She had been in Vienna only three days and already had been inside the opera house on two occasions. She had not wasted her time here. Even so, to see the opera house was to remind her of all that was good about this city. The opera house symbolized the glorious music history of Vienna.
Denis had always refused to consider going back to Vienna, not even for a short visit so she could tour and touch icons such as the opera house. There was so much music history in this one city, she could live here for months, explore daily and still not experience all of it.
When she could no longer see the opera house, not even with her chin to her shoulder and her eyes straining to see the silhouette from the corner of her vision, Quinn sat back on the seat with a sigh.
Aslan, who sat on the other side of the back seat, said, “You look just as Denis did, every time he passed that building.”
“It isn’t a building,” she said. “It is the Vienna Opera House.”
Mitchell, who was in the far back seat, chuckled. “I can hear the capital letters when she says it.”
Quinn would have ignored him, except that was what old Quinn would have done. “Just as I can hear capital letters in your voice, when you talk about that pathetic football team of yours.”
“You’re calling the Giants pathetic?” Mitchell sounded wounded.
“And what was the last year they won the grand final?” Aslan asked.
“2012, and it is the Super Bowl, not a grand final. And that is beside the point.”
Quinn smiled. It was easy to rattle Mitchell.
Aslan touched her shoulder and pointed through the two front seats. “The Danube.”
The river was not blue, except in her imagination. Quinn leaned to look through the seats at the twinkling river. The road they were on was multilaned and busy. It passed over the river on a low bridge which propped itself up on an island in the middle of the very wide river.
Noah, who was at the wheel, eased the exotic SUV out of the lanes of traffic and on to an exit lane. The ramp declined and Quinn saw the bridge from the side, before the surrounding buildings hid the bridge from view.
They were among long, low buildings which made her think of warehouses and factories. It was a more industrial aspect of Vienna which took away some of the romance.
Her heart gave one of the little scurries of fright which it suffered through several times daily, whenever she remembered why she was here. It was a constant background pressure in her mind. Most of the time she ignored it. When she had been sixteen and told her life was essentially over and she must start a new one, she remembered facing the same daily pressure to remember who she really was.
They had been in Vienna for three days. Aslan owned a residence in the Meidling district of Vienna, which was southwest of the city center. The current Chancellor of Austria also lived on the same road in Meidling and was on a first name basis with Aslan. Quinn knew that, because she had seen them talking out on the pavement in front of the building which Quinn had first thought was an apartment building. That was before she learned the entire building was Aslan’s private residence.
Aslan had many residences around the world. The house in Vienna and the estate in Innsbruck were his two permanent residences. He split his time between them, in between traveling the world to arrange business deals.
Business was the reason they were in the car, traveling to the warehouse district along the banks of the Danube. At dinner last night, Aslan had announced he would go into the office tomorrow. He suggested Quinn go with him, to see the warehouse and the factory, for something to do.
Quinn’s middle froze, for she understood what the invitation meant. So did everyone else. Silence fell upon the table. There were seven people dining that night. As Quinn had learned, while Aslan was in Vienna, it was business season. He seemed to conduct much of his business from the dark paneled office in the house on Haydngasse, with people coming and going at all hours of the day.
For the same reason, it was not unusual to find strangers sitting at the dinner table. Mitchell, Toni, and Noah were fixtures. They lived in the house. The Englishman, Johnson, who was a trusted lieutenant, was frequently at the table. There were other men—and they were all men—who sometimes joined Aslan for dinner. They would sit in the first empty chair along the long table sited beside the tall windows.
Despite taking two bullets in the shoulder, Aslan had not slowed down at all. Once they had arrived in Vienna, he disappeared. Toni, who acted as a chief of staff when needed, showed Quinn to a bedroom suite and suggested she make herself at home.
Because the old Quinn would have worked to leave as little a mark as possible upon her borrowed surroundings, Quinn took Toni at her word and made herself comfortable.
The day after they arrived in Vienna, Quinn asked Toni how she might go about arranging supplies for herself which she needed. Toni nodded as she thumbed something on a cellphone.
An hour later, Toni found Quinn in the large common room with its twenty-foot ceilings and dropped a credit card on the table in front of her. “Knock yourself out.”
Quinn picked up the card. “I should just go shopping? You don’t want to escort me to make sure I don’t get into mischief?”
Toni snorted. “You can run away if you want. Where would you go to? Every intelligence and security authority in the United States is looking for you. Every security force in the Western world has been primed by the States to watch for you. The Austrian authorities already know who you are. As long as you don’t misbehave while on Austrian soil, they will let you be because you’re living in this house.”
“Aslan has friends in high places, here,” Quinn surmised. She remembered the man she had seen Aslan talking to out on the pavement. It had been a shock to her to see the man on television that night, with the Chancellor title underneath his name.
