Matthew wound a gramophone in the corner – the sounds of a Verdi duet masking our conversation.
‘It would appear you stumbled into something rather larger than anticipated.’
‘Yes, well. I’d rather guessed that when I felt a pair of hands at my back.’
He studied a painting on the wall before speaking.
‘You were right about Allen-Smythe. He was passing on secrets to the Germans.’
‘What sort of secrets?’
‘Mostly who we were interested in, and the steps we were taking to . . . ah . . . keep watch over them.’
Probably not what he really meant, but I didn’t have the energy to argue.
‘And where is he now?’
‘The city mortuary. The gentleman who pushed you panicked when he saw me. Got off one shot at me, and one at Rupert. Young Allen-Smythe presented a better target.’
‘You mean, he killed his own contact? Why would he do that?’
‘Jolly good question. For which I can only guess that he was afraid Rupert would betray him.’
‘Do you have him? Or the man who gave Allen-Smythe the briefcase?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Did you at least see him?’
The door to my room opened and a doctor walked in, trailed by a pair of nurses. Matthew retreated to the window. The doctor removed the stethoscope from around his neck and checked my breathing, or what he could do through the yards of linen bandages. Grunted and said something to the nurses, and something else to Matthew, who nodded, as if he understood the doctor’s orders.
Waited for the door to close firmly behind the trio before he spoke.
‘My dear?’
‘Where’s the man who tried to kill me?’
‘I don’t know. Whoever he is, he’s wounded.’
‘You shot him?’
‘No, your German friend did. Went a little mad, that boy. Jolly good shot, by the by.’
‘Speaking of which, do you have my gun?’
‘Sorry, old girl?
‘Never mind,’ I mumbled, feeling sleepier by the second.
If Matthew didn’t have it, then maybe Eduard did. Or it was lost. I felt more of a pang for the sgian dubh than the PPK. Something else worried me – something else I needed to tell him. And then I remembered.
‘I found it.’
‘Found what, my dear? The fountain of youth? Love? Your gun? Damned silly thing to lose. Especially for a yahoo like you.’
‘Love?’ I blinked. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘Last time you acted so foolishly, you ran off with de Mornay. Just be careful, Lisbet. Falling for that boy is not a good idea. The Abwehr have a reputation here in Lisbon. Most are indeed more concerned with their pleasure than their jobs. But not that boy. Eduard Graf is a damned sight more dangerous than your husband was.’
‘No joke.’
‘No, indeed.’
‘Are you going to send me back?’
‘To France?’
‘To London, you dolt.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘He knows that I’m a bit more complicated than he thought.’
Matthew snorted. ‘You’re a bit more complicated than the German naval codes, Lisbet. But no, until the risk is real, I’d rather you stayed.’
‘It isn’t real?’
Hard to believe, when I was lying in bed with . . . what was it? A broken arm and a cracked rib after being pushed down the steps of a bloody ruined castle.
‘Graf hasn’t yet alerted his masters to his suspicions. I’m not sure he will.’
Well, that was interesting. But it was time to confess.
‘Someone is trying to kill me. Not Graf.’
‘Yes, old girl. I had noticed that.’
‘It wasn’t the first time. That someone has tried to kill me, that is.’
He pursed his lips. ‘Do you know who? Why? Where they are?’
‘If I did, they’d already be dead. Do you?’
‘I do not. And I suggest you take care of that problem. Do let me know if I can help.’
I believed him, but by his own admission, his organisation had too many holes. Sleep again threatened me, and I fought it, determined to let him know what I’d learnt. In case Eduard changed his mind. In case the Gestapo came for me in my sleep. He was halfway to the door when my whisper stopped him.
‘I found them, Matthew,’ I repeated.
‘Them? There’s more than one?’
I shook my head and he retraced his steps, the genial Spanish façade receding as the avian predator took over. I was no longer his recalcitrant godchild, but the agent, the informant.
‘Who have you found?’
‘The pianists, Matthew,’ I mumbled.
He patted my shoulder with an awkward affection.
‘Time for bed, old girl. You’re beginning to speak nonsense.’
I was losing the battle to stay awake, but this was important. I couldn’t let them sink another ship.
‘Germans,’ I mumbled. ‘There are three of them.’
He held himself very still. His black eyes sharpened as he moved closer.
It took all my reserves, but I forced the words out.
‘Wireless transmitters. Run by Hans Bendixen at the Villa Bem-me-Quer.’
And then I closed my eyes. It was bad enough that Eduard had heard enough to suspect I was rather more than I claimed. The problem was that someone else suspected me as well. And had already tried to kill me. Again.
*
The nurse had just finished changing my bandages when the door opened with an unceremonious bang. She turned, a string of rapid Portuguese on her tongue, stopping midstream when she saw the offender.
‘I’m sorry, sir.’
She picked up the dirty bandages and sidled out, leaving room for Rios Vilar.
The PVDE man strode past her as if she didn’t exist, taking up a position at the foot of my cot, arms crossed over his chest and brow lowered.
‘I am glad to see you alive, Senhora Verin.’
He didn’t look it. He looked like he’d happily put a bullet between my eyes.
‘An unfortunate accident?’ he asked, his voice incongruously pleasant.
‘Unlike Monsieur Billiot,’ I said, ‘I try to survive any accidents.’
‘Most people try to survive accidents, senhora. I am glad you were more successful than Senhor Billiot.’ He pulled a chair close, but instead of sitting down, braced his hands on its back. ‘Would you care to tell me what happened?’
‘Don’t you know?’
He blinked. If he was feigning emotion, he was doing a bloody good job of it.
‘Why don’t you tell me.’
It would have been easy to lie: a story of
