horizon. Far above the puffs of exploding shells in a blue sky, a small aircraft, perhaps a German reconnaissance plane. Some officer at the antiaircraft battery down the bay had evidently spotted the insignia with his binoculars and given the order to fire. No chance of hitting it, not at that altitude. And the plane didn’t evade, simply circled the city, then turned out to sea and disappeared into the haze. From the crowd, more than a few cheers. An old man, standing near Zannis, said, “Where is our air force?”
The gunfire had certainly affected the passengers on the wharf. What had been an unruly mob now formed itself into a long line, leading to a wooden table and two customs officers sitting on folding chairs. When it came the turn of the Zannis family, he hugged and kissed them all, knelt and embraced Melissa, now miraculously wearing her leash, and, taking his glasses off to wipe his eyes, watched their blurred forms wave good-bye as they climbed the gangway.
In the office, a telegram awaited him, sent from Basel.
HAD TO GO AWAY STOP BUSINESS CLOSED
STOP MAY GOD WATCH OVER YOU STOP
SIGNED FRIEND FROM BERLIN
“At least she’s safe,” Sibylla said. “And I suppose the operation couldn’t go on forever.”
“No, I guess it couldn’t. Maybe someone else might have taken over, but with war coming in Yugoslavia that won’t be possible.”
“She did what she could,” Sibylla said.
“Yes,” Zannis said. “She did.”
Next he went off to the Bank of Commerce and Deposit on Victoros Hougo Street. He’d paid for the family steamship tickets with his own money, but he wasn’t going to abandon the secret fund-money was crucial to resistance. He was, however, not the only person in town that afternoon clearing his account. There were fourteen people ahead of him on line-all waiting for the bank officer who handled “special accounts.”
The man was not holding up well; he seemed to Zannis pale and anxious. “I regret, sir, there are no dollars, not any more. Maybe tomorrow, we might have some, but I wouldn’t wait, if I were you.”
“No British money? Gold sovereigns?”
The man closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, sir. Not for weeks. Gold is very desirable now.”
“What do you have left?”
“Drachmas, of course. Spanish pesetas, and Swiss francs.”
“Swiss francs,” Zannis said.
The officer, having set the account’s file card down before him, went into the vault and returned with a metal drawer that held packets of Swiss francs, a pin forced through the corner of each stack of one hundred. “Do you have a briefcase, sir?”
Zannis produced it and, recalling the French king in the back of his royal automobile, slid the packets into the case.
When he returned to the office, he found a message to telephone a detective in the second district. “Costa Zannis,” he said. “You telephoned?”
“Somebody threw a brick through the window of the German legation,” the detective said. “Would that be something for your office?”
“Did you talk to them?”
“Yes. I went over there and wrote up a report. The consul was in a real fury.”
“He was, was he.”
“Oh yes. Red in the face, sputtering.”
Zannis laughed. “First good news today.”
“I guess that means you don’t care.”
“Well, I can’t help him.”
“You should’ve seen it,” the detective said. “It was really wonderful.”
Eventually, Zannis had to return to Santaroza Lane; he had nowhere else to go. Spring was heavy in the air that afternoon, and the two old women had their kitchen chairs out, gossiping in the last of the sunshine. As always they were pleased to see him. One of them said, “By the way, your telephone’s been ringing most of the afternoon.”
“It has?”
“Somebody’s been trying to reach you.”
Zannis hurried upstairs. The apartment was very still without Melissa. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited, but the phone didn’t ring for another forty minutes. “Yes? Hello?”
“Finally! It’s me, Costa.” Demetria, her voice strong and sweet.
“Where are you?” The connection was suspiciously clear.
“Not far. I’m in Salonika.”
“You’ve come home?” he said.
“No, that’s finished.” She paused, then said, “I’m at the Lux Palace, in 601, the suite on the top floor.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said.
It turned out to be the same suite where he’d first met Emilia Krebs. When Demetria opened the door, they stared at each other for a long moment.
“Well then,” she said. “Maybe you should come inside.”
She gestured to the sofa, sat down at the other end, then moved closer. For a time they didn’t speak, their alliance settling on them amid the ambient sounds from the open window-seagulls, car horns, voices in the street. At last he said, “Was it very bad?”
“Bad enough,” she said. “I’m going to call down for something to drink, what would you like?”
“French wine? Champagne?”
As she went to the telephone, he watched her walk. Not that she overdid it, but she knew his eyes were following her. After she’d ordered champagne, she returned to the sofa. “I guess I could have done that while you were on the way but then I didn’t know if you’d want a room service waiter … knocking on the door …”
“We have time,” he said. “What a luxury that is.”
She looked into his eyes, excited to be with him, in love with him, and put a warm hand atop his. But she did this instead of responding to what he’d said. Because there wasn’t very much time, she just didn’t have the heart to say it. “Yes,” she said. “A luxury.”
His eye fell on an open suitcase that stood on a luggage rack. “Is that all you brought?”
“Oh no, there’s more in the baggage room. You should see what I brought. That’s why I waited until we came back to Salonika. Then I told him.”
“How did he take it?”
“He was ice cold. He knew, I think. Either in his mean little heart, sensed I wasn’t with him any more, or his spies told him what was going on.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No, he’s too busy settling his affairs before he leaves, to think about revenge.”
“He’s going to America?”
She nodded. “I would’ve liked to see it, but-”
A knock on the door. “Room service.”
They drank the champagne, touching glasses in a silent toast. Zannis poured a second, then a third, and the effect was powerful. Darkness gathered outside the window, the last drifts of sunlit cloud low on the horizon. Demetria said it was beautiful, then she yawned. “Oh God, forgive me-I couldn’t help it.”
“You’re tired, I’m not surprised, and the champagne …”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Me too. A very difficult day, until you called.”
“Maybe we should sleep.”
“Why not? We’ll stay here tonight, then-”
“Oh we can stay as long as we like.”
