Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain

by Yarbro, Chelsea Quinn, 1942-

  Remain in Berlin. I will authorize your continued expenses there, and whatever you need for your agents in Berlin, in Munich, in Amsterdam,

  Chelsea Quinn Yarhro

  and in Saint Petersburg. The funds are not limitless, but considering how much material Ragoczy presented us regarding arms, it would be folly to ignore what he has discovered, and it would be dangerous to be unaware of his activities. Use your own best judgment in regard to surveillance of the man, so long as you monitor his travels. I will expect your regular report in four days.

  “C”

  8

  It was cold in Leopold Oberstetten’s study; his fireplace put out a little warmth from the last of a smoldering log, but it was not enough to stave off the dank chill that accompanied the low-lying evening mist holding Berlin in its gelid embrace. Oberstetten himself compensated for the weather by wearing four layers of wool: a high-necked brown jersey under a dark-green woolen waistcoat beneath a heavy loden boiled-wool jacket, and topped by a vast, mahogany shawl; his trousers were rust-colored twill hunting breeches. He peered over his snifter at his visitor in the chair on the other side of the hearth, and shook his head in sympathy. “I hear the rumors, of course. Who does not? But I have not been able to trace them to their origin, and that bothers me. I have done what I can to mock them, but not enough, it would appear. You know more keenly than anyone, I am certain, that the rumors are continuing.” He propped his elbow on the mantelpiece and did his best to look nonchalant.

  Ragoczy, elegant in a black suit appropriate for an evening at the theatre, shrugged away this apology. “I didn’t think you would do as much. Thank you.”

  “Yes.” He looked down at his shoes in an effort at misdirection. “Rumors aside, I still say that—ah—accident of yours was not what it appeared to be. Incidentally, you seem recovered.”

  “I am mended. As to your doubts about the accident, you’ve indicated them before,” Ragoczy said dryly. “The Bavarian authorities do not share your suspicions, which may be just as well.”

  Oberstetten looked peeved. “If you were German and not a

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  Carpathian exile, they might reassess their position.” He did not get the reaction he was hoping for.

  “So they might. And if someone were not blackening my reputation, there might be more diligence. There are many factors to consider, but the deliberate slandering of my name—” He lifted his gloved hands in resignation. “I know those things are all factors, but I suspect the rumors have done the most damage. Until I can track the calumny to its source, I will keep encountering barriers. After, who knows?”

  “Barriers created by whom?” Oberstetten prodded, hoping to find an opening. “Are they the Czar s opponents or yours?”

  “I have no way of knowing and guessing serves no purpose,” Ragoczy said affably, his eyes serious.

  “They tell me things did not go well with the English,” Oberstetten speculated, changing the subject deliberately.

  “The meeting could have had better results,” Ragoczy conceded.

  “And they say it was the English who balked at the proposition you presented—whatever it was.” He leaned forward a little, listening closely. “The rumors are that you are authorized to negotiate a private peace with the European and English powers on the Czars behalf. What else would it be, if not a private peace agreement?”

  “With the exception of Cumming, I was not able to persuade them to support it, whatever my mission might be, so that is unimportant.” Ragoczy gave a tiny shake to his head, the only acknowledgment of his inner consternation at his rout.

  “It may interest you to know that Ludwig Kesselmann over at Foreign Affairs has been boasting that he convinced one of the English to stop all progress toward peace, to let Germany take the lead.” He did his best not to look directly at Ragoczy, aware that such obvious interest might put him on the alert.

  Ragoczy realized he was being pumped for information, and decided to give a little in order to learn as much as he could from Oberstetten. “One of them did appear to be against the proposal I presented from the first.”

  “According to Kesselmann, the mans name is Sinclair-Howard; I have ascertained that there was a Sinclair-Howard at your meeting,” said Oberstetten, trying to shock a reaction out of his guest.

  “Sinclair-Howard,” Ragoczy said, unperturbed, “was not willing to support any terms enforcing peace, no.”

  “According to Kesselmann, Sinclair-Howard believes that the future of Europe is in German hands, and that England will thrive as long as

  Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  the English make no move to interfere with German activities in Europe. You wonder how I verified this, don’t you? I had a second report, from one of the servants at the Cascade-en-Foudre.” He triumphed momentarily. “Yes,” he declared emphatically, “I have discovered where the meeting took place. According to the servant, Sinclair-Howard had a second argument in opposition to any private peace agreements: apparently he persuaded the rest of his delegation that to enter into any agreements with Germany would fatally compromise the Entente Cor-diale with France, and the rest agreed with him, with, as you remarked, the exception of Cumming. Or they said they did in order to have a reason to refuse any peace agreement with Russia and Germany. Kessel-mann is taking credit for the whole thing, including Sinclair-Howard s high opinion of Germany.” He had not intended to reveal so much, but he wanted to gain some confirmation from Ragoczy in regard to Sinclair-Howards participation.

  “Kesselmann may think he has influenced Sinclair-Howard if he wishes,” Ragoczy allowed, his expression still cordial.

  “What is your opinion?” Oberstetten asked bluntly.

