“She told me,” Friedrich said, defiant. “Ludwig, we—”
“Why?” Ludwig demanded.
Audrey could tell that interrogation was a part of Ludwig’s job. She wondered how many times he had played interrogator, how persuasive he had been, what other tools he had in his arsenal for extracting the truths he sought.
“We got to talking,” Friedrich said. Audrey could tell he was agitated, casting about for a story to tell in place of the truth about Vogt and Ilse. “It became clear that we were very much on the same side. You don’t need to know the details.”
“Do we not?” Claus this time.
“No,” Friedrich said loudly. “Suffice it to say that she is on our side. And she is valuable. Have we interrogated one another about how we came to resist this regime?” he asked his comrades. “No, we haven’t. It is enough that each man is here.”
“All right,” Claus said after a while, still watching Audrey. “I’m convinced.”
“As am I,” Aldous added.
“Good,” said Friedrich, exhaling his frustration.
Ludwig would not look at her.
A moment passed in which everyone refreshed their drinks, clearly an attempt to regroup after the tension of the argument. There appeared to be consent that she could participate, but Audrey knew Ludwig would be on the lookout for the smallest misstep on her part, any reason to prove Friedrich wrong for having divulged their secrets and let her join. Why was it that women always had to work harder than men to prove themselves?
“So what did you have in mind, Fred?” Claus asked, sitting down beside Audrey now. Aldous retreated to a wing chair. “For the fräulein here.”
Friedrich took a swig of his drink. “Nothing yet. We needed to propose her involvement to you first.”
“You said she did an inventory of the house for you,” Claus said, massaging his goatee with a meaty hand.
“You thinking Weber?” Ludwig grunted at him.
“Yes,” Claus said.
But Friedrich was frowning. “We’re not throwing her to that swine,” he said firmly. “We’ll find somewhere else.”
“But that’s exactly why this might be the best way we can use her,” Claus said.
They argued for another full minute. Audrey was beginning to feel like a child, shunted to the side of an adult conversation. She watched the men talk around her again before her irritation bubbled over.
“Who is Weber?” she demanded.
They all turned to face her, as though surprised to find her still in the room.
“He manages the Department of Property Reclamation in the Ministry of Economics,” Friedrich said.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The government branch responsible for assessing Jewish valuables and real estate and dispersing them.”
Audrey flexed her fingers. “So that’s how you got this house. They sent you here?”
He nodded, his expression apologetic.
“And you did an inventory of the property, Fräulein. Correct?” Claus asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“We aren’t sending her to Weber,” Friedrich said again.
“Why not?” Claus pressed. “Look at her.” He extended a hand, palm up, like a ringmaster. “She’s perfect for it.”
“Why?” Audrey asked.
Claus leaned toward her. “Weber’s an easy mark for intel. He’s got loose lips and even looser morals. And he has connections to Hitler. Back in the summer and autumn, Weber was at a couple of parties and dinners put on by Hitler’s confidants—his driver, his secretaries. Vogt had good connections in Hitler’s office, but we’ve lost that conduit now. And since that previous attempt on Hitler’s life last year, his inner office has kept his schedule locked down tight. They only release the details, what, a day in advance?” He looked to Ludwig, who nodded.
“Someone tried to kill Hitler?” Audrey asked, shocked.
“A couple of times now,” Friedrich said. “But they’ve been slapdash attempts with little forethought. To plan something effective, we need enough time. We need to know where he’ll be and when, at least a few days ahead.”
“Weber must hear things,” Claus said. “With the right type of persuasion, he could be valuable.”
“But why me specifically?”
“Weber is known for his… preference for young women,” Friedrich said.
It took a beat before the penny dropped. “You want me to seduce him?” She thought of Vogt’s prostitutes, the transactions, the fact that she’d never been with a man. The encounter with Vogt was still too fresh; it coloured her nightmares red. This wasn’t what she’d thought she was signing up for. Spying was one thing, listening in, but—
“Not as such,” Claus said. “But a little flirtation, some suggestion, could go a long way. You could endear yourself to him, see what you can find out. Just get him to talk.”
She thought about what a little “suggestion” might lead to. “You mean bait him,” she said.
