by Kim Baldwin
“What in God’s name?” she sputtered once she could regain her breath.
She gazed up into a pair of caramel-colored eyes. A woman was lying on top of her. An attractive woman, she had time to register. With dark brown hair, olive skin, even features, and a very mischievous smile.
“Hi, there,” the woman said in English. She was American, from her accent. She cocked her head to scrutinize Kris as openly as Kris was studying her. “I’m Angie.”
“Would you kindly remove your hand from my breast and get off me?”
“Oops. My bad.” The stranger chuckled as she stood and brushed herself off. “By the way, I saved your life. In my country that’s a good thing.” She extended a hand to help Kris up.
Ignoring the offer, Kris got to her feet without assistance. “What exactly are you doing in my country, and in my house for that matter?” The woman was covered in the white dust. Looking down at her own clothes, Kris noted that she was, as well.
“I’m fixing your ceiling, at the moment, so it doesn’t rain on your pretty little head. I take it you’re the lady of the house?”
“Not by choice,” Kris said, more to herself than the stranger, as she took in the mess at her feet. There was now a very large chunk of plaster where she’d been standing only seconds ago. This Angie woman apparently had indeed just saved her from serious injury…or worse. Kris’s irritation faded a little. Rubbing her shoulder, she said, “I thought Hans had hired a man.”
“He did,” a male voice interjected from above. She glanced up and for the first time noticed the handyman, who was perched atop a ladder near the high ceiling. “Hoi, Kris. I’m Jeroen. Sorry, we didn’t expect you to be here.” He twisted his head to address the American. “Great reflexes, Angie.”
“Yeah, lucky for me, Jeroen, or we’d both be out of a job,” the American replied cheekily. “So, lady of the house, how about some dinner to show your gratitude?”
“What are you saying?” Kris asked.
“Room and board, that was the agreement.” Angie picked up a small crowbar to resume what she’d been working on. “And I don’t know about you,” she said, looking up at Jeroen, “but I’m famished.”
They both smiled at Kris expectantly.
Room and board? Could this nightmare get any worse? “I don’t remember agreeing to anything of the kind,” she told her savior. “And you look healthy enough to fix your own meal.”
“Fine.” The woman headed to the ladder. “We’ll get our own dinner.”
Kris retrieved her purse from where it had landed when she’d been tackled. “American!” she called out. The woman paused halfway up the ladder. “Here. Catch.” She tossed her car keys. “Take my car to get to town. You can pick up something there.” She crossed to the doorway of the salon, where she stopped to retrieve her wallet. “And here’s your dinner money,” she said sarcastically as she threw forty euros on the floor. She was two steps into the salon when she heard the American call after her.
“Angie. The name’s Angie.”
She never turned nor replied, but smiled broadly at the irritation she’d provoked in the woman’s tone. It felt good to knock that smugness out of her voice. Pretty little head? Get me some lunch? She wondered who this arrogant American was, and why Hans had hired her. Kris dropped onto the couch. Her exhaustion was getting worse by the second. She searched in her coat pocket for her cell phone and dialed Hans Hofman.
He picked up right away, and she launched into him in Dutch. “Where did you find her and why am I buying her dinner?”
“Angie?” he replied brightly. “Charming, isn’t she?”
“Charming?” she snapped. “Try arrogant and smug. I think she expected me to bow to the greatness that is her.”
Hans laughed. “Yup. Sounds like her. Give her a chance, Kris. I think you’ll like her. She really is charming, you know.”
Kris was unmoved. “Where did you find her?”
He explained the chance meeting and the agreements made about payment for the job.
“So I have to take her in, feed her, and be at her beck and call?” Kris let her tone convey her unhappiness with the arrangement, but her uncle continued as though he hadn’t noticed.
“You could also give her a hand with the repairs,” he suggested. “The job will go much quicker with everyone working.”
Kris went quiet, lost in thought. She stared at the grandfather clock across the room, listening to the seconds tick away.
“Are you still there?” Hans asked finally.
“I used to have a life, you know. How could Father have screwed it all up like this? How did I end up in this situation?”
“Serendipity,” he said. “That’s what Angie called it.”
*
The guest room Kris had chosen for her was on the second floor at the end of the hall, as far away from Kris’s bedroom as possible. It was comfortably furnished and had a view overlooking the side of the estate, but it hadn’t been cleaned in months. Dust covered every surface and a dank odor pervaded the space. Allegro opened the windows before settling on the bed to pore over the diary pages she’d photographed.
The contents of the journal provided insights into the complicated man who was Kris’s father and detailed how he’d acquired the diamond one December day in 1946. According to the diary, Jan van der Jagt had recognized German Lieutenant Geert Wolff when they’d encountered each other on the street. He’d just been staring at the man’s face on a flyer during a briefing. Wolff was one of a number of Gestapo officers still at large and believed to be living in Berlin. Van der Jagt was anxious for his share of the glory afforded those who tracked down Nazi war criminals and brought them to justice. His diary chronicled his inner turmoil over the bribe the German offered him to keep silent. He’d been a loyal Allied officer, Jan claimed, unwavering in his duty until that day. But the war was over and the conflict had devastated his homeland, stripping him of his wealth and most of the family estates. His once-prestigious noble title was meaningless and he had a wife to consider.