Toni nodded. “So go ahead, run away. If you do, you’re more of a fool than I thought you were.”
Quinn went shopping. The old Quinn would have bought the bare essentials to keep herself looking tidy and acceptable. Quinn fought the inclination. Using the German phrase book she had found on her bedside table, Quinn asked the taxi driver to take her to the most exclusive shopping area in the city. The Goldenes Quartier was host to international brands Quinn recognized but had never patronized. As a simple music librarian, Louis Vuitton, Armani, Prada and St. Laurent were far beyond her budget.
Feeling more nervous than she had been facing Diana Hague and her gun toting security staff, Quinn made herself step inside Armani and browse the store.
One of the staff spoke excellent English. Maria seemed to sense what Quinn wanted. Two hours later, Quinn stepped out of the store with shopping bags over her arm and a complete change of clothes, including a new, warm coat.
Dressed in a way which seemed to fit Aslan’s luxurious house, Quinn felt braver about stepping into other stores. The Swarovski store was the first to suggest they take her bags from her and have them sent back to the house. After that, Quinn asked for all her purchases to be sent to the house, copying the address from the slip of the paper Toni had given her.
She stopped at a café and ordered coffee. Then, with a disjointed English and German conversation, where her phrase book became more well-thumbed, Quinn ordered a lunch to go with the coffee.
While she sat there eating her solitary lunch, Quinn looked around and absorbed the fact that she was actually in Vienna. If Toni wanted to let her loose with a credit card, then Quinn should take advantage of this unique opportunity.
Quinn found another taxi and asked the driver to take her to the Opera House. She strolled into the box office and asked what the night’s performance would be. Not that it made any difference. Whatever was on the schedule, she didn’t care.
It was an evening of Mozart. Because it was a single ticket she wanted, one was found. Better still, it was in the stalls.
Quinn tucked the ticket into her new wallet then asked the lady behind the counter where she mi
ght go to have her hair attended. The woman’s gaze flickered over Quinn, then she wrote in a name and address on another slip of paper. She smiled as she handed it over. “Enjoy,” she said, in her thick accent.
Quinn glanced at her watch, calculated times and decided she had enough. Just. She found another taxi and presented herself at the salon. It was in the same area as the Goldenes Quartier. Ninety minutes later, Quinn went shopping again, this time for something to wear to the Opera House for the evening.
Purchases in hand, because she did not want to wait for delivery, Quinn found another taxi to take her back to Aslan’s house. It was as she hailed a taxi that she saw the man across the street, watching her. She knew his face. He was one of the men who had often wandered around the house at Innsbruck.
He was watching her now.
As she settled in the taxi, Quinn reasoned it out to herself. They may have given her a credit card and told her to indulge himself but it didn’t mean they fully trusted her. Not yet. Under the circumstances, she would have done the same. She would’ve wanted to keep an eye on her, too.
Quinn did her best to dismiss the tension and squeeze in her gut. She went straight upstairs and prepared for her evening. Her heart fluttered a little as she got dressed. She was actually going to the Opera House!
When she walked down the wide, white marble and wrought iron staircase to the main floor, she found Aslan sitting on one of the low, comfortable sofas. He had a whiskey glass in his hand.
He looked up and raised his brow. “You are going somewhere?”
Quinn smoothed down her silk skirt. “An evening of Mozart at the Opera House,” she said.
Aslan considered it. “Enterprising of you,” he said. “Denis said tickets were impossible to get unless one bought them months before the event.”
“Usually that is the case. The lady at the counter was nice. Single tickets are easier to find, too.” Quinn shook her head. “I couldn’t wait. This is Vienna!”
Aslan’s smile was small. “Perhaps we should arrange for pairs of tickets in the future. It can’t be as enjoyable if you do not have someone to share it with.” He got to his feet and pulled out a cellphone. He thumbed the text. “Take the car. It will be easier than fighting to find a taxi, later. Faber can drive you there.”
It was a magical evening, although in one respect Aslan was right. It would’ve been better if she could have shared it with someone. It would’ve been better if Denis had been there.
The next morning, she ate a late breakfast in her room. The bedroom suite was large enough that a small, round table and four chairs could sit at the sunny window and not be in the way. There was also a desk, the bed, a walk-in closet which looked pathetically empty with her few garments hanging in it, and an en suite with a walk-in shower almost as large as her entire bathroom in Boston. It featured marble tiles and gold fittings.
Everywhere through the house was decorative molding and pristine white paint. Silk damask drapes hung from the ceiling to sweep the floor, making the tall windows look even taller.
Thick white rugs kept feet warm and must have been cleaned daily, because there was never any dirt on them.
