She shook off the wanton thoughts and brought her mind back to the all-too-real here and now. For the first time she took in how deathly quiet it was. She stood still, her hand on the dog’s neck, hardly daring to breathe. No sound of movement, no waft of simmering soup. Where were the guards? The muscles in her stomach tightened in a spasm of fear. Had Giovanni brought Marco’s enemies here already?
She quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way he could have fetched the Blackshirts in such a short time. Unless she’d been unconscious for hours rather than minutes. Surely not. She glanced at the sun. It had already started its afternoon path down toward the sea, but there were hours of daylight yet.
She crept up to the opening and stepped inside, peering into the gloom.
The vast space was empty. People, children, cooking fires and lights were all gone.
Her fingers rested on the dog’s head, and she felt as well as heard the low growl in his throat. A figure emerged from the back of the cave.
“Teresa!” Emma darted forward, the dog hard on her heels.
Teresa turned, still holding the cloth she’d been folding. Her face registered a look of surprise that would have been comical if the situation weren’t so serious.
Emma hurried up to her, and grasped her arm. “Where is Marco?” she demanded. “I have important information for him.”
Teresa shook her head. “He is not here. No one is here but for me and Irena.”
“Alone?”
Teresa smiled. “The ambush will take place elsewhere and our men will be successful. Besides, Irena and I know the mountains since our childhood. We can move fast if need be.”
As if on cue Irena appeared in the entrance and immediately pointed an accusing finger, launching into a tirade of words.
Teresa cut in with a sharp command and the younger girl fell silent. “Forgive her,” she said. “She is young and impressionable. And she imagines she’s in love with Giovanni.”
Irena slumped against the wall and tears started down her cheeks. Emma had a good idea what had shattered Irena’s illusions, but there was no time to spend explaining that Giovanni was not worth a tinker’s cuss to any woman. She turned back to face Teresa. “Where has he gone?”
Teresa shook her head again. “I cannot-”
“Did Giovanni come back here?”
“Yes, but-”
“What did he say?”
“I didn’t hear it all. But he said you-” she swallowed and a blush crept up her neck, “-had seduced him, then escaped again. He said you were on your way to report to the police.”
“Of course. His word against mine.” She took a step or two back and forth, the dog following her movements by turning his head. “Did you believe him?”
Teresa shot a glance at Irena. “No.”
Emma breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t poisoned everyone’s mind. “Did Marco believe him?”
Teresa looked down. “I cannot say.”
Emma didn’t press. Whether he’d believed the part about the seduction or not, he’d not been willing to take a chance on her betrayal and he’d cleared out every vestige of his people.
“How did they manage to leave so quickly?”
Teresa shrugged. “We were always ready to move out at a moment’s notice. Besides there were plans-”
Of course they hoped to leave permanently after they intercepted the shipment. “They’ve gone for the ambush, haven’t they?” Emma saw the look of indecision on Teresa’s face. “Don’t bother to answer if you promised not to. We have to warn Marco.”
“Warn?” Poor Teresa looked totally confused.
Emma drew her away from Irena and lowered her voice. “You have to believe me when I say the traitor here is Giovanni.” She raised a hand as Teresa drew a breath to speak. “Don’t ask me how I know. Marco is walking into a trap. I have to go after him.”
Teresa gave her a quick, searching look, then obviously made up her mind. She turned on her heel and snapped short, sharp directions at Irena. The girl started to protest, but Teresa pushed her toward the entrance, making shooing motions with her hands.
She turned back to Emma. “I have sent her to her aunt in another village. She is young and foolish about Giovanni. But she is loyal. She will say nothing.”
She took a quick step toward Emma, and the dog stood, a low rumble coming from its throat.
“
Emma put a hand on the dog’s neck. “Quiet, Mickey. It’s all right.”
He sat on his haunches, his head level with Emma’s ribs.
“Where did he come from?” Teresa asked.
“I have no idea. When all this is over, I’ll find his owner.” Emma looked around. “Is there anything left? Any bread? A shawl?”
Teresa moved away and picked up a basket. “Bread and water in here,” she said. She tucked her arm through the handle. Maybe she meant to keep it for herself. She must have instructions on where to go to wait for news.
Emma nodded. “Fine. I know the way to the ambush. I hope you can go back to the university soon. Goodbye.” She turned away.
“Wait for me. I’m coming with you. What did you think I was going to do?”
She paused and smiled at Teresa. She was surprised at the feeling of relief that swept through her. A few hours ago she had been alone. Now she had two companions to help her. The dog with strength and loyalty and the girl with the Italian language. The odds were improving.
At the entrance they paused to look back as if with one accord. The walls of the houses were beginning to fade into the gloom. The floor was swept clean, only gray outlines tracing the site of the cooking fires.
“It looks as it did fifty years ago,” Teresa said.
“Has it been here that long?”
The girl nodded. “It was built during some feud, used and then forgotten when it was no longer needed.”
They set off in single file, the dog bounding ahead, then waiting for them to catch up, checking the rear and then outpacing them again.
They came to the pool and Teresa stooped to pick up the remaining pieces of clothing, forgotten after the incident with Giovanni. “Here is a shawl for you. We’ll take it all. Marco said to leave no trace.”
Emma nodded and absentmindedly folded the shawl over her shoulders, her thoughts on Giovanni’s story about Marco’s wife. She had believed it at the time, but Giovanni was a traitor. It was second nature for him to lie.
“Tell me about your sister, Marco’s wife,” she said.
Teresa gazed at her, her large dark eyes immediately brimming with tears. The look on her face was so grief-stricken that Emma at once felt a stab of guilt.
She put her hand on the girl’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Teresa shook her head. “It’s still hard to talk about,” she whispered and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I will tell you as we walk.”
Emma glanced at the sky. The mountains hovered above them, grim, hulking masses of shadow as the sun sank farther toward the far peaks. They should hurry if they wanted to arrive before complete darkness fell.
The path was wide enough to walk abreast and they stayed side by side, the dog still patrolling ahead and behind.
“My sister Claudia married Marco when she was nineteen,” Teresa began. “The marriage was expected, they had known each other since they were children.”
Emma moved at a measured pace, her eyes on the path ahead. She hardly dared breathe for fear of interrupting Teresa’s story.
“Both our families opposed Mussolini,” Teresa continued. “Things grew very difficult as the newspapers were shut down and the Blackshirts arrested anyone who spoke out. Marco’s father was put in prison and badly beaten.” She paused.
