“Yes, Countess,” the maid said.
Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz was five minutes early, but the Countess was waiting for him. When the Opel Admiral pulled to the curb, she rushed out and stepped in before he could get out.
“I suppose that makes me look dreadfully eager,” she said.
“Not at all,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
“But I didn’t have breakfast, and I’m famished.”
She smiled at him. He was discomfited, but not much. He was a man of the world, and God knew, there were damned few of them left. She was pleased that she had chosen the black underwear; she suspected he would like that.
They had a very nice luncheon in the Hotel Imperial dining room. The Countess ate delicately but heartily as von Heurten-Mitnitz told her the latest gossip from Berlin.
He did not seem surprised at her curiosity about Standartenführer Müller. He told her that Müller had just been summoned to the Wolf’s Lair, Hitler’s secret command post, in Rastenburg, where General Kaltenbrunner thought it might be a good idea, if it could be arranged, that he meet the Führer personally.
“There seems to be some question, Countess,” he said,“of Hungarian devotion to the alliance. I suppose the real purpose for Müller and I coming here is to reassure von Ribbentrop and others that these fears are groundless.”
“I am sure you will find, Helmut,” the Countess said,“that there has been no change in Hungarian opinion.”
If he detected a double entendre in her reply, he gave no sign.
He’s really quite good-looking, the Countess thought. And although he’s doing his very best to be a Pomeranian gentleman, he has not been able to keep his eyes off my bosom.
When they left the hotel, the Countess suggested that she drive.
“Splendid idea, if you don’t mind,” von Heurten-Mitnitz said. “One gets to see so little when in an unfamiliar city.”
“Where are we going?” she asked when they had moved away from the hotel.
“Could we start at St. Ann’s Church?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked. “Then I could use that as a base point until I find my bearings.”
When they reached the Vizivaros and St. Ann’s Church, the Countess circled the church and pulled the Opel Admiral in to the curb, nose first, in front of it.
He looked at her curiously.
“Might I have a cigarette?” she asked. He produced his case, took one out, and then lit it for her. She held his wrist in her gloved fingers as he did.
“I don’t know him, you know,” the Countess said.
“I beg your pardon?” von Heurten-Mitnitz asked, confused.
“I don’t even know what he looks like,” the Countess said. “Eric Fulmar is Manny’s first cousin, or second cousin, or whatever. But when he was at Marburg, we weren’t at Schloss Steighofen. Or vice versa. I never laid eyes on him, and they haven’t given me a description. Until you showed up, I was afraid I was going to have to just hang around here looking for a young SS officer with a familial resemblance to my late husband, and a middle-aged man who looked both professorial and just a little nervous.”
“You are a truly remarkable woman!” Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz said.
The Countess Batthyany and Baroness Steighofen smiled at Helmut von Heurten-Mitnitz’s discomfiture.
“Tell me, Helmut,” she asked,“do you think you’ll be given a heating coal allowance, or can you get one?”
The question made no sense to him, but he answered it.
“As a matter of fact, I was told I would be. They said it would make a difference to landlords.”
“Yes, it does,” she said. “There are two apartments on the first floor of my place. Providing you have a coal allowance, I’d be willing to make you an attractive price.”
He hesitated a moment.
“Questions could be asked,” the Countess said. “But you do know me— you were even at Manny’s funeral—and the Housing Office has been after me to make the other apartment available for use.”