Page 48 of The Secret Librarian
‘I heard a rumour you were married,’ she said. ‘So yes, I suppose I did find what I expected.’
‘Ahh, I see. And here I was thinking you were looking for something more sinister,’ he said, as if he didn’t believe her for an instant.
‘More sinister?’ she repeated, with a laugh that she hoped was convincing. ‘You thought perhaps I was working for the Allies to uncover your secrets?’
Camille pursed her lips when he shrugged, trying to read him.
‘I’m just a woman who wants her man to herself.’
His gaze narrowed and it was clear that, in that moment, he trusted her as much as she trusted him.
‘That is my wife, Mathilde, and my daughter, Elke, in the photograph. I know you’re thinking the worst of me, but I love them both very much. I would never have been with another woman if I was still in Berlin, if that means anything.’
Camille carefully edged her way across the room and sat in the chair opposite Kiefer. She was nervous about how calm he was; he was either more relaxed than she could have imagined, or it was the calm before the storm. She kept her eyes fixed on him, almost too scared to blink, waiting for him to lash out at her for going through his personal effects. But he didn’t.
‘You don’t have to be scared of me, Camille, I’m not going to hurt you. My secret is that I’m a married man, it’s not as if I’m thefirst man to pretend he didn’t have a wife to lure a beautiful woman to his bed.’
She wanted to tell him that he was also a Nazi, which was something she feared very much in itself, but she kept her mouth shut. She had no interest in antagonising him, given her precarious situation.
‘I feared you wouldn’t be interested in me if you knew about them, and I’ve been away for so long that ...’ His voice trailed off.
‘You wanted someone to warm your bed at night,’ she finished for him. ‘Is that it?’
‘More than that, I needed the company. It’s been a long time alone for someone who’s used to the warmth of a woman.’
Camille softened, but only a little. Just because she hadn’t found anything sinister in his pockets didn’t mean he wasn’t who she thought he might be. There was every chance that Kiefer knew precisely what and who she was looking for and was playing a very clever game.
‘But I’m not the only one keeping a secret, Camille, am I?’
She swallowed, considering her words. Her heart began to race again. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Camille, I’m leaving at the end of next week. I’m being sent back to Berlin, so there’s no need for us to keep playing this game. You answer my question and I’ll let you ask me one. Fair?’
‘Alright then,’ Camille said, steadying herself in an effort to appear calm, her palms clasped. ‘What is it you think you know about me?’
‘Well, I know that you’re helping French Jewish refugees and that you’re under suspicion of producing false documentation for them.’ His smile was hard to read. ‘Perhaps you’re here on false documentation too, but I’m prepared to turn a blind eye to that, given our relationship. It seems only fair.’
She tried not to react outwardly, but inside her heart was pounding. Kiefer had the power to send her to jail, to invalidate the visas of handfuls of families waiting in Rossio Square, and she would never forgive herself if he did that.
‘You’ve followed me?’
‘It’s what I do,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I knew who you were before I invited you to my bed. I’m embarrassed that you thought anything less of me.’
‘Well,’ she said, trying to appear confident rather than the scared little rabbit she was inside. ‘It seems that we’ve both been rather busy investigating each other.’ She sighed. ‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘With you?’ He laughed. ‘Camille, I only have a week left here, I’m not going todoanything. If anything, I admire you.’
‘Youadmireme?’ She almost choked on the words.
‘Standing up for what you believe in isn’t easy. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t grow up knowing Jewish families who look like the people out there in the streets.’
‘That’s why you never turned me in?’ she asked. ‘You’ll have me believe that you’resympatheticto those you’re accusing me of helping?’
‘Those Jews are already here.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps it eased my conscience knowing that you were helping a handful of them, or perhaps I just liked you and didn’t want to give you up. But what you’re doing has to end.’
She let what he was saying settle, surprised at how calm he was. She also didn’t correct his statement that she was only helping a handful. She’d doctored more papers than she could count since she’d arrived in Lisbon.
‘Why then does what you’re accusing me of have to end, if you care so little?’
