Return to Vienna

by Nancy Buckingham

  Already I was clambering up from the little beach, grabbing tufts of grass to haul myself over patches where there was no foothold. In places the rock was covered with a tough sort of heather that was very slippery, but Steve was right behind me and gave an occasional helpful heave.

  It was a stiffer climb than I’d expected, and I soon got hopelessly winded through going too fast. Steve made me take a break until I got my breath back.

  “Five minutes won’t make much difference, love.”

  As we got nearer, all resemblance to an animal faded away. It was just another of the rocky outcrops that dotted the mountainside. We had to keep our eyes fixed to make sure we didn’t lose it.

  Close by, it was bigger than I’d thought—maybe fifteen feet high. The rock was weathered and deeply pitted. I stood back, surveying it as one piece, trying to get inside Max’s mind. A huge boulder formed the sphinx’s head. On its underside was a slit that could well have been the animal’s mouth.

  “It’ll be in there, Steve.”

  I reached up eagerly, but even standing on tiptoe my hand came nowhere near the crevice.

  “Let me,” said Steve.

  Even he couldn’t reach it without balancing on a ledge. He had to stretch to get his hand into the opening. As he felt around inside, I could hardly bear to watch.

  “There is something here . . . something hard and

  round. It’s wedged in pretty tight “

  “Steve, is it... ?”

  He gave a final tug. There was a scattering of grit on our heads, and he drew out into daylight a metal tube, discolored and dirty. It was maybe two feet long, and about three inches in diameter.

  Without speaking, Steve held it out to me, but I was trembling so much I couldn’t take it from him. I stared at the thing in a sort of numbed fascination.

  Steve was more practical. “Let’s see if I can unscrew the end. We might as well find out what all the fuss has been about.”

  The screw thread seemed to be corroded, and in order to get more purchase, Steve knelt on the ground, wedging the cylinder between his thighs. Three times he strained at it, his shoulder muscles taut, and at last the cap moved a fraction. After that it came more easily.

  With the end off, we both peered inside the tube. We could see the age-worn edges of what looked like thick, yellowed paper, tightly rolled.

  “I suppose it’s vellum or something,” said Steve. With a finger and thumb he tried easing the roll out gently, but it wouldn’t come. He grinned ruefully. “I daren’t risk tearing it! In any case, once we got it out of this thing, we’d probably never get it back again.” He put the cap back on the tube and screwed it tight.

  A constraint seemed to fall upon us then, a sense of awe. It was in an oddly subdued mood that we made our way carefully down to the lake, where we’d left the haversack on the beach.

  Neither of us felt like eating any lunch. But we drank the lager, to celebrate our victory. This helped to untie the knots within us both. We started to laugh and broke into a sort of dance of jubilation, prancing about like children. Then suddenly we both stood still, intensely aware of each other. Very slowly Steve bent his head and kissed me.

  I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again the sun was shining.

  The sun had shone on Max and me, here on this lonely lakeside beach. I’d been lying asleep, and woke up to hear Max’s footsteps on the shingle. I’d stayed unmoving, wanting him to come and lie down with me, wanting time to go on and on and on.

  And then I’d opened my eyes, blinking at the sun’s brilliance, and looked up at him. He was standing over me, smiling. Laughing, almost.

  Max threw himself down beside me, and at the time I didn’t register the casual way he’d tossed aside the fishing holdall that up to then he’d handled with such loving care. Lying there, I was so full of languor. Even speaking was a big effort, because my lips seemed stiff. There was a slightly bitter taste in my mouth.

  “Darling,” I said rather thickly, “I want a drink.”

  He got up again and went to fetch me some water from the lake in one of the plastic mugs. It was cold and fresh, and I drank thirstily.

  “All right now?”

  I stretched. “Mmmm! Just sleepy.” I’d been too happy then, too absorbed with Max, to think about that curious taste in my mouth. But now I knew what it had been.

  “Steve,” I said suddenly, “that day Max hid the scrolls, he gave me ...”

