Vienna (38 page)

“Better if he had saved me a lifetime in an Austrian prison for murder.”

“Murder? My man reported that Hargrave shot himself in the neck with a gun pulled from his coat. He will testify to that fact and even take a polygraph test should anyone be foolish enough to put stock in such chicanery. I don't think it will come to that. I wager Hargrave's weapon is the same one used to kill Andries and Sinoro, and likely Haldor Stefansson as well. He even left a suicide note.”

“As did Prince Rudolph.”

“Undying are the echoes of history.”

“You know how scary that is, that you can just … arrange these things?”

Lord Davy didn't smile or frown; his voice as lifeless as the moon. “The ballistics will speak for the dead.”

Justine shook her head. “Why did Hargrave kill Grant?” Vienna wondered why Justine still called David Andries by his assumed name.

“We'll never know the whole story, least of all how your agent and your boyfriend became aware of the star in the first place. Andries must have come across whispers of it long ago and solved some of the mystery—enough to see a connection to your Clay to Flesh project. He contacted your agent, and the scheming started. As for his death, it is the nature of thieves to turn on each other. We can construct a thousand plausible scenarios. The most obvious would be a double-cross involving Gary Sinoro. The photographer had many connections. The others were killed to cover tracks.”

“You can add a man named Julian Dardonelle to the list, and it's not finished. Hargrave had someone watching us.”

“A loathsome compatriot of yours, wanted by your FBI. He's on a flight to Dulles; thinking he's free but landing to a different reality. He will give us the names of any others involved in this mess. How did you know he was with Hargrave?”

“He was bush league.” She looked at Davy. “It gave James away, you know, when I spotted him lurking near Vienna. I knew your minions would never be seen.”

Davy ignored that and turned to Vienna. “My lady, you aren't coming back to London?”

Vienna grabbed Justine's arm through the jacket. “No.”

“Will you visit?”

“Okay.”

“I would like that very much. So would your foster father. He loves you deeply.” Davy turned to the car and opened the door. “I understand why you didn't trust me, Heather Ingles. But I hope I am good for a ride home.”

“One second,” Justine said.

Davy turned back. “Yes?”

“Why haven't you asked about the Star of Memphis?”

“Keep it hidden. Attempting to sell it will cause trouble.”

“Don't you want it?”

“The Austrian Empire has lived a century without it. I doubt the sun will fail to rise if another century passes before they see it.”

Justine held the box up. “I asked Vienna to give it to me. I don't want her having it. Do you understand?”

“So would we all spare our lovers from the sorrow of the world,” Lord Davy said.

Justine nodded. “I'm giving it to you.”

Davy took the box. He pried the rusted top off by pushing the side across the top of the open car door. He reached inside and produced an irregular rock. It looked like nothing so much as a clod of dirt, smaller than the width of his palm.

“It's a flipping rock!” Vienna said.

Davy's lips arced slightly upward. “The star was never cut. There was not a craftsman who dared face the wrath of an angry emperor should it be split by a badly aimed blow.”

“But it's ugly.” Vienna felt as if she should be kicking something. The car, Uncle Anson, anything.

Davy turned the stone in his hand. “See this flatter side? Hold it to your eye and look at the white light topping the flack tower. If the histories are right, it should explain the stone's renown.”

Vienna put it to her left eye, seeing a reddish smear of light.

“Move it around,” Davy said. “Rotate it.”

She did this, and suddenly the light was a clear point of blood red. Around it appeared concentric circles of red shot through with brilliant flares of bluish and violet light. Her breath caught. “Circles within circles!”

Vienna saved the pattern in her mind. “You have to see it!” She handed the stone to Justine. The American turned it before her eyes until a soft gasp told Vienna she had witnessed the vision as well. “It's beautiful.” She lowered it. “How did this stone end up in ancient Egypt?”

