The Salzburg Connection

  “They ought to have appeared at least fifteen minutes ago,” Andrew said worriedly. “Unless, of course, they are visiting friends in one of the apartments inside that maze.”

  “I don’t like the coincidence of their timing,” Bruno admitted.

  “Like me to take a look down in the Bryant hall?” Andrew was already moving to the door.

  “Yes, that’s a—Wait!” The radio had given its muted rasp, three short clearings of its husky throat. “That’s Chuck,” said Bruno, and began listening to the brief message. “He has just received the signal relayed from Mathison,” he reported to Andrew. “He is coming in. Right now.”

  “Before he gives Mathison time to get here first? What kind of signal did Mathison send, for God’s sake?”

  “He sent all of them.”

  Andrew stared in disbelief. “Did Mathison lose his head?”

  “Either that,” said Bruno, “or he kept it exceedingly well.”

  Andrew was already out the door.

  Bruno’s frown deepened as he looked sombrely down at the street. The waiting man had decided to move. He was walking briskly up the slope of the Neugasse, passing the other pedestrians, his hands in pockets, head slightly bent. Just then, Bruno’s surprised eyes caught sight of a blue coat coming from the other end of the Neugasse. Mrs. Conway and Mathison were walking briskly, too, with none of the conversation that had seemed to flow so naturally between them when Bruno had seen them last. They could scarcely have drunk even one cup of coffee, he thought worriedly. So this was an emergency.

  Below his window he saw Andrew emerge, and take in the situation with a glance to his right and one to his left. With scarcely a pause, he started after the man, leaving the exploration of the hall to Mathison and Chuck Nield, who would be approaching the rear courtyard of the Bryant building by this time. Andrew, thought Bruno as he picked up his cigar case once more, had kept his head exceedingly well, too.

  Quickly, he called back to his three agents. “Possible emergency,” he told them one by one. “Watch everyone who leaves your exit. Signal at once. Be prepared to follow.”

  Now all he had to do was wait. And speculate.

  Down in the street, Bill Mathison and Lynn Conway were entering the yawning mouth of the dark hall.

  21

  “That,” said Lynn Conway as they came out of the Café Tomaselli, “was indeed a very quick cup of coffee. The quickest I’ve known outside of my own kitchen at half-past eight of a New York morning.” She thought regretfully of the pleasant room they had just left behind: a cosy place for a cool afternoon, filled with rough tweeds and soft voices; newspapers and books at practically every table, students and dowagers and solidly built squires, no one revolting, everyone relaxing and paying little attention to others’ vagaries in either dress or brief visits; and not a jukebox or a cigarette machine in sight.

  “Explanations to follow,” Bill Mathison promised her. “And apologies now.” She wasn’t really annoyed though, even if she had been a little startled by their quick exit. She was looking almost amused. Speculative, too. “Also congratulations,” he added. He could have had a girl with him who wouldn’t have reacted so obligingly, someone who would have said plaintively, “Couldn’t we just have one more cup of coffee?” or “But I haven’t really finished my cake,” although at any other time she wouldn’t have taken more than one tasting mouthful of the five hundred calories of cream and chocolate on her plate. “And thank you.”

  “Just obeying orders, sir. You told me to look normal and natural and think up an excuse to get us the hell out. Direct quote, if in less hushed tones. You did impress me, Bill. Where did you learn prison-style talk out of the side of your mouth?”

  “From desperation.” After remembering every signal, every movement, his mind had gone blank and he couldn’t even think of how to move out gracefully. “You did beautifully.”

  “My excuse was true enough. I really did forget to take our copies of your letter, and they have to be picked up sometime.” Even if hardly so promptly as this. But if Bill was in a hurry, she could understand. She too, kept remembering Anna Bryant’s face, taut and bloodless, as she urged them to go, go quickly and send Cliff. So we possibly have done what she told us to do, Lynn thought, but I ought to have stayed with her; she is liable to have real hysterics, and that’s one time a woman shouldn’t be alone. Lynn glanced at Bill, decided not to mention her fears. He was fully as troubled as she was. As they crossed the square in silence, she tried a lighter topic. “We left our newspaper behind.” Our quick study newspaper, giving a tantalising glimpse of all the concerts and plays we probably won’t have time to go to.

