“Like a secret society?” asked Sterling.
“Could be? But that’s their symbol. I’ve never seen it on a coin before.”
“Tell me everything you know.”
“It started a few months ago. I got lunch at Café Schwarzenberg. When I paid, I found a note tucked under my bill. I figured the waiter had slipped me his number. When I read it later, it saidWe know, we’re watching,with that symbol underneath, signed Nightingale.”
“Whatdid they know?”
“I wasn’t sure, but I had a guess. You know that friend I mentioned? He’s a psychiatrist. Mine, actually.”
“And he’s become more than a friend?”
“Way more.”
“How much?”
“You’re never going to believe you’re hearing this from me, but he’s the one. I want to leave this all. I love him.”
Sterling froze at the joy shining in Verena’s reddened eyes.
“That’s so, um,monogamousof you. But—congratulations? Are you still his patient?” said Sterling.
“I mean, I attend appointments, but we’re usually doing something else. It’s our only alone time, since he’s married.”
“The handsome ones often are.”
“If he’s caught sleeping with a patient, he’ll lose his license, his job. He needs that money if he’s going to leave his wife and marry me.”
“The married ones often say that. Why are you worried about getting caught? Just take him to the Orient.”
“Too late. Nightingale found out,” said Verena.
“How?”
“I walked right into their trap. After I got their note, I ran to him for comfort. Next day, they sent a letter to his office. Photos of us going at it on his desk. And a warning.”
“So they bluffed, then followed you, and you revealed your secret? Damn. That’s clever. What was the warning?”
“They’d tell the medical review board he slept with a patient unless I provided information on Madame Weiss. I asked Hedy for help.”
Madame. The Hotel. Nightingale was targeting everyone and everywhere in Vienna that information went to hide. Perhaps it was why they’d killed David Goldfinch. He wanted to squash privacy like a bug under his Italian loafer, and he must have had eyes on everyone. Maybe they didn’t like competition.
“What did Hedy do?”
“I don’t know. She had an idea of how to help me but wouldn’t tell me what. I was supposed to meet someone from Nightingale at Café Bräunerhof and turn over a list of my clients. Hedy went in my place. I don’t know what she gave them to get them off my back, but it worked. Though things weren’t the same with us after; she became cold, distant. A few weeks later, she was dead.”
“How’d you arrange the meeting?”
“Sorry, but I’m not telling. If they got to Hedy, you’ll fall into their trap too. Listen, stay out of this. It’s dangerous, I’m serious. Get rid of that damn coin and never think about it again.”
“Please. I need to know what happened to her,” said Sterling. Begging wasn’t her style, and it left a sour taste in her mouth.
“No. I’m not making the same mistake,” said Verena.
“I hope you change your mind. But I won’t push it today,” said Sterling, lifting Verena’s wrist to check her watch. “People will arrive for the funeral soon. I can’t be here when they do.”
Only a week into this investigation, and the thrill of the chase was wearing thin. Sterling wasn’t accustomed to waiting for what she wanted. She needed answers, for Hedy, for herself. Because Nightingale, whoever or whatever they were, seemed set on taking down Vienna’s secret-keepers.
