by Anne Perry
“Wait,” he ordered. “We’ve got to get across to the other side.”
“Do we wait till it’s quiet?” she asked.
“No, the opposite,” he told her. “We go when there’s a group, but you’ve got to look like one of them. Can you do that?”
“Of course I can,” she answered tartly.
He smiled, the lamplight gleaming on his teeth. It reminded her absurdly of Alice in Wonderland, in which the Cheshire Cat disappears until only his smile is visible.
They waited in silence, standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body and imagine his heart beating. Memories intruded: running ahead of the tide, across the fast-vanishing sandbar, feeling the water’s power. Running the risk of drowning, and then collapsing on the sand just out of the tide’s reach. Laughing for the joy of it. She had never felt more brilliantly alive herself. That was the first night they had made love. It had been years ago. She was so young then. She was older now…and the stakes were immeasurably higher.
Suddenly, Aiden moved forward, grasping her hand as he strode across the street, leaving the shadows on one side and making for the shadows of the other. They walked quickly, vulnerable out in the open. She turned toward him.
“Don’t speak,” he told her quietly. “Just keep walking. Don’t stop, don’t move suddenly. Don’t do anything to attract attention.”
“Is somebody following us?” she asked, a little breathlessly.
“No idea, but we have to assume they are, or at least that they are watching. They will have found Ferdie by now. He was against us, but we don’t know who he was for. The Fatherland Front, yes, but perhaps somebody else as well.”
As if to answer her question, there was a loud shout behind them, and another response over to the left, as if in reply. Aiden began walking toward the sounds.
“What—” she started to say, but he pushed her so sharply the words turned into a grunt of pain. She ran a little to keep up with his longer strides. Then, as they rounded the corner and saw a bunch of armed and uniformed men, she felt a wave of remembrance wash over her, and a fear she could taste, bitter in her mouth. They were exactly like the Gestapo in Berlin.
Aiden jerked her upright, then hiccuped loudly. “Sorry,” he said to the nearest man. “Celebrated a little too well.”
One of the soldiers laughed. “Go and sleep it off, brother,” he said loudly. He looked Elena up and down. “Have one on me,” he added with a lewd gesture.
Aiden guffawed, and promised he would. He gripped Elena at arm’s length with one hand and used the other to push with a hard, even pressure on the small of her back.
She held on to him, even as they staggered past the soldiers and into a different, nameless street away from the harborside.
Aiden stopped. “Good,” he said so softly she barely heard him. “They didn’t suspect anything. We’ll go another block this way, then straight to the waterfront and the first boat we can find going out on the evening tide. I’m afraid it doesn’t matter where to; we’ve got to get out of here. Damn Ferdie! I knew he was getting close to me in order to…” He touched her head gently. He had often told her how he liked her hair, even when it had been an ordinary light brown. It had a softness that pleased him, the way it ran through his fingers like silk.
They moved past huge buildings, no more than shapes looming in the darkness. By the time they had walked in a huge half circle and got back to the dockside, her legs ached and her heel had rubbed a blister. This was not where they originally intended to be, but it was a far less likely place from which fugitives would be trying to escape.
Aiden stopped on the road across the street from where fishing boats were tied up alongside small freighters and tramp steamers looking for any cargo to carry down the eastern coast of Italy.
“We’re lovers escaping your jealous husband,” he said, his face in the pale lamp bright with amusement. There was urgency in his voice, but also the edge of laughter, as if this new idea had added zest to the affair.
“Why not your jealous wife?” Her words were out before she thought about them.
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have to run away from a woman.”
“She has a rich father,” she shot back. “And brothers, very protective, family honor and all that.”
This time his amusement was undisguised. “You chose me?”
Her mind raced. “No, you’re probably right,” she said straight back at him. “More believable that you stole me.”
This time he laughed outright and pretended to wince. “When the chips are down, you will fight.”
She opened her mouth to snap back, then changed her mind and started out across the street, and then down the narrow path toward a sailor who was standing and looking at the water, a cigarette in his mouth. She sauntered over to him with no idea what she was going to say.
Aiden caught up with her, slipping his arm round her easily, but his grip was strong. “Not him,” he whispered, then laughed as if whatever he had said were a joke.
She forced herself to laugh as well.
They went another fifty yards until they were alongside a tramp steamer long enough to carry several tons of cargo, and possibly an extra passenger or two eager to travel discreetly and very suddenly and pay the appropriate cost. There was a sailor swabbing the deck.
Aiden pulled Elena to a stop. He leaned forward and kissed her again gently. He moved until his mouth was just in front of her ear. “I assume you brought all the money you have with you.”
“Of course,” she answered. “Not much point in freeing you if I can’t afford two tickets out, or half a dozen on this crate, if necessary.”
“Don’t play it down, it floats,” he replied. “Just…let’s go and do our best. Let me do the talking, and for God’s sake don’t speak English.”
She nodded and walked beside him down toward the stone steps of the quay. The sailor looked up.
Aiden spoke to him casually in Italian, indicating Elena beside him. The sailor laughed and looked at Elena with very obvious admiration.
