* * * * *
Hendricks rubbed his jaw. "Your life would have been a lot different
if there had been no war. Sixteen. You came here at sixteen. To live
this way."
"I had to survive."
"I'm not moralizing."
"Your life would have been different, too," Tasso murmured. She
reached down and unfastened one of her boots. She kicked the boot off,
onto the floor. "Major, do you want to go in the other room? I'm
sleepy."
"It's going to be a problem, the four of us here. It's going to be
hard to live in these quarters. Are there just the two rooms?"
"Yes."
"How big was the cellar originally? Was it larger than this? Are there
other rooms filled up with debris? We might be able to open one of
them."
"Perhaps. I really don't know." Tasso loosened her belt. She made
herself comfortable on the cot, unbuttoning her shirt. "You're sure
you have no more cigarettes?"
"I had only the one pack."
"Too bad. Maybe if we get back to your bunker we can find some." The
other boot fell. Tasso reached up for the light cord. "Good night."
"You're going to sleep?"
"That's right."
The room plunged into darkness. Hendricks got up and made his way past
the curtain, into the kitchen.
And stopped, rigid.
Rudi stood against the wall, his face white and gleaming. His mouth
opened and closed but no sounds came. Klaus stood in front of him, the
muzzle of his pistol in Rudi's stomach. Neither of them moved. Klaus,
his hand tight around his gun, his features set. Rudi, pale and
silent, spread-eagled against the wall.
"What--" Hendricks muttered, but Klaus cut him off.
"Be quiet, Major. Come over here. Your gun. Get out your gun."