Last Act (32 page)

“Lack of money and lack of confidence. If you can't pay people's wages, at a time like this, what's going to happen?”

“I'll tell you what will happen here in Lissenberg. They'll go right on working. That's what the United Workers of Lissenberg, my mad trade union, is all about. We've been saving for a day like this. Union funds. We'll keep going, don't you worry, and without your pay, either, bless you.” He turned with a loving smile to Anne. “It's only until Frensham's trial's over, and then, you know, our problems will be solved.”

“What do you mean?” asked Josef.

“Don't tell me you've forgotten Lissenberg's legal code? A traitor to the state forfeits all his possessions. To the state. He can choose execution if he prefers, but I doubt if Frensham would do that.”

“But he's not a citizen.”

“Oh yes he is. Under Lissenberg law he became one automatically when he allowed himself to be elected Prince. Well, you could hardly have a foreigner, could you? The first Prince and his advisors were a methodical lot. They thought of everything.”

“Good God,” said Josef. “As simple as that.”

“Well,” said Michael. “First he's got to be proved guilty. But I doubt if that will be a problem, not with Anne's evidence. It will just take a little time. Herr Winkler is hoping also to get evidence to implicate him in his father's death, but of course that's a private matter, nothing to do with the state.”

“He had his own father killed?” Anne was appalled.

“I'm afraid so,” Josef told her. “They'd never been on good terms. Old Frensham kept him right out of the business, so—young James had him watched. Michael found the evidence when Winkler sent him down to Sicily. When he heard about the discovery of szilenite, James decided it was time to get rid of his father. It was his hired killer, of course, who crossed the border in Brech's taxi just before it was closed that night.”

“Brech's taxis,” said Alix. “How did they fit in? And that odd business on Anne's journey here. Who was behind all that?”

“Young James too, Winkler thinks. Working by remote control, through Brech, which explains the general atmosphere of muddle. It looks as if he began by simply planning to make the opera fail. What with that, and his father's death, I don't think there's any question but that Lissenberg would have been bankrupt in a few weeks. Then he would have moved in at leisure, in his strong position as his father's heir, got the opera complex condemned on one pretext or another and opened up his killer mine. Brech was his mistake—a small-time muddler, if ever there was one. Not in his league at all. I think he saw that as soon as he got here, and started changing his plans. Of course he'd never been in direct touch with Brech. The nearest we've got to a connection is his man's use of that taxi, which put us on to Brech in the first place. Your Herr Schann was Brech's cousin, by the way.” He turned to Anne. “That was the first try. And the thing that threw us off for a long time was the ‘accident' that happened to Brech himself when he was driving Falinieri back from Schennen. The comic thing about that was that it really was an accident. We found the truck driver who lost his load just the other day, and he admitted it readily enough. It must have scared Brech at the time, but it didn't stop him. He went right on with his sabotage, and Hilde Bernz went on spreading gloom among the cast.”

“Hilde!” exclaimed Anne. “She was the one? But why?”

“Blackmail, I'm afraid, by Brech. She confessed to Winkler after we got on to Brech. But of course she had no idea who was behind him. You must have noticed things started going better in the later rehearsals. So when young James got here after his father's death, which had been so cleverly patterned on the original accident, he found
Regulus
still showing obstinate signs of survival. I think he must have made up his mind and sent for his explosives expert after that night at the hotel when he saw what a success you were going to be, Anne.”

“I remember,” Anne said. “I was scared, suddenly.”

“Right to be,” said Alix. “I always knew he was a horror. I think I'd have killed myself rather than marry him. But what
could I do, with Mother and the children in his hands?”

“All over now.” Michael turned to smile at Anne. “You've been very quiet.”

Anne had been thinking that she had a duty to stay alive until Frensham's trial was over. Her testimony was vital. Tomorrow she must tell Michael. For today, she would pretend, and smile, and smile, and pretend. She smiled. “I'm trying so hard to work it all out,” she said. “I mean.” She turned to Josef. “You're the Prince the Diet threw out, years ago, aren't you?”

