38 
Back to Milan

Ramsay Halifax and the tall man he had met on the bridge returned from an interview that had been less successful than hoped.

“We seem to have temporarily lost the trail,” said the tall man.

“What now?” asked Ramsay.

“I still have some people who may be able to get me the records I need to trace that passport. It is our only hope of finding her current residence. I will continue to pursue contacts here. Meanwhile, I want you to go back to Milan.”

“What for?” said Ramsay.

“Contact Matteos. It is a long shot, but it just may be that the Reinhardt woman has relatives there.”

“But the name is German.”

“Yes, and she was in Italy.”

“We do not know why.”

“We must explore every lead. If she was in touch with someone there, it may be a link to finding her. We have only two sources to explore—following the ticket and passport, and investigating the Milan link.”

There was a short pause.

“There is one other thing,” said the tall man. “Matteos tells me you are part of an organization, a network of some kind. You have said the woman you seek is a spy. He says you are all spies.”

“Matteos has a loose tongue,” said Ramsay.

“He says the same of you. All I want to know is whether it’s true.”

“Perhaps.”

“I must know.”

“Why?”

“My reasons are none of your concern. But it may assist me in locating the girl. There can be no secrets between us.”

Ramsay eyed the man warily, pondering the odd request.

“It is called the Fountain of Light,” he said at length.

“Matteos mentioned Vienna. Is that where the rest of you are?”

“We are everywhere. At the moment some of us find Vienna a safe location for our activities.”

“I see. All right then, get to Milan and find out what you can.”

“But all this is taking too much time.”

The man swore lightly. “Do you want to find her, Halifax?” he said irritably. “It means nothing to me. But here the trail has gone cold. What I need to do does not require your tagging uselessly along beside me. So if it takes a month—”

“Look, Scarlino, I don’t have a month,” shot Ramsay. “I’ve got to find—”

The man cast him an evil look and Ramsay calmed.

They continued walking in silence. As they passed a small park, several pigeons suddenly shot out of a nearby tree. The sound startled Ramsay. He glanced toward the sound and saw them flying off.

When he turned his head back in the direction he had been going, he found himself walking along the street alone.