The Lisbon Crossing (19 page)

“Be quiet, Harry.”

“You’re an American,” Stropford said. “None of this has anything to do with you.”

“I guess it does now,” I said.

“It’s not too late. If you put the gun down, you can remain neutral, but once you go through that door—”

“Get their wallets,” I said to Eva.

“Their wallets?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m broke.”

Eva nodded, moved around the table, and slipped her hand into Harry’s jacket. She came up with a sad, empty piece of leather.

“Skint.” Harry smiled, looking embarrassed. “As usual.”

Eva tossed the wallet onto the table, then performed the same operation on Stropford, resulting in a much healthier-looking billfold. She flipped through the bills.

“About seventy escudos and a ten-pound note,” she reported.

“Take the escudos,” I said. Eva nodded, removed the notes, and replaced the wallet. “Give them to the bartender and tell him to go home. We’ll lock the place up for him.” Eva nodded and headed toward the front room.

“And ask him for some rope!” I called after her.

“Are you sure about this, Jack?” Harry said.

“Of course not.” I shrugged. “But you know, Harry, sometimes you just have to close your eyes and take the plunge.”

“Welcome to the war,”
Eva said as I threw the car into gear and punched the gas.

“Just one question.”

“What’s that?”

“Which side are we on?”

She gave me a look. “I’m not sure we have a side anymore.”

“Okay,” I said. “You and me against the world.”

She smiled and turned toward the window, watched as I swerved to avoid a young boy who was leading his fully laden mule along the side of the dusty road.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“Why did Geoffrey Stevens send me to Roman? If he isn’t a British agent, what is he?”

“Let’s ask him.”

I pulled the car onto the main road, gunned the engine, and headed east, toward Lisbon.

T
he warehouse had been swept clean—not a speck of dust left, let alone a Rembrandt or a Cézanne. “Looks like he flew the coop,” I said, pushing the door open. “And took it with him.”

Eva crossed to one of the long windows at the far end of the loft, and stood looking out across Lisbon’s rooftops, tinged with the pink and yellow of the western sky. The light cast her face in a deep, rich, radiant glow, and I stood there taking it in. She felt me watching and turned, leaving her right side drenched in sunlight as the left slipped into shadow.

I moved toward her.

“Jack…” She sounded hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“I hope you didn’t do this just for me…Just so we could be together.”

“Why the hell else would I do it?”

We stood there for a moment, defying the laws of gravity, staring into each other’s eyes. When we finally succumbed, we didn’t so much fall, as slide into each other. Holding her sent an unexpected shudder through my body, which she must have felt, because she pulled me tighter, and then we kissed. I don’t know how long we stayed there, lost in each other, but by the time we resurfaced, we were standing in total darkness.

And somebody was standing there with us.

W
e sensed it at the same moment. A figure, just inside the door, peering into the darkness. He wasn’t aware of us yet.

We didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

Eva let her arms fall slowly to her side, then she stepped back and held herself flat against the wall. There was just enough ambient light filtering through the window to illuminate her eyes, which were locked onto me, waiting to see how I’d react.

I watched the intruder.

He took a couple of steps—heels echoing off the hard wooden
floor—then he stopped again. He sensed us, too, now. Eva reached out, tried to take my arm, but I avoided her grasp. I was tensed, waiting for my moment. I couldn’t get entangled.

A movement—a fleeting shadow, or perhaps just the intuition of one—then a shaft of crisp white light cut through the darkness. The flashlight’s beam swept across the floor and flitted up the walls, crossing the room like a prison searchlight, moving steadily closer to our exposed position.

I looked back to Eva. Her face was flushed, head tilted back, heart beating as wildly as mine. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought the trace of a smile spread across her parted lips, and it sent a shiver up my spine. Was she enjoying this?

Was I?

I exploded out of my stance and raced toward the light. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM…My footsteps shook the hollow floor and reverberated through the building.

I counted…

ONE…TWO…THREE SECONDS…

The spotlight found me.

FOUR…FIVE…
FLASH…CRACK!

A bullet ripped through the air, and sailed past my ear like an angry wasp. I didn’t react, didn’t adjust. He wouldn’t miss again…I had to get there first…A glimpse of cold gray steel made me feel the point-blank emptiness of a gun aimed at your face. Then white light burst into my eyes…

CRACK!

