louder. Eva just managed to pull the door of Eisenhower’s office shut behind her as the doorknob turned and someone entered the suite.