The Counterfeit Traitor Page #6

Repeat again.

And the special fuel

for these experimental jet planes

is believed to be manufactured

someplace in northern Germany.

That's all.

Now may I have that drink?

Excuse me.

How should I get rid of these?

You'd better burn them

in the sink here.

Although our job

is just to get the information,

not evaluate it,

if they can get those jet planes

in the air in any great numbers,

it might be disastrous.

And fuel is the key to the situation.

Well, that's not our worry.

But we do have one.

In case either of us should

get arrested and questioned,

I think we ought to know a few

intimate details about each other.

Now, for your information,

I have a scar, appendicitis here.

And a birthmark there.

Wine-colored.

White or red?

Vin ros.

Well, I haven't anything

quite as glamorous.

Just a cut on my thigh, which you

probably never noticed in the dim light.

I'm very observing.

So is the Gestapo.

What's it look like?

Well, a horse bit me on the a...

Just a bite scar.

Your hair is most attractive.

Is that the natural color?

Yes.

Now, what else should we know

about each other?

Well, although you probably

had the good taste

not to praise your wife

in front of me,

I think you would have

mentioned her name.

It's Ingrid.

And she doesn't understand you.

Oddly enough, that's true.

They wouldn't let me tell her,

and she couldn't stand the thought

of being unpopular.

She left me just a few days ago.

Oh, I'm sorry.

At least I found out

who trusted me and who didn't.

Now, what about your husband?

His name is Friedrich.

He's a colonel with the occupation

in France.

Well, don't you think that sometime

during our passionate love affair,

you would have told me more than

his name, rank and serial number?

I mean, for my own protection,

I would have found out

if he were jealous

and apt to take a shot at me.

No, Friedrich wouldn't care.

Legally, we've been married ten years.

Actually, just about a month.

Very early, he told me

I was one in a million.

And I discovered

he was telling the truth.

Why didn't you divorce him?

I'm a Catholic.

It's worked, though.

People take pity on me,

and I'm asked to the best parties,

where I pick up the best information.

Do you mind?

I'm curious.

Ever since I met you,

I wondered what they have on you.

The Allies, I mean.

They've got me handcuffed.

If I don't work for them,

I lose my business.

Oh, I see.

Yes, I have something to lose too.

If I don't help them,

I lose my self-respect.

But haven't you ever opposed anything

for the simple reason that it's wrong?

Morally wrong?

Not when my life depended on it.

You've got connections.

You could go to Switzerland, Sweden.

I could, but I can't.

- Well, what's stopping you?

- My faith.

He's the Antichrist,

I'm a Christian.

If I don't oppose him,

my religion becomes a mockery.

Your religion also tells you

to love your enemies.

I try to be a Christian,

I never hoped to be a saint.

You don't think hanging that paranoiac

is going to end persecution?

Another greedy psychopath

will come along...

But this is now, and I'm here.

And I must do what I must do.

- And risk your life doing it?

- Yes, if necessary.

You certainly are a businessman,

aren't you?

You look at war in terms

of hundreds of tanks

and thousands of planes

and millions of men,

like some sort of a wrestling match

on a gigantic scale.

Try thinking of it in terms

of a single truck

on its way to a concentration camp

and what's shivering inside it.

I feel sorry for those people,

deeply sorry.

- I suffer for them.

- But not with them.

That's the difference.

Someday, though, you might.

You'll see a stranger, a complete

stranger, being bullied and beaten.

And suddenly, in an agonizing

moment, he'll become your brother.

I guess I've always been

an opportunist.

And the women I've known

have been too.

I've never met anyone

quite like you.

You're either very foolish

or very wise.

I can't decide which.

But I can tell you one thing.

Your husband must be an idiot.

Good night.

After our conference yesterday,

I was exhausted.

I went to bed early.

I'll wager you did the same.

Now, colonel, you know that isn't true.

One of your men followed me

out of the hotel.

- But not very far.

- Yes, he was a bit obvious.

So I managed to lose him

in the subway.

You shouldn't have done it.

You hurt his professional pride.

I was on my way to visit

a beautiful woman.

I didn't feel it was any of his business.

Frau Mllendorf

is a charming person, isn't she?

And I thought I was being so clever.

The man following you was obvious

because he was supposed to be.

To give you a false sense

of security.

You see, there were two men.

You gave the slip to the wrong one.

I was delighted to learn

that your nocturnal prowling

was for the purpose of romance

and not intrigue.

And now,

on my recommendation,

Reichsfhrer Himmler

has approved your inspection tour.

This will allow you access

to all refineries.

To avoid suspicion,

I suggested that a team

of technicians go along with me.

Nordoff thought that one man

would be sufficient,

and the baron was selected.

It was comforting to know that

my only watchdog had no teeth.

The baron grew to hate me,

and I certainly couldn't blame him.

But then, one day while we were

touring a small plant near Leipzig,

his attitude changed.

And so did mine.

The workers had gone

on a sit-down strike.

Who are they?

They are Polish volunteers.

Why do they refuse to work?

They say too long hours

and too little food.

You'd better wait upstairs in my office.

If you refuse to work,

I'll hang you, one by one!

Don't misjudge me.

I have no mercy!

Now, get back to your posts!

So you are going to test me, are you?

Well, which one of you

is going to go first?

Let me see.

You! Come here.

Help me. Help me.

Help me, please!

- Take that man.

- For God's sake, someone help me.

I didn't do anything,

I didn't do anything!

I just sat down

because I was hungry.

Oh, please, please help me!

I'll go back to work!

I'll go back to work, don't hang me!

Don't hang me,

I'll go back to work!

Now, are you going back to work?

No? I'll give you ten seconds.

One... two... three...

Strange.

You can read about

a hundred atrocities,

hear about a thousand,

but you only have to see one.

And suddenly...

he becomes your brother.

So far, I have cooperated

because I had to.

Now I do it willingly.

So do I.

They want me to find out

where you're manufacturing

and storing fuel for those jets.

I'll find out.

And every place we went,

it was the same.

Factories, refineries, railroads.

All beginning to show the effects

of the bombing.

Did you drive through Regensburg?

What was left of it.

I hear the raid was very successful.

The chemical plants

were completely destroyed.

So was a school and 120 children.

- Well, those things can't be helped.

- That doesn't console me.

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