righteous anger simmering in me I would explode.
The car screeched around a narrow turn. I glanced at Alec’s hands, which were steady on the wheel. He knew what he was doing, all right, so I said snidely, “You’d better slow down if you don’t want to burn tracks from here to Texas.”
“Would you prefer to ride in the boot, Aurelia?” he responded pleasantly.
“Why not? It would be a lovely finish to a swell day,” I snarled back, and was pleased that despite my clacking teeth my voice sounded corrosive enough to blister cement. “And the company much preferable.”
He kept driving.
A sign flashed by, Slavic names spelled in Roman letters, and numerals representing kilometers. Names all unfamiliar, distances meaningless.
We sailed on for a time in the increasing downpour. Occasional lightning spilled across the windshield in splashes of brilliant liquid light; the thunder drowned the grinding car engine.
We were in a taxi. There in front of my knees was the meter, dark and silent. They had commandeered a square black Mercedes taxi of the type so common all over Germany and Austria.
A surreptitious glance to the right: the big man glaring through the windshield, his heavy jowls looking like they had been carved from weathered granite. Rain gleamed on his short salt-and-pepper hair, and his huge hands gripped his knees. He might have been about seventy, even older, judging from the deep furrows in his face, but he looked twice as tough as most Marines half his age. On my left, Alec’s profile was equally stony; there was an implacable look to the cut of his mouth, his jawline. Even the fine strands of damp black hair drifting down across his forehead added to the general ambience of anger.
They’re mad? I fumed silently. They’re mad?
The burly guy addressed Alec in that language I’d heard twice, once the night before and once at Schönbrunn. Alec replied in it, slowed the car, and without warning whipped us into a tight U-turn that pressed us all to one side. He drove on a way and then turned sharply onto a half-hidden access road, flinging us in the other direction.
Water dribbled coldly down my scalp into the neck of my sodden blouse, making me shiver. “Ugh,” I snarled.
The car rolled onto a wider paved road. The speed picked up. Alec said, in English, “Tell me, Aurelia, was that your own idiotic idea or did your damned brother put you up to it?”
“Brother?” I sat bolt upright. “That explains it. You’re as crazy as a bag of alligators!”
There was silence for the remainder of the trip.
My eyes stung increasingly as the muddy water in my hair drained down into my face. So I was pleased to see how the wet from my clothing spread outward to dampen my companions’ portions of the car seat, and I hoped I smelled like a swamp.
The muted lights of a city loomed up, scarce white and yellow arcs that looked alien and uninviting, unlike multicolored neon America. Another road sign flashed by, but the window directly in front of me was steamy enough to haze the words. The storm slowly broke up, the rain and thunder intermittent, as daylight began to fade.
My eyes stung so sharply I had to shut them. I pulled my foot up onto the seat and began massaging my ankle.
The two men held a short exchange in that language (was that a Latinate word for night?), and a few seconds later Alec slowed the car and parked it. I kept my eyes shut until the car was stopped; my temper had cooled enough to leave a numbing, aching exhaustion, but when I opened my eyes to see sunset colors purpling a now benign sky, I let out a slow breath of relief. The vanished sun eased the sensation that I was trapped in a time warp, and that this day would never end.
Okay, time to shake the goon squad. First a quick scan. We were in a crowded parking lot beside a huge, cream-colored Gasthaus with a bright flowering hedge bordering it. Beyond was a paved street, and on the other side newer buildings sat in a civilized
The car screeched around a narrow turn. I glanced at Alec’s hands, which were steady on the wheel. He knew what he was doing, all right, so I said snidely, “You’d better slow down if you don’t want to burn tracks from here to Texas.”
“Would you prefer to ride in the boot, Aurelia?” he responded pleasantly.
“Why not? It would be a lovely finish to a swell day,” I snarled back, and was pleased that despite my clacking teeth my voice sounded corrosive enough to blister cement. “And the company much preferable.”
He kept driving.
A sign flashed by, Slavic names spelled in Roman letters, and numerals representing kilometers. Names all unfamiliar, distances meaningless.
We sailed on for a time in the increasing downpour. Occasional lightning spilled across the windshield in splashes of brilliant liquid light; the thunder drowned the grinding car engine.
We were in a taxi. There in front of my knees was the meter, dark and silent. They had commandeered a square black Mercedes taxi of the type so common all over Germany and Austria.
A surreptitious glance to the right: the big man glaring through the windshield, his heavy jowls looking like they had been carved from weathered granite. Rain gleamed on his short salt-and-pepper hair, and his huge hands gripped his knees. He might have been about seventy, even older, judging from the deep furrows in his face, but he looked twice as tough as most Marines half his age. On my left, Alec’s profile was equally stony; there was an implacable look to the cut of his mouth, his jawline. Even the fine strands of damp black hair drifting down across his forehead added to the general ambience of anger.
They’re mad? I fumed silently. They’re mad?
The burly guy addressed Alec in that language I’d heard twice, once the night before and once at Schönbrunn. Alec replied in it, slowed the car, and without warning whipped us into a tight U-turn that pressed us all to one side. He drove on a way and then turned sharply onto a half-hidden access road, flinging us in the other direction.
Water dribbled coldly down my scalp into the neck of my sodden blouse, making me shiver. “Ugh,” I snarled.
The car rolled onto a wider paved road. The speed picked up. Alec said, in English, “Tell me, Aurelia, was that your own idiotic idea or did your damned brother put you up to it?”
“Brother?” I sat bolt upright. “That explains it. You’re as crazy as a bag of alligators!”
There was silence for the remainder of the trip.
My eyes stung increasingly as the muddy water in my hair drained down into my face. So I was pleased to see how the wet from my clothing spread outward to dampen my companions’ portions of the car seat, and I hoped I smelled like a swamp.
The muted lights of a city loomed up, scarce white and yellow arcs that looked alien and uninviting, unlike multicolored neon America. Another road sign flashed by, but the window directly in front of me was steamy enough to haze the words. The storm slowly broke up, the rain and thunder intermittent, as daylight began to fade.
My eyes stung so sharply I had to shut them. I pulled my foot up onto the seat and began massaging my ankle.
The two men held a short exchange in that language (was that a Latinate word for night?), and a few seconds later Alec slowed the car and parked it. I kept my eyes shut until the car was stopped; my temper had cooled enough to leave a numbing, aching exhaustion, but when I opened my eyes to see sunset colors purpling a now benign sky, I let out a slow breath of relief. The vanished sun eased the sensation that I was trapped in a time warp, and that this day would never end.
Okay, time to shake the goon squad. First a quick scan. We were in a crowded parking lot beside a huge, cream-colored Gasthaus with a bright flowering hedge bordering it. Beyond was a paved street, and on the other side newer buildings sat in a civilized
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