“I don't know,” Davy said. “We couldn't even find it once it was here. You and Vienna proved more clever than five generations of amateurs who had set themselves to the hunt, myself included. I assume it had something to do with David Bell? The son of the man who made the manikins? I've been saving everything I could of him.”

“You put his obituary in that book my foster father has!” Vienna said.

“Yes. Grayfield was interested in the problem as well. We spent many a pleasant evening kicking through the facts. I have no idea how you solved the riddle. It's a story I would hear when this night is a distant memory.”

Justine held out the star.

“Wait,” Vienna said. “I found it. You have to give me something in return. It's only fair.”

“Yes?” Davy asked.

“I want to go back to the Cart House and I want Justine to be there. I want her to see the forest and the lake and the pictures covering the walls. And I want her to see the people dance.”

“Vienna, you are welcome in the house, but there are rules—”

“I don't care. Promise me.”

“Why do you want this?”

“Because it's part of me and I want Justine to understand what it means and because it's beautiful and I want to share that with her because that is what lovers do.”

Davy looked at Justine. “Lario's Cove.”

“I'm not even going to ask how you know about that.”

Davy reached for the star. “Perhaps you could put in a word for me. I could use a break from this weather.”

Vienna kicked at the ground. “Promise I can take Justine to the Cart House.”

“I'll arrange it.”

“Promise!”

“I promise.”

Davy took the stone and placed it in his coat pocket. “We'll fashion a display at the Kunsthistorisches to illustrate the star's amazing properties.” He held the SUV's door and motioned Vienna to get in. After a nod from Justine, she slid onto the long seat. But not so far that she couldn't hear Davy talking to Justine.

“He would have put the muzzle to Vienna's head and he would have pulled the trigger. Then he would have done the same to you.”

“I know,” she answered.

“Any hesitation on your part would have led to struggle with an uncertain conclusion. My agent was good, but people of his training know that success is often as much luck as skill.”

“I know,” she said again. “But there was me before tonight and me after tonight, and they will never be the same person.”

“That is the way of such things. Understand that had we known your agent was the villain we would have acted prior to this. Feel regret if you must, but never question the necessity of your actions. You saved Lady Vienna's life, for which I am forever in your debt.”

“I'm too near what happened to know what I think. And too tired.”

“Then it is time for that ride home.”

Justine slid next to Vienna.

“One more thing,” Davy said, his hand on the door. “I understand your suspicions of me, and why they compelled you to keep everything from the police. I am aware that I inadvertently caused much of this. Perhaps I am broken in my own way. Suspicion is a harsh mistress, but in my life she rules all and forgives no tardiness. What happened in Iceland is more my shame than yours. What few amends I can make to Haldor's memory, I will.”

Uncle Anson paused, his head bowed. When he spoke his voice sounded sad to Vienna. She had never heard him talk like that before. “I know Igor Czasky, as you no doubt guessed. We met here in Vienna, years ago. Back then, Czasky was chasing an obscure work by an even more obscure impressionist. He's somewhat of a treasure hunter, you see.

“I spoke with him at length this morning. He is innocent of any of this. He has never been to the Cart House—doesn't even know of its existence. He kept you on because he counts you the most beautiful woman in the world. His only thought was to possess that beauty, if only through a book. Another treasure for his collection. A woman might find this offensive, but I find it easy to understand. He would never have wished you harm.”

Justine nodded. “I appreciate his opinion, but the honor is not mine.”

Davy's smile was as sad as his voice. “Strange that you and I have the same eyes.” He closed the door and walked around to the driver's seat.

Vienna looked ahead. The first glow of sunrise. Tiny crystals of ice falling on the windshield.

 

31

Freezing rain over gray cobbles. Silver-black pools collecting Vienna's twilight. The crowds were gone, flying south on tidings of snow. Shop awnings furled tightly over dark windows. The air had the clean smell of winter.

