For the rest of the evening Steve stuck to me grimly. Once or twice I danced with other men, and each time Steve was there to claim me back again.
He was sullen and disapproving as I tried to match the fun mood of those around us. There was a lot of noisy laughter, a lot of drinking, and every now and then a casually matched pair would go wandering off together. It was that sort of party. Come to think of it, at Gretl and Otto’s it was always that sort of party.
It was still well before midnight when Steve announced flatly, “I’m taking you home now, Jessica. This is no place for you.”
“But I’m not ready to leave just yet.” I’d seen nothing more of Leopold and Ilse Hellweg since I’d talked to them in the garden. Now that I’d made this all-important contact, I had to follow it up. “I want to have another word with the Hellwegs before I go, Steve.”
“They’ve already left,” he said promptly. “I spotted them nearly an hour ago, heading down the drive in a fantastic red Maserati.”
I felt slightly faint. “They’ve left!”
“Does it matter that much?”
His gray eyes were narrowed as he watched me, and I tried to look indifferent. I told myself that maybe it wasn’t so terrible that the Hellwegs had quit. They must be every bit as interested in me as I was in them, and I didn’t really doubt that they’d be in touch again before long.
“Well, come on,” said Steve. “Say your good-byes, and we’ll be off.”
I made a last-ditch stand, resenting the way Steve was hustling me. “It’s early yet. . . .”
His expression changed. He no longer looked completely sure of himself.
“Jessica, please! Come with me now.”
I knew suddenly that I wanted nothing more than to get away from the frantic gaiety of the party and be alone with Steve. I thought of clean cool air and soothing quiet, with only his voice. The picture was irresistible.
“Give me five minutes, will you?”
“Okay—five minutes.”
Gretl, who had been sinking drinks like they were colored water, was pretty high by now. So was Otto. And so were most of the others. When I announced I was leaving, Gretl clutched at me tearfully, yelling that I mustn’t think of walking out on her so early. Then she seemed to forget I was there. We made our escape unnoticed.
“Stoned!” said Steve in disgust. “Lovely people!”
“It’s a party,” I said weakly. “You can’t blame them, once in a while.”
He didn’t bother to answer.
When we reached the main road, Steve turned right, away from Vienna and up toward the dark tree-swathed hills. I guessed he wanted to find a quiet spot where we could talk. The idea made me nervous, but I didn’t argue.
Steve stopped on the Hohenstrasse, up by Cobenzl. He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat moodily. Vienna lay before us, glittering and quivering with a million lights. Away to the left was the wide, dark channel of the Danube. In the pale light of a crescent moon I could pick out the five spanning bridges, and I wondered which one had carried me to that secret rendezvous with Richard only a few hours ago.
It was very peaceful up here. I stirred uneasily, and that seemed like a signal to Steve.
“I wish you’d tell me,” he said. Just that.
“Tell you … ? Tell you what?”
He was staring straight ahead through the windshield. “You’re in some sort of trouble, Jessica, I’m sure of that. The way you came back to Vienna, and running around taking up again with that rackety lot.”
“I’ve told you once to let me alone. ...”
He cut across me just as if I hadn’t spoken. “What’s it all in aid of, that’s what I want to know? Mitzi Flamm and her randy boyfriends; those Kolbingers and their hangers-on. And the other two, the Hellwegs or whatever—they looked about as warm and human as a couple of ice blocks. What in God’s name has a nice girl like you got in common with any of them?”
“Max! He’s what we have in common.”
Steve held back for a second, then said brutally, ‘That cuts me out, doesn’t it?”
I drew in breath sharply. “What do you mean?”
Another pause as he considered what to say. When he spoke again it was to back-pedal. “I just meant that it’s no good your trying to live in the past—you are too young for that. And the right future for you, Jessica, doesn’t include most of the people you knew before.”
“You meant something else,” I whispered.
He turned to me slowly. It was too dark to see, but I could imagine the look in his eyes. For several long-drawn seconds he was quite utterly still, then swiftly he reached forward, drawing me into his arms.