The gun discharged again. I leapt forward, tucked my chin into my collar, and rolled over my shoulder. I hardly touched ground, finding my feet again before I knew which way was up. Swiveling around quickly, I located the light, pushed off my right leg, and buried my shoulder into the man’s lower spine. He was smaller, lighter than I’d expected, and he came sailing off the floor—I could hear his neck snap backward as I drove him at full speed into the wall. We came down in a heap, and I quickly pulled myself up to a sitting
position. The guy was facedown, lying perfectly still. I thought for a moment that I’d broken his neck, but then he grunted and started to come to. Unable to find the gun, I crawled back to pick up the flashlight which lay on the floor, its beam scraping the surface of the warehouse’s old wooden floorboards.

When I swung the light back around, I found Eva standing over the guy, a Luger gripped tightly in her hands, pointing at his back. The intruder groaned and squirmed, but he wasn’t aware of his surroundings yet. Certainly not that he was about to be shot in the back. Eva stood taut, ready to fire, but undecided. I turned the flashlight onto her face.

“You gonna do it?” I said.

No answer. She remained fixed, unable to stand down, but unable to pull the trigger. I pulled myself onto my feet, walked over, and gently removed the pistol from her grip.

“If you were gonna shoot him, you would’ve done it by now,” I said. She sighed and let her arms fall to her side. The man on the floor was slowly coming around. He made a move to push himself off the floor, but didn’t get far because his face met Eva’s boot on the way up. The force of the blow flipped him over onto his back and he was out for the count this time. I moved the light to his face and recognized him right away.

“Tell me something,” I said.

“What?”

“Does he look like Mickey Rooney to you?”

It really wasn’t a fair question, because the blood that was gushing out of the guy’s cheek was blurring any resemblance to the lovable movie star.

“His name is Engel,” Eva said slowly. “Walter Engel. They call him
der Engel der Schwärzung.
The Angel of Darkness.”

L
ili was packing. At least, she was standing over two maids, telling them how to pack. Every hat, shoe, silk stocking, and sequin had
to be checked, logged, and rechecked before it could be carefully placed in one of the five large trunks that would be making the return crossing to New York and then on to Hollywood. It didn’t help that neither of the ladies-in-waiting spoke a word of English, including the one I’d pushed past to get into the room. Lili was in fine form.

“Good God, darling! You look like hell!”

I caught a glimpse in the mirror and saw that she was right, I did look like hell. I felt like it, too.

“It’s been an interesting day,” I said.

“You’d better clean up and start packing. We leave first thing in the morning. I must be in New York by the twenty-second and this is the only hope.” She cast an impish look over her shoulder. “It’s been an interesting day for me, too.”

“I won’t be making the trip back,” I said.

That got her attention. She stopped in her tracks, gave me a look, then allowed a tight smile to form on her lips. “I see. Well, I should have guessed it, I suppose. You don’t deserve her, you know.”

“You can’t leave either, Lili,” I said. “Not yet anyway.”

“The hell I can’t.”

“You’ll have to wait for the next boat.”

The smile fell off her face. “Do you know who phoned me this afternoon, Jack? Von Sternberg, that’s who. He wants me to meet him for lunch in New York. He has a part—”

“It’s important, Lili…”

Her voice went up a notch. “—a part that every leading lady in Hollywood would give their firstborn child to play, and von Sternberg is going to offer it to me! Unless, that is, I stand him up for lunch! So you can see that this is rather important, too! Do what the hell you like, but I’ll be sailing for New York at ten o’clock tomorrow morning!”

She fixed me with a steely glare, daring me to speak.

“Why the hell did you come here, Lili? What was the point?”

“Don’t be stupid, Jack.”

“Want to know what I think?”

She frowned. “Do I have a choice?”

“I think you didn’t like what you saw in the future, so you decided to go off on some pathetic misty-eyed search for the past. And now that the future is looking a bit more promising, you’re ready to pack up and move on, leaving the one person who seems to mean something to you high and dry.”

I prepared for the worst, but it didn’t come. She stood there for a moment, staring at me, then she deflated and dropped onto the bed. She shook her head a couple of times, then fixed me with grim, plaintive eyes.

“You’re a bastard, Jack,” she said. “A real fucking honest-to-goodness bastard.”

T
he sea air reached down into my lungs and gave me a much-needed burst of energy. The sound of the waves rumbling in off the Atlantic made conversation superfluous, so we made our way up the beach without words. At one point Lili stopped and placed her hand on my shoulder while she removed her shoes, then she wandered into the surf, allowing the salt water to slide up under her bare feet. We’d slipped out of the hotel using the basement employees’ entrance, the same way I’d come in, then around the back of the tennis courts, and over to the shoreline. I think Lili was enjoying the intrigue.

We found Eva sitting in the sand by the car, which I’d pulled onto a deserted section of the beach about a mile up from the Palacio. She stood up when she saw us and a soft breeze blew through her hair. I liked the way she held it back off her face with one hand as we approached.

