Return to Vienna Read online

  Gripping my elbow, Richard guided me to the chair next to his. We sat down together, and he held my hand clasped in his own for everyone to see.

  “Sorry about that little performance,” he murmured. “You didn’t mind?”

  “No, of course not.” But I glanced away, staring

  down at the yellow plastic surface of the table, because I had minded. No man had kissed me on the

  lips since Max. That it should be Richard Wilson, the

  man who was so closely involved in the hidden side of my husband’s life, somehow gave the incident a particularly bitter taste.

  He seemed to take the way I was avoiding his eyes as a sign of shyness. He murmured with the lightest of laughs, “Well, if you didn’t mind, Jessica, I certainly didn’t!”

  The threesome at the table across the room were whispering and chuckling—and we were the joke. A furtive meeting in a shabby little cafe in the suburbs, with me dressed—as they’d see it—out of the top drawer. Wasn’t the setup blatantly obvious? And that was how Richard had planned it. The fat proprietress and her customers would enjoy a good laugh at our expense, and promptly forget all about us.

  I played my part by looking at Richard with fond eyes as I said quietly, “I’ve been wondering how you’d get in touch.”

  “We have to be very careful.” He signaled for a cup of coffee for me. “I don’t expect you have any news yet?”

  “No, not really. Except….”

  “Well, except what?”

  “I was followed yesterday. Was it one of your men, Richard?”

  He hesitated. “What was the chap like?”

  “Oh, middle-aged, grayish hair. He was driving a gray Volkswagen. And he was in the plane from London, too. . ..”

  Richard nodded, and for the benefit of the woman who was bringing my coffee over, he said, “What a clever little thing you are, darling! You’ve got it absolutely right.”

  When she had gone away again, I asked him, “Why, Richard? Why should you have me followed?”

  “It’s for your own protection—just in case.”

  “But it seems so silly!”

  “Not silly at all. I warned you, Jessica, there’s danger in this work we do. You understood that before you agreed to help.”

  “Yes, I know.” An element of risk had seemed so unimportant at the time. Without Max, I’d thought, what did it matter if I ran into danger; even if I were to get myself killed? Now, to my surprise, I realized that the thought of death was terrifying. I wanted to live.

  My face must have given away my fear. Richard said quickly, “Cheer up, Jessica, it’s not that bad. We’ll take good care of you.”

  I made an effort to steady myself, and asked, “Did you know my hotel room was searched last night? Was that done by one of your men, too?”

  Richard stared at me. “Do you mean the place was turned upside down—is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, it was done very carefully indeed. In fact, I couldn’t be absolutely sure at first, because nothing seemed to have been disturbed.”

  Richard was looking relieved. “You’re imagining things, Jessica.”

  “No, really, I’m quite positive.”

  “Look,” he said gently, “it’s terribly easy to get the jitters. Believe me, in this game it happens to all of us at times. But you’ve only got to think for a moment—who knew last night that you were back in Vienna? I did, and Steve Elliott. It wasn’t one of my men, and you were with Elliott at the time you think the job was done. You see!”

  “But I could have sworn!”

  “Forget it, Jessica.” He smiled indulgently, then switched direction so suddenly that it unnerved me. “I’m told that you spent a lot of time with Elliott yesterday evening. What did he have to say?”

  “Oh . . . nothing special. Steve just took me out to dinner.”

  “And on to a bar afterward.”

  Richard made me feel on the defensive. “We just had a beer each, that’s all. And then he drove me back to the hotel.”

  “You also sat in the car and talked.”

  “Oh, that! Only for a few minutes.”

  Richard had assumed the look of a jealous lover. He was playing his part skillfully for the benefit of our little audience. “Is there anything between you two?” he asked.

  “Between Steve and me? Don’t be absurd! I’ve explained how good he was to me while I was in the hospital.”

  “Gratitude can grow into something more. You mustn’t let it, Jessica, not until we’ve sorted this business out”

  I said hotly, “You sound as if you really do suspect Steve of being involved somehow.”