“Happiest day of my life,” he told her. “You and Michael have no idea what you're getting into. But you'll be all right. There are two of you. It's no job for an anxious bachelor, and that's the truth. Anyway”—he smiled contentedly—“civilised lot, we Lissenbergers. As you can see, they didn't throw me very-far. Just into a snug corner that suited me. I'm sorry about the opera house, Anne dear.”

“We're going to build another one,” said Michael. “A little one, Glyndebourne size, say. Something Lissenberg can afford, and something that won't weigh us down with too many visitors. And we'll open it with Anne in
Regulus.
” He turned to Carl Meyer, who was sitting beside Alix. “You've got the production rights sewn up tight, I do hope.”

“The opera belongs to the Principality of Lissenberg,” Carl told him. “Having been found here. I think, judging by the dress rehearsal, that it should help to solve your financial problem. I've had some interesting approaches about recordings.” He smiled at Anne. “You're going to be a very busy Princess.”

Smile and pretend. This was their happy evening. She smiled at Carl. “I never did have a chance to tell you how well I thought it went. I'd give anything to sing in it again.” My life? “But, Carl, you and Alix?” They were sitting hand in hand, and she had suddenly understood Carl's baffling behaviour to herself.

“Time we came to that. Thanks, Anne.” Carl raised Alix's hand to his lips, then turned to Michael. “We've been engaged for a year. I wanted to tell you, but Alix wouldn't let me.”

“Quite right, too,” Michael told him. “I didn't exist, remember, and Father had thought up some quite nasty punishments for people who insisted on pretending that I did. The
funny thing was, it rebounded on him in a way. Since he had announced that I didn't exist, there wasn't much he could do when I came back with my United Nations passport as plain Michael Liss, except pretend I wasn't there and insist everyone else do so too. I must say, I found it remarkably liberating.” He turned to Anne. “I hated not telling you, my darling, but it really was much safer for you.”

“Yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “I suppose I can see that.” And she could understand, too, how he had found his strange state of non-existence liberating, as she had her sentence of death. She shivered. Smile and pretend …

Michael was grinning wickedly at his sister. “So all that flirting with Adolf Stern and James Frensham was just camouflage? I did think they weren't quite your line. To hell with Frensham, but hard on Stern, maybe?”

“Stern!” Carl interrupted explosively. “Nothing's too bad for him. If Alix was pretending, so was he. He and Lotte Moser are married. Kept it quiet because they thought it better for their careers. There was going to be a dramatic announcement when they had got rid of Anne, and Lotte took over the part of Marcus. Stern broke down and told me all about it after the explosion; when we thought you two dead. They hadn't meant it to go as far as that. That's what they say now. That they hired Fritz just to give you a fright, Anne, and leave you shut in the opera house all night. Quite a fright they must have been planning, since they obviously didn't expect you to be able to sing on Monday night. Stern insists he left it all to Fritz.”

“Who was undoubtedly in Frensham's pay already,” put in Michael, “and told him all about it. Frensham just took over control. It was Fritz who telephoned and told me you were locked in the opera house, Anne. A nasty trick by Stern, he said. Idiotic to have believed him and gone alone. Of course Frensham's men were waiting for me.”

“Well, you'd heard Stern telling me Anne had gone on ahead to the hotel,” said Meyer. “And then, when we got there, she wasn't there. It all fitted together … God, that was a terrible evening. I'll never forget that pretence at a party. And the next twenty-four hours, with no sign of you, Anne, or Michael. Alix's
sore throat worse and Lotte Moser turning up, all smiles, ready to take over Marcus and ‘save' us. I'm not sure the explosion wasn't a relief, in a way.” He turned to Anne. “Don't look so sad, Annchen. It will be even better next time.” And, back to Alix: “How's your throat now?”

“Better again. Good God!” She put her hand to it.

“Yes?”

“I've just realised. When it first started bothering me, Adolf Stern said he had the very thing for it … throat pastilles. He gave me his. I finished them the other day, and it began to get better. Then, just the other day, he offered me one, ‘to be on the safe side.' And I took it to be polite. And it got worse again.”