  “We don’t need it.” His pace was increasing.

  “What about this?” She handed him the red-covered guidebook which they had also consulted.

  “Always useful,” he said, taking it with a nod of thanks, jamming it into his pocket as they reached the Neugasse. It was busier now. People had started coming out for their Saturday-afternoon stroll. His eyes narrowed as he saw, some distance ahead and across the street, the thin figure of Andrew in his neutral-coloured tweed jacket. He had appeared out of nowhere, merged just as quickly with a group of people passing by. He must have seen Lynn’s blue coat, for he had glanced in their direction before he started up the street, away from them. Now, as the group reached the end of the Neugasse, Andrew veered around his temporary friends, and vanished. Just what had drawn him so quickly around that corner? Mathison wondered as he increased their speed even more. Here was the Bryants’ shop, and now the entrance to their building. He glanced at his watch. Not bad timing at all, he admitted. Less than half an hour, altogether, since they had left Anna Bryant.

  The hall was peaceful, and darker now as the afternoon began to draw to a close. In another hour, its grey shadows would thicken into solid black. Dusk came quickly here in autumn. He knocked on the Bryants’ door. Knocked again. Looked at Lynn. Knocked. He tried the handle, and as it held firm his eye caught sight of a piece of paper lying half under the door. It was a folded note. He could make out his own name and the signature—Anna Bryant—but the few lines quickly scrawled in pencil needed better light than the hall afforded.

  Lynn touched his arm. Someone had opened the door from the back courtyard and was entering the hall. He had closed it again, for the sharp cut of cold air was no longer striking at her ankles. Then as the man appeared, she felt Bill relax. An Austrian, she thought, noting the loden cape thrown back to show a dark-grey suit with green facings, the short-brimmed velours hat whipped off politely as he bowed. He was about Bill’s height; he had pleasant features, light hair with a careful wave, and seemingly no tongue. Quite silently, he waited for Bill to knock on the door.

  Bill Mathison said very softly, “She’s gone. And left this.” He held up the note.

  The stranger’s face changed completely. He brought some keys from his pocket, long, thin, strange-looking keys, and began trying them one by one in the lock. The third attempt succeeded. He opened the door, stepped inside, beckoned them to follow. Quickly and quietly, he closed and locked it. He turned to face them. Now Lynn could see that his eyes were light blue and his hair was definitely fair. He might look very much an Austrian, but his voice was American. “What’s the trouble, Bill?”

  Mathison had read Anna’s message. He was now puzzled as well as worried. “She was here half an hour ago. We left her waiting for you.”

  So this must be Cliff, Lynn thought.

  Nield took the note. “Well,” he said as he read it, “she seems to have changed her mind.” He handed the piece of paper over to Lynn Conway.

  “Her coat and hat and bag are gone,” she said unhappily. “They were lying on that chair.” So she really ran out on us, she thought, and looked at Bill. He was taking this badly. His face was taut and white. She read the note. Dear Mr. Mathison, I am sorry I can’t wait. I go to my brother, who is ill and alone in his house and needs me. I will sign the papers on Monday when I retur
n. Anna Bryant. “But she didn’t!” Lynn cried out in relief. “She didn’t leave of her own free will.” And then relief changed to shock. She stared at Bill, who nodded his agreement, and wondered if she looked as numb as that, too.

  “Hold the explanations!” Nield said sharply. “I’ll put out an alert first.” He pulled a watch from his coat pocket, wound it with three sharp twists. “Mrs. Conway—would you please check through the darkroom and shop, see if anything is disarranged? Bill, you try upstairs.” He tossed Mathison his keys. “Keep it quiet,” he added, and turned away to concentrate on his watch.

