A Question of Betrayal

by Anne Perry

“What happened?” Gabrielle did not raise her voice, but it was hard-edged. “Did somebody jump the gun?”

  “Looks like it,” he answered, coming forward into the room. “Some Fatherland men have stormed the arsenal. Thought they were making a preemptive strike.”

  “Do you know who?” Gabrielle asked.

  “What the hell does it matter!” he said sharply. “You’ve got to get out of here for a few days anyway. Get out of the city. You know where to go.” He left the rest unsaid, as if it were a previously understood plan.

  Elena wondered how long they had known about, or expected, this.

  Gabrielle nodded a fraction. “We’ll pack.” She took Franz’s hand in hers. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re going to go on that trip I’ve told you about. We’ve got everything ready.”

  “Can we take the grapes?” he asked, looking at Elena, and then at the table where the grapes were still sitting.

  “Of course!” Gabrielle took them up in her other hand. She looked momentarily at Elena, a question in her eyes.

  “I’m going with Aiden,” Elena said. There was no other choice for her, no matter what shadows of doubt were at the edges of her mind. It was even more important now that she get him out of the city. It wasn’t only the list, which she had safely hidden now in her bag’s side compartment. It was also the assumption that he would be adding to it.

  Gabrielle stared at her for a moment, as if digesting what Elena had said. “Then I have a gift for you. Wait a moment.” She turned, with Franz on her heels, and went into the bedroom.

  Aiden’s eyes followed Gabrielle. He even took a step after her, then changed his mind and turned back to Elena. “We must go,” he said urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here, now.” He lowered his voice. “We can’t risk airports, even small ones. They will be watching every one of them. They can’t afford to let us escape. We know too much…”

  “Rail?” she asked.

  “No, they can stop any train, and the nearest border is Austria.”

  “Road?”

  “Where do we get a car?” He gave a tight little grimace. “We have the best chance of escaping without being followed if we go by sea.”

  A ship. She tried to imagine going aboard secretly. How could they possibly manage it? They would be so obviously fugitives. And once they were aboard, they were trapped. No one gets off a ship at sea.

  Gabrielle came back into the room holding out a small but beautifully ornamented hair comb. She met Elena’s eyes, smiled, and put it into her hands. For an instant, Elena felt the handle was loose and might come open in her grasp. “Thank you.” She smiled and put it in her handbag.

  Aiden was increasingly impatient. “Gabrielle, please hurry. You and Franz have to go down into the city. If you try leaving, they’ll be watching the roads. Someone has betrayed us again, and I’m betting it was Ferdie.”

  “Are you going?” Gabrielle asked, glancing at Elena, then back at Aiden.

  “Yes,” he answered. “As soon as I’m sure you’ve left, I’ll lock up behind you.” He leaned forward, brushed a stray lock of dark hair from her brow, and kissed her very gently on the cheek. “Go now.” He turned and looked at Elena. “Are you sure? I could make my way out of here without you. Maybe not as well, but you…” He stopped and gave a twisted little smile. “If you could go with Gabrielle, it would be safer. If we get out, it could be rough, even at best we—”

  “I understand!” she said sharply. “You’re wasting time.” She gave Gabrielle a quick hug, then bent and kissed Franz on the cheek. “Look after each other,” she whispered. “Goodbye for now.”

  “Goodbye,” Franz whispered back, then he and his mother went out of the front door, leaving Elena and Aiden alone.

  Aiden remained looking at the door for several seconds, then his expression changed, the gentleness vanished. “They may have found Max by now. There’s no time to go back for anything.”

  “I’ve got no clothes or—” Elena started, then stopped. No one thought of anything as trivial as clothes when they were running for their lives.

  Aiden took her arms and held her hard. “Elena, if you haven’t the nerve to come with me, then you should have gone with Gabrielle.”

  “I have!” she said angrily. “I’m just trying to think a step ahead.”

  “Have you got money and your passport?” He glanced at her handbag. “And your cameras, of course. And the list?”

  “Yes, of course I have the list!”

  “Then come on!”

  “Gabrielle wouldn’t mind if I borrowed at least some clean underwear,” she argued. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “Hurry. I don’t know how far behind us they are, and we can’t go directly to the port. That’s exactly what they expect us to do. We have to go the long way around, inland first, then back on the main thoroughfares, looking like tourists. We can’t hurry. We must stop and look at shop windows. Anyone who runs, or rushes about in any way, or even looks frightened, will draw attention. We can’t afford that.” He gave a small, rueful shrug. “I can’t. Howard won’t be very pleased with you if you get me shot!”

  “I won’t get you shot!” she said tartly.

  He gripped her arm hard. “The Fatherland Front is all through Austria, but this is the driving unit. If they begin, the rest will follow.”

  “Can we—”

  He cut her off. “No, I’ve done all I can. We’ve got to get out. They know me, Elena! Don’t argue, just do it!”

  “I’ll be two moments.” She pulled away from his grasp and went swiftly into Gabrielle’s bedroom. She opened drawers and found underwear that would do. She did not take the best. She preferred to believe that Gabrielle would come back. She opened the wardrobe and picked out the plainest dress and a heavy woollen jacket. She put the jacket, the dress, and the underwear in a small traveling bag.