  Richard took my hand in both of his. “You really mustn’t think in terms of good old British justice now. With us, everyone is guilty until they’re proved innocent. All I am asking is that you don’t get too friendly with Elliott for the time being. Afterward, it’ll be up to you.”

  “There is nothing between Steve and me,” I said stubbornly. “Nothing at all!” But even as I said it I remembered how I’d kissed Steve last night outside the hotel, and no doubt it was included in the meticulous report given to Richard. That kiss, that brief brushing of Steve’s cheek with my lips! I’d not understood the impulse that made me do it, yet to Richard there could be only one explanation.

  Richard went on to ask if I had any more to tell him. “Did Mitzi Flamm and her boyfriends say anything of interest last night when you were with them?”

  “No, but afterward she passed on the news that I was back in Vienna. First thing this morning I had a phone call from Gretl Kolbinger, and she’s asked me to a party at her place tonight.”

  He sounded pleased. “Tell me about this Gretl Kolbinger.”

  “She’s one of our old set. Her husband is quite a big noise in television, and they live somewhere out toward Cobenzl.” I was rather surprised that Richard seemed not to know them. “Didn’t Max ever mention the Kolbingers to you?”

  Richard considered. “Yes, I believe he did, now I come to think of it.”

  “It’s a useful contact for me, because Otto and Gretl are always throwing parties, and I shall get to meet a lot of the old crowd through them.”

  “Good! She didn’t lose much time getting in touch with you, did she?”

  “Do you think that’s significant?”

  He shrugged. “It could be. Anything could be.”

  I hated this business of having to suspect everybody and everything. And yet there was a horrible sort of fascination about always looking for hidden motives.

  “There’s probably nothing in it,” I said hastily. “I gathered from Gretl that she met Mitzi at the Strip Bar X Club. Having only just left me, it was perfectly natural for Mitzi to mention I was here in Vienna. And Gretl was always a great one for asking people to parties.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see what develops. Keep your eyes open, won’t you?”

  The three men across the room had finished their snack. As they passed us on their way out, they nudged one another and smirked. The ill-fitting door slammed behind them, and the cafe was suddenly quiet. The only other customer, the man on his own, was reading a newspaper. The fat woman rested her elbows on the counter, and I could tell she was hoping to eavesdrop. I had no idea whether she understood English.

  Richard was saying, “That Mitzi woman gets around, by all accounts. She might be worth cultivating.”

  “I doubt that!”

  Unthinkingly, I’d spoken with a good deal of heat, and Richard lifted his eyebrows. Lamely I added, “She’s absolutely man-mad. She thinks of nothing else.”

  “You don’t like her!”

  “I never did very much. Even less now.”

  “Why?”

  I clamped back the bitter words on the edge of my tongue. Then it struck me that Richard had known Max very well, almost better than Steve. Perhaps I’d be able to get the full truth from him. I was still tormented by the idea of Max making love to Mitzi Flamm.


  Pent up, the words came tumbling out. “She claims that she and Max were lovers at one time.”

  “What?” Richard looked absolutely astounded.

  With relief I saw that the fat woman had disappeared through a curtained archway behind the counter, so I guessed she didn’t understand English at all.

  I whispered, “Is it true, Richard? Did Max ever. .?”

  “Of course it’s not true! You don’t imagine Max was that sort of man, do you?”

  It didn’t tie up with Steve’s comments, and I wanted to confront Richard with the contradiction. But something held me back from admitting I’d already discussed this with Steve. I knew that Richard wouldn’t approve.

  I said weakly, “Are you quite sure? I mean, Max never pretended there hadn’t been other women before he met me. It was just the idea of Mitzi Flamm . .. That’s silly of me, I suppose.”

  Why couldn’t I let it go, I thought angrily. Hadn’t Max said in his last letter that I was the only woman who had ever mattered to him?

  Richard was stirring his coffee absentmindedly. After a while he said slowly, “No, it’s not true about Mitzi. You mustn’t upset yourself, Jessica. The woman is obviously trying to be vindictive for some reason—maybe because she made a play for Max and he chose you.”