“Hello, Lili,” she said, a darting glance at me trying to discern the state of play.

“Hello, darling,” Lili said warmly, but with a nervous edge in her voice. “I hope you know what you’re doing with Mr. Teller here. He has something of a reputation, you know.”

“I’ll let you know if he lives up to it,” Eva laughed.

“I’d prefer to remain in the dark, thank you.”

Lili crossed her arms and looked off toward the western horizon, barely visible in the soft light of the waning moon. She could have been waiting for her close-up. I suppose Lili was always waiting for her close-up. After a wistful moment, just the sound of the surf crashing onto the beach, she sighed and turned back to us.

“All right,” she said. “Tell me how we’re going to save England.”

I checked
my watch as the duke’s Bentley pulled into the parking area behind the hotel. Eight o’clock sharp. They were right on time.

The limo rolled to a stop in front of the service entrance, where I was waiting with an umbrella, ready to shield the royal couple from the light rain that had been falling since midafternoon. I stepped forward, but the gray-uniformed driver was faster, jumping out from behind the wheel and popping his own umbrella as he took up a position beside the passenger door. He stood at attention, waiting for the black Austin sedan to park up a few feet behind the Bentley. Two men dressed in brown suits and matching fedoras exited, and, after a cursory glance around, gave the driver the all clear.

Espírito Santo was the first to emerge. He gave me a nod, then turned back to offer his hand to the duchess, who stepped onto the pavement looking like a crow in drag. She glanced my way—I wasn’t sure if she smiled or sneered—then the duke himself decamped, displaying his usual wrinkled brow. Judging by the odd look he gave me, he didn’t have the slightest idea who I was.

“Hello, Jack.” Santo greeted me warmly, then stepped back to
allow the duchess to come forward. “May I present Mr. Jack Teller, Your Grace?”

“Yes, we’ve met. Very nice to see you again, Mr. Teller.” She extended a regal hand, which I took, but stopped short of kissing.

“My pleasure,” I said.

“You remember Jack Teller, Your Grace,” Santo said as Windsor himself stepped forward.

“Ah, yes, of course. Jack.” He nodded. “Good of you to arrange all this.”

“It’s Lili’s party, sir,” I said. “And I have to say that I’ve never seen her so nervous.” I knew that I couldn’t go wrong with flattery, and the duke proved me right, breaking into a wide, vain grin.

“Nonsense,” he protested. “Nothing to be nervous about. We’re all friends.”

S
anto was eager to get me alone. He pulled me aside the first chance he got, over cocktails, while Lili was entertaining the royal couple with tall tales of Hollywood.

“I presume, Jack, that we’ll be able to discuss the matter which the duke and I raised with you the other evening,” he said in his silky voice. “You were somewhat ambiguous on the telephone.”

He was right, I had been vague, deliberately so. I wanted to make sure they turned up, but I didn’t want them to know what to expect once they got there. It kept me in the driver’s seat.

“The truth is,” I said, beginning the speech I’d been rehearsing all day, “that I talked to Lili about your proposal, and she’s nervous about getting mixed up in politics. As you can imagine, she’s very protective of her relationship with the president.” I let the disappointment sink in for a moment, then dangled the hook. “But I think we can get her to come around if we just take it slowly.”

“Yes, of course,” he said eagerly. “We must take it slowly.”

“Lili doesn’t expect me for dinner,” I said, and Santo didn’t bat an eye. He saw me as a useful go-between, but, ultimately, as an employee
who wouldn’t be expected to get a seat at the table. Counting on the arrogance, I’d had Lili arrange for six courses to be served, which would take close to three hours. Enough time for me to go to the villa, have a good look around, and get back without being missed.

“Stay off the subject of war and peace and give her plenty of champagne,” I said. “I’ll turn up later, for a brandy, and we can work on her then.”

Santo smiled approvingly and patted me on the back. “A fine plan, Jack. Very well thought out.”

I hoped that he was right. Of course, the part of the plan that I hadn’t mentioned—the part that involved breaking into his villa and stealing top secret documents—that would be the tough part. I wasn’t especially worried about getting onto the grounds, or even into the duke and duchess’s apartment. I had enough breaking-and-entering experience under my belt to be confident on that score. It didn’t even concern me that there was bound to be some security minding the fort. My guess was that the guys in the Austin were the first string, and whoever was left behind would be thinking of it as a night off. They certainly wouldn’t be expecting a cat burglar. No, it was the second part of the plan that I was skeptical about. If the papers were there, I’d have a pretty good chance of finding them, but these were the documents that the duke had told Hitler would “shorten the war.” It was unlikely that he’d have them tucked away in his underwear drawer. I’d made that point when Eva proposed the idea, the previous evening on the beach. We’d all piled into the car to talk, me in the front seat, the two girls in back.