  Aiden was waiting for her. He looked her up and down. “Right.” He gave a sudden, brilliant smile. “Come on, this is going to be tough. Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she said with certainty. Not because she was sure they would be safe, but because she could not change her mind. She must go with Aiden.

  They went out of the door, closed and locked it, then walked into the street. There was no shouting now, no gunfire. Aiden took her arm lightly, just enough to guide her to the left and then across the road to the opposite side. “Keep walking,” he said softly. “Don’t hurry; don’t meet anyone’s eyes.”

  “Are they looking for us?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but Ferdie might well be looking for me. He has to get rid of me, because I know too much.”

  * * *

  —

  They walked for a little while, she thought toward the docks, but she knew they were still miles away. They crossed another street. There were very few people out; the gunfire must have kept them inside, perhaps behind locked doors. That’s where Elena would have been, had she the choice.

  “Do they know who you are?” she asked quietly.

  He glanced at her, then away again. “I think Ferdie does. He knows there’s someone who’s a British spy, because of the number of things that have gone wrong. Process of elimination, really. And our encounter in the nightclub was a bit of a giveaway. Couldn’t last forever.” He said the words as if they were both good and bad.

  “Would you have gone earlier, if Max hadn’t been killed?” The moment she put words to it, she wished she had not. Aiden was a very private person, in some ways. He had never told her of his family, his past, even his present feelings. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her, smiling. “Why? It’s a shame about Max. He was a decent enough man, but it’s the chances of the trade. He knew that.” His lips tightened in a grimace, rueful, philosophical. “I just hope it was quick. I always hope it’s quick. It’s necessary sometimes that people di
e in this business. We’re dealing with the rise and fall of rulers, sometimes of nations. Death is necessary, but cruelty is not.”

  “It attracts the people who enjoy cruelty,” she argued. She was not thinking of Austria or Trieste, but of Berlin, of the students dancing around the fires as they burned books, as if they could also burn ideas. She had not talked about it with Aiden. Perhaps he didn’t even know. Was that possible? Later, perhaps, she would tell him; this was not the time.

  “But violence attracts those who like cruelty,” he added, as if he could read her thoughts, or guess them. “When the fight gets tough, we use what we can.”

  Somewhere ahead of them there was shouting, but this time no gunfire.

  Aiden pulled her to a stop. “That way.” He pointed, and without saying anything more, he started out again. Not quickly, but at a steady pace, as if they were not fugitives. They must not attract attention by obviously heading somewhere. Anyone obviously fleeing would be noticed. They avoided all the main thoroughfares, rather seeming to meander as tourists might. Several times they circled round places where there were soldiers, taking the longer, more circuitous route, but always getting closer to the docks.

  They stopped for a break and something to eat. He looked at her anxiously. “Are you all right?”

  Elena was tired. Her legs ached and she was glad to sit down, but she was no longer as frightened as she had been in the beginning. They had seen no more violence. They were in a better part of the city. It was almost as if nothing had happened, except that they were growing closer. The years apart had melted away, like a dream in the night, gone with daylight’s return.

  As if he recognized her thoughts, he said, “It’s like old times, isn’t it?” He put his hand out across the table, in the café where they sat, his palm up and open.

  She reached out and touched his fingertips. It was a gesture of communication, rather than ownership. It was comfortable, as between equals. That was so different. She used to feel so much as if he were the leader, and she was privileged to follow. Now she kept up, she had her own value. She smiled back at him.

  When they left, the sun was lower, the shadows longer across the pavement and into the narrow streets. Perhaps that was a good thing; they were definitely close to the waterfront now. This was the oldest part of the city: not the smart, rich area with the exquisite views, but the old industrial port.

  They walked along a narrow pavement toward the dock. There was not far to go. It seemed that if anyone was trying to stop them, they had given up.

  “This was a good idea,” she said softly.

  “Less than a mile to go and we’ll start looking for boats waiting to take the evening tide.”

  “Do you know the tides?”

  “Of course.” He smiled with black humor. “I knew this might happen.”

  “What does the Fatherland Front want to do, other than have Austria join Germany? How is that not a political decision?”

  “Big political decisions aren’t made without getting the people on your side first,” Aiden said with a laugh in his voice. “Sometimes it takes one decisive action, and then people accept it and follow. That’s what the Fatherland Front wants, and Chancellor Dollfuss does not.”

  “And England doesn’t.”

  “Of course not. England wants Hitler stopped wherever possible, or most of England does. That’s why we have to get home. At least one of us must get this list of financial contributors to MI6. Given our experience, we know that wars are expensive. A waste of steel, of brick and stone. Above all, of lives.”

  They were in a shadowed alley. At the far end of it, a figure moved rapidly, then seemed to disappear.

  Aiden pulled Elena to a stop almost roughly.

  She did not move quickly enough to avoid being yanked, and almost lost her balance. “What is it?” she whispered suddenly. The calm was shattered, the momentary island of certainty.