  “Since I have no knowledge of Kesselmann, I have none: Sinclair-Howard did not confide in me, although I will confirm that he did not like the terms of the agreement I put forth.” He smiled slightly at the journalist. “Give it up, Leopold. I will not be badgered or trapped into reckless statements.”

  “As I can attest, and not from this evening alone; you were tight-lipped about being shot. And about your recovery. Not that I wish you ill, but at the time it appeared you would have difficulty staying alive; I am somewhat surprised to see you so . . . ah, hale now.” Oberstetten said, hitching his shawl-swathed shoulder to show he did not begrudge Ragoczy his reticence.

  “Appearances are deceiving,” said Ragoczy, knowing better than to change the subject, for that would make Oberstetten more dogged than ever.

  “My very point,” said Oberstetten with the suggestion of a sigh. “The question is, who is deceiving, and why?” He got no answer, and continued, “I cannot help but congratulate Nicholas on having so honorable a deputy; I trust your mission deserves such uncompromising dedication, for it is most unusual to find an envoy who is willing to remain silent. Is it because you are an exile, I wonder, that makes you so reserved?” He paused long enough to take a deep breath. “I cannot, however, speak as highly of most of the representatives of the Czar I have encountered in the past.”

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  “I have gathered something of that,” said Ragoczy, willing to discuss what was common knowledge.

  “What am I to do?” Oberstetten burst out. “You have given me nothing I can write about, Count.”

  “I know.” Ragoczy smiled fleetingly again.

  The last log in the fireplace broke in half, sending ashes into the air, and a few, dying sparks onto the hearth.

  Oberstetten looked down, punctuating this with a sneeze. “I should have fresh tinder laid.”

  “You need not on my account,” said Ragoczy, who was far more impervious to cold than to the rays of the sun; he dressed for the climate out of strategy, not necessity.

  “Then I will on mine.” He reached for a bell to summon a servant.

  “Are there any other rumors you think I should know of?” Ragoczy asked as Oberstetten went to the door to pass on his orders for a new fire
.

  “Damn you, Count,” said Oberstetten with genial annoyance, “I am the one who ought to be wringing information out of you, not you from me.”

  “Still,” said Ragoczy, and waited.

  “Oh, very well,” said Oberstetten as he came back to the hearth. “I will tell you some of what is being whispered, although why I should, I cannot think.” Having made his point, he went on, relishing this opportunity to display his vast knowledge of secrets. “I have been told that one of the arms dealers has paid a handsome bribe to a foreigner in order to have free access to the Balkan markets. The arms involved are not rifles but field guns and canon. It is said that the dealer has large orders from the Serbs and the Croats.” He held up his hand. “I have no confirmation on this, of course, but it is persistent enough to have some basis in fact. I do know it is not Krupp wh0is selling the weapons, because they are huffy about the rumors.”

  “True or not, it is the sort of thing that would be suspected,” Ragoczy said. “Who is the source of that rumor?”

  “Probably Egmont von Rosenwiese, from what I have been able to glean,” said Oberstetten, looking down at the hearth again. “I tried to find out from him, but he refused to see me, and has avoided me ever since. I take that to mean that he must know something of the matter.”

  “Ah, the suspicions of journalists,” said Ragoczy, rising from his chair. “And you wonder why I tell you so little. Do you think that von Rosenwiese would see me if I called at his office?”

  “I would doubt it, since he has not been willing to talk to me,” said

  Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  Oberstetten with a shake of his head. “He will use the rumors about you as his excuse, of course. But I have it on excellent authority that he is seeing no one without an approved appointment. Those approvals are rare.”

  “Which provides you another confirmation that he has something to hide,” Ragoczy ventured.

  “Let us say that it gives me reason to suppose,” Oberstetten remarked, his features schooled to innocence. “I am curious about a man in his position suddenly trying to vanish from the world, as he has done.”

  “And that, I assume, will keep you on the scent.” He laid his hand on Oberstetten s shoulder. “I must thank you again for all you have done. I hope you will believe me when I tell you I regret I am not at liberty to tell you anything more of my duties here in Berlin. If I were, I would be glad to answer your questions.” It was a half-truth, but sufficient to the occasion.

  “I gather from this effusion that you are about to leave?” said Oberstetten. He held out his hand. “Let me thank you for calling on me. Little as you have told me, I am grateful for the opportunity to speak with you.”

  “Alas, I have other calls to make,” said Ragoczy, starting toward the door.

  “And you will not tell me on whom, will you?” he asked, continuing before Ragoczy could reply, “No, don’t bother. I know you well enough, Count, to know that you will not reveal such things unless they are of no importance whatsoever; I have observed you for long enough to recognize the habit.”

  Ragoczy smiled as he stepped into the corridor. “In that case, I will tell you I am going first to call on Nadezna.” He bowed slightly. “Thank you again, Leopold. I may not be able to tell you as much as you wish, but I appreciate what you have done for me.”

  Oberstetten waved him away, calling to his servant to let his guest out before laying the logs for his fire.