Elena moved even closer to Aiden, as if they were long-time lovers. Weren’t they…?
Aiden went on, speaking quickly.
After a few more moments, the sailor invited them on board and they were conducted to the captain’s cabin. He was a stocky man with thick arms, a barrel chest, and a wind-burned, crooked-nosed face that had seen its share of fights. He came straight to the point and asked for money.
Elena passed across most of what she had. She kept back only a few notes against the next part of the journey. Now she must think of immediate survival and escape from the militia closing in on them.
The captain looked at Aiden curiously. “What’s to stop me taking this,” he held up the money, “and then handing you over to this woman’s husband?”
Aiden smiled. “I could say that you’re an honest man, but you and I know that has yet to be proved.” His smile widened. “On the other hand, I could tell the authorities that I paid you to take contraband for me and it’s already in the hold. They could search it and see.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure that they won’t find anything? I’ll wager there’s something there, and they’ll search until long after the tide has turned…and it’s too late.” He shrugged. “And that’s, of course, if they don’t take the interesting things in your hold and the money as well.”
The captain moved his weight from one foot to the other. A very slow smile grew on his face, which made visible a scar on his upper lip. “You’re right, my friend, one course is bad for you and bad for me, good only for the police. I have no friends in the police and I want to catch this evening’s tide.”
“South,” Aiden said, with barely a change of expression.
The captain held out his hand and Aiden took it and grasped it hard.
Elena knew that Italy lay to the west, Austria to
the north, and Serbia to the east, so there was no other way to go but south.
They were shown to the cabin kept for the occasional passenger whose need the captain and his crew profited from. The first officer was willing enough to sacrifice it and take a smaller one. It was greatly to his financial advantage.
Aiden and Elena stayed below deck as the ship loosed its moorings and pulled away, riding the tide from shore and picking up speed in the dark.
Aiden appeared relaxed; they were almost free.
Elena looked around the cabin. It was small, cramped, with barely enough room for the double bed. A small chest of drawers stood in one corner. There were no chairs and only the barest facilities to wash, but they were at sea, moving down the Italian coast and away from Austria and the politics of Germany and the Fatherland Front. They hadn’t enough money left to get to the British embassy in Rome, or even Venice, if that should be closer. Elena felt panic rising in her chest, then pushed it away. What mattered was that they were moving away from danger.
She turned to face him. He was watching her unusually closely. What for? To see if she would accept sharing a bed again? Of course she would. Her life might hang on it for successfully getting him out of Italy. Almost certainly the question was only how well she did it, how graciously, how much she behaved like the fugitive lover she claimed to be.
She did not know what was ahead of them each hour, each minute. Even one mistake would cost them everything. What she actually felt was immaterial; it counted for nothing at all. She could do it easily, because there was a part of her that wanted the passion and the intimacy as much as she ever had. It was not the wide-eyed infatuation she had had before, when she had been so naïve, so terribly young. This would be more like a love of equals. She knew and understood what he did; she was even getting fairly good at it herself. There was only the tiniest doubt, shadows, there and then gone again. She pushed them away.
“Can you make them believe it?” he asked very quietly. He did not need to whisper because the wood of the cabin creaked loudly with the movement of the ship. The whole thing shuddered as if it were alive, breathing, aware of the passion always in its body, the incessant flow of the current deep below the surface and above it; tides in and out of the vast curved coastline of Italy and Serbia, waves constantly changing with the wind.
She smiled at him. “Of course. My life depends on it, and yours. And more important still, getting the list back where it can be of use.”
“Did I do this to you?” he asked curiously.
“This?” she questioned.
“I know they gave you a hard time,” he went on. “I’m sorry.” He touched her cheek, his fingers unusually gentle.
She drew in breath to tell him she had succeeded very well. She had beaten the devouring self-doubt and regained faith that she was intelligent, brave, or valuable at all. But it was unnecessary to say; he already knew it.
He was waiting, the anticipation fading from his eyes, the edge of his smile.
“Everyone else seemed rather boring after you,” she said, and she knew there was enough truth in that for him to see it in her face.
“Dear Elena,” he murmured. “So safe in your own way, so…comfortable.”
She would have liked to slap him, but she couldn’t afford to. And what angered her most was that it was not true, not now. And he had not even noticed! Or had he? And he was pushing her to see if she would deny it.
“Do you suppose meals are included in that exorbitant fee?” she asked instead. “It seems like days since we ate.”
“It’s been a long time,” he agreed, changing the subject as easily as she did. “The food may be pretty vile, but we should eat anyway.” He offered his arm. “Shall we dine?”
They ate with the captain and some of the crew. There was no space for passengers to dine alone. It was a tramp steamer that took in the extra cargo of desperate passengers, or anything that stretched out the crew’s meager financial reward for a hard and often dangerous life. The captain and five of the crew sat with Aiden and Elena around a wooden table that was fixed to the floor. It took up most of the floor space, and they were forced to sit elbow to elbow. Oil lanterns hung so they could see each other’s faces and the surface of the table. Everything swayed very slightly with the movement of the sea, and there was a faint creaking of timbers all the time. It was a comforting sound. Elena found herself relaxing and enjoying the food, a stew of meat she could not identify and various root vegetables augmented with savory dumplings.
