March 25, 1942

Genevieve waited for the driver to open her door before stepping out into the brisk night air.  It was chilly, even with the silvery fur scarf that she had draped over her shoulders and arms. "Ah, mademoiselle!" She saw a thin man sprinting towards her through the crowd outside of the venue.  His dark hair blew in the light breeze. Many had already arrived prior to her. "Ms. Blondeau, it is an absolute pleasure to have you grace our establishment."

"The pleasure is all mine." She allowed the man to help her the rest of the way out of her vehicle. She didn't have to ask if they were on the same team.

"Welcome to Chateau de Rose." He waved his hand upwards and her eyes followed. It wasn't her first time there, but it was her first time as Genevieve Blondeau. She let herself look on in awe of the lit up building. Men and women dressed in suits and gowns shuffled in by the scores. Her late aunt and uncle, who previously owned her cozy abode, had no children of their own, but the position was too convenient to pass up and the government issued her papers under the pretext of being their daughter rather than niece. It all fit together perfectly.

"Merci," she thanked him once they got to the door and he let her go to fend for herself. He jogged back to the sidewalk where another car was pulling up with another guest. She glanced around inside to see if the Führer had arrived yet, but saw no sign of him. Her eyes took in the high ceilings, the second floor that housed swarms of officers engaged in conversation and sipping from champagne flutes.

"Genevieve Blondeau?" She spun at the sound of a female voice behind her. Her partner, Belle, called from a few meters away. "It has been ages! I can't believe you are here!"  It was refreshing to hear French being spoken after enduring the German's attempt at English. It was so choppy and nasally that it was often difficult to decipher, whereas her English was so well practiced that she could blend in as an American without rousing an ounce of suspicion. It was her natural talent. An expert in linguistics.

"Hilda Beauchamp! You are as beautiful as ever. Who are you here with?"  she replied in her native tongue.

"My husband."  Genevieve suppressed a laugh at the poor man's expense as Belle grabbed an officer by the arm and tugged him over. "This is my husband, Lieutenant Bruhn."  He would be dead within the year at the hands of his new wife no doubt. The thought alone made a smile easily break out over her face while she greeted him.

"Lieutenant Eric Bruhn, mademoiselle."  He bent to kiss her hand a beat too long. "My wife has told me much about your childhood together in Paris."

Genevieve regarded him with a cool grin, recalling her false history as though it happened yesterday. "Only the good parts, I hope. I still have the scar on my knee where she pushed me down a hill."

"Yes, but it certainly didn't hinder your modeling career."  Her husband commented, and if Belle didn't have a part to play she may have killed him on the spot. Instead, she playfully hit him in the arm and laughed lightly, tucking a piece of mousy brown hair behind her ear to cover her disdain.

"Your French is excellent, Lieutenant. You must have learned from the best."  Genevieve looked to her friend knowingly.

"I was told I had to learn it, being the most beautiful language on Earth, or so I'm told. But who can argue with such beautiful women as testament?"  He laughed and it was a boisterous loud noise that made heads turn. Poor Belle, never landing the fun jobs. She would have to tell her how sorry she was at their next meeting under the city. The girls laughed with him, giving each other knowing glances that spoke volumes more than they could audibly with the officers around.

Genevieve switched to German, showing off mostly, but establishing a mutual respect with the lieutenant. "I can't argue with that. However, I make it a point to learn all languages since my business takes me all over Europe, and I must say that German's have their own kind of beauty in the way they speak."  Eric seemed impressed by her fluency so she continued. "If you'll both excuse me, I need to use the powder room before I make my rounds and see all the faces in this sea of people."

She brushed by, grasping the small piece of paper that Belle pushed into her hands. She lifted her black silk glove to her chest, pretending to itch her collar bone, and slipped the paper between her breasts for safe keeping. She would open it later once she was home. Never in the same building as the Nazis. There was too much risk.

She entered the ladies room uninterrupted, save for a few waves she gave to her fans, and casually glanced around. Carefully looking for anyone in the stalls without drawing attention to herself. "What a beautiful night for a party."  She spoke in French, waiting for the designated reply to her code.

A woman came out of the last stall and went to the sink to wash her hands. "I couldn't agree more.  Perhaps I can offer you a coat to keep you warm?"

Genevieve sighed in relief at the response and continued in English. It was a safe language for the most part. Many German's occupying the northern half of France had been trained in French for obvious reasons, leaving out other languages of little importance.  A handful of high ranking officers, including her sergeant, she surmised, made it their place to speak several different languages, but she doubted very much any of them were women, and even less so that they would be inside the ladies room. "What news?"

