Wayward Winds (45 page)

 87 
Departure

With thoughts of the
Titanic
in her mind, and trembling just slightly as a result, Amanda followed an exuberant Mrs. Thorndike up the steep gangway onto the deck of the luxury Greek cruise ship
Ianthina
.

They found a place along the crowded rail, among many hundreds doing likewise to see their friends and loved ones, and after waving one last time down to Mrs. Halifax onshore, went to find their stateroom.

The two days back at Heathersleigh had thrown Amanda into an odd state of perplexity concerning her future. It was obvious after the visit that she did not belong there.

Yet London too had grown strange, cold, and unfamiliar. Even as she arrived back in the great metropolis, it seemed different.

She was glad for the upcoming cruise. She had nothing else to look forward to.

At Mrs. Halifax's suggestion she had withdrawn the final £107 from her account. She didn't exactly like the idea of having nothing to come back to. But she had gone along with the idea. If friends of Mrs. Halifax's were going to put them up in Vienna, she wanted to do nothing to ripple the waters of the friendship now. She would watch herself and make sure she didn't foolishly spend so much as a shilling.

And maybe it was time to cast caution to the wind. She was either about to have the adventure of her life, or end up a pauper! Perhaps both, Amanda thought mordantly.

Two hours later the
Ianthina
was steaming out of Portsmouth, bound for Lisbon, her first port of call. From there they would pass through the Strait of Gibraltar, with stops to follow in Algiers, Marseilles, Naples, Malta, and Crete, before entering the Aegean Sea and the islands of Greece. Three weeks from today they would be in Athens.

After that, Mrs. Thorndike's plans were indefinite. Mrs. Halifax was to meet them in Vienna for the summer, at the home of her hospitable friends. They planned a thorough visit in the Austrian capital and talked of taking the Orient Express back across the Continent to Paris, or else traveling the southern route from Belgrade to Venice and Rome and then north to France, before returning to England.

She would probably have to think about her future then . . . but at least for now she could put it out of her mind and try to enjoy herself.

 88 
Churchill and Rutherford

The First Lord of the Admiralty for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland walked thoughtfully along Downing Street where he had just left a meeting with the prime minister and his top military advisors.

Confidential documents seized less than forty-eight hours earlier indicated that the situation in the east was more grave than they had realized. A plot appeared afoot to assassinate a major world leader.

The only question was . . .
which
leader?

Tsar Nicholas II of Russia was the most likely. The Bolsheviks were growing increasingly restless, and it was only a matter of time before the whole country exploded. The Russian colossus to the east was a huge mysterious unknown, whose private inner workings were as shadowy as its military might was fearsome. The military planners of Europe usually looked to Russia first, and internal unrest threw a great unknown into the equation of potential war.

Threats had also been made against Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria by Serbian nationalists, and against Greek Prime Minister Venizelos. The king of Greece, George I, had been assassinated only a year before during the First Balkan War. Factions in that country seemed intent on adding a second murder to the list.

But what if the threats pointed elsewhere . . . to Paris, even London? There were those who feared that the lives of England's Prime Minister Asquith, or even George V, might likewise be in danger.

Nor was this all. The documents hinted at a clandestine operation, planned for years but only recently put into effect, whereby foreign agents were being moved in and out of England without detection.

Churchill and other British leaders had been aware of the danger posed by internal sabotage, espionage, and counterespionage for years. The Agadir crisis had prompted frank discussions concerning German spies and agents in many British ports. Further investigation had uncovered an extensive system of British men and women on Berlin's payroll. Lists began to be compiled for the War Book.

Coded language concerning this new discovery apparently pointed to some Irish connection, though they had not been able to fully decipher it. Immediately upon learning of it, Churchill had ordered a thorough combing of the Irish coast, especially between Dublin and Cork, which seemed the most likely, as well as updated intelligence files on the region.

This was serious news indeed. If spies were able to move freely throughout England without detection after all the attempts to root out their identities and organizations, what security was left them? Churchill had been issuing warnings for years. Now it seemed his worst fears were being realized.

Churchill's thoughts drifted to Charles Rutherford. Could any of these developments have to do with the suspicious group that had tried to recruit him? Perhaps he ought to talk to Sir Charles again.

Several days later the two men were speaking in confidential tones in a London hotel room. After the alarming communiqué, Churchill did not even want to trust this conversation to his office. News of an active spy network had everyone in the government on edge.

“Do you actually think all this is connected to that business with Hartwell Barclay?” Charles asked.

“We have no way of knowing for certain,” replied Churchill. “But after his disappearance, the secret service uncovered several disturbing connections about his background that were completely unknown. You haven't heard any more from them?”

“No, although attacks are now being leveled at me.”

Churchill nodded. “I saw that piece in the
Sun
—totally spurious. I am sorry it has come to this, Sir Charles—one of the hazards of being in the public eye, I suppose. You're not worried about it?”

“Not for my own sake. I ceased being concerned for my reputation long ago. If they want to discredit me in the public eye because I would not go along with their scheme, whatever it is, I will lose no sleep over it. The only thing I worry about is my family, and how the controversy will affect them. My greatest fear is that they will try to use one of my family to get at me.”

“Do you consider that possible?”

“I have a daughter who is not with us, and . . . well, let me just say it is a troublesome situation.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Churchill sincerely. “But you don't think she has some connection with this fellow Barclay and his clique?”

“None that I'm aware of. But she is on the Continent, and that fact alone concerns me. But she had been living with Halifax's widow, and she was present at that one Fountain meeting I attended.”

