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And who are these women?
They were both about five-four with full, curvy figures and olive skin. One had very short brown hair and big almond eyes. The other, with her rich wavy dark hair touching her shoulders, had warm dark eyes. They appeared to be somewhat tolerating their escort.
Kappler saw that the two men at the bar glanced at the women, then, seeing the SS uniform, made a face and immediately turned away.
Müller took a long moment to look around the lounge, then found Kappler in the far corner and nodded for the girls to follow him.
Has the bastard been drinking? Kappler thought.
Müller came closer, and Kappler then thought, No, not just drinking. He is drunk!
Kappler was going to keep his seat, but at the presence of the women he automatically got to his feet.
“Heil Hitler!” Müller began thickly, his words slightly slurred as he thrust out his arm.
Kappler simply stood staring at him.
Müller dropped his arm and went on in German: “It is so very good to see you again, Herr Obersturmbannführer. I trust your room is to your satisfaction?”
Kappler, who realized from Müller’s forced tone that he was working at being hospitable, looked him in the eyes.
And his drunkenness is an outrage! he thought.
I should run these women off and have him locked up for dereliction of duty!
But . . . this behavior is absolutely nothing compared to what I tried to have him punished for the last time. And look what I accomplished with that—not a damn thing.
Müller made a thin-lipped smile.
And, you smug bastard, you know that!
Well, I have much bigger problems to concern myself with. I cannot be distracted by this unprofessional behavior.
So, okay, I shall play along with you, you bastard . . . which could very well confuse the hell out of you.
“I asked about your room?” Müller said. “Is it not to your liking?”
“It is quite a nice room,” Kappler said.
“Very good,” Müller said.
Müller then waved to get the bartender’s attention and made a circling motion over their table to order drinks all around. The bartender nodded.
“Shall we sit?” Müller then said, and when the women did not move, he impatiently motioned at them individually, instructing them to sit on the outside of him and Kappler.
They don’t speak German, Kappler thought, looking at them.
Meine Gott, they are indeed quite attractive. . . .
“Allow me to present Lucia,” Müller said, gesturing first to the long-haired one, “and Maria.”
They smiled at Kappler.
They at least understood their names and the gesture.
What do I say?
Kappler nodded and smiled, then decided to keep it simple and said, “Ciao.”
