“I don’t mind,” she said as she snuggled close to him, making herself comfortable against his deep chest.
“I do,” he said as he cradled her. “It would gall me if you should take any harm from me.”
“You said that before,” she reminded him, drowsiness coming over her. “In London.”
“I meant it then and I mean it now,” he murmured.
Several seconds went by before she spoke again; this time her voice was muzzy. “You couldn’t. . . hurt me.” She yawned once, then tucked her head into the curve of his arm.
“I will explain everything when you waken.” He kissed her shining hair, and lay still so that she could sleep without his presence disturbing her.
Text of a letter from Paul Reighert to Baron Manfred Klemens von Wol-gast.
Chez Noir, Berlin September 16, 1910
My dear Baron;
I pray that what I have to report will mitigate your anger somewhat. My man in Amsterdam, Bernard, has found where Ragoczy is living in that city, and he reports to me that apparently the foreigner has recovered from the wound he received. Either the injury was not so severe as you were told or the man has remarkable powers of recuperation. I realize you do not agree with me, but 1 still say you should have chosen a more reliable instrument than von Nordlingen to deal with Ragoczy, no matter how eager he may have been. If you had let me find
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a marksman, he could have waited in the forest. I am also certain he would have got clean away, so you would not have to worry whether or not you might be implicated in Ragoczy’s death. As things stand now, you have someone who knows of your complicity in the plan and Ragoczy is still alive; a very poor state of affairs, wouldn’t you agree?
Remard in Amsterdam has offered to find someone experienced and reliable to waylay Ragoczy and dispose of him in any of a number of ways that would suit your purposes. He has employed men in such endeavors in the past and is aware of the risks involved. If you would like, I will tell him that my employer will pay well to have Ragoczy put out of the way. He is more able to find someone who will not talk than anyone I know in Amsterdam, and you may rest assured that he will not return to you time and time again for payments for continued silence. The prices are high, but you will get value for your money, as you did not with von Nordlingen.
Remard also reports that there is someone else watching Ragoczy. The man uses a German name but is clearly English, and it is Remard’s opinion that the man has come to Amsterdam to protect a woman calling herself Rowena Saxon. She is, according to Remard, who learned it from the Englishman calling himself Angebot, the daughter of a very wealthy English nobleman who fancies herself an artist, and has come to Amsterdam to paint. Bernard discovered that Ragoczy has commissioned this Englishwoman to paint his portrait, and has thus far visited her studio three times. He has spoken to the housekeeper, who told him that the Englishwoman is indeed preparing a canvas for the portrait and has done a number of sketches in preparation. If Ragoczy has other purposes in visiting this artist, the housekeeper knows nothing of it, and the Englishman watching Ragoczy has said he is certain that such a woman as Miss Saxon would not involve herself in anything of a clandestine nature. It is Bernard’s opinion that this so-called Angebot is a fool and a danger to his colleagues. If half of what he has reported about the man is true, I would have to agree with him. Bernard has also been told by Angebot (apparently in confidence) that a meeting is being set up between Ragoczy and certain key government men on behalf of King George, to take place in or near Liege, sometime late in October. It is Bernard’s opinion that this may well be false information, being used to test him, but I think there may be some truth in it; given the many attempts Ragoczy has made to reach the English King, this would seem to be a means to accomplish that end. It would also explain why the Czar has not ordered him to leave Amsterdam. So long as he is, in effect,
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halfway between Berlin and London, he is well-situated to bring about the private dealings you believe it is his task to do. Bernard has made arrangements to follow him to Liege, when and if Ragoczy leaves Amsterdam for Belgium.
In any event, Bernard is planning to continue his surveillance on Ragoczy for another two weeks, at which time he will need to be paid if he is to keep on. The forty guilders a day he asks for may be high, but I think you will agree it is worth the price. His commission for finding someone to do away with Ragoczy is twenty percent of what you pay the assassin. Again, the price is high, but the results are well worth the money. It has long been my experience that Bernard is the most accomplished private spy in all of Holland, and I think you would be foolish to permit the few extra guilders to keep you from employing him.
