“Good. Please excuse the dim light. I have a headache,” Flora dissembled in the way of an explanation. “Come see who’s in town.”
The men had risen on Katia’s entry.
“Jamie!” Katia softly exclaimed, moving across the shaded room to take his outstretched hands. “How nice to see you again, no matter the circumstances.” She turned to Douglas as she clasped Jamie’s hands, both men friends through Flora’s acquaintance. “Douglas, hello. You’re both still safe, I see.”
“And you?” Holding her hands lightly, Jamie bent and, avoiding the brim on her bonnet, kissed her on both cheeks. “How goes your durance vile?” His Hungarian was pure and unaccented.
She stepped back and her gaze turned hard. “I count the days until it ends.”
“Would tonight do?”
“No, no,” she cried, clearly distrait. “Please don’t. He’ll have Andor killed. My brother’s hostage to my compliance.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll see your brother safe first,” Jamie said, briefly. “Come, sit.” He offered her a chair. “Let me explain.” And he did with all the patience and skill at his command. When he finished, he waited, smiling faintly, his gaze steady on Katia, who sat head bowed and breathing fast. “We can have men on the way to the monastery at Heiligenkreuz by afternoon. Enough men to kill every monk and every Von Welden guard if necessary. Make no mistake, we will if we have to. I want Von Welden dead, and a few monks one way or another matters little to me.”
Katia looked up at his cold, chill tone. The Jamie she knew was charming and smooth and infinitely amiable. Confused and fearful, her thoughts in tumult, she could feel her heart thumping in her breast. “What if things go wrong? What then? He’d kill us all; you know he would.”
“I have sixty men in Vienna. Everything will go smoothly, I guarantee. Help us, and you and your brother will be free by morning,” Jamie said, controlling his voice when so much was at stake, when he had to convince her that she’d come to no harm. When nothing was certain.
Taking a deep breath, Katia sat up and squared her shoulders under her stylish walking costume of petunia silk. “Explain it all again. Tell me the plan from start to finish.” And when he did, she said, “Once more so I have it clear in my mind. Guarantee or not, my role is pivotal.”
“You’re required to do no more than you have all these many months,” Jamie softly noted. “Surely, for this reward, you can play your part one last time. You said you have dinner waiting for him at nine? We’ll be there at nine fifteen. Someone will escort you out immediately—under protest of course,” he mockingly added. “You won’t be involved in any other way.”
She didn’t speak for a moment.
Jamie’s lashes lay at half-mast, his gaze beneath watchful.
“Very well, I’ll do it,” Katia said in a strong, firm voice.
“Excellent,” he said charmingly, and his pulses leaped. The plan was in motion. Commanding his mind to more prosaic matters, he offered Katia a benign smile. “Flora tells me she brought you here with some fabricated story. Do you need some particular item to show that you were here? I’m sure it can be arranged.”
“No, I told Von Welden I was coming only for a fitting. Although I’ll stop at Lawry’s on the way home and pick out a bibelot I was promised. A final one,” she cheerfully said, “to allay suspicion.”
“It might be wise for you and your brother to leave Vienna afterward. At least until the furor dies down.”
“I thought as much. Paris would be nice. We have an aunt there who’s well connected. Her husband’s with the Hungarian embassy.”
“Perfect. Pack your valuables and what else you wish to take. We’ll have a carriage waiting for you at the back of the building. We’ll see you and Andor safely to the German border. There’re places enough to cross without exposure, and once you’re both in Munich, you can travel to Paris by train. Any questions?”
“Just don’t be late. I’m afraid my agitation will show.”
“We won’t be. We’ll be there minutes after he arrives. And you’ll be fine. Think of it as your last performance.”
“I’m grateful, don’t think I’m not,” she softly said.
Jamie smiled. “We’ll visit again in Paris. You can introduce me to your aunt. How would that be?” He glanced at Flora.
Taking his cue, she rose in a swish of heliotrope silk muslin. “Perhaps a cup of tea before you go, Katia,” she suggested with a small flutter of her ringed hand. “A fitting would normally take a half hour at least. Why don’t we adjourn to my conservatory. My orchids are quite lovely, and I have some wonderful plum eau-de-vie if you’d like.”