Allegro read each page slowly, mentally translating the Dutch text.
I didn’t trust Wolff. I thought he was speaking out of desperation in order to get me somewhere alone where he could kill me. But Hans was with me, and so I went to the Nazi’s apartment. Hans stood guard outside, ready to call the police if I didn’t reappear.
But Wolff wasn’t lying. He had a cellar full of treasures, and he offered me all of it—paintings, sculptures, silver, jewelry. And a diamond, more glorious than I had ever seen. I knew where he’d gotten it, and how. But what was I to do? The RAF paid nothing, my wife was living in a drafty basement apartment, and I was scrambling to keep food on the table. And here he was, offering a way to lift us from that wretched, meager existence and regain all we had lost. Were we not victims of war as well, and entitled to some compensation?
Jan had struggled all night with his decision, he claimed. His betrayal of his country and sworn duty ate at his conscience. And although he knew Hans would keep silent about the matter, the bribe might come to light in some other way, and he might be brought to trial himself. Most of all, he worried that, if he let Wolff escape, the German might resurface to reclaim the looted possessions and perhaps retaliate against his family.
I knew if I turned him in, it would be his word against mine so I returned to his apartment the next day with the police. Not for the glory. I did it to protect my family. Everything was for them.
Allegro frowned. The pages she’d copied provided no help in finding the vault. She’d have to return to the lawyer’s office to photograph the rest. She closed the windows, settled beneath the plush comforter, and was quickly asleep.
When her alarm clock went off three hours later, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering why they could spend money sealing up entrances and hiding vaults, but not invest in a heating system sufficient for a house this big. Having to get up at one a.m. in order to search the drafty old mansion was bad enough.
Worse was that she’d been in the middle of a wonderful dream when the shrill warning went off—she was in England, testing out a brand-new Ferrari on the track at Silverstone.
She forced herself out of her warm, cozy nest and hurriedly donned sweats. Her back ached from the ceiling renovations. The sooner this assignment was over, the faster she could return to her much more satisfying civilian job as a Formula One race-car mechanic.
The house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the ancient wood flooring beneath her feet, and the overly loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the salon. She returned to the walls surrounding the hidden room and checked each again thoroughly. Although he was back home in the States, she could hear Nighthawk saying, This is ridiculous. What do you think you’re going to find? A revolving wall? The truth was, she didn’t have a clue what she was hoping to come across. Maybe all entrances had been sealed simply because the safe was empty, and hadn’t been used for centuries. Even if there was a way into the sealed chamber, she had no proof that anything would be in there. Too many ifs and maybes, but she couldn’t take the risk of not finding out.
She decided to go back to the cellar and have a better look. Halfway down the hall, she heard the floor creak. She froze and immediately turned off her small penlight. Coming straight at her in the dark was Kris. There was no point in turning away or trying to hide. She couldn’t do so undetected. A better approach was to confront her, before Kris saw her and thought she was sneaking around.
“Couldn’t sleep either?”
Her only answer was a shriek and something that came flying her way.
“Kris, relax, it’s me,” she said as she ducked. But Kris had started to run in the opposite direction as if she hadn’t heard, still screaming. Allegro ran after her but slipped on something on the floor. Skidding wildly forward, she groped for a doorknob and managed to break her fall. Within seconds, she was running after Kris again, and when she caught up she grabbed her by the arm from behind. “Damn it, stop screaming. You’re going to wake the dead. It’s only me.”
Kris jerked around. “What in the hell are you doing creeping around in the dark?”
“I was in the kitchen looking for something to eat. I didn’t want to wake you up so I didn’t turn on the lights. Besides, what were you doing in the dark?”
“I had just finished making myself a sandwich and was taking it back to my room.” Kris stepped to the wall switch and turned on the lights in the hall.
It was then Allegro got her first good look at the woman she’d terrified. Kris was wearing black silk pajamas with a matching robe. With her long, blond hair tousled from sleep, she looked entirely too kissable. Allegro noted her empty hands and glanced past her down the hall. The sandwich contents were strewn in a trail behind them. Bread…cheese…salami…and the mayonnaise she’d apparently slipped on.
“When they say mayonnaise isn’t good for you, they’re not kidding. I almost broke my leg.” Allegro rubbed her knee.
“Fortunately, you survived.”
“Do I detect regret in your tone?”
“Turn on the lights from now on,” Kris said. “Next time I might hurt you.”
“Why don’t you like me?” Allegro asked. “I’m only here to help, you know.”
“I don’t dislike you. Actually you leave me indifferent, Ms.…er…Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to clean up this mess and get some sleep.”