  That fitted in with my own hopeful reasoning. I could take anything Mitzi liked to hand out if jealousy was her driving force. But why, I wondered, had Steve seemed to be making excuses for Max about something that had never happened?

  Richard was speaking again. “Don’t let Mitzi Flamm get you down—she really might be useful to us, you know. A woman of her type has so many contacts.”

  I nodded. But I was still thinking about Steve. It didn’t seem fair of him, because what he had hinted about Max and Mitzi couldn’t fail to leave a scar upon my heart. I felt immensely grateful to Richard, and unhappy and bewildered about Steve.

  “So you won’t go having a row with Mitzi, will you?” I heard Richard say.

  “No, all right. You needn’t worry.”

  “Be nice to her, and keep your ears open.”

  I sighed. “I’ll do my best, but she’s not easy to be nice to.”

  Richard smiled faintly. “You’re a smart girl, Jessica. I’m sure you can manage friend Mitzi without any trouble.”

  He picked up his cup and drank down the coffee in a couple of gulps, pulling a face because it was cold and probably tasted awful. I’d not even touched mine, and wasn’t going to bother. As he chinked the cup back on its saucer, he said, “We’d better break it up now. I’ll be in touch again soon.”

  “Richard ...” I began hesitatingly. “Isn’t there some way I can get hold of you? It makes me feel so cut off, not knowing when I might hear from you again. Suppose I was in trouble!”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “Well, anything. ... I might need your help.” I had a sudden thought. “Could I talk to the man you’ve got following me?”

  “No, you mustn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t you see, it would be too risky. You’re supposed to be here in Vienna on your own. If you were seen speaking to one of my men, it could easily scare off for good the very people we’re hoping will come forward. And besides, it might give the game away to the enemy.”

  It frightened me, the way he said that. “The enemy ... ?”

  “That’s exactly what they are, Jessica, and they don’t pull any punches. Do I have to remind you what they did to Max?”

  At that moment the door from the street burst open with a sudden crash, and I froze with fear, until I remembered how tightly it got stuck with the damp. The two men who came in were hefty in black reefers and shiny peaked caps—deckhands off one of the Danube boats, probably. Grinning amiably, they called for coffee and Wurstsemmel. There was nothing about their appearance to cause any alarm, but the incident had pointed up how ragged my nerves were. Temperamentally, I wasn’t the type to live with danger.

  “Please, Richard. I must have some way of reaching you in an emergency. I promise to be very careful.”

  He considered, again taking my hand and fondling it. “Very well,” he said finally. “If you really must— in a serious emergency—you could ring the British embassy. Give your name as ... as Miss Brown, and ask the operator to pass on a message to the assistant commercial counselor that you’d like to be hearing from him.”

  “The assistant commercial counselor. Is that you?”

  “It’s a cover I sometimes find useful. If you ever do have to leave that message, I’ll contact you as soon as possible. But I don’t want you to ring the embassy unless it’s absolutely vital.”

  Richard asked how I was managing for money, and I told him I had enough at present. With a smile he said I needn’t be afraid of spending it, and that he’d give me some more the next time we met. “Now, look, Jessica, you’d better leave first. When you get outside, turn right and walk straight down the road, and you’ll come to a tram route.”

  I stood up, and Richard did too, “Let’s make it look convincing,” he whispered, taking me in his arms again. This time, being forewarned, I was able to avert my face so that I didn’t meet his lips directly. Richard realized it was a deliberate action. Still holding me, he murmured reproachfully, “It’s only for show, you know,”

  I pushed back from him quickly, feeling my color rising; it probably all fitted the performance very well —the eager man, the slightly diffident girl. But as I walked out into the wet street, hearing that absurd door crash shut behind me, I was wondering why I should recoil so fiercely from Richard Wilson’s acted embrace.

