Mata Hari's Last Dance

“Yes.”


I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach as he tucks the paper into his shirt pocket.

“When will you send it?”

“The moment you leave, madam.”

*

I can’t sleep on the way to Paris. I waited for a month in Madrid, yet heard no word from Commandant Ladoux. I’ve lost faith in the French Embassy. I don’t believe they sent him any of my telegrams. Now I am worrying: What if Pierre-Martin is right? What if they arrest me when I leave the train station? They won’t act toward me the way Scotland Yard did, I decide, because I’ll tell them that I work for Ladoux immediately.

I check into the élysée Palace under the name Marguerite Macdowd. Then I spend a sleepless night rereading Vadime’s letters to me. In three hours we will be reunited. I have enough money for our plane tickets to America. The rest I will worry about later.

*

I dress in a simple blue skirt and blouse that make me look dowdy; then I tie my least favorite scarf around my head, covering my hair. I go downstairs and find a taxi. I tell the driver to take me to the Grand.

Inside, I ask the concierge for the room number of Vadime de Massloff.

“Massloff.” The man taps his pencil along the list. “No Massloff today, madam.”

That can’t be correct. Unless . . . something happened to him? He can’t have changed his mind. I think of the letters he’s sending faithfully. He calls me his only hope. His star in a night filled with darkness. “Please check again. He may have arrived yesterday.”

He turns pages and scans them. “I’m sorry, we have no such guest, Mata Hari.”

Hearing my name is jolting. I’ve taken such care: my simple dress, my plain scarf.

The concierge notes my reaction. “I would recognize you anywhere, madam.”

I close my eyes and will myself to think of a quick solution. I cannot leave Paris without Vadime. He is sick and almost blind. Who will take care of him? “Then may I ask you for a favor?”

The concierge nods. “Certainly.”

I lean over his desk and write down the number of my suite at the élysée Palace. Under it I slip a fifty franc note. “The moment Vadime de Massloff checks in, will you give this to him?”

He slips the fifty into his shirt pocket. “Of course.”

*

That night the door of my suite swings open with a violent crash. Five men with rifles enter my hotel room. I am dreaming of the Walrus, of escaping his meaty hands. Now I scream, grab the covers, and pull them to my chest. I glance at the clock on the bedside. It’s six a.m.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demand.

“Madam, I am Inspecteur Marcadier.” He steps around my luggage.

I’m packed and ready to leave. There are sixteen bags in all. Plus one blue-green purse. Even as the inspecteur is speaking, I’m thinking that it isn’t much, the things that belong to me in this life.

“These are inspecteurs Quentin, Priolet, Curnier, and Des Logères.” The other men step forward.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. “This is outrageous! I am employed by Commandant Ladoux of the French Secret Service!”

“Mata Hari,” Marcadier continues, as if I haven’t spoken a word, “also known as M’greet MacLeod, also known as Margaretha Zelle, you are charged with espionage against the Republic of France.”

They allow me to dress and while I’m given my coat Inspecteur Marcadier reads the mandat d’arrêt.

“How do you answer these charges?”

I repeat that I am in the employ of Commandant Ladoux. It has the same impact: They ignore me completely. They lead me down three flights of stairs to the lobby of the élysée Palace. The hotel employees are huddled in a tight circle, whispering. Shame floods my face as they parade me to the door like a criminal. Outside, the streets are thick with mist and dreamlike. Maybe I’m still sleeping, I tell myself. Maybe none of this is true.





Part 3




   Destruction





GERMANY SHOWN IN HER TRUE LIGHT

(By United Press)

Washington, March 1.—Germany, in planning unrestricted submarine warfare and counting its consequences, proposed an alliance with Mexico and Japan to make war on the United Sates, if this country should not remain neutral.

Japan, through Mexican mediation, was to be urged to abandon her allies and join in the attack on the United States.

Mexico, for her reward, was to receive general financial support from Germany, reconquer Texas, New Mexico and Arizona—lost provinces—and share in the victorious peace terms Germany contemplated.

Details were left to German Minister von Eckhardt in Mexico City, who by instructions signed by German Foreign Minister Zimmerman, at Berlin, January 19, 1917, was directed to propose the alliance with Mexico to General Carranza and suggest that Mexico seek to bring Japan into the plot.

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