“The name’s Angie,” Allegro called after her. How hard could it be to remember that? If she could get used to it, why couldn’t Kris?
Chapter Seven
Sunday, February 10
When dawn broke, Allegro rolled away from the light streaming in through the window and buried herself farther in the blankets, steadfastly refusing to rouse. There was still ample time to get her morning jog in before Jeroen arrived to resume work. Her stomach growled. Then her nose caught a whiff of… Aww. She’s up making breakfast for me. How sweet. Maybe it’s a peace offering. That thought, however, was immediately followed by the realization that the kitchen was too far away for her to be smelling bacon. She sniffed the air again. No, she swore she could smell…
She opened her eyes and found the source on her pillow. What she was smelling was the salami that must have been plastered to her hair all night. Kris had certainly gotten a good look at her when she’d turned on the light, but she hadn’t said a word or cracked a smile. Had the woman no sense of humor at all? Allegro frowned. She needed Kris to open up to her, because she would know where the diamond was. Humor and charm weren’t working, so perhaps it was time to try a different tack.
The city of Haarlem was just two miles from the estate, so it took Allegro only a half hour to jog the distance. The day was cool but clear, and she allowed herself the opportunity to forget her mission for a while and enjoy the scenery. She passed by a number of remote estates similar to the van der Jagts’, stately country homes dating back three centuries or more, but what dominated the landscape were massive tulip fields that would be ablaze with color in another two or three months’ time.
As she walked along the Spaarne canal toward the small city, she spotted a young Dutchman and his son in a small fishing boat, their pale blond hair iridescent in the morning sunlight. She paused for a few seconds to enjoy the sight. She was no stranger to the Netherlands, having been based here before the EOO transferred her to London. During that time, she’d gotten to know the country quite well. She’d spent many evenings out in Amsterdam, either looking for brief encounters or taking in the city by night. She enjoyed the beauty and versatility of the small metropolis known as the Venice of Northern Europe. Even after moving to London, she often spent long weekends back in the Netherlands.
But in moments like this, when she’d pause by some picturesque canal watching boats full of families go by, or sit sipping cappuccino at a sidewalk café as passersby strolled hand in hand, a melancholic yearning for something she couldn’t quite identify rose up in her. Normally she could suppress this feeling of an ever-present void in her life by keeping constantly on the move. Working, and racing cars in her other life as a professional driver, provided opportunities for fast, thrilling, exhilarating performances. Her casual trysts with women were another outlet. She liked to push her lovers to their limits, the way she did her cars, giving them the kind of rush she felt behind the wheel. But the experience was never the same for her. Her sexual encounters were fun and killed the boredom, but she was always aware of simply going through the motions, as she did with most everything else in her life. It was only when she allowed herself to slow down for a moment that her lonely existence became completely real.
The giggle of a woman drew her attention to a young couple approaching on a bicycle. The boy pedaling had a big smile on his face; his girlfriend was riding sideways on the rack behind the seat, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She let go with one hand to wave at Allegro as they went past, and Allegro waved back. Was this what she needed to really feel alive? Could it be that all it took was someone to hold onto, someone to make her giggle and love her unconditionally? Was that what she was missing?
She returned to the hotel room she and Nighthawk had booked, and gathered up her things to take back to the estate. Slinging her duffel bag over one shoulder, she checked out and headed back the way she came, past stately manors and quaint shops, and through the remnants of the ancient wall that had once surrounded Haarlem. She was barely to the city limits when she heard a car approaching and saw a small Renault with Kris at the wheel. When she raised a hand to wave, it slowed to a stop and the passenger window rolled down.
Allegro smiled and shifted the duffel bag on her shoulder as though it were a lot heavier than it really was. Here was the perfect opportunity to try melting the ice between them. Time to use what information she had about Kris to gain her trust. “Are you offering me a lift back to the house?”
“I suppose,” Kris replied. “I’m done here.”
“Thanks.” Allegro th
rew her duffel into the backseat and got in the passenger side. “I picked up the rest of my stuff.”
“You walked?”
“Jogged. It’s not far.”
They were silent for a while as they resumed the journey toward the estate.
“Any chance we’ll get some snow out here?” Allegro asked when Kris showed no interest in talking.
Kris glanced at her. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Polite conversation.”
Allegro sighed loudly. “Listen, I know you must be upset by your father’s death and having to take care of the house and who knows what else.” She half turned to face Kris. “But it’s just you and me there most of the time until your place is fixed up, and I’m only trying to be civil. I don’t know why you—”
“Who are you?” Kris interrupted.
“Jesus.” Allegro shook her head in amusement. “Up until now I thought you were kidding when you refused to remember my name.”
But Kris wasn’t smiling. “I mean, who are you really? Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
The questions, and Kris’s expression, instantly placed Allegro on her guard. Kris couldn’t possibly know anything, could she? “Like I told Hans,” she said casually, “I’m looking to extend my time here. Postpone my return to the States. And I don’t want to waste my money on hotels.”
