There was no answer.
Von Tresmarck waved the man with him into the house, then closed the door.
He held up his hand, fingers crossed, and then called, “Inge!”
When there was no answer, he called again.
And when there was still no answer, he called loudly, “Inge, you blond slut! Answer me!”
When there was again no answer, he turned to the man with him and kissed him on each cheek and then on the mouth.
“Now, let us have a drink,” he said. “And then a bath.”
“I’m up here, Werner,” Inge von Tresmarck said.
He looked up and saw her standing in her bathrobe on the landing beside the stairwell.
“Scheisse!” von Tresmarck muttered.
“Wait for me in the sitting,” Inge said.
“What?” von Tresmarck asked incredulously. He looked at the man with him.
“Your wife said to wait for us in the sitting,” a male voice then said unpleasantly.
She’s got a man up there? She’s never done that before!
“It would seem your wife has a guest,” the man said. He obviously found this amusing.
Von Tresmarck looked up at the second floor. There was a man—also wearing a bathrobe—standing beside his wife.
Is that my bathrobe?
He recognized the man, who was indeed wearing his bathrobe.
“Oh, my God!”
“And don’t let your friend get away until I have a word with him,” the man said.
“Wernie, who is that man?” the man asked.
Von Tresmarck grabbed the man’s elbow and propelled him into the sitting room.
“What’s going on here, Wernie?” the man quickly asked, his tone now one of concern.
“Just sit there and be quiet,” von Tresmarck ordered. He went to the bookcase, removed four books, put his hand in the space where they had been, and rummaged around.
“What are you doing?” the man asked.
“For the love of God, be quiet!”
When his now frantic search in the space behind the books proved fruitless, von Tresmarck went to the desk and started pulling open drawers.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” SS-Brigadeführer Manfred von Deitzberg asked.
Von Tresmarck looked up. Von Deitzberg was lowering himself onto a small couch. He held von Tresmarck’s 9mm Luger P08 pistol in his left hand. Not threateningly; he wasn’t holding it by the grip, ready to fire, but in his palm, as if it were a pocket watch or a handful of coins he wished to examine.
Von Tresmarck did not reply.