Justine held off rain with a black umbrella. Her thoughts nothing more than shadowed undercurrents and fleeting images. Too much, too fast.
This is how Vienna perceives the passing of emotion
. Impossible to focus on anything.
Maybe I've caught her disease after all.

“My father used to call it dream walking. Everything turned inside, until the outside fails to register.”

Startled, Justine looked at the man who had fallen in step next to her. He looked like—

He smiled. “Let's assume for once that appearances are not deceiving.” He gave a gentle nod, directing her sight around them. Justine was suddenly aware that they were surrounded by a loose web of men. Black earbuds and loose jackets moving with a single purpose. A fleeting image of social insects protecting their leader.

“I apologize,” Justine said. “I didn't know, your High—”

He cut her off with a wave. “In Britain we will stand on formalities, Miss Am. Here they would only get in the way.”

Justine found her voice. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“I bring sad news. Your agent, James Hargrave, was found dead this morning by joggers in the forest. Circumstances point to suicide. He left a note, which will be made available after the inquest. It appears he had an unhealthy obsession with your personal life.”

“And the truth?”

“That is the only truth I've been told. I suggest you and Lady Vienna treat it in the same light.”

“I'll tell her. Please give my regards to Lord Davy.” Was that too informal?

He gave a silent laugh. “Anson Davy may appear cold, but I believe if he were thirty years younger, you would have a rival.”

“That might've been better for everyone.”

“Even you?”

“I don't know. This isn't exactly what I imagined for my life.”

“Which was?”

“The perfect man, I guess. The handsome prince on a galloping charger, rushing to—” She blushed. “I can't believe I just said that.”

He smiled. “I get that now and then.”

“I imagine so.”

“You must credit me with the perception to discern when a shy lady is in love. Lord Davy, for all his talents, would have lost this contest. It's as true as the sky is blue. Well, a different sky, anyway.”

Justine angled her umbrella against the strengthening wind. “She barely hangs on, one glimpse away from the next seizure. Only … I think sometimes I see her the way she really is.” She felt heat on her throat. “Clear and bright through the tears.”

“Then be with her. Someday your perfect man might come along. But dwelling on the future never wins the present.”

A camera flash popped. “The numpties have found us,” he said.

“I'm sorry.”

“Dear Lord above, you're beginning to sound like her. So I am seen with the most beautiful of women? Let them spin headlines. They will never guess the subject of our conversation.”

“You care for her, too.”

“I don't know her entirely well, but my extended family is large. There's an old man in London: Arthur Grayfield. He is not well known outside his charity work, as he has taken some care to conceal his genealogy. At one time or another his ancestors sat on every throne in Europe. He is distantly related to Vienna—just as I am—grand uncle or the like, several times removed. He has been watching her since her own parents abandoned her. He cares for her more than for the sun rising in the east. I respect him too much not to follow his lead on the matter.”

“She has friends in high places.”

“Not one of whom can give her what you can.”

“Perhaps.”

“There is no doubt, if you love her.”

Justine paused. She looked down; caught a glimpse of her broken silhouette in a puddle. “There is no doubt.”

“Yet your voice holds it.”

She tried to frame words without betraying Lord Davy's trust. “A lot of what happened is my fault. I don't see how I can ever feel right about it.”

“To walk in the shadows does not make you part of them. Lord Anson Davy understands this better than anyone. He speaks highly of you.”

“I hope you're right.”
Now that was too informal.
“I didn't mean—”

He laughed. “I'm so right that I give you and Vienna the blessing of the House of Windsor, for what it's worth to an American.”

“It's worth more than I can say. But Vienna will never know?”

“In time, perhaps. Whatever happens, she will never lack. Grayfield will see to that. I as well, should it become necessary.”

“Thank you.”

“And after all this is what you wanted, with only the smallest deviation. Princess, not prince.”

Justine laughed.

“I have been told that Lady Vienna has a strong sense of rhythm, as well as a good ear for music. I understand it's not uncommon for a woman of her talents.”