CHAPTER 27
JAMIE’S MEN HAD been arriving in Vienna in small groups over the course of the last three days, having been sent instructions by telegram prior to Jamie and Douglas’s departure from London. Sixty men were assembled and waiting in a town house owned by the Swedish embassy. Jamie had personal friendships at the embassy; favors were occasionally exchanged. Although, he’d called in a great number of markers in this instance because he needed this particular location from which to operate.
Gustav was kind enough to send an embassy carriage to Flora’s, his wife inside. When Lady Magnus exited Flora’s mansion after ordering several new gowns—gifts from Jamie—she was accompanied by two Swedish guards.
It was three o’ clock when Jamie and Douglas entered the town house. After warm greetings, a war council was held, and Jamie, speaking with even-voiced speed, detailed the two simultaneous plans and assigned everyone their duties. Then, shortly after, several groups of men in mufti left the town house at intervals and made their way by carriage, horse, or train to the village of Heiligenkreuz twenty miles outside the city.
As the troopers arrived over the course of the next few hours, they collected at a local inn. They were ostensibly a group of wealthy men come to the vicinity for sport. Their fishing gear was carried in custom cases, and the dinner they ordered from the innkeeper was of the finest quality. As they ate well and drank little, they quietly went over their strategy.
The timing of the operation was by necessity precise.
Andor would be taken out first—fifteen minutes before Jamie and his men entered Katia’s apartment. They couldn’t risk a telegram being sent from the train station informing Von Welden of Andor’s liberation. With the monastery up in the hills outside the village, their time frame should be sufficiently safe.
Jamie would go with the bulk of his men to Katia’s apartment, although some troopers were on the streets already, keeping track of Von Welden’s watchers. As evening fell, they’d also monitor the additional guards that would appear prior to Von Welden’s arrival.
The Albanian had been found and sat beside Jamie, silent, finely tuned and alert, waiting like everyone else. He wasn’t Albanian, although he had no more knowledge of his ancestry than anyone else. Orphaned young, he’d grown up on the streets of Durazzo and lived hand to mouth until he’d been taken under the wing of a Turkish assassin from whom he’d learned his trade. His mentor, the story went, had died in Trieste some years ago after a drunken brawl in a seaport tavern.
The young, slender, dark-haired Albanian had received his instructions from Jamie. Then the two men had retired to a small study at the back of the house where Jamie had paid him in advance from a small Gladstone bag stuffed with bills. He’d also offered him the name of an honest banker. Hajdu had smiled for the first time at that point and said, “I thank you, effendi, for your kindness. A safe home for my money is most welcome.” The men in the underworld who called themselves bankers were highly unreliable.
“What you offer me is also most welcome,” Jamie acknowledged. “This man who dies tonight has caused me much suffering.”
“Was he the cause of your affliction, too, effendi?” the Albanian gently asked. “It is a great illness thou hast.”
“In a way I suppose he was.” Jamie shrugged. “It’s not important.” He’d increased his injectio
ns so he’d be capable of quick action, able to bear pain; it was one of the great virtues of the drugs to be able to perform intolerable feats without difficulty, without halting or slackening pace. But enhanced physical power and the capacity to ignore pain lasted only so long. And he knew if not when, that eventually his body would fail.
But after tonight it didn’t matter.
The two men returned to the large hall where everyone waited, where the sound of the clock on the wall could be heard for the silence. Weapons were looked to, the weapons of choice that night the blade and garrote—both mute. The sound of a gunshot would pose innumerable difficulties.
The planning was over now, all the meticulous arrangements made, the talk and listening past. There was nothing more to say. Only the deed remained to be done.
At nine, Jamie came to his feet, feeling no pain, although his finely tuned body was under strain, his mind racing faster than it should. “I wish you all luck, gentlemen,” he said with simplicity. “Shall we?”
He turned and strode toward the door, just as the first guard at the monastery was killed quietly and Jamie’s troopers moved on to the next.