“I should imagine so,” said Carl dryly. “So, with you and Anne both unable to sing, Lotte could step gallantly forward and take over. She got herself thrown out of the job at the hotel on purpose. Didn't think night-club singing was just the right image. But she's been waiting her time just across the border. Came in with the first of the crowds, according to Adolf Stern, so he and she and Fritz were able to play their little trick on you in the opera house, Anne. What exactly did they do?”

Anne shuddered. “I'd rather not talk about it,” she said. “Fritz hated me … thought he had reason to. He was a little mad, I think. What's happened to him?” she asked.

“We think he must have lost his nerve,” Josef told her. “Heard something, perhaps. Realised he was out of his depth. He tried to get in touch with Winkler on Sunday, but couldn't, finally he telephoned Hans at the Wild Man, told him he was afraid for Michael; thought he was in danger; behind the opera house somewhere. He was scared rigid; wouldn't stop to say more. Didn't seem to care about you, I'm afraid, Anne. But it was thanks to him that Hans and his friends were looking for you two on Sunday night.”

“Poor man,” said Michael. “Yes. It must have been for him Frensham's men were checking cars that night, Anne. Inconvenient for us; worse for him.”

“They found him?”

“Must have. His body washed up in the river this morning.”

“Another death for Frensham to answer for,” said Josef.

It was odd, Anne thought, to see how naturally he had retaken his place as head of the family. Perhaps she would tell him first. But that was the coward's way … Michael had the right to know. Tomorrow she would tell him.

“It's been a long day,” said Josef. “And tomorrow Herr Winkler wants statements from everyone concerned. Time for bed, I think. Gloria, my dear, did you arrange about a room for Anne?”

“Room for Anne?” At some point in the evening, Princess Gloria must have been reunited with her champagne cocktails. By now her speech was slurred. “Moving in already, is she? Better have my room, I suppose. Hereditary Princess's.” She made an awkward mouthful of the phrase.

“Mother!” Alix began a protest, but Michael intervened. “I believe Anne would rather go back to the hostel, wouldn't you?” He turned to her. “Winkler's put a man there, just to be on the safe side, but Stern and Lotte left this morning. No problems now, and I expect you'll be glad to get back into your own things.”

“I certainly will.” Here, suddenly, was the chance she had both wanted and feared. The chance to be alone with Michael. She must take it, get it over with, finished. Then she must call Dr Hirsch, ask for stronger pills; something that would keep her going for the duration of James Frensham's trial. And oddly, it was now, thinking this, that she realised for the first time that she had lost the last batch of pills, days ago, when her purse was stolen, and simply been too busy, too frightened, too exhausted to worry about them. Extraordinary.

Goodnights were being said. Josef, too, was returning to the hostel and for a moment she thought she would be spared the task of telling Michael tonight. But Josef had his own car. A cold finger from Princess Gloria, a warm kiss from Alix and another from Carl. These ought to be her family. Well—she braced herself—Princess Gloria would not mourn her for long.

One of Michael's trade union members was waiting with the little green car in which he had driven her before. “You've been very quiet.” Michael held the door for her. “Tired? You've a right to be. You were tremendous, there at the Diet. I was—proud
of you. I always am.” He climbed in beside her. “Forgiven me yet for what I've bounced you into?”

“Forgiven! Oh, Michael.” She turned in her seat to face him. “It's not that. It's what you have to forgive me.”

He let in the clutch and they slid gently downhill. “Married already? Ten starving children at home? Who cares? I love you. You love me. There's no arguing about that. We know; you and I. We're lucky.”

Lucky! They were at the fork in the road already. She could not do it to him here in the car, with the hostel so close. “Michael, can't we go up to the Wild Man? I'm hungry.” Extraordinary, but it was true.

“Lovely girl. I'd hesitated to suggest it after all you've been through. But yes, indeed we'll go and see old Hans. I could just do with a hunter's breakfast.”

As on the first time they had gone there, the Wild Man was in darkness. Michael played a tune on the car horn. Haydn? The Lissenberg national anthem. “Michael!” She was shocked and sounded it.