"The Führer is en route. There are three waiters with dark hair that are your allies, should you need assistance, or a drink to spill on you in a pinch. Belle is here working the room, and she will be your guide this evening. Stick with her and she will introduce you to some of Hitler's most esteemed members and officers that will play key roles in ending the war." The contact was a waif of a girl, noticeably not posing as a rich elite. Judging by the smell of wine and soap she was assigned to the kitchens.

Genevieve inclined her head in gratitude for the information and touched up her makeup. The red lipstick had doubled as a blush across her high cheekbones. The girl left and Genevieve took her leave shortly after, blending back into the crowd in search of Belle.

"Ms. Blondeau?"  She turned at the sound of a German.  A young soldier in his dress uniform approached her cautiously, shyly if she didn't know any better. It took her a moment to recognize him from the search earlier that day. "Your presence is being requested."  The Germans were not accustomed to making requests, however polite the private made it sound. She knew there was no arguing and motioned for him to lead the way.

She was pleased to see that he was taking her back to the lieutenant and Belle, who now stood in a good sized circle of officers and were drinking and laughing happily.  Belle spotted her being paraded over and smiled, "My beautiful friend, is she not?"  A stir of agreeable grunts and hums arose from the men as their wives and girlfriends enviously looked on.  A few of the men were unaccompanied and she decided to stand between two of them, so as not to upset any of the women and blow her chances of eavesdropping.

"You are too much!" Genevieve exclaimed merrily in the soldiers' language.

"Nonsense. Quite the contrary, I would say she is being too modest on your behalf."  Genevieve whirled around to see a very sharp dressed officer approach. The red swastika band adorned his left arm, and served as the only pop of color. His uniform was as black as the death that surrounded him, decorated in medals that she had briefly learned the origins of.  Each one more ghastly than the next. The man was pure evil, approaching with a deceivingly friendly demeanor about him. The other men surrounding him all wore the usual German uniforms in that drab green color.

She put on her best and most dazzling smile as she took in the newcomer.  She'd studied his file back in Boston, and the pictures didn't do him any justice. Much like Sergeant Hugo Schmiltz had been like a rodent in appearance, the approaching colonel was devilishly handsome.  Clear cut testaments that beauty didn't choose sides.

Every man in the circle stood at attention, saluting the man who humbly waved away their formalities.  "Ah, Genevieve, this is-" Lieutenant Eric attempted to introduce the man but froze when he was cut off with a wave of a hand.

"Colonel Nicolas Roemheld , officer of the Schutzstaffel."  He introduced with great pride, switching to French much to her delight.  A smile broke out over his face and she was taken aback by how straight and white his teeth were.  She had half expected fangs and a forked tongue, befitting his status. It reached his icy blue orbs and crinkled around the edges.  His pictures never appeared to be taken of a man that was accustomed to smiling, and yet here he was, grinning and conversing like a human. "And you may be?"

"Genevieve Blondeau."  She dipped forward slightly in respect, holding back a grimace at the action directed towards such a monster.  She felt his hand grasp hers as she rose up and he lifted it to his lips. His eyes burrowed into her own, searching for something she hoped he wouldn't find, before pressing a chaste kiss to the palm of her gloved hand.

"An exquisitely beautiful name for an exquisitely beautiful mademoiselle."  Even from the likes of him, she couldn't help the blush that crept into her cheeks at the compliment given so publicly.  All eyes were on them, every conversation halted to gaze in wonder at the colonel.

"You flatter me, Colonel Roemheld." She used her free hand to cover one side of her face, feigning embarrassment at the color rushing beneath.  He released her hand with a dismissive laugh and stepped into the circle, so close to her side that his arm brushed against hers as they stood and he did nothing to move it. The feel of the red band at his arm rubbing her bare skin made her want to vomit, but she concealed it with a flirty glance in his direction that he most definitely noticed and reciprocated.

"Forgive me, fraulein. My intention was not to embarrass you, but your reputation proceeds you. I must confess, no introduction was needed on your part.  I have heard much about you throughout the ranks. The famous French model that decorates the walls of German camps." He gushed politely, placing a hand on her back that prickled the skin beneath. He didn't move it lower, but he didn't take it off once he realized her dress was backless. She felt him lean closer to her and felt a chill as his breath tickled her ear and he whispered, "I look forward to following up with the search my men conducted earlier today."

