“Of course,” she said to Gerald.
Half an hour later, she sat in the corner of the debriefing room, taking shorthand while Gus questioned the captured German officer across the table from him. From the moment she walked into the room, she’d felt the tension between them. He’d glanced her way only once and shown her absolutely nothing of what was going on in his head, and that broke her heart. She forced herself to keep her eyes on her paper and off of Gus, but it was impossible to look away the whole time. His hair had grown in a bit since they’d last spoken, curling the slightest bit under his ears.She liked it; he looked a little less severe. Her gaze went to his neck and shoulders, saw the muscles flex under his shirt when he reached for something, and her thoughts drifted to that night outside her father’s window. As if he felt her watching, he glanced over, and she dropped her eyes, her cheeks blazing.
Concentrate, Dot. Focus.
Gus’s subtle questions to the German revolved around Operation Fortitude, probing how much Major Böhm knew about it as well as about the locations of specific German officers. From the major’s few admissions, Gus could determine which enemy troops were advancing where, and he could get a general picture of how Operation Fortitude was doing.
Both men were cool but cordial, respectful yet wary. A calculated tail-sniffing of two pack leaders, Dot mused. Böhm observed Gus through narrowed, caustic eyes. In contrast, Gus’s expression was relaxed. Entertained, even. If Böhm imagined Gus was a weak adversary, he was making a grave mistake. She recognized the little tic in Gus’s jaw that signaled that he was very, very aware. If Böhm was wise, he would not underestimate him.
Major Karl Böhm was a fiend. Gerald had shown her his file beforehand. He looked decent, even handsome, with his confident smile and silver temples and educated German accent, but he was the worst kind of man. Two months before, he had sent soldiers to a small French village and ordered them to hang a local priest in front of the townspeople. It was rumoured the priest had been helping Jewish children escape Nazi clutches. Böhm had not permitted the parishioners to cut their priest’s body down for three full days.
Sometimes, Dot noticed, the tiniest hint of Gus’s native language snuck back in when he spoke with other Germans.This iswas closer toDas ist.Hiswsounds hardened tov.Gus was the reason that she had learned German to begin with, and he’d learned a great deal of his English from the girls. He had been the only German child in their school. Anti-German sentiments had still been strong after the first war,so they taught each other their native tongue, then they had agreed to stick with English.
Listening to him now, the crisp German syllables sharpening his words, it was almost as if he became a different person. Slightly separate from her. And something about that observation prompted butterflies to flutter in Dot’s chest.
After a while, Gus stood to grab a coffee for them both. That was Dot’s cue to join him outside the office in two minutes. She made no sign that she understood, merely kept her head down and pretended to write.
“Bist du nicht ein hübsches kleines Ding,” the man said quietly after Gus was gone. Aren’t you a pretty little thing.
Heat shot up Dot’s neck, but Camp X had trained her how to be invisible even in cases like this. She tilted her head so he could only see the crown and made no sign that she had understood what he said.
“So weiche weiße Haut. Er hätte dich nicht mit mir allein lassen sollen. Frauen finden mich unwiderstehlich, weißt du.”
Alarm prickled through Dot at his suggestion that Gus shouldn’t have left her and her “soft white skin” alone with him, but really, what was there to be afraid of? His wrists were shackled. Nothing could hurt her here, in the middle of Camp X. He was just a bully. She’d learned long ago from Gus that if he wasn’t around to protect her, bullies were best ignored.
When Böhm informed her that women found him irresistible, Dot wished she could tell him she found him repulsive.
“Kann ich eine Zigarette haben?” He cleared his throat. “Pardon me,Fräulein. Can I haveZigarette?”
Dot glanced up, a meek smile on her face. “I will ask and be right back.”
It was time she went out to talk with Gus anyway. She gathered up her notes then got to her feet, relieved to escape this man’s vulgar attentions.
Two steps from the door she heard him move behind her, then she felt a quick rush of air as his bound hands went over her head. He pulledback and his forearm blocked her throat, choking her, but Dot didn’t panic. She had trained for a moment just like this one, she’d just never imagined using the skill. In one swift motion, she reached up and grabbed his arm with both hands. At the same time, she dropped low and brought her left leg back so her calf pressed against his. Pushing off with her right leg, she spun 180 degrees, swept her left leg even farther to unbalance him, then she bent and threw him onto his back, still holding his arm. He landed with a crash, then she gave his wrist an extra twist and pushed down, pinning him in place. He was completely helpless now. And it had all happened in under five seconds.
“Wie gefällt dir jetzt meine weiche weiße Haut?” she said, a sense of power filling her veins. How do you like my soft white skin now?
The door flew open, and Gus burst in, eyes wide.
She blinked coyly at him. “Können Sie mir bitte helfen? Ich werfe nur den Müll raus.” Would you help me, please? I’m just taking out the garbage.
Gus jerked the man to his feet then shoved him out of the room. “I guess you preferred your cell,” she heard him say in German.
Moments later, Gus returned. She sensed his guardedness. He didn’t know what to expect from her anymore. Neither did she. Oh, if only she’d never kissed him.
“I thought you said you’d never have to use those skills,” he said.
“I have been known to make a mistake on occasion.” She grinned. “That felt good.”
“I bet you worked up an appetite.” He put both hands on his hips, fortifying himself. “Want to go for lunch? We haven’t talked in too long.”
She shouldn’t. She’d done so well at holding him at arm’s length, pretending nothing had happened. It was safer that way. Less complicated. But she felt so lonely without him. She nodded, grabbed her bag, and they walked down the corridor toward the mess hall.
“I don’t know what to talk about,” she admitted as they reached the entrance.
The air in the mess hall was thick with beef stew, which wasn’t Dot’sfavourite, but she was hungry. Gus moved into the line behind her. “Let’s talk about Dash. That’s pretty safe.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Du denkst, es ist sicher, über sie zu sprechen?”
