AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Have you ever been to America?” Ian asked as the train raced across the west of Italy toward the mountains and the border of France.
“Not yet,” Elena replied. “But I certainly mean to. I have grandparents I’ve only met when they came to see us. The second visit was lovely because they stayed for nearly a month, and took us all sorts of places we probably wouldn’t have seen without them. You know how it is—you could go to Kew Gardens anytime, so you put it off. The Tower of London has stood there since William the Conqueror built it. What’s the hurry? But I was so proud to show them around.”
“Were you?” He wanted to hear, and as she remembered it, the emotions came back. She found herself flattered that he wanted to share her feelings at that time, because it was part of who she was now.
They talked until long after midnight—there was no one else in the carriage to keep awake. Then they dozed off for a couple of hours.
Elena woke up with a start to see Ian standing. She smiled at him, comfortable to find him there.
“Like a cup of tea, if I can get one?” he asked.
She realized suddenly that there was nothing she would like more. “I’d love one. Do you want me to come with you and see what there is?”
“No, it’s fine,” he replied, looking down at where she was curled up, with her shoes off, her feet up on the seat.
“Thank you,” she accepted. She was still half asleep.
She must have drifted off again, as she woke up with a start to see that he was not back yet. But the carriage door was open and Walter Mann was standing there, looking troubled. His dark hair had fallen forward over his brow, and what she could see of his shirt was rumpled under his jacket.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Standish,” he said.
“That’s all right,” she said, shaking her head a little and pushing her hair back off her brow. So he was destined for Paris, too. “What is it? You look upset. Is there something wrong?”
He came in and closed the compartment door. “I was looking for Newton.” He remained standing, awkwardly. “I saw him a few moments ago, and now I can’t find him. I thought he was coming back this way. I…I expected to find him here. He had tea, or something…”
Elena stood up, putting her shoes on. He held out his hand to steady her. His grip was surprisingly strong. “Perhaps he’s in the corridor?” she suggested, pulling the door open and looking out. She turned both ways, but saw only an elderly woman going a little unsteadily in the opposite direction from the dining car.
“I’m sure he came this way,” Walter said again.
“Then he must be…” She figured he would not go to the cloakroom after he had procured the tea; one would go before. “He can’t be far.”
“I’ll wait here,” Walter said. “But what if—”
“I’ll go and look for him,” she said a little impatiently. “He might have stopped to talk to someone.” She smiled briefly at him, then pulled the door closed and started down the corridor, looking in through the glass windows to see if Ian was inside any of the compartments, perhaps in conversation. A
ll she saw were people reading, or more often asleep, with newspapers or books on their laps.
She stopped at the last compartment before the door closing off the gangway to the next carriage. She glanced through the window and saw someone lying crumpled on the seat. He must have fallen asleep very heavily.
It was several seconds before she recognized Ian’s jacket, and then saw him move awkwardly.
She flung the door open, jerking at it, stepped swiftly in, and slammed it shut behind her, instantly going to him. He was lying on the seat, doubled over, and there was blood on the floor.
“Ian!” She choked on his name, panic rising inside her.
He moved stiffly, only a few inches, but enough for her to see that there was blood covering the whole of his chest, and running all down his trousers to his thighs. It was still pumping. What could she do to stop it? Anything. The horror inside her was fogging her mind. She put her hand to his chest instinctively to try to stop the flow, but it was futile.
“Elena…” he said in little more than a whisper. “Don’t! There’s nothing you can do…except listen to me…”
“I have to stop the bleeding!” she said desperately.
“No! Listen…” His face was white, covered in sweat, and he was hanging on to consciousness only with effort. “Elena…”
“I’m listening.” She refused to believe she could not help, and yet already she knew. It was as if a darkness was closing in on her as well.
“You were right. I knew the man killed in the hotel. I’m Military Intelligence. He was my contact in Amalfi. The telegram I got was to tell me to go immediately to Berlin. I couldn’t check its authenticity with him…all I could do was go,” he said hoarsely. She had to lean closer to hear him. “To get a message to the British…” He struggled for breath. The blood seemed to be everywhere. “…Embassy. To Roger Cordell. He’s MI6…like me.” He tried to smile, but the strength was gushing out of him. “To stop the assassination of Friedrich Scharnhorst…at a rally at Tuesday noon, where he’s speaking. He’s Hitler’s man, and he’s vile. But if he’s killed, we’ll be blamed for it.”
“We?” She leaned closer, cradling him in her arms. She knew tears were running down her face, but it hardly mattered. She knew Roger Cordell from years ago, but there was no time to say that.