The way he spoke to her made her skin crawl. She gave him a knowing smirk and leaned over to his ear, as he had to hers, showing she was not afraid of him. "I hope I didn't scare your men too bad, Colonel. They seemed a little jumpy around my artwork.  Perhaps you have a more refined taste for art.  I look forward to your opinion."   It was a dangerous game to be playing with a man like him, but she excelled at her job.  She was used to taking a beating if it got her what she wanted.  Enduring a bit of torture at the hands of Colonel Roemheld would surely result in a few tidbits of intel that she could pass on to her superiors.  The others had picked up their conversation, and judging by the way Belle didn't look at her, she knew it wasn't of any importance.  She focused her attention on her target that had quite plainly fallen into her lap.

"I can assure you, fraulein, that I have excellent taste in absolutely everything. That includes artwork.  It would be my pleasure to examine them for you more closely."  She wanted to gag. She let her hand graze his wrist, trailing just a bit upwards and peeked up at him from beneath her lashes.

He was impressively tall for a German.  Most averaged under six feet, while he clearly towered over the rest which added considerably to his fear inducing reputation and a bit to his attractiveness.  His features were sharp, sculpted, and precise. His dark golden hair had been combed perfectly behind his ears, peeking out just enough to show her the color beneath his black cap, complete with the skull and bones and flying eagle insignia.  His eyes were icy cold, reflecting the man within, despite how friendly he appeared to be.

"Hilda?" She beckoned, keeping her eyes on the Colonel as he watched her.

"Yes?"

"I could use a drink in my hand. I'm afraid I'm not much for navigating large crowds alone."  It was their code. She needed to make arrangements with Belle, and get away from this circle.  She wasn't prepared to meet the colonel so quickly as he wasn't set to attend the event.  She needed to find out why.

Belle nodded, gently tapping her husband and taking a step into the circle. Colonel Roemheld held up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. "No need.  I would be delighted to escort the mademoiselle to the bar."

Genevieve covered her surprise with a small smile and accepted his hand as he pulled her away. She didn't dare turn to look at Belle.  It would have insulted him surely.  She allowed the colonel to escort her through the crowd with ease.  Ease, because each and every attendee that saw him immediately made a path for him, stepping out of the way.  Colonel Roemheld barely had to glance at the others for them to practically treat him as royalty.  If she didn't know any better, she would have thought he was the Führer himself.  Thankfully, he wasn't, though their malice was remarkably close.

"I must say," he broke the silence, "that I am glad I attended the party tonight. It would have been a shame to not have met you first."

Genevieve cast a suspicious glance up at him. He kept his gaze forward, nearing the staircase. Her arm was wound in his as he lead her down slowly in consideration of her heels. "First?"  She chanced a question.

"Before I had to follow up with our search at your property.  It is your property, is it not?"  She breathed more evenly, nodding. "I haven't had the pleasure of exploring it, but if my men are any indication, I will be enraptured by its beauty. You live in the hills, correct?"

Genevieve narrowed her eyes playfully, debating on whether or not she would expose his ruse of lack of knowledge.  Surely he had already studied blueprints of the mansion, along with interviewing previous help, and making a point to see it from the road. He was an excessively thorough man.  It wouldn't have surprised her if he could navigate her mansion as though it was his own by the time he actually arrived to investigate it. "Colonel Roemheld," she clicked her tongue, "I've heard all about you from the locals.  I'm sure you know exactly where I live, as well as every other person's location in this very room.  That's what makes you the best of the best, isn't it?"  She queried, a lilt of challenge to her tone. He turned his head ever so slightly, seeing her out of his peripheral before letting a grin spread over his sculpted face.

"One could assume that, mademoiselle."  He took the last step and twirled in front of her to help her down the way a gentleman should. "But, that's just the foundation. There is so much more required to move up in rank as quickly as I have, and I'm afraid most of it isn't fitting to boast about with a beauty such as yourself.  I would feel rather shameful should you catch wind of my exploits, as I'm sure any other officer would."

She was pulled towards the bar near the back center of the room where a slew of waiters were scurrying about with serving trays and others tending to the passing of drinks over the counter. She spotted the three dark haired waiters as soon as they had came into view.  They stood out like sore thumbs among the sea of blondes and brunettes.  She recognized one at the bar as the escort who had lead her inside.  How versatile.  A few red heads were sprinkled in for good measure, but her comrades were the only ones with jet black hair, greased back for a sleek look befitting a party as large as it was.  Each held her gaze briefly, and discretely lifted their hand as if to signal for a glass.  So that was the signal then.  She may have to use it sooner rather than later.  She wasn't supposed to be so close so soon.