At the table they said they were fugitive lovers, and they had to keep up that story. It seemed to satisfy the crew, even amuse them, which was good since they had nothing else believable to offer.
They went to bed early. Aiden had been invited to take a drink with the captain but had declined with a wink and a smile. It made Elena uncomfortable, but not as much as the leers and sly remarks she had to contend with.
“Sorry,” Aiden said when they were alone, the cabin door closed and the clothes chest pulled across it. “But if I leave you alone, one of the crew might take a chance or—”
“I understand,” she cut him off with a shudder. The thought was repulsive, but the story was that she was a woman who would abandon her husband for a lover, so it made sense that she might extend that favor to include paying her passage in kind.
She prepared for bed, as much as their circumstances allowed, which was not a lot more than to sleep in her slip. It had been a terrible day; irrevocable decisions had been made. She was exhausted, but the idea of relaxing enough to sleep seemed impossible.
What did Aiden expect? They had been lovers once. It seemed like ages ago, another life, another world, and a totally different kind of emotion between them. But was it so different? She wanted the excitement, the comfort. More than anything else, she wanted the tenderness—the elusive, aching, healing tenderness.
She got into bed and pulled the blankets up, glad of their warmth in the chilly air, glad of the gentle sound of the water and the slight rocking of the boat. She had no idea whether he was going to touch her or not. She lay still. Minutes passed. Could he be asleep already, without a word? She drifted off, not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.
* * *
—
The next day, they had breakfast with the crew. It was plain: bread rolls still reasonably fresh, served with a choice of cheese or jam, and surprisingly good coffee. They were out of sight of land now, the weather was pleasant, if a little windy, and they rode the waves easily enough. There was nothing for them to do, and the long empty hours stretched ahead. Aiden fell into conversation with some of the men. He affected interest in their lives. It might even have been real, perhaps a degree of friendship. Showing respect was a good idea.
Elena went down to the cabin and tidied up a bit. She could at least make it look cared for. She wondered what kind of people the passengers had been on other voyages. Nobody on holiday, that was for certain. Possibly fugitives of some sort, running from private enemies or the law?
She unwrapped the gift that Gabrielle had given her. She hoped Gabrielle was all right, and especially Franz. One of them would only be fine if the other was as well.
She looked at the comb, a generous gift. It was beautiful, made of polished and curved tortoiseshell. It was not for combing her hair, it was to wear as an ornament. But it required long hair, like Gabrielle’s, while Elena’s was little more than chin length. Gabrielle seemed to think she would need it. Why? How could she need an ornamental hair comb with her short hair? She turned it over and looked at the strong clasp. She unfastened it and found it unusually thick, with a section that jutted away from the shell. Carefully, she used her fingernail to dislodge it and found a very fine steel blade, its razor edge a good two inches in length.
She folded it again quickly, making it look like the ornament it had first appeared to be. She wo
uld have to be very close to someone, very close indeed to use that in an attack, or in self-defense.
What was Gabrielle warning her against? She couldn’t know anything about this voyage.
Suddenly, Elena felt very cold. Was the danger coming from the Germans? Or was it…Aiden? She pushed the thought away. Ridiculous! He was risking everything to transport her to safety!
She slipped the comb back into her bag, along with her passport and the remaining money. They had a long way to go to reach the nearest British embassy, where hopefully they could get help. Tomorrow was the first day they would be able to get off the ship for a few hours. The ship was calling in at a small port to offload some cargo, and probably take on more. She was feeling more and more closed in by the tiny cabin, and she was still shocked by the way events had turned violent so suddenly.
One moment Ferdie was pro-Hitler and supported the Fatherland Front, and considered Aiden an ally in this cause. He had been alive, making sly remarks, some of them funny, others edged with a sarcasm that cut deeply. When he turned on them, she had not seen it coming. It had erupted out of an argument that seemed trivial. Was he with the Front…or was he part of the splinter group? If the latter, and if he believed Aiden was loyal to the Front, that could explain the sense of betrayal. She, Aiden, and Gabrielle had escaped precariously, and from then on the whole atmosphere had changed. There was open violence in the streets. She and Aiden were truly running for their lives.
When Ferdie lay dying in the street, he had been unable to speak. What an appalling decision for Aiden to have to make. And yet he had had no choice. Ferdie had somehow figured out that Aiden was a British spy. One of them had to die.
Elena faced the thought she had been refusing to look at for the last twenty-four hours. It lay like a pool of ice around her heart. She really was not certain who was on which side, except that Aiden had given her the list that she was expected to pass on to Peter.
Aiden had infiltrated the Fatherland Front, a group that wanted to undermine the Austrian government and effectively annex Austria into a greater Germany. And now this splinter group wanted to make it all happen sooner, including the assassination of Dollfuss. So Ferdie was with them? It was so daunting! All of them were Nazis, but quick to kill their own!
