Chapter 7 The Executioner
Ilsa often thought about Rick and her last night in London with
him. Now, as Miss Toumanova, she had worked in the castle in
Prague for two months.
"Fräulein* Toumanova!" It was Heydrich's Austrian secretary,
Frau* Hentgen. She didn't seem to like Ilsa, and Ilsa certainly
didn't like her. "Herr* Heydrich would like you to type these
reports and deliver them to him personally by four o'clock."
Ilsa took orders from Frau Hentgen, but she wasn't an
ordinary secretary now. She was working in Heydrich's office
with a few other chosen people.
"And these must be done immediately."
Ilsa didn't need to look at them. She knew they were reports
on the activity of Czech Resistance workers. There had been no
contact with Victor, but she hoped her messages to London were
arriving.
* Fräulein, Frau, Herr. German words for Miss, Mrs., Mr.
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She saw Heydrich every day, and she hated him. She saw his
proud face and horrible smile. She saw him putting his signature
on hundreds of papers every week, under the words "Immediate
Execution."
Everyone in the office was afraid of him. Everybody arrived
early at work, by 7:30, because he always arrived at 8:00. His
whole day was regular, between 6:30, when he got up at his
house in the country, and 7:30 in the evening, when he had
dinner. He almost never ate alone, and he never slept alone. His
wife was in Germany.
Ilsa was starting to work on one of the reports when she heard
a voice behind her.
"Fräulein Toumanova." It was Heydrich. He had never spoken
to her before. She put her papers down. Very quietly he said, "It's
so pleasant to see your beautiful face every morning."
Her face went red. "Thank you, Herr Heydrich."
"You do excellent work, Fräulein Toumanova. We are so happy
you are working with us against the Communists in your
country and in Czechoslovakia. I congratulate you."
"Thank you, Herr Heydrich."
His hand grasped her shoulder more tightly. It felt like ice. "I
understand you are a good pianist. I myself play the violin. Would
you like to play with me? Tonight maybe?"
"Well, I'm not sure . . . I'm not . . . I'm not good enough . . .
I'm only a poor Russian girl . . . " The moment was here at last.
Ilsa was ready, but she needed time to get a message back to
London. "Tonight is not possible . . . I cannot play with a famous
person like you without some practice."
"I understand. The day after tomorrow, then."
Ilsa spoke loudly so that the others in the office could hear.
"Yes, I will have all your reports ready the day after tomorrow,
Herr Heydrich."
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Heydrich enjoyed her reply. They had a little secret together.
"Excellent. I will see you then."
She wrote a note, and after work she gave it to one of the
Resistance workers. He would radio the message to London, and
Victor and the others would be on an airplane in an hour.
That evening, she practiced for two hours on the piano, and
then went to her bedroom. At midnight, there was a knock at the
door. It was a girl who worked in the house. "I have two
messages for you," she whispered.
"Tell me."
The first message was that Victor and the others were on their
way. "I only received the second one a few minutes ago, from
the Czech Resistance. It says 'Operation Executioner. Tell
London. Danger.'"
"What? Do they want to stop the operation? Why?"
"I don't know."
Ilsa didn't understand. Were the Czechs afraid? Had someone
at the castle become suspicious of her? But it was too late now. "I
can't stop them." She thought about Victor. "I mustn't stop them."
Heydrich came for Ilsa in his Mercedes two days later. "You
look lovely, Fräulein Toumanova," he said.
"Thank you, Herr Heydrich."
"You may call me Reinhard this evening."
He was tall and handsome in his uniform. His shoes were
perfectly polished, and he reminded her of someone . . . N o ! Yes,
Victor! But Victor was a good man, and Heydrich was an animal.
She allowed him to take her arm.
They got into the car.
"A glass of champagne?"
"With pleasure."
Soon, she noticed that they were outside Prague. "Are we
going to a country restaurant?"
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"No, we're going to my house. The food is excellent. And
don't worry. We'll be alone. My wife is away."
"This route is interesting."
" Y e s . We came over the Čechův Most. Soon, I'll take this route
every morning, instead of the Charles Bridge."
Her heart was beating so hard that she thought Heydrich must
hear it. She pretended to look happy, but she had to make him
change his mind! All their plans were for the Charles Bridge.
"Welcome to my home."
A number of servants greeted them. Ilsa saw the fear and hate
in their eyes and knew that he did not.
The large dining room was ready for dinner, but Heydrich
guided her to a little love seat in the corner. There was another
bottle of champagne, and two glasses stood on the table beside
them. He kissed her immediately.
"Herr Heydrich!" She had to seem surprised, not angry.
"Forgive me, but you are so beautiful. I could not stop myself.
We will play some music. I think you will like my piano." He
took his violin. "Beethoven, Tamara?"
"Yes. With pleasure."
He played well. For twenty minutes, Ilsa forgot where she was
and who she was with.
"Excellent!" said Heydrich. "I have dreamed of playing with
someone like you . . . " He looked at her with his ice blue eyes.
"Shall we have dinner?"
The food was wonderful. Ilsa noticed that he filled her wine
glass too often, and her head began to swim. This was dangerous.
She had to stop drinking.
"Reinhard," she said, "that was delicious."
"My cook is the best in Czechoslovakia."
He took her outside into a starry, moonlit night and put his arms
around her. "We cannot see the lights of the city here. I do not
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He looked at her with his ice blue eyes.
always want to be reminded of work. I have enemies everywhere."
"But you have done so much for this country."
He laughed. "It is not enough. It will never be enough until
we have won. We must kill our enemies, burn their villages, and
spread salt on the earth so that they never rise again. For
example, those Czechs in London . . . But let's not talk about that
tonight. Let's talk about you. I have watched you for a long time.
Since your first day at the castle, in fact. I have noticed your
intelligence, your beauty, of course, your political . . . "
"Thank you, Reinhard."
"But I have always believed that a man does not really know a
woman until he has made love to her. I do not suggest this
immediately with you, but I hope that soon . . . You are beautiful,
my dear." His arms were tight around her.
He kissed her gently and took her inside. "I hope you will like
your rooms. Good night, Fräulein Toumanova."
Ilsa went to bed, alone.
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