  Chapter 7

  The tram I caught at the end of the street rumbled along interminably, taking me back over the Danube and through the city outskirts. Just by Schottenring the route ended, and I got off in a huddle of other passengers. With no clear objective, I started walking, and the knowledge that I was certainly being followed by one of Richard’s men gave me an eerie feeling. Once or twice I paused where a shop window reflected the view behind me, but I couldn’t identify anyone who had been on the same tram.

  The rain stopped at last, and as I made my way around the wide curving avenue of the Ringstrasse, the sun began to struggle through heavy gray clouds.

  This was territory I’d known so well with Max, an area of magnificent, exuberant architecture—the university, the Gothic Rathaus, and the classic-columned parliament building. Reaching the twin museums, I branched away into lesser streets, on the lookout for somewhere to have lunch. I had to abandon all idea of shopping, because it was Saturday, and the stores closed at midday. I spent the afternoon wandering aimlessly, remembering.

  It was almost six when I returned to the Mahlerhof, picking up a taxi on a stand because I found I was suddenly tired out. At the reception desk I inquired if any message had been left for me, and felt a spurt of disappointment that there was no word from Steve. I’d told him not to phone, yet it seemed like lack of interest that he hadn’t tried to get in touch.

  Wearily, I took the ancient lift up to the second floor. In my room I let go, kicking off my shoes and flopping full stretch on the bed. I felt bleak and dispirited, almost too tired to think. My body seemed heavy, and the bed was a sea of soft foam. I let consciousness slip deliciously away.

  When I woke, it was already dark, with a faint glow filtering up from the streetlights below. I snapped fully awake, put on the lamp by the bed, and looked at my watch. Past seven-thirty! At eight I was to be collected for the Kolbingers’ party.

  I leaped off the bed and went to the window to draw the curtains. First I glanced down to the street, searching for the Volkswagen. It was there, as though it hadn’t moved since the previous evening. But now that I knew for certain that my shadow was one of Richard’s men, there was no longer an air of menace about the featureless gray car.

  Hurrying, I was nearly ready when there came a discreet tap on the door. It was the porter.

  “Meine Dame
, a gentleman has come for you.”

  I said to tell my escort I’d be down in five minutes. Then I hurried with doing my face and giving myself a final checkover. I didn’t do badly. When I set off downstairs, it was barely six minutes past eight.

  I’d put on a taffeta dress in crocus yellow, a slick outfit to give me courage. I guessed I’d need every bit of courage I could muster for the evening that lay ahead. It would have been bad enough merely to be meeting up with the friends I had known with Max. But I had to play the undercover agent, be on the alert for the smallest signal, and throw out hints that I could safely be approached. “The prospect had me strung up almost beyond endurance.

  Reaching the foot of the stairs, I turned toward the lounge, and through the glass doors I saw a man rise from one of the armchairs just inside.

  My spirits zoomed and crashed all in the same instant. Steve couldn’t have chosen a worse time to call. Hadn’t he had all day, I thought unreasonably. Why did he have to choose this precise moment? And somehow I hated him seeing me dressed up like this—fit to kill, he’d think. And any minute now another man—a complete stranger, probably—would be calling to collect me.

  I wanted to turn and rush straight back to my room.

  But it was too late for that. Steve was coming out to meet me, smiling. Then I watched his expression change, and I realized it was on account of my own reaction to seeing him here—not pleasure at all, but a sort of horrified dismay.

  “Is something wrong, Jessica?”

  “I ... I can’t stop to talk to you now, Steve.” There was even a touch of hysteria in my voice. “I . . . I’m going out. . . .”

  “But that’s why I’m here—to take you.”

  “You don’t understand! I can’t go with you. I’m going to ... to a party.”

  “That’s right! I fixed with Gretl Kolbinger to call for you. It’s almost on my route, you see.”

  I was bewildered. “Your route . . . ?”

  “Yes. I’ve got a flat over by the Karlskirche, if you remember.”

  The dawning was slow and painful, because it just hadn’t occurred to me that Steve might be going to the Kolbingers. He had never been to one of their parties in the old days, and in fact, I didn’t realize he even knew them.