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"General Samsonov shot himself. We have his body. Martos, commander of the Russian 15 Corps, has been taken prisoner. We have captured five hundred artillery guns. "
"In summary," said Ludendorff, at last looking up from his field desk, "the Russian Second Army has been wiped out. It no longer exists. "
Walter could not help grinning. "Yes, sir. "
Ludendorff did not return the smile. He waved the sheet of paper he had been studying. "Which makes this news all the more ironic. "
"Sir?"
"They're sending us reinforcements. "
Walter was astounded. "What? I beg your pardon, General-reinforcements?"
"I am as surprised as you. Three corps and a cavalry division. "
"From where?"
"From France-where we need every last man if the Schlieffen Plan is to work. "
Walter recalled that Ludendorff had worked on the details of the Schlieffen Plan, with his customary energy and meticulousness, and he knew what was needed in France, down to the last man, horse, and bullet. "But what has brought this about?" Walter said.
"I don't know, but I can guess. " Ludendorff's tone became bitter. "It's political. Princesses and countesses in Berlin have been crying and sobbing to the kaiserin about their family estates being overrun by the Russians. The high command has bowed under the pressure. "
Walter felt himself blush. His own mother was one of those who had pestered the kaiserin. For women to become worried and beg for protection was understandable, but for the army to give in to their pleas, and risk derailing the entire war strategy, was unforgivable. "Isn't this exactly what the Allies want?" he said indignantly. "The French persuaded the Russians to invade with a half-ready army, in the hope that we would panic and rush reinforcements to the eastern front, thereby weakening our army in France!"
"Exactly. The French are on the run-outnumbered, outgunned, defeated. Their only hope was that we might be distracted. And their wish has been granted. "
"So," said Walter despairingly, "despite our great victory in the east, the Russians have achieved the strategic advantage their allies needed in the west!"
"Yes," said Ludendorff. "Exactly. "
Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - September to December 1914
The sound of a woman crying woke Fitz.
At first he thought it was Bea. Then he remembered that his wife was in London and he was in Paris. The woman in bed beside him was not a twenty-three-year-old pregnant princess, but a nineteen-year-old French bar girl with the face of an angel.
He raised himself on his elbow and looked at her. She had blond eyelashes that lay on her cheeks like butterflies on petals. Now they were wet with tears. "J'ai peur," she sobbed. "I'm frightened. "
He stroked her hair. "Calme-toi," he said. "Relax. " He had learned more French from women such as Gini than he ever had at school. Gini was short for Ginette, but even that sounded like a made-up name. She had probably been christened something prosaic such as Françoise.
It was a fine morning, and a warm breeze came through the open window of Gini's room. Fitz heard no gunfire, no stamp of marching boots on the cobblestones. "Paris has not yet fallen," he murmured in a reassuring tone.
It was the wrong thing to say, for it brought forth fresh sobs.
Fitz looked at his wristwatch. It was half past eight. He had to be back at his hotel by ten o'clock without fail.
Gini said: "If the Germans come, will you take care of me?"
"Of course, cherie," he said, suppressing a guilty pang. He would if he could, but she would not be his top priority.
"Will they come?" she asked in a small voice.
Fitz wished he knew. The German army was twice as numerous as predicted by French intelligence. It had stormed across northeast France, winning every battle. Now the avalanche had reached a line north of Paris-exactly how far north, Fitz would find out in the next couple of hours.
"Some say the city will not be defended," Gini sobbed. "Is it true?"
