Mata Hari's Last Dance
Michelle Moran
A very heartfelt thank-you to everyone who worked with me on this book. Sally Kim, Etinosa Agbonlahor, Dan Lazar, Susan Moldow, Brian Belfiglio, David Falk, Laura Flavin, Maria Whelan, and, most of all, Allison McCabe.
The divine attributes of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva—creation, fecundity, destruction.
This is the dance I dance tonight.
The dance of destruction as it leads to creation.
MATA HARI
MATA HARI, BEAUTIFUL DANCER, IS SHOT BY FRENCH AS SPY; WAS KAISER'S CLEVER AGENT
PARIS, FRANCE, OCT. 15—Mata Hari, the Dutch dancer, who two months ago was found guilty by a court martial on the charge of espionage, was shot at dawn this morning.
*
Mme. Mata Hari, long known in Europe as a woman of great attractiveness and with a romantic history, was, according to unofficial press dispatches, accused of conveying to the Germans the secret of the construction of the entente “tanks,” this resulting in the enemy rushing work on a special gas to combat their operations.
Posed as a Japanese Dancer.
Mata Hari, who got her name through posing for some years as a Japanese dancer, was famed in the music halls of Europe for her great beauty. One of her specialties was, after singing, to mingle with diners on the floor, pick out some attractive officer and engage him in conversation. These informal meetings frequently developed into acquaintances which were profitable to Mata Hari in the way of gaining military information which, it was afterward found, she sent to Germany.
Intimate with Many Officers.
Mme. Mata Hari was found to have been on intimate terms with many French and British officers who did not dream of the real nature of her work. She was said to have worn a gold dragon, the insignia of the British tank service, indicating that it had been given her by a tank officer from whom she may have learned the secret of the tanks which she communicated, far in advance of the appearance of the tanks in battle, to Germany.
Suspicion Fastened on Dancer.
It was apparent, as soon as the tanks were brought into use, that Germany had had advance knowledge concerning them. Suspicion was soon fastened on Mata Hari and she was closely questioned by French officials. Her explanations proving apparently satisfactory, she was allowed to remain at liberty and at once moved to En-gland. As soon as she landed, however, she was placed under arrest and a formal charge of Espionage placed against her.
Maintains Complete Composure.
The beautiful dancer manifested complete composure throughout her investigation and subsequent trial, even after documents of the most damaging nature had been produced against her.
It was found that she had communicated to Germany many secrets other than that of the tanks and had been, in fact, one of the most dangerous of the Kaiser’s agents in France and England.
Part 1
Creation
Chapter 1
Tell Me Where You Learned to Dance
1904
We don’t take a horse-drawn cab to his office. Edouard Clunet is a lawyer—he owns a car. He opens the door for me and I find a wilted rose on the black leather seat. I hold it up. “Recent lover?”
He takes the rose and tosses it out the window. I can imagine him acting as casual with the women he makes love to. “You’re young. Nineteen? Twenty?”
“Twenty-five.”
If he’s surprised by this he doesn’t show it. “Still, you haven’t seen much of the world.” He starts the car and we drive down the Boulevard de Clichy, past empty shops and seedy bars. Men stand in tight clusters along the sidewalks, smoking, talking, whistling at women.
“I was born in India,” I say. I’m about to elaborate when we jerk to a halt, narrowly avoiding an outraged pedestrian.
“Listen,” he says when we are driving again. “I don’t care how many men you sleep with or who you charm by describing fanciful holidays in Egypt, sipping champagne on a felucca in the Nile. If you can mesmerize a man by claiming you took high tea with Edward VII during the durbar to celebrate his succession to Emperor of India, fantastic. The bigger and more believable your lies, the better. That being said—with me, cut the act.”
We are driving downhill toward the nicer part of town, an area much more respectable than where he found me. He stops the car for another pedestrian and I look out the window, imagining myself in one of the boutiques. I’d wear black silk gloves and pearls around my neck at least three strands deep. I’d wear a hat with feathers.
“When I introduce you to my client, I’m responsible for how you behave. Understand?”
“No.”
“Let me explain it clearly. I am going to present you to my client, M’greet.”
The car rolls past La Madeline. A month earlier I auditioned for them. I wore a wine-colored sarong while all the other hopefuls dressed in moth-eaten furs. I told the men who owned the theater that I had traveled from India to share the dance of my people with the citizens of Paris. I danced without music, imagining the sounds of a gamelan, the strum of a sitar and surmandal. I was exotic. Too exotic.
“Thank you. We’ll be in touch,” they said and rejected me.