  Lynn began moving toward the shop, trying to pull her attention away from Anna Bryant, away from Cliff’s voice talking over his disguised radio. Everything was exactly as they had left it. Anna Bryant’s leaving had been peaceful. Nothing had been rifled or scattered; no sign of any struggle. If it hadn’t been for Anna’s small insertion in her note about her brother alone in his house, they would all have believed she had simply picked up her coat and bag and walked out.

  Slowly, giving Cliff time to talk with his unseen friend, Lynn Conway returned to the kitchen. She stopped at the table, looking down tactfully at the copies of the Newhart and Morris letter, at the photographs that Bill had made of Richard Bryant’s correspondence. It was with relief that she heard the door open and saw Bill come back into the kitchen.

  “Nothing,” he told Nield, handing back the keys, walking over to join Lynn.

  “She didn’t even get time to file these away.” Lynn pointed to Anna’s precious photographs.

  Mathison stood frowning at the table. Upstairs, in his rapid search through the lonely apartment, he hadn’t had time to think. Now, the questions were arising. Whoever forced Anna Bryant to go was working very close to the time Lynn and he had left this place. Was it pure luck? He doubted that, somehow. It looked as if they knew he was coming here this afternoon. Why else had Anna been allowed, perhaps told, to write that note? Even the way she had used his name quite openly—surely she would have kept it hidden unless she had heard it discussed? Had this been her way of warning him that his name had been mentioned, of reassuring him, too, that nothing more was known than that he had come here on business about the contract?

  Nield was signing off. He walked over to them, trying to conceal his profound gloom. Everything had been almost under control, even if not according to plan, and now the whole situation was wild, perhaps smashed into a hundred pieces. New dangers, new difficulties added. He repressed a sigh, forced his voice to sound calm and brisk. “The alert is in. The search is beginning.”

  “But where?”

  “Right inside this complex of buildings and courtyards. You see, all the entrances to the short cuts have been watched all afternoon. That was for your benefit, Bill, just in case your visit here caused you some trouble. Anna Bryant has not been seen coming out of any entrance, either alone or accompanied. So she must be somewhere inside this maze. Austrian Intelligence is calling in the help of the police to have a room-by-room search. Every shop, back room, storage room; every apartment, floor by floor. It will take some time—” His voice sharpened as Mathison started across the kitchen. “Keep away from that window.” He looked at Lynn with a smile, as if to shake her free from her sudden alarm. “We aren’t supposed to be here, you know,” he said gently. “You were meant to find the note, believe it, and walk away. Come on, Bill, let’s keep well out of sight from that courtyard, stay around this table. I want to know just why you sent that flurry of signals from Tomaselli’s.”

  Mathison came back slowly to the table.

  “Our job isn’t out there, searching,” Nield told him. “That’s police work, thorough, slow, quiet. No advance warning to Mrs. Bryant’s captors or they might cut their losses, try to silence her forever before they make their escape. They won’t risk being identified.”

  “Captors? How do you know there’s more than one?”

  “The Austrians have seen two men who might be suspects,” Nield said briefly. He thought of Andrew now tailing a possible third. “Our job is to find out what Anna Bryant knows. Now, quickly. What did she say? We haven’t much time.” If any.

  All right, I’ll give it to him straight, thought Mathison. “Johann is in possession of the Finstersee box.”

  Nield had had two shocks. Perhaps the open mention of Finstersee was the greater. He tightened his lips, looked at Lynn Conway. “Mrs. Conway, would you mind leav—”

  “No need,” Mathison said. “Mrs. Bryant—when she decided to talk—talked.”

  Lynn said quickly, “There was no stopping her. So I know bits and pieces. Bill hasn’t got over that yet.”

  “If I had tried to stop her,” Mathison said, “she might have shut up completely.”

  “She talked freely? To you?” Nield’s depression and gloom began to shred away. “Start telling.”

  “Do I leave?” Lynn asked.

  “No,” Mathison said. “She stays. Lynn has something to tell, too. About Trudi.”

  “Who the hell is Trudi?”

  “Perhaps the key to everything.”