While Ragoczy is sitting for his portrait, it would be possible for Bernard to get into his house. There is just one servant, the middle-aged valet who was with him in Berlin, and he should not be difficult to handle, if it comes to that. My own advice is to wait a while until we have exhausted other approaches to the man. If you authorize this venture, Bernard will probably be able to discover a great deal more about Ragoczy, which I know you wish to do. But Ragoczy is no fool, as you have already discovered. He might take it into his mind to retaliate for actions taken against him. He might also decide to leave Amsterdam if he believes that he is the target of your investigation, and that could create trouble of another sort. It is my recommendation that you continue to have Ragoczy watched but do nothing more until his activities warrant it.
In closing, let me reiterate one thing: your anger at what you call my failure to eliminate Ragoczy is uncalled-for. You were the one who insisted on using von Nordlingen. You thought such a man would create less suspicion than an experienced assassin. You may rail all you wish, it does not change the fact that your methods were ill considered and turned out to be ineffective. In future I urge you to keep in mind that you want distance between yourself and your agents, and that like it or not, I am still the most capable man for such things. If you think you can find better in Germany, I wish you luck. If you want to bring about the things you claim to want, you cannot find anyone better than I am. That is not a boast, dear Baron; it is a simple fact.
Awaiting your response, Reighert
Four automobiles ahead in traffic, a lorry had collided with a streetcar, making it impossible for any vehicles to pass without running up onto the sidewalk. Dietbold turned around and signaled his helplessness to von Wolgast, who was hunched in the Italia’s passenger compartment, scowling at the jumble of automobiles, carts, wagons, lorries, bicycles, and pedestrians, aware he would be late for his meeting with Persuic; the Croatian was expecting him at two, and that was minutes away.
It had been a most unsatisfactory day for the Baron: his meeting earlier with Nadezna had proved to be acrimonious, and he had ended by storming out of her house, swearing to end his dealings with her. Then he had had coffee with Reighert, and was forced to comply with the defrocked Jesuits demands in regard to both agents and money. If Persuic did not have good news for him, he thought he might well leave Berlin and go to his factory until the end of the year. Then news had come from the nuns that his wife had taken a turn for the worse. He did not want any more trouble.
“Baron,” said Dietbold apologetically. “There is nothing I can do. There is no way arou—” He made a futile gesture at the windscreen.
“Yes. That is apparent,” said von Wolgast through the half-opened connecting window. “It is one of the things I like least about automobiles. Everyone is driving them, and no one has any respect any more. No wonder the Americans love them.” He thought fondly of his coach, with his spectacular team of Oberlanders and his family arms on the door panel: no one would dare to hinder their progress through the streets. His Italia Palombella only told the world that he was rich.
“There are two policemen sorting it out,” Dietbold said as he peered into the confusion ahead. “We should be underway again shortly.”
“Good,” von Wolgast grumbled. He made himself sit back against the pale leather cushions and wait with the air of one who is being inconvenienced; he considered what he would have to do if Persuic did not bring him the news he wanted. The possibility of another meeting with his banker made von Wolgast feel more resentful than ever; that he should have to explain his business to a glorified clerk verged on intolerable. It was time to put pressure on von Rosenwiese.
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“Finally,” said Dietbold as he put the Italia into gear and inched forward. “It will not be much longer, Baron.”
Von Wolgast grunted to indicate he had heard.
It took more than five minutes to go two blocks, so that by the time the Palombella drew up at the Empress Elizabeth Hotel in Schiller-strasse, von Wolgast was seething with indignation. He let himself out of his automobile before Dietbold could set the brake and tend to that duty. “I will want you in an hour,” he said. “If I am to be longer, I will send word to the front desk. Do not be late.” With that he swung round on his heel and trod up the wide stairs to the lavish entrance to the hotel.
