AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Successes?” She was startled that he should know about her photographic achievements: pictures published in magazines, even a large section in an exhibition. Her portraits of old people’s faces filled with the tracery of lines, both triumph and tragedy, had earned some very pleasant comments. She was proud of the power and beauty of them. The backgrounds were autumn farmlands, suggesting a timelessness. The sharp angles of the stocks, curiously barbaric against the softer rolling, shaven fields, had won her a prize. Other faces stared at cloud racks full of brilliance and half shadows, or falling leaves in ever-changing patterns. The praise was sweet because she felt it was honest. There was no flattery. “I didn’t know you knew of them,” she said awkwardly.
“Of course I do. I can’t send you undercover as a photographer if you aren’t any good at it. Do you think I’m that incompetent? Quickest way to get killed…” He hesitated, then smiled with a sudden pleasure, like a shaft of sunlight. “But you are good!”
She was surprised by how much that pleased her. She hardly knew him, and their few conversations had been less than pleasant. But outside the family, he was the closest friend her grandfather had, although she had learned that only since she had returned from Berlin in May. There was so much she had discovered since then, and she knew it was only a small part of the huge country of the past. Peter and Lucas had worked together, trusted each other with their lives, and grieved for the deaths of the same comrades. “Thank you,” she accepted.
He shrugged one shoulder. “You will leave early in the morning the day after tomorrow. We will give you tickets for a flight to Paris, and the train from there to Trieste. You will have to change in Milan. We have an apartment in Trieste. I’ll give you the address and the keys and some Italian currency, plus copies of some of your best work, in case you need to prove yourself to the authorities. You probably won’t need them, but you don’t know what you will encounter.”
Elena listened without interruption. This was so different from her adventure in Berlin, where she had been a fugitive most of the time. Her purpose had been self-chosen. She had moved every few days, sometimes even daily. It had been terrifying, exhilarating, and she had discovered a part of herself she did not know existed, a braver side that cared passionately for causes bigger than herself, that dared not stand aside from issues that would involve everyone, sooner or later.
“We can’t give you any contacts,” Peter went on. “Aiden Strother’s handler was Max Klausner, who has disappeared with no trace that we can find. Discreet inquiries to the police have shown nothing, and we can’t afford to draw attention to him in case he’s still alive and the answers to our own questions lead them to Strother.”
“Do you know who would have killed him?” Elena swallowed, but her mouth was dry. “Or who would try to kill Aiden?” Against her will she could see Aiden’s face in her mind, the way he held his head high, his quick smile.
“No,” Peter said. “Whether Aiden has any idea we can only guess. He may not have trusted any of the ways of getting information to us.”
She started to speak, then realized she did not know what to say.
&nb
sp; “If this task were easy, we could send anyone,” Peter said bleakly. “You have the advantage of knowing Aiden by sight and knowing his mission in Trieste—at least, what it was to begin with. It’s up to you to remain enigmatic. You might even find it advantageous to pretend—if it is a pretense—that you still have feelings for him.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
The shadow was over his eyes again. “This is real, Elena. Other people will live or die depending upon whether we succeed. But you understand that. Aiden’s information is very important indeed, not only to Britain, but to all of Europe. Saving his life is important, too, but his mission matters above all.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why.” She was afraid. For the first time, Trieste sounded like enemy territory. The Italians had been on Britain’s side in the war by the end of it, but now the answer was obvious: Benito Mussolini. Il Duce. He had taken an iron hand to the government of Italy. He was leading the way to social change with belligerence, and controlling people’s beliefs, behaviors, even thoughts, and Hitler was on his heels, perhaps soon to overtake him.
“You will do whatever is necessary, whether it is comfortable or not,” Peter said quietly. “Or else you’ll tell me now that you can’t do it, that you’re not up to pretending, even to save other people’s lives. But if you did say that, you would surprise me. I remember in Berlin, you were rather…inventive.” He let the details lie unspoken.
She could feel the color burn up her face at the memory. It was one she did not want to revisit. “I’ll go! You don’t have to pressure me into it. You imagine I care so much what you think of me? I care what’s right and what’s possible. The only person whose opinion matters to me, and to whom I could explain this, is my grandfather.”
Peter’s face hardened. “I have already told you, you will tell Lucas nothing whatsoever about this. In fact, you will not see him before you go.”
Now she was angry. He was being unreasonable. “I’m going to say goodbye. For heaven’s sake, you can’t believe my grandfather would tell anyone. He knows more secrets than you do.” She had been shattered at first when she learned that her elderly, dry-humored grandfather—who loved his books, his dog, the countryside, restoring old drawings and paintings—had once been the head of MI6. It had been a lot to take in then, but now she was actually proud of him. “I won’t just walk out and not even tell him I’m going. It could be days.”
“It almost certainly will be,” Peter agreed. “Several days, at the very least. But you will tell no one anything about it at all.”
“I’ve got to tell—”
“No one!” he repeated sharply. “It is a photographic assignment in Italy. As I said, I shall tell Lucas after you have gone. You can drop a note to your parents to say a brief assignment has come up without warning, and you will see them again when you get back, which is the truth.”
“But Lucas…” she protested.
“Would you lie to Lucas?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Well…I…I’m not sure that I could. I mean, get away with it.”
“I’m sure,” he said drily, “that you couldn’t.” Now there was an edge to his voice.
“But you’ll lie to him,” she said. “I can see it in your face!”
“I will tell him as much as he needs of the truth, the same as I will tell you.” His shoulders were stiff, his eyes very direct, clear and shadowless blue.
Now she was afraid.
CHAPTER
2