  “I think you were right,” Nield admitted after an intensive ten minutes. “Trudi Seidl... We have to get in touch with her as soon as possible and have her answer our questions. One question, actually. How did she know that the searchers could not find anything in Johann’s house? If she explains that, she may explain a lot.” Nield looked at Lynn Conway for a brief moment.

  “No,” Mathison said decidedly. “Lynn isn’t going to do this. I won’t—” He caught his breath. And who am I to say I won’t allow her? Wide blue eyes studied him gravely. “Lynn, this isn’t your business, don’t listen to him.”

  “None of you will get any quick answers from Trudi. You might not get any answers at all. She does know my voice, she does know that I am Anna’s friend. If Anna can’t go to her, I should.”

  Mathison appealed to Nield. “What about Elissa? Don’t you expect her to be up in Unterwald? That’s danger.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t ask Mrs. Conway to go.”

  “Didn’t you?” Mathison asked angrily.

  “I thought of it; but I didn’t.”

  Lynn interceded. “Let’s say I was on your wave length, Mr.—Cliff?”

  Nield shook his head. “We’ll drop that name. It didn’t bring much luck. And now?” He shrugged his shoulders. Now, it could be dangerous to anyone who used it. How much would Anna Bryant be forced to tell? “Chuck will do.”

  Mathison looked at him sharply. He had wondered before and now he began to believe his previous guess. Chuck probably wasn’t any more a real name than Cliff, or Andrew either.

  “The problem,” Nield went on, “will be to get you to Unterwald without rousing suspicion in Elissa or anyone else. There is danger, Mrs. Conway.”

  “Well, at least you’ve warned me.” She wasn’t budging an inch. “You’ll come with me, Bill?”

  “You aren’t going in there alone, that’s for sure.”

  “Quick in, quick out. Isn’t that what you want of us?” she asked Chuck. She turned back to Bill. “We just won’t let danger develop. Heroics aren’t my line. So let’s think of a plan. Come on, Bill. Put that legal brain of yours to work and keep us safe.” She picked up a copy of the Newhart and Morris letter. “Couldn’t we use this somehow? Perhaps along with Anna’s note?”

  And just how long had she been thinking up this little idea? he wondered. “We could. There is no mention in her note of where Johann’s house is, so we assume it’s somewhere near Unterwald and drive up there to get Trudi to direct us. Yes, I think that should work.”

  “Just a minute—” Nield began. He looked almost puzzled.

  “It’s quite simple. We must return to Zürich on Monday morning. We cannot wait for Mrs. Bryant to come back to Salzburg. We need her signature on this letter. So we have decided to spend the rest of the week-end in the country, see the beauties of Styria and the Salzkammergut, and finish our business as well.
”

  Nield considered the idea from every angle. “I’d buy that,” he admitted.

  “We are just keeping it normal and natural,” Mathison told him, and received a sharp stare. “Shall we set off this evening? We’ll have early dinner, hire a car—”

  “Wait, wait. I don’t buy that at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too quick. Let’s keep it normal and—” He checked himself, grinned. “But there’s no other word for what I want. Normally, what would you do—if you had to see Anna Bryant before you left for Zürich, and she was up at Bad Aussee with her brother?”

  “Leave tonight, get there by eight-thirty or nine, finish the business, have tomorrow for ourselves.”

  “And where would you stay?”

  “I’d get our hotel porter to phone Bad Aussee and book us a couple of rooms in some place he recommends. What else?”

  “You make it sound reasonable.”

  “Then what’s holding you back?”

  “You don’t know Unterwald. It may be difficult to find Trudi Seidl’s house in the dark. I don’t want you wandering around up there asking directions.”

  “Well, get one of your Austrian friends to meet us discreetly before we reach the village. We’ll give him a lift, and he can point out the house.” He studied Nield’s face. “I gathered you were co-operating with the Austrians. Or aren’t you?”

  Nield nodded. “With the British, too. We’d have to share the results anyway, so why go it alone?”

  I bet that was Washington’s decision and not Chuck’s, thought Mathison. So I can relax about friend Andrew, one query to be scored off my list. “And you would have preferred going it alone?” he asked with a grin.