“Colonel Persuic is expecting you,” said the receptionist, indicating the wide staircase at the rear of the lobby. “Room three-twenty-nine.”
“Very good,” said von Wolgast, and went up the stairs, in a hurry to reach his goal; he rehearsed his explanation with every step.
Vaclav Persuic was seated at the dining table in the parlor of his suite, finishing off a platter of Rebhuhn mit Trauben, the partridge placed neck-down so that its legs pointed straight up, in the traditional style; black and green grapes flanked the bird, with brussels sprouts, creamed onions, and potato dumplings accompanying it. As von Wolgast came in, he waved negligently and indicated the chair across from him.
Von Wolgast was in no mood to be received so cavalierly. He drew himself up and strode toward the table, full of purpose. “I assume you have news for me.”
“Yes, Manfred, of course I do. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I did not,” said Persuic with an indulgent smile. “I started without you, as you can see. Sit down and have some of this excellent meal. I can’t do justice to it myself.” There was another place set, and von Wolgast took the seat grudgingly.
“What is it? I warn you, I am in no humor for games. The traffic coming here was at a standstill.” It was all the excuse he was prepared to offer for his tardiness. Little as he wanted to admit it, the sight of the half-eaten partridge made him fiercely hungry and he could not make himself refuse it. He allowed Persuic to cut some of the meat for him, and to select the grapes and vegetables to augment it.
“A pity about the delay, but no harm done. We have much to discuss. This meeting is no game, Manfred, it is the most wonderful opportunity, one we have been waiting for,” said Persuic, and as he handed the plate to von Wolgast, got down to business at once. “Events are moving more swiftly than any of us anticipated, and we are trying to prepare to make the most of them. At the moment, the signs are fortuitous. You are aware of the situation in Albania, are you not?”
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“I do read the papers, Persuic. They are calling it a revolution: it is probably nothing more than a revolt,” said von Wolgast as he picked up his fork and began spearing onions with it.
“You are probably right, but that shouldn’t make any difference to you. Between the establishment of Montenegro as a kingdom and the upheaval in Albania, the time is coming when Croatia may achieve the independence we have sought for so long.” It was clearly a rehearsed speech, and he delivered it very convincingly. “You have probably made plans in this regard.”
“Sisak has sold my guns to the Albanians; I do not anticipate they will want to purchase more during this rest of this year. Sisak says they cannot afford any more. He has just left for the Union of South Africa to see what business he can create there.” Von Wolgast was fairly certain that Persuic knew of Sisak s activities as well as he did. “If you have nothing more to tell me than that Croatia may decide to take some action against Austro-Hungary, then we have nothing to discuss; I do not deal in vagaries.” He chewed vigorously, liking the food in spite of the occasion.
“It is not a distant prospect anymore, my friend,” said Persuic. “Between the Serbs and the Bosnians, the Balkans are ready to erupt, and the instant they do, it will be our signal to act. We Croats have been biding our time.” He sat forward, his well-cut features shining with purpose. “We will wait until Serbia and Bosnia have become embroiled again, as they will, and then, when Franz Josef has their insurrection to deal with, we will strike and claim our country as our own at last.”
This was more promising than von Wolgast had assumed it would be. “And when do you expect this to happen.”
“Three years, perhaps four at the most.” He waved this aside. “That is not so long as it seems. Three years is hardly sufficient time for your company to manufacture the guns we want. We must prepare now, and that is why I have invited you here, to begin our arrangements for the materiel we will have ready. I have received authorization to purchase weapons from you, quite a few of them. We will have to arrange for indirect delivery, of course.”
“Of course,” von Wolgast seconded.
“You will be satisfied with the order, I am certain,” Persuic said. “The delivery, perhaps less so.”
“And why is that?” von Wolgast asked, watching his host narrowly.
