war is breaking out on our streets and in our schools. Or else some kid’s crashed his bike at a hundred miles an hour. Whatever. Young men die violently. When young women do, it’s mostly at the hands of a man.”
“Shall we mourn together, Desdemona?”
“Better together than apart, dear love.” She led the way to the sitting room and got busy at the little bar, so that when next she spoke, it sounded offhand, casual.
“I’m starting to go to church with Maria,” she said.
He took the glass carefully. “Why?”
“It can’t do any harm, can it?”
“No, it never can.”
MONDAY, DECEMBER 2 to END OF YEAR 1968
CHAPTER VIII
When Helen asked Captain Delmonico for the return of her completed journals, he denied her request. “They’re locked up and they stay locked up until you’ve finished your training,” he said. “One question before you go, please. Why did you show part of them to Kurt von Fahlendorf? My instructions were explicit.”
“Sir, I showed Kurt the parts relevant to his kidnapping, in the hope he’d offer me a clue,” she said-well, it was half true.
One eyebrow rose, but he said nothing.
“I admit I didn’t preserve its security properly when I began my journals, but I have learned, sir. Delia chewed me out because my gun and badge were in my bag too-she was right, of course.” Her laugh sounded unconcerned. “But no one burgled my bag, sir.”
“Did you have an enjoyable little vacation?” Carmine asked.
“More enjoyable than you could know, Captain. I managed to avoid Dad’s Thanksgiving table.”
“That can’t have impressed him.”
“Well, no, it didn’t, but I had an excellent excuse.”
She really must have had a good excuse, Carmine thought, for M.M.’s Thanksgiving dinners were huge and required the whole of his rather meager family. His practice was to have his bursars find him fifty poor freshman students on scholarship who wouldn’t be able to afford to go home. Helen’s loss would have been felt.
“The Dodo didn’t strike,” she said, heading for the team’s office. “He’s way overdue.”
“Yes, he’s done what he intended to-confuse us,” Carmine said. “You’re on your own, Helen, I’m afraid. Nick and Delia are still on special duty. I know it’s not glamorous, but your most valuable occupation will be to man the phones and study. Stella only fields my calls, so the team phones are unattended. Fred has linked all three team offices plus Lieutenants Marshall and Goldberg together, which means you’ll be busy with messages.”
He was smiling; the least she could do was smile back. But as she went to sit at her desk, Helen was fighting annoyance. How dared they? Oh, why wasn’t she older and plainer, why did her hair have to be the famous apricot?
The phone rang.
“Helen MacIntosh taking messages for everyone!”
This was greeted by silence; then came a laugh. “Helen? Isn’t this your phone?”
“Oh, Kurt! I’m sorry, just-oh, it doesn’t matter.”
“I’ve been trying to get you for over a week.”
“The Captain gave me leave. They’ve got something going on that I’m not equipped to participate in, and since I had a private matter to attend to, I applied for leave.”
“I went around to Talisman Towers,” he said, “but no one was ever home. Thanksgiving Day, I suppose. But when your father didn’t know where you were, I was
“Oh, poor Kurt! I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that. I’ll forgive you anything if you come to Solo’s with me tonight.”
“What a brilliant idea! I can tell you everything.”
“I’ll pick you up at six forty-five,” he said.
“Uh-no, that’s too difficult. I’ll meet you there at seven, okay?”
“It will have to be,” he said, and hung up.
Typical Kurt: he was there to welcome her. Sometimes Helen contemplated arriving somewhere an hour earlier than the appointed time, just to see how early Kurt arrived. Not only was he dreamy to look at, he was also a total gentleman. And a genius besides.
“Did you finish your equations?” she asked, accepting a glass of French chambertin.
“Yes, I did, then went back and rewrote the ones on the tank wall.” He added sparkling mineral water to his own glass.
“Honestly, Kurt, how can you ruin a wine this good by diluting it? Sometimes you don’t make sense.”
“It’s heavy, darling Helen, and I want a clear head.” The icy blue eyes gleamed. “I want to hear your news, for instance.”
“No, let’s start with your news,” she said.
“How do you know I have any?”
“I can read you like a book.”
“Ach, so… It is stale news by now, but you are entitled to know it, I think. Josef was indeed married to the Richter woman, which made his marriage to Dagmar bigamous.”
“I am so sorry!”
“Sorrow is not necessary. No one will ever know. Frau Richter and her son were shot dead just minutes after Josef-isn’t that amazing? Such a coincidence!”
Helen threw her head back and laughed. “About as amazing a coincidence as Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin meeting at Yalta!”
“That is ironic,” he said placidly, starting on his shrimp cocktail. “This is delicious! You are not shocked?”
“No, Kurt, I’m not shocked. Who did it?”
“Turks, I believe.”
“Who are now on their way back to Turkey to live the life of lords,” she said, still chuckling.
“About that, I cannot postulate.”
“Did the Munich cops make the connection between Frau Richter and Josef von Fahlendorf?”
“How could they? Josef was careful to leave no evidence, and the Frau, who had all the documentation, kept it in her desk-not even locked, can you imagine that?”
“Yes, actually I can,” said Helen, who felt no pity for the Richters. What if she had been fool enough to fall for a con man and foisted him into the MacIntoshes? It wouldn’t have happened, of course, any more than it would happen in the future, but she understood the von Fahlendorf predicament completely. Dagmar had the flaws of genius: she could conceive new formulae and processes and she could administer a multi-factory company with all the shrewdness and knowledge of a born business person, but she couldn’t judge people or manage her private life. How like her was Kurt? Very different in most respects, but…
“Would you fall in love with the wrong person?” she asked.
He raised his head from his food, smiling. “You tell me.”
“If I could, Kurt, I wouldn’t need to ask.”
He put down his fork, took her hands. “Helen, Helen! I am in love with you. I have been in love with you since I first met you at that party of Mark’s ten months ago.”
“Oh, rubbish!” she cried, removing her hands. “You only think you are. It’s not real.”
And like that, he gave it up! “Have it your own way,” he said, pushing the empty shrimp cocktail bowl to one side, a habit that was not etiquette, perhaps, but some people couldn’t bear to look at a dirty plate, and Kurt was one such.
“When did Dagmar tell you?” she asked.
“The day after we returned here.”
