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As Kappler reached the third flight of stairs, taking each step with care, he thought that he saw someone coming down the third-floor hall, walking toward him.
“Herr Kappler,” he heard Palasota’s now familiar voice call out.
Damn it. I do not want to speak with anyone else tonight.
Especially not with me drunk.
“Herr Palasota,” he said. “Good night. I am retiring.”
“Alone?”
“Yes,” Kappler said with a chuckle. “Alone. I do appreciate the thought, however.”
And I appreciate that you could be trying to get me in a compromising situation. Something to use for leverage later.
Nice try, but I made my no-whores decision a long time ago.
“Please, call me Jimmy.”
“Very well,” Kappler said, holding out his hand. “And I am Oskar. Good night, Jimmy.”
Palasota took the hand, and gripped it tightly.
“Look, Oskar. I am not judging, but if I may say so, you looked rather tense when we met earlier. I am sure that an important person such as yourself has many difficult things weighing on your mind. A little companionship is good for the soul. And it takes your mind off those things. These are very nice women. You will be pleased, trust me.”
Kappler chuckled. “Again, thank you. I do appreciate your concern. I simply need some sleep. Good night.”
* * *
There was moonlight coming in the bedroom window of Kappler’s suite, and when he went to close the blinds, he glanced out. The city was dark. There was little to see, even in the soft moonlight. Just as he started closing the blinds, he noticed in the harbor that the new T-dock was empty.
So, the S-boots are out on patrol.
Tomorrow, when they are back, I should visit with their captains. Anything for an excuse not to suffer more time in Müller’s company.
* * *
Five minutes after Kappler had crawled into bed, he heard a faint series of taps on his door.
If I ignore it, it will go away.
He rolled over.
The series of light taps became more persistent, then the tapping became continuous.
“Damn it!” he muttered, then threw back the sheet.
He went to the door in his boxer shorts and pulled it open enough to see who stood in the hall.
“Lucia,” he said softly.
She held a bottle of cognac and two small glasses.
And she had changed into a sheer nightgown. Even in the dim lighting, he could make out the naked curves.
She is stunning! But . . .
“Grazie, no,” he said, holding his hand up, palm out.