“This is what I meant, Jessica.”
“No!”
I jerked back in a stupid panic. Like some naively innocent young girl getting more than she’d bargained for, I began groping madly for the door catch.
I couldn’t find it, but I didn’t need to. Steve drew away from me immediately and moved right back against the door on the farther side.
“I’m sorry about that “
Still breathing deeply, I said, “Drive me home, please.”
“In a minute,” he muttered.
“Now, please.”
But he didn’t attempt to start the car. The dancing lights of Vienna seemed farther, away now. They mingled with the night sky overhead, as remote as the stars themselves. The true reality was Steve and me enclosed within his car. Not even the road beneath us or the trees around us. Just Steve and me.
It couldn’t go on like that.
“Drive me back, please,” I said desperately, my willpower ebbing.
Still he made no move. It came through clearly that he was struggling with himself over something more than a simple urge to kiss me. I felt that a single word from me now would snap his control, so I kept silent.
At length he said in a stilted voice, “I’ve got something to tell you. Something I should have told you before.”
I wanted not to listen, but knew I must.
“What is.it?” I asked huskily.
Even then Steve was reluctant to speak, and suddenly, by some flash of insight, I understood what it was all about. He knew, or thought he knew, something seriously to Max’s discredit. Was he to expose my husband, knowing it would shatter precious memories for me, or should he go on concealing the truth?
I said, very faintly, “You had better tell me, Steve.”
He was turned away, as if staring fixedly into space. But I believed that his eyes were shut.
He began, his voice heavy, “Having taken over Max’s job, I’m using his office now. About a couple of weeks ago I came across a large manila envelope in his desk. One of the drawers was sticking, and when I took it out to see what was up, I found this package wedged at the back. It had been hidden there quite deliberately—it couldn’t have got there by accident.”
“Go on....”
“It contained money—a great deal of money. Austrian schillings, American dollars, and sterling. Over eight hundred pounds altogether.”
I swung around to look at Steve, and found that he had turned toward me. Our eyes met, only a foot apart.
I was trying to adjust my mind to this news. I shouldn’t really be surprised that Max had kept money hidden in his desk. He would hardly have banked what he was paid by British intelligence, nor could he have kept any large sums of cash in our apartment in case I had found it and asked questions.
I took a deep breath and muttered—casually, I hoped, “Yes, I know what that would be.”
It was a foolishly inadequate thing to say, of course. But I so desperately wanted to protect Max’s good name, to banish Steve’s obvious suspicion that the money had been come by dishonestly. If I acted quite matter-of-factly, with any luck he might conclude that everything was perfectly aboveboard, thinking it just an eccentricity of Max’s to keep big amounts in cash.
Incredulously, Steve exclaimed, “You knew about it!”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“But. . .”
“I said I knew what it would be. I didn’t actually know that it was there.”
“I see!” But clearly Steve didn’t see at all. Even in the darkness I could tell that he was frowning as he groped around for the right thing to say. “I’ve been worried sick ever since I found that money. At first I was going to send it to you. That’s why I wrote the other day, sort of feeling my way. . . .”
“So that’s why you wrote!”
The disappointment must have spilled over into my voice, because Steve said quickly, “I was planning to get in touch with you a bit later on, of course, when you’d had time to ... Anyhow, I decided that the best thing was to wangle a trip to the head office so I could see you in London. I thought it might be easier to explain, that way.” I sensed his shrug. “And to think you knew about it all the time!”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered awkwardly.
“When you turned up here in Vienna, I just couldn’t make it out. Why did you come, Jessica? Was it something to do with the money?”
“I told you why I came, Steve.” I swallowed, and lied. “It’s got nothing whatever to do with the money.”
He paused, then said accusingly, “But you’re not a bit surprised to hear about me finding it in Max’s desk—or about the amount. Eight hundred pounds!”
“I told you. I know what it is.”