  Steve sat down on the pebbles and reached for my hand, pulling me down beside him. His arm slipped around me.

  “What did he give you, darling?”

  I simply couldn’t tell Steve. I mumbled instead, “He gave me some water from the lake. It was delicious.”

  “Would you like some now?”

  I shook my head.

  “Funny girl!” laughed Steve. Then he was suddenly serious, his gaze steady on mine. “I love you, Jessica.”

  And I loved him, too.

  “I want you, my darling,” he said huskily. “You know that?”

  How Max had wanted me that day! He’d taken me into his arms, and there was a heady excitement about him, a feverish exhilaration. I felt a wild surging of my own blood, my need matching his, mounting with his. Our loving was like nothing that had ever gone before, like everything that had gone before blended into long moments of unbelievable ecstasy.

  I stirred, and it was Steve’s arm that cradled me. Steve’s lips upon my throat. Fighting off my own sick memories, I must have stiffened.

  Steve sensed my rejection of him. His hold loosened, his arm falling away.

  “It’s too soon,” he murmured sadly.

  A question? A statement? What was I doing to him, this man I loved?

  I knew now what Max, my husband, had been. And I knew now that our lovemaking that day, here beside the little lake, had been for him only a final release from days of pent-up tension. With the spoils of his crime safely stashed away, Max had needed to expend his tautened energy. Any woman would have served his purpose. Ilse Hellweg or Mitzi Flamm. ... I was just the one who happened to be on hand.

  Knowing all this, I still could not forget the glory of that summer’s afternoon. But I must somehow find a way of forgetting if I was ever to escape from the spell which bound me to Max.

  I turned my head and looked at Steve. I loved him. Above everything else now, I wanted to be with him. Always. Yet when he touched me, when he kissed me, I thought of Max. It was Steve I wanted. It was Max I dreamed of.

  Steve was watching me, his face close to mine, his brow carved into those deep furrows I had seen there so often. He could not fathom what was happening within my mind. And I could not tell him.

  I knew suddenly that this was the moment to break the spell, here in this very same spot. If I failed, then Max’s shadow would forever haunt me.

  I kept my gaze on Steve, steady, unblinking. “I love you.”

  I saw his gray eyes widen, the frown lines swiftly vanishing, and I knew I had spoken the words aloud. As he leaned toward me I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips.

  He held me to him, fiercely, urgently. But then I sensed him hesitate and understood the question lying there between us. Was I sure? Quite sure? And I whispered yes.

  The sun was cooling when finally I felt him stir. He raised his head to look at me, and smiled. And then he kissed me gently.

  “Darling, it’s getting late. We’ll have to go.” I didn’t mind that now. I had banished my ghost. Steve and I had so many tomorrows.

  Chapter 20

  We came down quickly from the mountain, aiming to pack our few things and get moving. There was an urgency upon us now to clear up this whole business as soon as possible and put the past behind us.

  It was wonderful to feel lighthearted again. All at once life seemed to be simple and uncomplicated. While walking, we ate some of the black bread and sausage we hadn’t wanted at lunchtime, and talked about the future. Our lifetime together.

 
Steve said, “I’ll ask the firm for a transfer away from Vienna. I might have to fall back a rung or two, but it wouldn’t be for long.”

  “What’s wrong with staying on in Vienna?” I knew how much Steve’s career meant to him and told myself it didn’t really matter to me where we were, just so long as we were together.

  I could see he was pleased, and knew I’d been right. “You’re sure it wouldn’t remind you too much?”

  I shook my head. “I love you, Steve.”

  Without realizing it, we had stopped walking. Steve turned to face me.

  “I can remember so clearly the way you looked that first day we met, when Max had just brought you out to Austria. You seemed so young and vulnerable, and I hoped to hell you weren’t going to get hurt too badly. I think I’ve been in love with you from that moment on. Did you ever guess?”

  I put my finger to his lips, silencing him. “I was always glad you were around. I knew somehow that I could depend on you.”