  “Someone at the end of the alley. A man. He moved as if he didn’t want to be seen,” Aiden replied, his mouth close to her ear.

  “Maybe he’s frightened, too,” she suggested.

  “I don’t think so.” His voice was low, tense. “There’s not much difference between the hunter and the hunted, but it’s there if you know. Stay behind me and be ready to move the second I say.”

  Closer to the wall now, they both moved forward, almost inching along the shadowed stone, occasionally glancing down at the chipped pavement.

  A man moved across the street, the lowering sun bright on his face for a moment. Then he was gone. He did not even glance toward them. Were they invisible in the shadow of the wall? Or did he simply not care?

  Elena stayed as close as she could to Aiden.

  They were almost at the end of the street when the shot rang out, shattering the silence in the narrow space. It slammed against the stone wall above Aiden’s head, just slightly too high to strike him.

  He froze.

  Elena stood half behind him, her heart thumping wildly.

  “Keep still,” Aiden whispered.

  She touched his arm in acknowledgment.

  He took a step forward.

  She was engulfed by fear for him; it was like a wave almost suffocating her.

  His right hand moved under his jacket, then came up. His answering shot was as loud and jarring as if it had come from her own hand. The gun was inches away from her.

  “Keep back!” he whispered.

  They were moving on now, slowly, very carefully.

  Silence.

  Aiden put his left arm out and grasped her, pulling her closer to him, and foot by foot, they came to the corner.

  “Stop,” he whispered. He bent down and picked up a pebble and threw it ahead of him.

  There was no answering sound, no movement she could hear. “Has he gone?” Elena asked.

  “No. He has to get me. He won’t stop until one of us is dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Or wounded badly.”

  “Would you leave him alive?” she asked.

  He did not answer.

  Silence.

  Elena could hear her own heart beating.

  Then there was a sound, like a tiny stone rolling, but she could not tell in which direction. Somewhere to the left?

  Aiden froze.

  Seconds ticked by.

  Another stone rolled somewhere else, further away.

  Elena looked at Aiden’s face. Already the sun was lower, the light a deeper gold, catching the dust in the air like the patina of an old painting. She had an artist’s moment of regret that she could not photograph it.

  “Get behind me.” Aiden did little more than breathe the order, but his hand on her arm was hard.

  She obeyed.

  He moved in front of her, one step forward, then another. They were very near the corner now.

  Elena’s heart was beating even more violently, making her feel as if her whole body were shuddering. What could she do to help him? Her mind was whirling, grasping at ideas, and none of them made sense.

  There was another shot, then another, and more chips flew off the wall, but lower down, closer to them. Whoever was shooting at them knew exactly where they were. Where could they move to without breaking into the open?

  Aiden turned, pulling Elena back, then swiveled around. They began to run along the pavement as fast as they could go. She could barely keep up with him, and was almost pulled off her feet. They swung around the corner and along the next street, back toward the place the shot had come from. Elena had to watch the street, the uneven stones, the broken curb, trying not to fall while keeping hold of the travel bag.

  Then Aiden stopped. “Stay here,” he commanded. “As close as you can get to the wall.” He did not hesitate to see if she obeyed. He froze. For a moment, Elena froze, too. Then, as Aiden
stepped forward, another shot rang out. This one struck the cobblestones ahead of them.

  Aiden shot back.

  Silence. Seconds ticked by.

  “Don’t move!” He turned to face her for an instant, looking straight at her, his eyes a brilliant blue in the fading light. She had never felt so close to him, so intimately bound. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. Then, before she could respond, he turned away and moved a step off the curb and into the street. He ran forward, to the opposite corner, hesitated a moment before stepping out into the open, then turned once more and fired into the darkness, his black figure silhouetted for an instant against the paler stone.

  Elena followed as he started to run along the pavement toward the place where he had directed the shot. By the time she caught up with him, he was standing over the body of a man sprawled face-up on the stones, blood covering his chest and soaking his shirt. A revolver lay a few inches from his outstretched hand.

  “Ah, Ferdie,” Aiden said softly. “I wish you hadn’t done this. I really didn’t want to hurt you!”

  It was Ferdie, from the club room. There was still light in his eyes, but it was fading. He tried to speak, sighed, and then he was still. The light faded, and his eyes were empty.

  Elena felt a consuming sense of loss paralyzing her.

  Aiden turned from Ferdie. He was looking at Elena, searching her eyes.

  She could not think of anything to say.

  Aiden stood motionless. Then he put his gun away somewhere inside his jacket and reached for her hand. “We need to go. We’ve got to get out of here before his friends come.” He bent down, picked up Ferdie’s gun, and slipped it into his pocket. “We’ve got to find a boat leaving tonight for anywhere, and get on it. We’ve got to get that list back to England.”

  “Yes,” she said, almost as if she were speaking in her sleep. The street with the dying sunlight draining everything, as if the darkness absorbed it; the dead man lying at her feet, someone who had been uniquely alive. They were so intensely real that the rest of the world was a dream. And yet they were also separate from everything else, and she ached to get back to the familiar, any reality other than this. “Yes,” she said again, following willingly as he took her arm.