  Berlin was sunk in twilight, the low-lying fog making the city appear to be floating in a calm white sea. Ragoczy made his way to his automobile, his vision unhampered by the dark or the thickening mist. He swung the ignition crank with more than his usual force; the Bianchi 20-30 rumbled into life. As Ragoczy got into the drivers seat, he noticed a weedy man on a bicycle emerging from an alley across the way. He sighed as he pulled into the street; he was still being watched.

  Pflaume admitted Ragoczy promptly, saying as he did, “Welcome,

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  Count. It is a pleasure to see you again. You and Madame may be private. The rest of the staff is off tonight.”

  “Thank you,” said Ragoczy, adding as an afterthought. “As long as you are on duty you might let me know if you see anyone watching this house.”

  “I will be taking my supper shortly. I will not be here.” He managed to make this sound like a major occurrence.

  “If you see anyone before then, make a note of it, if you will.” He held out two coins and waited for Pflaume s nod and then inquired, “Is Nadezna—”

  “She is expecting you. In her study.” Pflaume indicated the stairs. “You know the way.”

  “Very good,” said Ragoczy as he handed over his coat. “I have no idea how long I shall be. I will let myself out.” He started up the stairs, noticing as he went that the porcelain figurines of dancers were no longer on the trestle table under the mirror. His brow drew down as he considered what this might mean as he continued on to Nadezna’s study door; if she were selling possessions, she must be far more desperate than her letter had revealed.

  “Good evening, Count,” Nadezna said at her most gracious, rising from her desk to greet him, her hand extended for him to kiss. She was in a splendid, mauve-lace-festooned wrapper in ecru satin, her dark hair done up in an artless knot on her head, as if she had not expected any caller this evening; the lamplight was low enough to make her skin rosy.

  Ragoczy kissed her hand obediently. “Good evening, Madame. I must apologize for taking so long to answer your summons, but circumstances intruded.” He waited until she sat down again to choose a chair across from her. “I gather you are having trouble. That is what your letter gave me to understand.”

  She managed a modest smile. “Yes. I ... I have been foolish.” She looked directly at him. “I realize I should not have permitted myself to be deceived, but I did not realize how great the villainy was of those I trusted.”

  “This sounds quite dreadful,” said Ragoczy, his tone carefully neutral.

  “It is,” said Nadezna, her lovely face taking on a tragic cast, as if she were in the last act of Swan Lake. “I don’t know how to explain ... it came about so ... 1 should not have let myself become caught up in this, but... I do not know whom else I can turn to, if not to you.” She made a gesture with her arm that was exquisite. “I let myself be lulled into a sense of ease that was folly.” She paused to give him an oppor-

  Chelsea Quinn Yarhro

  tunity to speak. When Ragoczy said nothing, she went on. “If I had only put myself at risk, I would not be distraught. But I let my school become a part of the matter, and that has led to this . . . embarrassment. In order for me to rid myself of the . . . complications which have arisen, I would have to sacrifice my school. It is not truly mine to sacrifice, of course. It belongs to the students, and you are its patron.” She hesitated, finding his penetrating gaze unnerving. “I would not mind bearing the burden myself, if I were in any position to do so, but as I am not, I had to turn to you.”

  “I see,” he said, and indicated for her to go on, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

  “Yes. Yes. It is very difficult for me to have to come to you this way, as much because I am ashamed of my own credulity as because of my . . . financial blunders. You see.” She put her elbow on the desk and propped her chin in her hand, head angled becomingly. “You see, Count, I wanted so much more for my students, that I allowed myself to be persuaded that . . . certain—well, I cannot call them gentlemen—men would help me to expand my school, bringing more students and more performances than I have been able to offer before now. I ... I wanted this so much that I let them commit a portion of my money to their project, with the guarantee that I would have a significant profit in fairly short order.”

  “This should end your trouble for a few months. If you still have difficulties, we can discuss them then.” Ragoczy withdrew a roll of banknotes still secured with a bank collar from his inner breast pocket and handed
them to her. “By the way, Nadezna: how much of that tale do you expect me to believe?”

  She froze, her hand on the money. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that while I have no doubt that you are short of funds, and that because of it your school is suffering, I am not convinced that you were compromised in quite the way you describe it.” He closed her fingers around the bills. “Don’t worry. I am not asking you to tell me what really happened. That is your private life, and I have no part in it; your school is what concerns me, and I will do my utmost to help you to maintain it and its quality. But I will not continue to support your caprices if your students have to pay the price.” He regarded her amiably. “You like living well. Who am I to blame you? I like living well myself. However, if you wish to continue in this style, you cannot continue to use the school to support your extravagances. I don’t mind paying for better facilities, or for more rehearsals, or for more performances. I do mind paying for your soirees.”

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  “Soirees?” she echoed, her cheeks flushing as she put the money into her capacious sleeve, taking care to refasten the button at the wrist. “What are you talking about?”

  “I am sure you know: those elegant private parties you have here for the benefit of your influential friends. You have some of your former dancers here, women who are willing to entertain the men you invite. The gatherings where you hear the rumors about me that distress you so. The ones you began four years ago.” His affability was now colored with sardonic amusement. “You are not the only one to hear rumors.”

  “You are despicable!” she cried before she could check her impulse. “How can you make such accusations?” She half-rose from her chair, her confusion abandoned. “They are lies, all lies!”