  His kiss was made awkward by the long metal cylinder containing the scrolls. Impatiently, he slid it under the flap of the haversack so as to leave his hands free. When we continued walking, his arm was around me.

  From here the Gasthaus itself was lost among the pine trees, but in places we could see the white ribbon of track that wound its way up through the valley.

  Suddenly Steve stopped again, with a jerk. I felt his arm go tense before dropping from my shoulder.

  “What is it, darling?”

  “On the road. . . . See, there—where it-crosses the stream. Watch!”

  I had to wait before I saw it. A streak of bright scarlet heading up the valley road, then disappearing again among the trees.

  I looked around at Steve. “Is it... ?”

  “Yes, it’s the Maserati, all right.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Dead sure!”

  We saw the car again, and then again, rapid glimpses as it traveled the visible sections of the track until it was finally lost from view.

  “We’ll stay right where we are,” said Steve, “and wait for them to go back.”

  A full half-hour we waited, sitting side by side on a big flat stone, watching. Then Steve gripped my arm. “They’re coming up here!”

  He pointed, and I too saw them. Two figures still far off, but not so far I couldn’t make out that one was fat and the other thin.

  “What do we do now?”

  Steve was considering. “If we keep our heads down they won’t be able to see us. We’d better start back to the lake, and then take the long route around to the Gasthaus. With any luck at all we’ll be packed and gone before they return there themselves.”

  It seemed our best plan. Crouched down, our progress was slow until we’d moved around the curve of the hillside enough to be out of their sight. After that, we covered the ground as fast as we could. But at the lake we had to slow down again. The path from there on, the one we’d used in the morning, was a lot steeper and rougher. Steve, leading the way, turned to give me a hand at the worst parts.

  And then he stopped so abruptly that I walked right into him.

  “Sorry!”

  He took no notice. “Look, up there....”

  Way up, coming toward us down the path, were two more figures. They must have been three or four hundred yards away, and when they realized we’d spotted them, they waved their arms at us.

  “Who are they?” I asked, dismayed.

  “Those pals of Hellweg’s who called at the inn the other day, I imagine. Come on, we’re getting out of this. I don’t fancy taking on four of them!”

  Before I had any idea what he was up to, Steve had plunged off the path and was heading straight down the hillside, dragging me after him. It was a scary sensation, like taking off into space. My legs kept on running because I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried.

  At last the slope eased off until it was almost level. The trees were thicker here, and the carpet of pine needles made the going easier. Steve said breathlessly, “The stream’s not much farther on. We can follow it down the valley and get back to the Gasthaus that way. It’s a fair bet Hellweg won’t guess what we’re doing.”

  “But, Steve, surely that’s not safe? He might easily have some other men waiting at the inn.”

  “We’ll have to chance that. The only alternative would be to head into the mountains. It’s a mighty long way to anywhere, and we’d probably have to spend the night in the open.”

  “I shan’t mind, if we’ve got to.”

  “Bless you, darling. You’re quite a girl!”

  We carried on till we reached the stream, and then, instead of turning down toward the inn, we began to follow its course upward. A solid wall of mountain blocked the end of the valley, but it was not too high and looked reasonably climbable. The slope facing us was entirely covered with pine trees, which would give us concealment the whole time.

  We plowed on for a good half-hour, at one point taking to the stream as the easiest way, jumping from boulder to boulder. Finally the stream petered out to nothing more than a seepage from cracks in the rock. Before leaving the water behind, we each took a long drink.

  From here the climb began in earnest. As the ground rose ever more steeply, we used the tree trunks to haul ourselves up. Fortunately Steve had a rough idea of direction from the map we carried.

  “Once we’re over the crest, I think it’ll get easier. By my calculation there’s about six miles to go to the nearest sign of habitation.”

  “Six miles . . . that’s not too bad!”

  Actually I was appalled by the thought of such a distance over this sort of country, but I didn’t want Steve to know that. My leg muscles were aching almost beyond bearing. Each time we stopped for a moment’s rest I wondered if I’d ever be able to get going again.

