Snippet from The Parisian Spy
Here’s a snippet of Chapter 17. The main character Océane Bell meets her opponent Gestapo leader Dieter von Stein for the first time.
Without even having to look over her shoulder she knew General von Stein had come into the room and had caught her red-handed rummaging through his files. Death sentence, torture, labor camp in Germany. All the options clicked through her mind as metal bullets. She stood still as a corpse. Whatever would come down on her, she was now in the same situation as the man she’d tried to save.
His after-shave heady and too flowery for a man wafted into her nostrils. A sickening ball sank into her stomach. She couldn’t gag. Not now.
“Turn around.”
It was an order but not as infuriated or threatening as she’d expected. It was still an order. She did as she was told, her arms hanging limply alongside her body, head bowed, trying hard to stop the trembling of her hands. The smart dress and shoes would not help her now.
“What are you doing?” He repeated his question, but she couldn’t answer.
Didn’t dare to look at him, felt like her whole life was just a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Without a warning from her body, she burst out in tears, first softly but soon all the tension and all the fear erupted from her slight frame, taking it over. Her shoulders shook and long sobs escaped her mouth. It was impossible to answer him now, though she knew she must. He was waiting for an explanation when there was none. None that would satisfy him.
To her surprise he walked around his desk and sat down. He ignored her and her crying, pulled a stack of papers towards him and started reading. Not her note. He didn’t glance at the brown bottle with pills either. He just acted as if she wasn’t there at all.
“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to bring out, “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Sit!” Through her tears she saw he pointed to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Go!” Von Stein ordered to the commandant who knocked on the door and came in. “Wait. Bring us two strong coffees. No phone calls or interruptions.”
Oh no, what’s going to happen now, Océane thought desperately.
Von Stein picked up her scribbled note and inspected the pills. When the coffee arrived on a tray, he poured her a cup himself. It was real coffee. The smell made her both ravenous and sick.
“Cream, sugar?”
“Just black, please.”
She ventured to look at him, wondering what this was all about, whether this was a set up for the torture that would for sure soon begin, but he seemed to be concentrating on stirring his coffee. With cluttering teeth, she put the cup to her mouth and tried to drink without spilling the contents on her.
As if she’d not just been snooping around in the Sicherheitsdienst secret documents, he asked, “So why do you recommend these pills, Madame? I told you I was perfectly healthy.”
Returning with all her might to her position as medic, she stammered, “That’s what I wrote on the note, Herr General; you don’t have to use Digoxin, but I brought the pills just in case you feel unwell again. They are perfectly harmless, made from the foxglove plant, Digitalis Iatana.”
She knew they could be quite high risk, especially when the dose was not accurate, but there was no way she could tell him that. It would undermine her.
“Aha, I see,” he said in a strange, syrupy voice, “and why do you care to bring them to me when I told you in no uncertain words that I wouldn’t take medication. It strikes me as rather strange that you would care so much for your ex-patients, Madame, that you go all the way, distributing unwanted pills around Paris.”
He tapped his thin, white fingers together and stared at her with ice-cold, blue eyes. It then dawned on her that he was playing a game with her, a cruel game and that she very likely would be the one who got the short stick. Still, she clung to the thin thread of hope he’d not bring up her nosing around and would continue to enjoy provoking her with this not-being-ill game.
“Because I care about my patients, Herr General, and although you don’t want to believe it, it would be better for you to carry these pills with you, just in case.”
He put his cup carefully back on the saucer, seemingly contemplating this. “You know, Madame Bell, I would almost be humored into believing your true sentiment if it hadn’t come to my attention that you are looking for someone.” The light-blue eyes fixed on her as orbs of burning suns as she sat as transfixed in her chair.
He knew, of course, he knew!
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