“I
don’t mind the risk,” I’d said. “But it seems kind of pointless.

They’ll have those papers stashed away in some bank vault somewhere.”

“Where?” Eva responded. “Think about it. The duke and duchess are refugees—”

“Really, darling,” Lili interrupted. “Refugees?”

“They’re just as displaced as the people you see wandering the streets of the Alfama. They have no home, they don’t know where they’re going next, and they’re willing to trade everything for a future. Those documents—whatever they contain—are their future. I don’t think they’d trust anyone with them, certainly not a bank.”

It was hard to argue with the logic—and it was also futile. It was clear that if I didn’t go along, Eva intended to do the job herself. Besides, I didn’t have any better ideas.

Once we’d agreed on the plan, Lili headed back to the Palacio while Eva and I drove up the coast about thirty miles, where we found a desolate guesthouse that provided a couple of spartan rooms for a few escudos. Eva was quiet in the car, staring blankly out the window the entire time, and went straight to her room once we’d checked in.

As I lay there, alone on my musty pillow, an uneasy feeling came over me. I’d just agreed to steal secret documents that could help Germany win the war, and put them in Eva’s hands. What if she’d been stringing me along, after all? There was a corner of my mind that still held the images of the three men she’d killed—two of them shot in the back.

I was pretty sure that I’d fallen in love with Eva, and I thought maybe she felt something for me, too, but that didn’t necessarily rule out becoming victim number four. It was one thing to risk your life for love, even to die for it, quite another to play the chump. Anyway, why take a chance? I could sneak out early, drive back to the Palacio in order to set the plan in motion, and have the duke’s papers in hand before Eva could find her way back. Once I handed the documents over to the Brits, Eva would be in the clear, and we’d all live happily ever after.

Or something like that.

“I
say, Jack…Hold on a moment, would you?”

I was halfway to the elevator when I heard the duke calling out. I spun around and saw that he was heading my way, his arm around the duchess.

“So sorry to trouble you, Jack, but my wife isn’t feeling terribly well. She won’t be able to stay for dinner, after all. Would you mind very much seeing her to the car?”

“No…no…I…sure, of course I will.” I turned to the duchess. “I’m sorry you’re not—”

“A migraine,” she said woefully. “I get them quite frequently, I’m afraid.”

“Come on very suddenly,” her husband added. “Bloody awful.”

The duchess turned to her husband. “I’m so sorry to ruin the dinner party, darling. And Lili’s gone to such an effort.”

“You mustn’t worry about that.” The duke took her hand and held it in both of his. “What you must do is lie down in a dark room with a hot compress over your forehead. And take two aspirin, no more. I’ll explain to Lili.”

She smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, darling. I feel dreadful upsetting everyone’s evening.”

“Nonsense! You haven’t upset anyone’s evening. Has she, Jack?”

I smiled and concurred, but of course it wasn’t true. She’d just put a serious dent in mine.

T
he duchess’s headache seemed to subside as soon as I pulled the elevator doors closed. She raised her head and didn’t just look at me—she eyed me like a vulture sizing up a piece of red meat sprawled out across the road.

“You know, Jack,” she said. “You don’t need to stand on ceremony with me. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“All right.” I smiled, hoping we could leave it at that.

The lift moved slowly past the fourth floor on its way down to the basement. We were using the service elevator, as we had on the way up, so the royals could come and go unseen.

“Why hasn’t Lili absolutely devoured you?” she chirped. “I really don’t know how she could resist. In fact, my imagination is running quite out of control at this very moment.”

I was more than a bit dumbstruck, which the duchess seemed to enjoy. She displayed an inverted smile, her dark red lips curling down at the corners of her mouth, her eyes narrowing until they disappeared entirely. She leaned forward slightly.

“Am I shocking you?”

“Isn’t that the idea?”

She laughed, almost a giggle. “I could do a lot worse.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

“Can you, Jack?”

I tugged at the lever and we came to an abrupt stop. The duchess just stood there, a wicked smile locked onto her face, waiting to see what I was going to do. I stepped forward to pull the doors open, but she still didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. Finally, she let forth a forlorn sigh and reached into the small handbag she’d been clutching under her arm.

“Imagination is fine, up to a point,” she said. “But we have to live a little, too. Don’t you think?” She extended her hand and there, in the center of her palm, was a small, brass door key.

“Take it,” she ordered.