The Diplomat's Wife(57)
“Maybe.” But I am thinking not only of Rachel. In my mind I see Emma and Lukasz, the orphaned rabbi’s son she cared for during the war. She had taken him with her when she fled and was surely raising him as her own, along with the child she was expecting when I last saw her. They are likely still somewhere in Eastern Europe while I am living here. What are their lives like? Guilt washes over me. “I have to try, Simon.” I look into his eyes, pleading for him to understand. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. It’s just a quick trip, a few days at most. I’m sorry,” I add.
He pulls back his hands as though burned. The concern disappears and the earlier anger reappears in his eyes. “So am I,” he replies coldly. Before I can speak further, he turns and walks from the room.
“Simon, wait…” I start after him, then stop again. He is upset, I know, at being defied. But this is not his decision to make.
A second later, the D.M. appears in the doorway. “I saw your husband leave…”
“He’s not happy with my choice.”
“Does that mean you’ll go?” I hesitate, then nod. The D.M. crosses the room. “That’s wonderful news.”
“On one condition. I have a young daughter. I cannot afford to be away from her longer than a week.”
“That won’t be a problem. All we need you to do is speak to Andek, get him to put you in touch with Marcelitis, get the cipher. That should take a day or two at most.”
“What if he won’t give it to me?”
“He’ll give it to you. He has to. While you and Simon were talking, I made some calls. A package is being put together for you to take. It contains our key contacts in certain Eastern European countries, information that is valuable to Marcelitis’s work. We’re also going to offer him sizable funds placed in a Swiss bank account that will finance his operations for some time. But he gets none of this unless he gives you the cipher. Once you’ve obtained it, we’ll have someone standing by to extract you.”
“Extract?” I repeat. The word makes it sound as though it will be difficult to leave.
“It’s just an expression,” he replies quickly. A strange expression crosses the D.M.’s face, then disappears again so quickly I wonder if I might have imagined it. “So we are agreed?” he presses.
I swallow, forcing down my uneasiness. “Yes.”
“Excellent. You should take the rest of the day off and go home to prepare for the trip. I’ll finalize all of the arrangements when I return and send further details through Simon later this evening.” Simon. I remember his angry expression before he stormed from the office. “A car will come for you at six o’clock in the morning,” he adds.
Tomorrow morning. I had not imagined it being so soon. But the sooner I go, the sooner I will be home again. “I’ll be ready.”
“Thank you, Marta,” he says solemnly. “We owe you more than you know.” Then I watch as he turns and walks out of the office, wondering if I have just made the biggest mistake of my life.
CHAPTER 15
I tiptoe down the creaky wood stairs and across the darkened parlor. The house is still except for the ticking of the clock above the mantelpiece. Five-fifty, it reads, ten minutes until I am scheduled to depart. I walk to the front window and peer out into the deserted predawn street. The smell of roast beef from last night’s dinner hangs in the air.
I turn and look up the stairs, fighting the urge to check on Rachel once more. Earlier I stood in the doorway to her bedroom listening to her light, even breathing, punctuated by nonsensical babble as she dreamed. I crept to her crib and looked down, guilt washing over me. How could I leave her? I will be back in a few days, I told myself. She will not even know that I am gone. And someday when she’s old enough, I will be able to tell her what I did and why. I reached down and kissed her, inhaling deeply to trap her powdery scent and take it with me.
Forcing my thoughts away from Rachel, I walk to my small suitcase that sits by the door. Uncertain what to bring, I packed two changes of clothing and a few toiletries. I pick up my purse, which sits on top of the suitcase, opening it and checking that the papers I tucked into the lining are still there. Simon gave them to me last night when he returned from work. “From the D.M.,” he said coldly as he handed the envelope to me in the kitchen.
I took the envelope uncertainly. Was I supposed to open it? “Simon, please. I know you’re upset about my going, but I really need your help.”
I watched his face as he considered my words, his expression softening. “This contains a list of key contacts for Marcelitis, if he agrees to help us,” he explained. “Foreign nationals who work for us, in Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Poland and Germany.”
“They really agreed to give him this?”
“You said we had to give him something real to win his trust. This is as real as it gets. Using this list, Marcelitis will be able to forge contacts throughout the region, strengthen his network. I don’t have to tell you how valuable this information is, what certain of our enemies would do to get their hands on it.” I nodded, speechless. I had no idea that I would be carrying such important information.
“There’s also a wire number to a Swiss bank account containing half a million dollars. We could just take that and run away ourselves,” he added. For a second, I wondered if he was serious. “Of course, he doesn’t get any of this until he gives you the cipher.”