He stepped out and found Mara leaning on the balustrade, looking out over the lake. The cool blue darkness was still and silent except for the soft washing of the lake against the shore below, a movement like the shallow breathing of sleep. All of Bellagio was unconscious. He looked at the lights across the water, their sparkle blurred by the mist that was beginning to rise from the lake. It was an unreal beauty and a fitting sight for his state of mind. A water bird of some kind called from far along the shoreline, a solitary warbling, then ceased.
He went over and stood beside her. Neither of them spoke for a long time. And then she said:
“God help me, Harry, I believe you about all of this.” She paused. “The thing is,” she went on, “over these past three months, in my mind I’d gradually shifted from thinking of us as ‘me and Harry Strand’ to thinking of us as ‘we.’ That’s a big shift. I didn’t realize how big until… all of this.”
“Now you can’t do that anymore?”
She didn’t answer immediately. “No, I still think of us as ‘we,’ Harry. But fear changes things.”
“I know that,” he said. He was feeling his way, as if the darkness had gotten into his mind. “I’m sorry that you’ve got caught up in this. I honestly thought all of it was behind me and that it would stay behind me. I’d done everything in my power to make sure that it would.”
The quiet all around them seemed to absorb their voices. The lake sounds lingered in the darkness, cushioned on the dampness rising from the water.
“Do you remember in Rome, when I was telling you about all this,” Strand reminded her, “and I said you were going to have to make some decisions. This is what I meant.”
Their arms were touching as they leaned on the railing. He felt her move, shifting her weight on her long legs.
“I know,” she said. “I know it is.” She paused, and he thought that she swallowed. “It’s hard for me, Harry. It’s very hard.” She laced her arm through his and took his hand. “It’s just that I’ve reached that moment when you’re on the precipice and you’re looking down at the water and you’re very still. You know you’re going to dive. There’s no question of that. Still, you take a moment to gather yourself together. You concentrate. You resolve.”
Again he thought she swallowed.
“That’s where I am, Harry.”
The next morning he told her he had to take a brief trip and that he would have to be away for a day and a night. When he returned, he promised, he would tell her as much as he could. They would take all the time she wanted, and he would answer anything she asked. But first, he had to make this one trip. He would tell her where he had gone when he returned.
He reminded her that Bellagio had always been his personal sanctuary, that he had kept his retreats here a secret from everyone. He was sure that no one knew they were here. But to be doubly cautious, he felt it would be best if she remained within the hotel grounds and environs until he returned.
CHAPTER 19
VIENNA
“Get a coat,” Howard said abruptly, standing in the open doorway.
“What?” Ariana was caught off guard.
“We have a meeting.”
The evening had turned overcast and dampish by the time they had walked two blocks up from the safe house to catch a cab. A mist had begun drifting down on the streets, which were already wet enough to cast reflections.
They didn’t talk at all as the cab made its way to Margaretenstrasse and headed into the inner city. The mist grew heavier and stippled the windows. By the time they crossed the Ringstrasse Boulevard and made their way to Freyung Square, the streets were crowded with the glistening dark canopies of umbrellas.
They left the cab at Palais Ferstel and entered the Freyung Passage, a bright shopping arcade that kept them dry in palatial surroundings until they came out on the other side of the block onto Herrengasse. From there it was only a few steps to the corner entrance of Cafe Central.
The Central had been Vienna’s most popular coffeehouse for over a hundred years, its grand ceiling supported by massive pillars and lighted by chandeliers in the best tradition of old-world elegance. Wood-paneled wainscoting added to the ambiance, as did the black-and-white attire of the waiters and waitresses who tended the open tables and booths and private corners with quiet and formal efficiency. The inclement weather had driven people inside, and the Central was full.
Howard paused and surveyed the crowd. Ariana had no idea whom they were looking for as they slowly began to penetrate the maze of tables. Her eyes instinctively roamed the faces, scanning the crowd for something familiar, a haircut, a way of sitting, the shape of a head. Then she saw him and caught her breath. She felt hot. Sitting at a table in one of the wood-paneled alcoves was Harry Strand, staring at her.
He was sitting so that he saw them immediately as they came through the doors of the Central. He had a few moments to deal with his surprise at seeing Ariana before she spotted him and started toward him. Howard saw her change course and followed her. Strand had no idea that Howard had been in touch with her-or that she was even in Vienna.
As they approached, Strand remained seated at his table, a window looking out to Strauchgasse on his left. They sat down without shaking hands. Ariana looked exactly the same as the last day he had seen her four years earlier. No new lines in her face, no more pounds on her hips. He wasn’t sure why that made him feel good.
“It’s good to see you,” he said to her.
Ariana smiled, but he noticed a nervous edge to it.
“Harry,” Howard said, pulling his chair up to the table.
“Bill, welcome to Vienna.” Neither of them smiled. Strand turned to Ariana. “I learned only yesterday that you were living in Rome. But you were gone. I was worried.”
“I’m fine, Harry,” she said. “Frightened,” she added, “but fine.”
Strand looked at Howard. “Not everyone is fine,” he said pointedly.
“No.”
A waiter took their orders, then left them alone.
“I’m sorry about Marie,” Howard said immediately. “I didn’t know about it, Harry.”
Strand noticed Ariana cut her eyes at Howard. She didn’t know what he was talking about.
Then Howard added, “Houston, too.”
Ariana frowned, puzzled, but said nothing. She might be afraid, but she could still think quickly.
“First of all,” Strand said, avoiding Howard’s condolences, “what do you know about Claude?”
“We only know he’s missing. That’s all,” Howard said.
Strand looked at Ariana. “What’s your situation here?”
Ariana told him about her warning system arrangement with Claude Corsier and how he had failed to respond. She was convinced Schrade was on to them. Afraid, she’d gone to Howard, hoping FIS would intervene.
“It was my only choice, Harry. I had no way of knowing about you… or anyone.” She paused. “I couldn’t handle it alone. I don’t apologize for it.”
“You’ll never owe me an apology for anything, Ana,” Strand said. “You know that.” He turned to Howard. “So where do we stand?”
“You know about Clymer?” Howard asked.
Strand nodded.
Again Ariana’s eyes shifted quickly. Howard hadn’t told her a damn thing. Again she checked herself. It couldn’t have been easy.
“Okay, the big picture is this. Schrade is after you. Washington is furious. They want to seize the money under the forfeiture laws. They want your neck in a noose.”
Strand grinned. “But…”
