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She glanced at him. His face was grim, and a small muscle was ticking in his temple. Tension. She remembered it from years ago. It had been there when they were driving high over the moors in County Durham: bare, wind-scoured, great shoulders heaved up from land. The brakes had failed. He had barely managed to keep the car under control, until he had swung it round through an open field gate and finally run to a stop in the deep grass.
She remembered the terror and exhilaration. Her heart was pounding and she could see again the flush in his face, the victory! They had made love that night in some small inn, in what seemed the end of the world, near a place called Pity Me. Aiden had said it was a corruption of petite mer, but there wasn’t a sea for miles around, large or small.
The wave of memory ebbed and left her wondering what peril Aiden had avoided this time, or thought he had. When they slowed down a little, she asked, “What did you learn? Have they seen Max?”
“Not for nine or ten days; I’ve seen him since then myself,” he answered. “Come on, we can’t hang about here. I’ll be getting noticed soon. No one’s seen him in over a week. At least, no one who’s admitting it.”
Elena considered that while he turned a corner and went north again. The day was getting colder, the narrow roads shadowed. The buildings were high and old, paint peeled off in places, and there were stains from damp and unmended roofs. This was one of the older parts of the city, where centuries of Austrian occupation had left less of a mark. There were no elegant and spacious buildings here; this quarter could be part of any old city that poverty had beaten to its knees.
“There’s one last place to look,” Aiden said after another five minutes of silence between them. “I can’t very well leave you here, but if you come with me, you’ll have to keep your mouth shut. Do you think you can do that?” He looked at her dubiously.
“I can be agreeable in English, German, Italian, and French,” she replied firmly. “I can do the silent bit in Spanish as well.”
He gave her a sudden brilliant smile with a flash of white teeth. “Good, I like your style—stick to Spanish!”
* * *
—
They had to hurry in order to make the gathering that Aiden said they needed to attend. When Elena told him she needed something to eat, he agreed reluctantly.
“I need more information before we leave,” he said with his mouth full. They were in a small restaurant off a side street, eating a quick meal of pasta with an unnamed meat sauce. Seated on stools crowded close together, they had to lean forward until their heads were nearly touching to be sure of hearing each other, and not being overheard by anyone in the crowd around them. They looked fully engaged in their own gossip, quarrels, and making up, but as Aiden warned her, a spy or provocateur with any sense would appear to be just that. “We should look like a courting couple,” he said, with another sudden, broad smile.
All sorts of thoughts raced through her head. Is that what they were? At one time, she had believed that totally. Had he always known otherwise? Was she his excuse, his cover? An unintended informant? Of course, he could be more than one thing at a time. So could she! Anything they said might have two meanings, or three…or four.
She smiled her agreement, sweetly, straight into his eyes.
She saw only a momentary flicker in answer. Humor? Regret? It didn’t matter now. “What do you need?” she asked him quietly.
He looked down for an instant, and then back up again. “I need to get more information for my list, and I need to know for certain if Max is alive or dead, and if they caught him, and I believe they did, how much he told them.”
“What could he have told them?” she asked, a chill of fear running through her at what the answer might be.
“I can’t see that far,” he began, then gave a sharp movement of one shoulder. “About a violent takeover of the Austrian government.” His eyes were intent on her face, watching for the slightest shadow of fear, or disbelief.
“By whom?” She managed to keep her voice level, but she knew the answer already. It had to be the Nazis.
“The Fatherland Front,” he replied, unhesitating. “Or perhaps a splinter group. That’s what I really need to know. At the moment, it’s only a feeling I have…a sense of a splinter force within the main body.” He was watching her suddenly more closely.
She knew very little of the Front, only the scraps Peter had told her before she had left England. She needed to know who they were and, possibly just as importantly, who Aiden believed they were.
Before she could ask, he understood her thoughts. He had always been quick to read her. At times, it was very comfortable to be so well understood. She used to believe it was because their thoughts were the same, and because he cared. Now she made no judgment, except to be careful and not to try to deceive him, unless she was sure she could succeed. She must trust him only where she had to.
“A group of Germans who believe that Austria’s natural place is with Germany…as part of it,” he was explaining, watching her face. “They are decidedly German in language, culture, and a lot of their heritage.”
“So do they want to take over?” she asked very softly. “Or to betray Austria to Germany? What happens to Hungary?”
It was a few seconds before Aiden replied. She tried to read his face and failed. “I don’t know about Hungary, but Austria’s fate seems inevitable. I don’t think Germany can digest Hungary at the moment…”
“Later?” she asked.
His steady gaze did not leave her face. “Perhaps.”
“What about Chancellor Dollfuss? Is he in on it?”
“That’s what I want to know before I leave Trieste,” he replied. “If I can find out…”
“How? Who knows?”