A SHORT BLOCK from the Swedish town house, midway down a quiet street, lay the apartment building with Von Welden inside. The night sky was overcast, a hint of rain in the air, the evening shadows grey on grey as Jamie, Douglas, and the Albanian made their way toward the building. Other troopers moved off in diverse directions to make certain that the entire block was cordoned off. A dozen more followed Jamie in twos and threes, giving every appearance of gentlemen out for an evening stroll.
The street was deserted. Everyone who was going out for the evening had already left. The others were ensconced in their luxury apartments, hidden from the world behind drawn draperies.
Two carriages followed the men at a discreet distance, although the eventual occupants wouldn’t be going to dine at one of Vienna’s many fine restaurants, nor would they be attending any of the numerous theaters that were the monarchy’s equivalent of Roman bread and circuses. As in Rome, the government subsidized the price of grain in order to curtail laboring class unrest. And for those citizens whose daily existence went beyond mere survival, the government-financed theaters served as a distraction from the police state circumscribing their lives.
As planned, at nine ten, all of Von Welden’s men within sight of the apartment were taken out with a quick knife thrust to the heart or a swift garroting—professional noiseless, bloodless deaths. The carriages drove up, the bodies were tossed in, the coachmen set their horses to a smarter pace, and in minutes the street was tranquil once again.
The concierge smiled at Jamie through the open door of her parlor as he walked into the foyer at nine twelve. “Good evening, sir. The lady has company.” It was both warning and greeting. Jamie had visited Katia before; he always made a point of chatting with the old lady and leaving her a few florins.
“We won’t be staying long. How goes your granddaughter’s violin lessons?”
“The sweet girl has a rare talent,” the plump matriarch replied, beaming.
“Good for her. You might like to shut your door,” Jamie said with a small smile. “There’s a draft in the hall.” Then he moved toward the stairway.
The concierge took note of the dozen men following in the wake of the young baron. Quickly rising from her chair, she stood in the doorway for a moment watching the men swarm up the stairs at a run before shutting and locking her door.
She knew full well who Von Welden was. Who in Vienna didn’t? She knew as well that Katia was obliged to entertain him for her brother’s sake. That too was no secret. But then a man like Von Welden cared nothing for rumor or scandal; he was beyond society’s censure.
As Jamie and his compatriots reached the third floor—chosen by Von Welden for security reasons—the Albanian separated himself from the others. While the rest remained out of sight near the elevator shaft, Hajdu walked down the hall toward the two guards posted outside Katia’s door. Dressed in the loose robes of his Muslim culture, he carried a small gold-chased coffer with a jeweled clasp. He held it out from his body so it was clearly visible as he approached.
Stopping before the two guards who viewed him with suspicion, he murmured with unctuous servility, “A gift for the lady—by order of your master.” Glancing up, he smiled slyly. “His Excellency wishes to especially please his lady this evening.”
“We know nothing of a gift,” one guard gruffly retorted, scowling.
“Here, see for yourself. It’s a most magnificent gift.” The Albanian advanced closer and offered up the box with a graceful gesture. “His Excellency has engraved the pretty toy with the words of a devoted lover.” He began lifting the lid on the coffer.
Intrigued by the sexual innuendo in the remark, both guards leaned in more closely to examine the contents.
Hajdu dropped the box, and naked steel flashed from under his robes. Two long-bladed yataghans drove upward expertly and so fast they were propelled by instinct alone. The swift, slashing steel sliced both men’s throats clean through to the spinal column.
The guards died with blank surprise on their faces.
Jamie and his men rushed in, the two guards were carried away, and with a glance at his watch, Jamie murmured, “Andor should be out now.” He spoke over his shoulder to the men behind. “Make sure Katia knows when she’s taken away.” Then with a glance up and down the hallway, Jamie gave a nod to Douglas and the Albanian at his side. “Ready?” Or more to the point, At last.
His slender fingers closed on the door latch and he quietly opened the door.
The foyer was empty. As expected.
Katia had said Von Welden insisted on privacy.