“Hmm . . . yes, I see,” nodded Churchill.

A lengthy and thoughtful silence followed.

“The situation is not looking good, Sir Charles,” said Churchill at length. “Once again events in Greece and elsewhere in the Balkans are growing hot. No sooner has the dust settled on the Second Balkan War but that a third appears imminent. Thus far, Germany has remained quiet . . . but for how long?”

Charles nodded, taking in Churchill's words seriously, knowing full well what they meant.

“If worse comes to worst, Sir Charles,” the First Lord of the Admiralty went on, “it might be that I shall call on you.”

“I am available anytime.”

“I mean in an
active
role, Sir Charles.”

“You don't actually mean—”

Churchill nodded.

“I may ask you to take up your commission again,” he said. “I will need men of your caliber and leadership commanding my fleet—men I can trust.”

Charles returned Churchill's penetrating gaze in disbelief. It was clear the words he had just heard were deadly serious.

“By the way,” Churchill added, “have you heard from Chalmondley Beauchamp lately?”

“No, why?”

“It seems he has disappeared as well. There are some strange rumors circulating that he may be part of this thing.”

 89 
The City of Mozart

Amanda awoke, sun streaming through the window of her room, and tried to remember where she was.

She had not lain down at night in the same place more than two or three nights in a row for the last month. Most of those nights had been spent on board the
Ianthina
. The cruise had been relaxing, but tedious after a while. She read quite a bit, and some of the sights were fascinating, though after a while they all looked the same. A mysterious Greek man had shown more than a passing interest in her, which had added intrigue to the final stages of the voyage.

A week earlier they had finally arrived in Athens. After a tour of the ancient land so recently besieged by the conflict of the Balkan wars, she and Mrs. Thorndike had taken the southern Orient line north through Belgrade and Budapest, arriving in Vienna the day before. Amanda was glad to get out of the wartorn Balkans. Everyone there was unfriendly and suspicious and seemed angry. She was afraid fighting might break out again anytime. At least now they were in a city of culture and refinement.

Her money was dwindling faster than she liked. But they were now safe in Austria with friends, and on their way back west.

Amanda rose and dressed, then knocked on Mrs. Thorndike's door. She took a more careful look at their surroundings as they went down the stairs to breakfast a few minutes later. This was an odd place, she had to admit. From everything Mrs. Halifax had said,
she expected to be staying with a family, but this was more like a boardinghouse. They had been let in by a side entrance last evening by the most peculiar woman who made not the slightest effort to make them feel welcome. She showed them their rooms without fanfare and, with scarce more than a half dozen words, told them when and where they could find breakfast, then immediately returned to her chair looking out on an uninteresting side street. Whether she knew who they were or had been expecting them was not discernible from her countenance.

After breakfast she and Mrs. Thorndike went out, this time through the front door, for their first look at Vienna. Amanda was too tired to do much sightseeing, but they would walk to the Ring and back, and maybe stop at one of the famous coffeehouses.

As they began walking down the sidewalk, Amanda glanced back. She wanted to be certain of the address and street to make sure she didn't get lost. The number was displayed on the side of the stone building, in small letters. It read Number 42. The street they were on was called Ebendorfer.

“I have always wanted to visit Vienna!” said Mrs. Thorndike with bubbly enthusiasm, thumbing through her guidebook as they walked. Her handbag was stuffed with city maps and various paraphernalia. “I am going to see if I can get tickets for us to the Mozart concert later in the week.”

The great Ring was only two or three long blocks away and within ten or twelve minutes they approached it. Completed in 1865, the sixty-yard wide, two-and-a-half-mile diameter street encircled the Old City of Vienna, the imperial center of the ancient Habsburg dynasty. Around its circumference a magnificent display of new buildings had been under construction for the previous fifty years, from the State Opera House to several modern art academies to the parliament and other city government buildings—all of which made Vienna, the fourth largest city of Europe, also one of its most beautiful and stunning.

For all her enthusiasm, Mrs. Thorndike soon tired of the walk. They caught a cab into the center of the Old City, where they got out at St. Stephen's Cathedral. After an hour inside its majestic nave, both women needed a rest. Vienna would take weeks to see!

As they gradually recovered from the rigors of their month of travel, Mrs. Thorndike arranged for them to attend a performance
of the Vienna Boys' Choir, as well as performances of Mozart, Beethoven, and Strauss. There was, of course, a tour of the Imperial Palace, called the Hofburg, and shopping at the Graben.

And music was everywhere. In nothing was Vienna so famous as for its music. Gradually the charms of the city of Mozart began to infect Amanda. All the sights so ancient and romantic that the boredom she had begun to feel on the voyage for a time disappeared. She found herself thinking again more fondly of home, remembering both her parents' passion for Mozart. After a few days she was enthusiastically helping Mrs. Thorndike plan what they would do and see, and what day excursions they would take.

In the midst of the history and culture and music and beautiful architecture, however, Amanda could not but be aware of an underlying militaristic atmosphere pervading the city. Not only were soldiers everywhere—she had almost grown accustomed to that after traveling through Greece and Serbia—they seemed on edge, wary, watchful, suspicious of everyone who passed. Sometimes she even thought they were looking at her.

Nor could she keep from being suspicious herself. Once leaving the
Ianthina
, the entire atmosphere changed. The very air was charged with tension.

And in the peculiar house on Ebendorfer Strasse where they were staying, with its unusual mix of ages and nationalities, she could never tell what anyone was thinking.