The Diplomat's Wife(74)
At the top, I look down the hallway. It is empty except for a housekeeping cart that one of the maids left at the far end. I walk quickly down the corridor to my room, unlock the door and step inside. As I close the door, I hear a shuffling sound behind me. Someone is here, I sense, my blood running cold. Quickly, I reach into my bag, pulling out the pistol as I turn.
“Marta, no!” a familiar woman’s voice cries. My arm freezes in midair, the pistol falling from my hands and bouncing on the carpet.
“Emma!” I stare at her. “What are you doing here?” She does not answer but stands, pale and wide-eyed, in the middle of the room. I lean against the door, relieved. “I thought you were…” The events of the past few hours come rushing back. Emma could be the one who betrayed me. “What’s going on?” I demand. I realize that I am speaking loudly and that someone could be listening, but I no longer care. “I went to the bridge like you told me Marek wanted me to do. A man claiming to be Marcelitis showed but it wasn’t him.”
“Good,” Emma says quietly.
I am stunned. “How can you say that? I was nearly killed.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I mean it’s good that Marcelitis didn’t show because he would have been arrested or worse. My message must have made it to him in time.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Oh, Marta…” Suddenly Emma bursts into tears. “Marek’s been arrested!”
My stomach drops. “When? What happened?”
“Earlier today, after I saw you. The police came to the house and said he was under arrest for treason. They beat him in front of me and the children, nearly destroyed our home before taking him away.”
I put my hand on Emma’s shoulder, my suspicions easing. “I’m so sorry.”
Emma continues through her tears, “I figured that his arrest was somehow connected to your meeting with Marcelitis tonight. The timing was too close to be a coincidence. And I knew that if they questioned Marek, he would break and tell them the time and location of the meeting. Marek’s a good man, Marta. But he’s not strong like Alek and Jacob were. Like you. If they found out about the meeting, they would have arrested Marcelitis. So I was able to send word to Marcelitis through certain channels not to come. I wanted to warn you, too, but I couldn’t get out of the house. The police stationed a car out front, and they had threatened to hurt the children if I made trouble. I snuck out as soon as I could, but by the time I came here, you were gone.”
“I understand.” My mind races. So Emma did not betray me, after all. The police must have broken Marek and learned about the meeting. But why had they sent the bald man to impersonate Marcelitis and steal the list, instead of just arresting me? And who killed Renata? Something still doesn’t make sense. I take off my coat, then walk over to the bed and sink down on the edge. “How did you get into my room?”
Emma looks away. “I still remember a few things from the resistance.” I remember then how dangerous Emma’s role had been during the war, sneaking around the Kommandant’s office and apartment, searching for information. And she risked everything tonight to come here and warn me. She has always been much stronger than she looks. “What are you going to do now?” she asks.
I hesitate. If Marek really did break and talk, then the police know that I am here and why. “I have to get out of Prague.”
Emma nods. “I can show you a shortcut to the British embassy. I know it’s late, but perhaps if we explain to the guard—”
“I’m not going to the embassy,” I cut her off firmly. “I still need to get the information to Marcelitis.”
Emma cocks her head, puzzled. “But how? Once he received word of Marek’s arrest, of the security breach, he surely would have fled. He was going to leave the country, anyway, as soon as he met with you. With the coup, the situation has become too dangerous here. Everyone is pulling up stakes.”
“Out of the country, where?”
“My contact didn’t say for certain, but I’m pretty sure he meant back to Berlin. Marcelitis is based there.”
“Do you have his address? Or someone I can contact in Berlin?”
Emma shakes her head. “I don’t. I’m sorry. But Marek did go to Berlin once last winter to see Marcelitis. He told me that Marcelitis lives in central east Berlin above a bookshop. It is right across from a famous synagogue building—Oranienburger Strasse, I think the street was called. I remember because Marek found it strange that a covert operative would live right in the center of town. I pointed out to him that it was just like what the resistance used to do, meeting in the market square cafés in Kraków. The Nazis never thought to look for us right underneath their noses, never imagined that we would be so bold.” I nod, remembering. “But, Marta, why do you ask? I mean, it’s not as if you’re going to go to Berlin and find him, are you?”
I do not answer. Berlin. I turn the idea over in my mind. This is not what I was supposed to do. The D.M. sent me to Prague because I knew Marek. My job was to get to Marcelitis through him and leave. Now Marek is out of the picture. I should just take the information about Marcelitis back to the Foreign Office and let someone else pick up the mission from here. I should return to my safe secretarial job in London, to my daughter. Then I look at Emma, watching me expectantly. She would understand if I just went home. She is a mother, too. But even as I think this, I remember Hans, lying dead on the museum steps, Renata murdered in her car. I cannot quit now. I have no idea how I will get to Berlin, what I will do once I arrive. But I have to try. “I must find Marcelitis,” I reply at last.