But one never knew when the game rules might change, and Jamie crossed the small space with soft-footed caution. The subdued resonance of conversation was audible as they reached a short corridor, and he moved down the carpeted hall toward the sound. Arriving noiselessly, the men paused outside a door that separated them from the muted voices and automatically checked their weapons.
Jamie stood utterly still for a moment, resisting with steely resolve the exhaustion that suddenly threatened to swamp him. The moment passed. Once again under control, he opened the door into a well-appointed, candlelit dining room with two occupants.
Von Welden was facing the door, and he half rose from his chair when Jamie walked in only to sit back down and turn ashen when he saw the Albanian.
“No need to get up,” Jamie said in a soft, almost disinterested tone. Without turning, he said to the men who’d appeared on the threshold behind him, “Take away the lady, although I warn you, my dear, if you scream, we’ll kill you.”
“You’re mad, Blackwood. You won’t get away with this,” Von Welden threatened, flicking a glance at Katia as she was being dragged from her chair by two of Jamie’s troopers.
“Of course I will.”
“I have men everywhere,” the minister of police said with unassailable arrogance, his nerve restored after the initial shock. “And believe me I’ll take great pleasure in seeing you die.”
“Perhaps not,” Jamie said briefly. “You had men everywhere. How many were there, Douglas?” Jamie asked without taking his gaze from Von Welden.
“Eighteen.”
“Did we miss any?” Jamie lightly inquired.
Von Welden blanched again, his skin chalky against the black of his military tunic.
“Ah—apparently not,” Jamie murmured. “Now then, you presumably know why we’re here,” he said, his voice unhurried, his face calm. “You shouldn’t have killed Rupert. He was like a brother to me. There was no need to murder the young boy when he had his whole life ahead of him.” Jamie drew in a small breath and his expression changed, a cold-blooded look entering his eyes. “So I am come to deal out justice, retribution, and I’m afraid,” he gently added, “some personal vengeance.”
“Wait,” Von Welden quickly said, his eyes wild with fear. “Surely w
e can come to some agreement.” His voice was shaking, his frightened glance flicking back and forth between Jamie and the Albanian, who stood motionless and expressionless at Jamie’s side. “I have money, land, power. The emperor and I are on friendly, friendly terms.” He was half-breathless with fear, his words tumbling over themselves in his panic. “You have only to name your price, Blackwood. Anything, anything at all!” His voice had risen at the end, his panic escalating at the total indifference of his audience.
“Unfortunately,” Jamie said, his unforgiving stare resting on Von Welden, “I promised myself I’d send you to hell.” He caught his breath as a spasm of pain tore through his gut and a moment of helplessness threatened to topple him. But he marshaled his strength by will alone and said with a serenity won at grievous cost, “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Take off his clothes.”
“No, no! God, please no!” Von Welden shrieked. He’d hired the Albanian himself on more than one occasion—and watched. “Please, I beg of you! I’ll give you everything I own!” he screamed. “I’ll sign everything I have over to you, I swear! Bring me some paper and pen! Listen to me! God in heaven, please!”
“Muffle him.” A whisper of sound, taut and strained.
Jamie’s men cast a quick glance at their leader, saw his bloodless face, and leaped to the task.
“We dinna have to do this, Jamie,” Douglas quietly said as the men manhandled Von Welden from his chair. “It doesna matter how he dies so long as he dies.”
“No.” The snarl from deep in Jamie’s throat was more animal than human, a pure bestial rage. Focused solely on seeing this through so far as was humanly possible and running with sweat, Jamie held himself upright by sheer force of will. “Goddamn it, do it.”
But by the time Von Welden was strapped to the table, his mouth stuffed with an embroidered table napkin, his splayed body the open palette for the Albanian’s art form, Jamie was shivering violently. As Hajdu made the first sweeping cut up Von Welden’s inner thigh so he could peel the skin from his leg in one piece, Jamie’s mind slipped briefly from its shackles and he swayed unsteadily. Catching himself, he braced his feet like a sailor on a stormtossed vessel and dragged himself erect.
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