“Then you’d better have it right away. The envelope’s still there in the desk exactly as I found it— that seemed the best place, for the time being. But I’ll go and fetch it in the morning, and bring it to your hotel.”
“No!”
My fierce reaction was instinctive. The money had come from the same source that was now paying me, of course. But somehow I felt that I couldn’t bear to touch it.
“What do you mean?” demanded Steve. “That you don’t want me to bring the money to your hotel, or that you don’t want it at all?”
I shook my head miserably. “I suppose I’d better have it.”
“Why on earth shouldn’t you, if it was Max’s? God knows, he didn’t make much other provision for you.”
“I said I’ll have it,” I snapped. “But there’s no hurry. Anytime will do.”
“All the same, I’ll come around in the morning. It’s Sunday, so I’ll be free.”
“As you wish.” I suppose I sounded beastly ungracious, but I had to bring this to an end. Deceiving Steve was one of the most hateful parts of the job I’d undertaken. It made me feel the shabbiest sort of cheat. “Please take me back now.”
For a moment I thought that Steve was going to hit me—he might have if he’d been a different kind of man. As it was, he exploded in a fury of words.
“You . . . you treat me like a bloody nothing—that’s what! Shoving me off as if I was some filthy snooper poking his long nose in. I was fool enough to think we understood each other.”
A sob burst up from my throat, and I felt myself shaking uncontrollably. Gripping the edge of the leather seat with tense tight fingers, I tried to force myself into stillness. But the trembling only grew worse, taking hold of my entire body.
Steve’s rage was instantly gone. He seemed as if he wanted to comfort me. And then, with an abruptness that hit as hard as his bitter words, he turned away and started the car.
“It’s getting late,” he muttered.
We drove back toward the city, not talking at all. Past midnight now, the streets were almost deserted, and as we approached the hotel, even the muted exhaust of Steve’s Mercedes seemed loud enough to wake the sleeping neighborhood.
Pulling up outside the Mahlerhof he switched off, and came around to join me on the pavement. There was enough light shed from the hotel entrance for me to see the strain in his face. His brow was furrowed deep, and his eyes were dark with anxiety.
“Good night, Steve,” I said wretchedly.
He reached out, taking my hands in his.
“I’ll come tomorrow. You go to bed now, and I’ll be around in the morning. We’ll talk again—we’ll get it all sorted out.”
I said, with a choke in my voice, “There’s nothing
... nothing to sort out, Steve. Honestly….”
He silenced me with a kiss. Briefly he touched my cheek with his lips, just as I had done to him the night before on this same spot. It was a kiss of love, but a comforting kiss, empty of any immediate passion.
“Tomorrow,” he said gently, and released my hands.
I didn’t look back as I walked through into the hotel. I felt a lot calmer, almost serene. My problems hadn’t disappeared in those few seconds, nor was a solution to them any clearer. But somehow I seemed filled with a new strength. I still trembled—but that was something else altogether.
The night porter, hastily swallowing a mouthful of cheese roll, nodded and smiled at me from behind the desk. But he didn’t reach up for my room key.
“There is a gentleman to see you, meine Dame. He waits in the lounge.”
“A gentleman . . . ?” I glanced over my shoulder, but from here, with the lounge only dimly lit, I couldn’t see much through the glass doors. It could only be Richard, I thought, and was amazed that he’d risked approaching me so openly. But perhaps he considered it was safe to come to the hotel this late at night.
“Has he been waiting long?”
Even the blasé hotel porter was a little intrigued, I believe. He leaned confidentially across the counter and spoke softly. “An hour, perhaps. He is very persistent—nicht?”
“Oh dear!”
The porter lowered his tone a degree more. “If you wish it, you could go straight up to your room, and I will inform the gentleman when he next inquires that you have still not returned.”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but there is no need for that. I will go in and see him.”
Just one shaded wall lamp burned in the lounge. As I went into the room I saw a dark figure, back half turned to me, rising from a low armchair. It was only as he came forward and the glow of the light reached his face that I recognized him.
“Herr Hellweg! Whatever are you doing here?”