"Are you not proud of your endeavors? Your medals jingle with each step you take, surely that brings you some pride and honor within your ranks."  She allowed him to pull out a chair for her and ushered her to her seat.  He took the seat beside her, still too close for her liking, but she took advantage of it and decided to lay on her seduction in small doses to ready him for the search.

The colonel laughed heartily. "You said it yourself mademoiselle.  I am honored within my ranks. I am simply a gentleman though, and I don't like to boast in front of ladies.  And you," she fought the urge to recoil when he put his hand under her chin, turning her so that she faced him head on, "you are a lady if I've ever seen one."

Another wave of heat rushed to her cheeks and she pretended to be ashamed, putting her hands over her cheeks and turning away.  It was a gift, an endearing and seemingly meaningless gift to blush on queue. "You look beautiful when you blush, Genevieve."  She looked back at him as he used her name. It was her real first name, but now that she heard it roll off his venomous tongue, she wished it wasn't. "May I call you Genevieve?"

"Of course.  You're charming, Colonel Roemheld, truly you are.  But I too, pride myself on knowing things, and I've heard all about you."  Tidbits, only tidbits could be given away.  Enough to keep the mystery alive.

The colonel straightened, ordered them drinks quietly, and then turned back. "Tell me, Genevieve, what have you heard of me?"  She didn't miss the challenge in his voice, the way he looked at her as if he was testing her.  Wrong answers could blow her cover, or get her killed, or tortured.

She put on a beaming smile and walked her fingertips over his thigh, raising higher as she went. "I've heard you have had quite the impressive collection of conquests.  Just single nights, though.  Pity, it must have broken many hearts to wake to an empty bed."  He clenched his jaw as if trying to come up with something to say.  It was evident he had been expecting her to produce a rumor of his military exploits, but she didn't.  She kept it personal.  She halted her fingertips just before the apex of his legs, pleased to see she was gaining the desired reaction from him.  "Have I offended you, Colonel Roemheld?"  She smirked wickedly as he blinked, regaining his thoughts.

"It doesn't do well to serve my country if I'm distracted by every woman I see, but it also does no good to deny a man's natural urges.  Much as you wouldn't sit in the grass and eat an entire basket of pastries and waste the day away.  Quite the contrary, you would savor them, drawn out, one at a time, each more delicious than the next.  Am I wrong?"

She pursed her lips. "No.  But I suppose it would also depend upon the pastry.  Lemon tarts? I would savor one by one.  However," she smiled coyly at the colonel, "I can't comment on strudel. I've never tasted any.  Perhaps they are so delicious that I cannot help my gluttony."

He smiled, hiding a gulp, knowing he had made his point. "You make an excellent argument, fraulein."  He chuckled deeply.  "I don't think I should be blamed for having an eye for pretty things.  It isn't my fault that France holds some of the most beautiful women I've ever seen."  He splayed his hands innocently before her as the dark haired waiter brought their drinks over. She kept her hand down as to not confuse them with the signal.  She was rather enjoying making the colonel uncomfortable, though he had managed to pull out of it nicely.

She stirred her drink with the metal stick inside before tapping it gently on the rim and setting it down to drink. After a few sips she looked back at the colonel.  "I'd wager that, based on how well you speak French, you may have picked up a few lessons while you were following your natural urges."

He grinned wolfishly.  "I take that as a compliment. And might I add, you speak it well yourself."

"I would hope so, I was born and raised in Paris."  She lied, recalling her home in New York that the order had arranged for her before the war.

Colonel Roemheld stood up, chugging the rest of his schnapps.  "That remains to be seen. I shall make that assessment myself the day after tomorrow."  She kept her expression unreadable, not wanting him to see how he got under her skin. "Gute Nacht."  He kissed her hand, eliciting a smile from her out of habit, and took his leave.  The waiter chanced a look in her direction, but she looked away.  She was fine, shaken, but fine. It was clear he wasn't satisfied with her cover and insisted upon digging.

He could dig.  He could dig all he wanted, but he would never find anything.  Her cover was concrete, impenetrable even, and one of Hitler's lap dogs wasn't going to tear up her yard and find any bones.  She was as clean as her fur scarf, and equally as soft.  If he sniffed out a rat, she would simply use her body to distract him.  Regardless of what the colonel claimed about avoiding distractions, he had never met her.  She was damn good at her job, and proud of it.  She got to have some fun, and take down terrorists at the same time.

"There you are."  She spun to see Belle clicking her heels over to her. She pulled her into a warm hug and leaned into her ear to whisper. "The Führer is not coming."