When she walked out of the entrance of her apartment building that afternoon, she saw a man lounging against the wall pretending to be engrossed in a newspaper. As Noelle stepped into the crisp, winter air, the man straightened up and began to follow her at a discreet distance. Noelle strolled the streets slowly and leisurely, stopping to look into all the shop windows.
Five minutes after Noelle left the building, the concierge came out, glanced around to make sure he was not observed, then hailed a taxi and gave the address of a sporting goods shop in Montmartre.
Two hours later the concierge reported to Noelle. "He will be delivered to you Saturday night."
Saturday night when Noelle finished her performance, Colonel Kurt Mueller of the Gestapo was waiting for her backstage. A frisson of apprehension went through Noelle. The escape plan had been worked out to a split-second timing, and there was no room for any delays.
"I saw your performance from out front, Fraulein Page," Colonel Mueller said. "You improve each time."
The sound of his soft, high-pitched voice brought her dream back vividly.
"Thank you, Colonel. If you'll excuse me, I have to change."
Noelle started toward her dressing room, and he fell into step beside her.
"I will go with you," Colonel Mueller said.
She walked into her dressing room, the hairless albino Colonel close behind her. He made himself comfortable in an armchair. Noelle hesitated a moment and then began to undress as he watched indifferently. She knew that he was a homosexual, which deprived her of a valuable weapon--her sexuality.
"A little sparrow whispered something in my ear," Colonel Mueller said. "He is going to try to escape tonight."
Noelle's heart skipped a beat, but her face showed nothing. She began removing her makeup, fighting for time as she asked, "Who is going to try to escape tonight?"
"Your friend, Israel Katz."
Noelle swung around, and the movement made her suddenly conscious of the fact that she had removed her brassiere. "I don't know any--" She caught the quick triumphant gleam in his pink eyes and saw the trap just in time. "Wait," she said. "Are you talking about a young intern?"
"Ah, so you do remember him!"
"Barely. He treated me for pneumonia some time ago."
"And a self-induced abortion," Colonel Mueller said in that soft, high-pitched voice. The fear flooded back into her. The Gestapo would not have gone to this much trouble if they were not sure that she was involved. She was a fool to have gotten herself into this; but even as Noelle thought it, she knew that it was too late to back out. The wheels had already been set in motion and in a few hours Israel Katz would be either free...or dead. And she?
Colonel Mueller was saying, "You said that the last time you saw Katz was at the cafe a few weeks ago."
Noelle shook her head. "I said no such thing, Colonel."
Colonel Mueller looked steadily into her eyes, then let his gaze drop insolently to her naked breasts and down her belly to her sheer pants. Then he looked up into Noelle's eyes again and sighed. "I love beautiful things," he said softly. "It would be a shame to see beauty like yours destroyed. And all for a man who means nothing to you. How is your friend planning to get away, Fraulein?"
There was a quietness in his voice that sent shivers down her spine. She became Annette, the innocent, helpless character in her play.
"I really don't know what you're talking about, Colonel. I'd like to help you, but I don't know how."
Colonel Mueller looked at Noelle a long time, then stiffly rose to his feet. "I will teach you how, Fraulein," he promised softly, "and I will enjoy it."
He turned at the door to deliver a parting shot. "By the way, I have advised General Scheider not to go away with you for the weekend."
Noelle felt her heart plummet. It was too late to reach Israel Katz. "Do Colonels always interfere in the private lives of Generals?"
"In this case, no," Colonel Mueller said regretfully. "General Scheider intends to keep his rendezvous." He turned and walked out.
Noelle stared after him, her heart racing. She looked at the gold clock on the dressing table and quickly began to dress.
At eleven forty-five the concierge telephoned Noelle to announce that General Scheider was on his way up to her apartment. His voice was trembling.
"Is his chauffeur in the car?" Noelle asked.
"No, Mademoiselle," the concierge replied carefully. "He's on his way up with the General."