Free The Shadowboxer by Noel; Behn Page A

vanished from Rio de Janeiro.”
    â€œHutch the Socialist?”
    â€œSocialist, forger, extortionist or whatever. So you see, Schleebund, something is up. Perhaps our friend Spangler will lead us to the source.”
    â€œNo. It is quite impossible to let him escape—whatever the reason.”
    â€œSchleebund, Schleebund, Schleebund. Possibility or impossibility have nothing to do with it. I order you not to capture him. He must be followed.”
    â€œThe order is disregarded.”
    â€œIf it is, the Fuehrer will learn that one of his highest-ranking police officials is a traitor.”
    â€œDon’t be naïve, General Kuprov. Part of my job is to stay in touch with enemy agents of comparable rank. Everyone knows I am meeting you here for a prisoner exchange. Every meeting we have ever had has been known of—and recorded. If all points of discussion were not included in my reports, who is going to know the difference—and who is going to believe you? The fact of the matter is, my revolutionary friend, it is assumed in high places you are on the verge of defecting to the Reich, not that I have begun cooperating with the East.”
    Kuprov smiled faintly. “Schleebund, I want this Spangler followed—not captured.”
    â€œSpangler’s adventures with political inmates could mean an entire revamping of our detention system. It could also result in my removal as chairman of the council. If you value my future services I would suggest avoiding such a replacement. The best possible insurance for my holding this mutually beneficial position in the Reich’s police affairs is the capture of Herr Spangler.”
    â€œAnd what if he eludes your trap?”
    â€œThen I will either have to place the blame on someone else, come up with a new plan or resign. There is always the probability, on the other hand, that I will be imprisoned—or shot. If this is the case, then I shall have to choose between prison, death or Russia. At present, they seem equally unappealing.”
    Kuprov considered. “All in all, Schleebund, I think it would be better if he were not captured.”
    â€œAll in all, Kuprov, I must refuse you. Is there anything else?”
    Again the Russian thought. “Until this Spangler thing is settled—one way or another—I think it good we bring as many German Communists out of the camps as possible.”
    â€œPolitical prisoners cannot be touched at this time.”
    â€œIt sounds as if you’re raising the stakes. Is that what you’re doing? All right, I’ll pay you twice the price for each.”
    â€œThey cannot be touched. If Spangler is taken, that may change.”
    Kuprov shrugged, pushed off from the wall of dead and started toward his own lines. He stopped and turned back. “Schleebund,” he called, “there was something interesting I forgot to tell you. One of my men infiltrated a Catholic resistance organization in the east of France. He knew this man Tramont. You remember Tramont, the one your dossier says Spangler killed in a Gestapo prison. My man says this Tramont was a mountaineer, a good trapper and hunter and all that, but he didn’t know of his being connected with any underground or group. Tramont would go on long hunting trips, though. My man says that Tramont lived in a cabin with a son. After Tramont disappeared for good there were rumors that someone came and took the son. No one knew who it was or much cared at the time. We’re following up on it now. If I get something I’ll send it to you.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œNo, Schleebund, it is I who should do the thanking. Thank you for the cigarettes and the jokes. You had some funny jokes for me tonight after all, eh?”

8
    Two black buses with yellow stripes wound up the snow-choked mountain road, crunched onto the forest trail, skirted the ice-covered lake, shifted into low gear, climbed the sharp rise and pulled in