  It took us far longer to reach the top than I’d ever expected. Pausing there, we realized how rapidly the daylight was fading. The sky above us was a translucent shell of ivory-green, delicate as a magnolia petal. But even as we stood watching, the dusky evening blue began taking over.

  Starting on the downward slope, we knew we’d not get far before darkness fell. Soon it would be impossible to see our way, for there would be no moon tonight. And it was going to be cold. Already I could feel the chill biting through my clothes. Steve and I weren’t equipped for a night on the open mountainside.

  In the last dying gleam of daylight Steve pointed down through the trees. “Am I imagining things, or is that some sort of building?”

  After a quick scramble down an almost sheer rock face to a shelf of level ground, it turned out to be a derelict hut, presumably used at one time by foresters. There was no door, just an opening in one side. Through gaps in the roof we could see the first stars glimmering.

  “It’s better than nothing,” said Steve. “It’s either here or out in the open.”

  He didn’t have to talk me into staying put. I sank down on the bare earth floor. This miserable hut, smelling of mold and rotting wood, seemed like luxury to me right then.

  Steve went outside again and gathered some small branches to make us a rough mattress to lie on —spruce, I think, from the scent. The needles were rather prickly, but it would be warmer than just the damp hard ground.

  When we had eaten the few scraps of food remaining, we lay down together. Steve cradled me tenderly and after a while, comforted by his nearness and warmth, I fell asleep. I believe he stayed awake and on guard all night long.

  He woke me with a little shake, and kissed me as I opened my eyes.

  “Darling, it’s time to get moving. Come on!”

  He gave me a hand, and I stood stretching my arms and legs to drive away the stiffness. My whole body seemed to ache. The first light was creeping in through the gaping doorway. It looked cold and steel gray, far from encouraging.

  Trying to sound eager, I said, “It shouldn’t be too bad now. Just a couple of hours’ walking and we’ll be with people again.”

 
Steve was hurriedly stuffing our few things into the knapsack, securing the precious cylinder under the flap. His tone was grim. “I’m afraid it won’t be so easy, darling. I heard a voice in the distance just now. We’ll have to hustle.”

  “Oh, Steve!”

  I was fully awake in an instant, but even as we were leaving the hut, Steve going first, a shout came from up above, from the top of the miniature cliff face we’d slithered down last night.

  “Guten Morgen, Herr Elliott... Frau Varley!”

  “What do you want, Hellweg?” Steve called back. He slipped the haversack off his shoulder and pushed it into my hands, whispering: “Quickly, hide that tube!”

  Leopold’s voice hailed us again. “The Kutani Scrolls—that’s what I want. Hand them over, and you’ll come to no harm.”

  “We haven’t got them,” Steve shouted. To me he said quietly, urgently, “For God’s sake, do as I say— hide the thing somewhere! Once they get their hands on the scrolls, they’ll very likely kill us.”

  “Kill us!”

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it? To Hellweg we’d be much better dead, and he’s got a heaven-sent chance now.”

  While Steve and Leopold continued their back-and-forth argument, I looked around frantically for a hiding place in the bare hut. The best I could do was to push the cylinder up into the angle where the sloping roof met the walls.

  I heard Steve saying, with an irritable note to his voice: “I tell you we haven’t got the damn scrolls. If you don’t believe me, you’d better come and see for yourselves.”

  There seemed to be a mumbled discussion going on above. After a few moments Leopold called down, “Just in case you are armed, Elliott, I will come alone. Herr Kolbinger will remain here to cover me. I warn you that we both have guns.”

  Steve whispered to me, “At least now we know there’s only the two of them, I wonder what happened to that other pair?”

  Panic-stricken, I asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to jump him!”

  “Oh, Steve, do be careful! Anyway, what’s the good? There’ll still be Otto Kolbinger.”

  Steve twisted his head and gave me a quick grin. “Take your problems one by one, love, that’s my motto. Divide and conquer!”