“I would not be alive, Kallista, if I were not immune to betrayal. I take stringent measures to ensure it.”
“But you did not deny the possibility of an informer existing within your group when I first spoke with you about it.”
“I can be certain of my safety because I never overlook a threat. And my cohorts are in no doubt of their fate should they betray me in even the smallest way. Vienna is plagued with suicides. An extra one on any given day wouldn’t draw attention.”
It felt as if the air around me had turned to water, and my lungs were filling at a rapid and irreversible pace.
“You’ve never had coffee with a murderer before?” he asked, raising the cup Viktor had brought him.
“Tea, yes, but never coffee.” My face was hot. I could not control the color rushing to it, but forced composure into every other part of me.
“There is much more to Vienna than the Ringstrasse and Fasching balls. But it would be best, perhaps, if you chose to ignore the darker side of the city.”
“A luxury, Herr Schröder, that I do not have. I want to interview every person who knows the details of your plan. One of them must have some connection with Lord Fortescue.”
“Fortescue?” He laughed. “There’s no chance any of my associates was involved with him.”
“You may have missed something. I don’t know these people, so when speaking to them I’d bring no preconceived notions.”
“You will not talk to them.”
“But—”
“You will never know who they are. This is not some amusing game, a diversion to let you feel useful. You do not belong here. I’m sorry I was not able to help you. If your friend does not escape his fate, well, take comfort in the knowledge that his death may go far in bringing a better life to the masses.”
“I will not let Robert be hanged for a crime he did not commit.”
Herr Schröder shrugged and rose from the table. “Not all goals are attainable.” He walked out of the café. I pulled on my coat and slipped my hands into my pockets, where I felt something cold and hard: one of Mr. Harrison’s bullets. I could not help but shudder. So far as I knew, I hadn’t been in his presence since that day at the café, and I was certain that I hadn’t left the bullet he’d given me that day in my coat. How had he managed to slip this into my pocket?
Consumed with unease, I looked out the window and saw Herr Schröder starting across the street. I waited two beats, then followed.
Colin had taught me the art of trailing someone. Granted, he’d done it not so that I might follow a murderous anarchist, but so that I would be aware if someone were following me. Nonetheless, I was thrilled to make use of my training. I did well at first, crossing the street and staying far behind my quarry, keeping him in my sight as he made his way around the Hofburg and through the Volksgarten to the Grillparzer Monument, erected to honor Austria’s finest dramatist and poet. I hung back, knowing that it would be difficult to stay out of view on the park’s wide paths, but I was not cautious enough. Herr Schröder brushed the snow off one of the benches that flanked a large sculpture of the writer, sat down, and waved at me.
Mortified, I steeled myself and approached him.
“I wasn’t finished with you,” I said.
“So I gathered several blocks ago.”
“You should have let me know you’d seen me.”
“And ruin your fun? Hardly sporting.” He kicked at the snow in front of him. “What do you want?”
I was not about to tell him that I hoped to follow him to his home, to skulk about after him until I’d discovered where he met with his compatriots. “Give me an honest answer. If you had discovered the identity of the informer, would you have told me?”
“No.”
“Neither his name nor the fact that you’d found him?”
“Neither.” He paused, still kicking the snow. “But I am rather taken with your persistence, so I will say again: I did not find him. I did not need to lie to you in the Griensteidl.”
“How can I possibly believe you?”
“You can’t.” He smiled. “Don’t follow me anymore, Kallista. There is no reason for us to speak again.”
I took his place on the stone bench and watched him walk away. I would follow him again, but not while he was expecting it.
A familiar voice drifted through the freezing air. “That’s a miserable place to sit on such a cold day.”
“Colin?” I leapt to my feet as he grabbed my hands and pulled me towards him. “How—I—you—Berlin—”
“Don’t speak. Not just yet.” His kisses warmed me better than the summer sun could have, and I basked in his embrace. “Come. Let’s get inside.” He led me through the park, his arm tight around my waist. “We’ll go to the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Have you been yet?”
“No. I’m not here on a pleasure trip.”
“So I’ve gathered. But I do love finding you unchaperoned.” He stopped walking and kissed me again. “I’d never before contemplated the advantages of coming to parks in the depths of winter. Wonderfully private places, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the current situation,” I said.
“Don’t underestimate me. I know exactly what I’m doing.” We reached the front of the museum. “What will it be? Greek sculpture?”
“Please,” I said, a smile escaping against my will. He took me by the arm in the most proper sort of fashion, and we entered the building. We said nothing further until we’d reached a gallery that contained a statue of Artemis from the second century B.C., done in the style of Praxiteles.
“Harrison was following you. I think we’ve convinced him there’s nothing to see but a romantic encounter between a man and his fiancée.”
“He was following me, too?” I looked up at the ceiling and sighed, clenching my hands into hard fists. “I’m hopeless at this. I can’t believe—”
“No, darling, you’re not hopeless. You just need more practice. And now, just in case he’s still watching, let’s look at the art. What do you think of this Artemis?” he asked, squeezing my gloved hand.
“Magnificent.” The goddess leaned gracefully on another statue, a smaller image of herself.
“Why are you meeting with Gustav Schröder?”
“First tell me when you arrived in Vienna,” I said.
“I’ve been here for some time. I’d no idea you were here.”
“I wrote to you,” I said.
“Your letter’s undoubtedly waiting for me in Berlin. I was there only for a few days, and I’ve had no time to write you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “You know I understand.”
“You’re a dear girl,” he said. “Now tell me about Schröder.”
“I think we’d better sit.” We found an empty bench, and I told him all about Robert and Lord Fortescue’s mysterious informer.
“You’ve done well, Emily. And with very little to go on.”
“You don’t object to my doing this?”
“My usual caveat applies: Do not put yourself in any unnecessary danger. If I find out that you have, I’ll carry you back to England myself.” There was something in his eyes. A calm pride, perhaps, coupled with the sparkle that I saw nearly every time we were alone. But there was something different, too. Their darkness was deeper, warmer.
“Sounds like a pleasant way to travel. If I’m good now, will you carry me?”
“If you’re good, I’ll do anything you want.”
“Including marry me before the date set by the queen?”
“That’s being bad, Emily, very bad.” How I longed to kiss him! I was blind to the art that surrounded us, intoxicated by his presence. He stood up and looked at me with such intensity, I felt my skin begin to ache.
“I shan’t force the issue in such a public place,” I said.
“Thank you.”
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“Sheer luck. I was coming from an appointment and saw you on the other side of the street. I could tell at once that you were following someone.”