“What were they?”
“I’ll get to that. There was more shooting from the front courtyard. Nanya rushed to the window. The Russian sergeant had killed his other two comrades. Nanya watched him ride off in the sleigh that was supposed to have taken us to the sea.”
“And your parents? Your brother?”
She continued as if Carter hadn’t spoken. “We waited in the bedroom for nearly an hour before going downstairs. My brother was babbling, but Nanya got the story out of him. The two soldiers had come into the room right after the sergeant had left. One of them shot my mother and father. He was turning his gun on my brother, when the other soldier stopped him.
“He shouted in Russian that he would not be a party to the killing of children. The other soldier just shrugged and they left the room, letting my brother live.”
Suddenly she stood. “As you can tell, all of this is very depressing for me. There are three things I need when I am depressed... drink, food, and sex. We have had drink. Now I will make us some sandwiches. I’ll be right back.”
She returned in no time with a tray of food and two bottles of good Romanian lager. They ate in silence, Carter mulling over the story thus far, and not hiding his curiosity to hear the rest of it.
At last she pushed her plate away and continued.
“Nanya hitched horses to another sleigh. She bundled the two of us into it and headed north, into the mountains. She knew the countryside well. We were able to avoid the retreating Germans and the advancing Russians. In two days’ time we reached her village, Vailia, near the Russian border.”
“And obviously survived,” Carter murmured.
“Oh, yes, thanks to Nanya. Vailia was a partisan village. Nanya’s family accepted us without question. We were given the identity cards of two children of neighboring families who had recently died.”
“So you grew up in Vailia?” Carter said.
“Yes. I became Lorena Zorkova.”
“And your brother?”
“Sergei became Vadim Vinnick.”
Carter paused with the bottle of lager halfway to his lips.
Vadim Vinnick was the all-powerful head of the Romanian intelligence service.
Carter stood under the shower, letting the hot water finish thawing the cold from his bones.
In his mind he went over every word of Lorena Zorkova’s story. At first he had thought it farfetched. Then, when she had gotten to the kicker, the punch line, he found himself wanting to believe every word.
“My brother wants to meet with you, face-to-face.”
“That could be tricky, in Romania,” Carter had replied.
“He knows that. You can get into Hungary unnoticed?”
“Yes.”
“Then he can get you into Romania.”
“Great. Why?”
“I’m afraid he will have to tell you that. Remember, many years ago I told you that one day I would require a favor?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
He had stalled, but he knew he would go. Somehow it seemed to be in the cards. And, besides, if he met face-to-face with a man as high up as Vadim Vinnick and got back out, it had to prove profitable.
He dried his body, wrapped a towel around his hips, and entered the bedroom. Lorena was stretched across the bed. The lights had been dimmed and she had changed into something sheer and feminine.
He remembered her earlier comment. “I hope you’re still depressed,” he quipped.
She laughed, a light, ringing sound in the still room. “Yes, very depressed.”
She slid from the bed and Carter closed the distance between them. When he kissed her she did nothing at first, neither responding nor withdrawing. Then Carter put his arms around her, bringing her close, and she snatched out at him with surprising passion, pulling him to her and forcing herself against him. They parted finally, both breathless.
“I am glad my brother contacted me when he did. You see, I wanted to see you myself. I feel like a nun in this village.” Her voice was low, husky, full of unmasked desire.
She came forward, kissing him again, but more gently this time, without the former urgency. When it was over, she stepped away from him, breathing heavily.
She took the wispy gown and pulled it slowly up over her thighs and hips, and then slid it over her head, all in one easy movement.
She was nude except for a tiny piece of cloth on her hips. The thighs were downy-soft, the sweep of curve from hip to waist was stunning, the breasts were ripe and inviting. She smiled at him, her eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth partly open.
“Well?” she breathed.
Carter grabbed her and pulled her against him, and then they were kissing again, his mouth exploring her hot one, his hands finding the beautiful curves of her flesh.
She pulled away, gasping for breath, her eyes slightly glazed over now, her body trembling gently. “Take me,” she murmured.
She fell to the bed. Carter discarded the towel and joined her. He found her seeking tongue, and the golden thighs, and the hot flesh of her body pressed insistently against him.
She took his hand and put it where she wanted it to be, around her breasts first, where she left it for a long time, her eyes half closed and her breathing becoming heavy, and then down, parting for him.
He manipulated her with his fingers and then moved his head downward. With a cry she raised her hips to meet him.
“Harder, yes, harder!” she cried out, bucking and groaning under his lips.
Then she pulled him up over her. She was wetly ready, sighing as he entered her. At the beginning they both stopped for a moment, resting briefly, and then started again in perfect time, unhurried. She was slightly ahead, moving faster, urging him on at the very last.
He strained to catch her, and did, so that they exploded together. She screamed out and clutched at him, burying her face into his shoulder and murmuring, “Oh, oh!” over and over again.
He awoke first, morning giving broad shapes and forms to the trees outside the window, deep grays with touches of white, as though they were part of a giant canvas. He looked across at Lorena. She lay on her side, facing him. The sheet had slipped down to reveal her left breast, beautifully round, deeply full, the delicate pink circle tipping it. He swung from the bed, went into the bathroom, showered and shaved, and dressed. She was awake when he came out, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around her.
“Sleep well?” He smiled affably at her.
“Quite,” she replied, and grinned.
“I’ve got a scrambler device with me. I’ll call Washington.”
“And tell them what?” she asked.
“That I’m going over.”
He wasn’t sure as he turned away, but he thought her smile was just like the one on the cartoon cat that ate the canary.
Three
Carter caught the early-morning train out of Kitzbühel and arrived in Salzburg before noon. He checked the schedules and found he had forty minutes before the express to Vienna pulled out.
There were two ranks of pay telephones, one at each end of the terminal. He idled by one bank of phones until he had a number, and then walked across the terminal. He dropped the required coins in the slot and waited until a husky female voice answered with the number he had just dialed.
“Tell Gunter that an old friend wants to talk to him,” Carter said. “The number is Salzburg 779–101.”
He hung up and walked leisurely across to the other bank of phones.
No one paid him any attention.
He waited nearly five minutes in the booth before the phone rang. “Yes?”
“All my old friends have died from bad drink and loose women. Who is this?”
“Gunter, you fat old thief. I’m glad to hear they haven’t shot you on the other side for short-changing and overcharging.”