“It is cumbersome, but the guns will have to go by ship to Trieste, and go overland from there.” He saw the look of ire von Wolgast shot him, and went on smoothly. “We will pay for the shipping, naturally.”
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“You certainly will.” Von Wolgast sliced off a morsel of partridge, impaled it on his fork and held it to his mouth. Before he ate, he observed, “You will be using ships of what registry?”
“Greek,” said Persuic promptly. “It is all arranged. The authorities will not question such orders from Greece, will they?” He was clearly very pleased with these arrangements and made no secret of it. “In fact, I would guess that Kaiser Wilhelm would be delighted to know that the Greeks are preparing to throw off the last vestiges of Ottoman rule. What else would the government assume?”
“I don’t know,” said von Wolgast around a mouthful of partridge. “I am the one who will have to answer those questions, should any arise.” “Yes, we are aware of that; there are officials who will need to be placated,” said Persuic. “And we are prepared to compensate you for any additional risks you may incur in this regard. Here”—he held out a bottle of dry Tokay—“have some of this. It is Hungarian, but it is very good.”
“Yes, if you insist,” said von Wolgast, extending his glass to be filled. “How much are you paying me, and what are you buying?”
“The draft is for thirty thousand marks. It will be delivered to you by messenger tomorrow morning, along with the specific purchases we intend to make. The draft will be dispatched as soon as my endorsement is received by the intermediary here in Berlin. You will find that the company giving you the draft is in Prague, one with an impeccable reputation. That is to throw any government inspectors off the track. The company in Prague is owned by a Croat with a Hungarian name. He is one of our main supporters, and he will be the agent to handle the financial arrangements.” Persuic carved the last of the meat off the partridge and made a neat stack of it on the platter. “Whenever you are ready, help yourself.”
“Danke,” said von Wolgast, feeling more cordial now that he had been assured of thirty thousand marks. It was not a staggering sum and would not purchase large numbers of guns, but it was a respectable amount, sufficient to put his factory to work on whatever Persuic wanted. Once he had the draft deposited, he would feel vindicated: Krupp would be envious, and his father—were he still alive—would be proud. He selected a potato dumpling and cut it in half before eating it, his hunger less sharp than when he arrived.
&nbs
p; “I have a written order for you. It is the first. We will undoubtedly order more in the next year.” He spoke as if he were purchasing blankets instead of guns. “We will need to have delivery dates as soon as possible.”
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“Very good. I suppose the orders will come from Prague, as well? From the same account? Wouldn’t that be best, if there is any official scrutiny?” He tasted the wine, finding it a bit too flowery for his taste but nothing so bad as to be undrinkable.
“Naturally. We want to make the whole transaction look as legitimate as possible.” He leaned back and propped one leg on the table next to the platter. His glossy boot looked to be quite new, given the state of the sole.
“A sensible decision,” said von Wolgast, and concentrated for a short while on his meal.
“We are not amateurs, Baron. This operation is the result of long planning.” He popped a grape into his mouth.
“If you are willing to give me so sizeable an order, I must assume you are prepared in other ways as well.” He ate a few bites more.
“We are military men; we know what must be done,” Persuic said a bit stiffly.
“You may rely on my discretion,” von Wolgast declared.
“If we could not, this conversation would not be taking place.” Persuic poured more wine for himself and, having sipped it, remarked in a deliberately casual manner, “I suppose you have heard about the meeting in Liege.”
“I have had a few reports,” von Wolgast replied carefully as he sipped his wine, letting the partridge in his mouth modify the sweetness of the Tokay. Why, he wondered, did the Hungarians and their neighbors like such infernally sweet wines? Not that he liked the French ones any better, with their oak and flint flavors: no, give him good German wines, spicy and fragrant. He decided he had better pay attention to what Persuic was saying.
“—British officials will be staying at a private estate not far north of Liege.” He looked smug at having this news and he rubbed his hand on the serviette before he picked up his wineglass once again.
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