While she ate breakfast the first morning, Quinn built herself a shopping list of “necessities” she must buy if she was to sink into this Sybaritic lifestyle. She didn’t ask for anyone’s permission, after that day. They watched her. They would soon tell her if she strayed outside invisible boundaries.
She bought herself a new laptop and a music system for her room. She also bought a handheld device which would help her learn German, and help German speakers understand her. It became invaluable as she navigated her way around Vienna. It also came with Google Maps built in, which was a blessing.
Each day she would lunch at the same café. The staff taught her local idioms and corrected her German. She was painfully slow at first. By the third day, she could string together sentences which made sense to them.
With her new laptop, she built a list of things she wanted to do in Vienna. She included visiting the Haus der Musik museum, the cemetery where Beethoven was buried, and a dozen different houses where famous composers had once lived. Because it was the Christmas season, some music-related attractions around the city were closed. Even so, there was still a long list of events and places to go. The list did not include the live performances which were nightly events, here. They were on a separate, much longer list.
There were outdoor concerts during the day. For those, Quinn arranged with the kitchen staff to supply her with tea in a flask and the cup to drink it from and dressed warmly.
The four days since she had arrived in Vienna had been busy and full of music. Despite her circumstances, Quinn enjoyed herself. This was a lifetime ambition—a bucket list item.
She tried to ignore that everywhere she went, she often spotted a familiar face in the distance. More than once, it was Noah. He did not acknowledge her, and she turned her back on him.
At dinner on the third night, Aslan made his proposal that Quinn accompany him to the warehouse the next day, to familiarize herself with just one aspect of his business.
The electrifying silence which followed told Quinn this was a big deal. She already knew it in her gut and from the wild beating of her heart. Everyone’s stiffness and silence and the underlying shock confirmed it.
Quinn reached for her wineglass to give herself something to do, as she composed an answer for Aslan. “Is it something you want me to do? Become familiar with your business?”
Aslan didn’t seem to notice the stiffness and silence. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and put it on the table. “You are looking for answers about Denis. So am I. If you want to understand what happened, then you must know this side of my affairs, too.”
“I do want answers,” Quinn said. It was the truth.
“Good. Then I will give you a tour of the warehouse tomorrow.”
Quinn glanced at the others as they returned to their meal—all but Toni.
Toni scowled as she shoved her half-eaten plate away and reached for the glass of vodka she always drank instead of wine. At least one person didn’t agree with Aslan’s plan to bring her inside. Who else disagreed with Aslan?
This morning, Quinn got up early and joined the household in the small dining room used for breakfast. Everyone spoke as easily as usual. Mitchell beat his chest over how badly the Giants had lost, last night. None of the tension from the supper table lingered. Toni was as sarcastic as usual, but not surly.
Quinn was growing familiar with the layout of the major roads in Vienna. She had a good sense of direction and had been studying maps for three days. This was the first time she had come close to the river. The Blue Danube. Just thinking of the famous piece of music made her smile, as the car pulled up in front of a long, low building. Quinn might have mistaken the building as an office block, had it been in America. Ordinary fixed, rolled glass windows covered the front.
“This is the warehouse?”
“The warehouse is behind. This is the administration block which runs the warehouse and the factory.” Aslan waved her toward the front door. “Come in and have a look.”
The interior of the building was the same as millions of offices the world over. There were cubicles, telephones, computers and printers. People rushed about looking frazzled or were hunched over their screen. The only difference was that everyone spoke German.
As Aslan and his group passed through the main office, people sat up and looked even more busy. He had been recognized.
The office manager held up both hands as he hurried over to Aslan, then shook his hand, babbling German. Quinn recognized a few words, enough to sense the manager was welcoming Aslan despite the lack of notice, and that his time was at Aslan’s disposal.
Not that the manager could afford to say anything else.
Aslan spoke, his German slower and underpinned with the rich cadences which a British education imparted. He waved toward Quinn and switched to English. “Ma
y I present Ms. Quinn Sawyer.” He motioned at the manager. “Herr Luka Franz,” Aslan added.
“Herr Franz,” Quinn repeated.
“Please, Luka. I am pleased to.” His English was stilted, although his good intentions were clear in his smiling eyes. Quinn wondered if he knew the shadowy side of Aslan’s business. This office building seemed to be legitimate.
Franz and a secretary escorted Aslan and his group through the building. Everyone looked bored. Quinn realized this tour was for her benefit. She saw conference rooms, offices and all the usual amenities of business, including a cafeteria lunch room which served organic food and daily supplements for the staff.
“This is not your only office, is it?” Quinn asked Aslan as they passed through a corridor lined with glass-walled offices, allowing them to see the workers inside.
“There are a few others here and there,” Aslan said indifferently.
“What is your business?” she asked. “This building could be the administration center for any business at all. I couldn’t read the signs on the outside of the building.”
Aslan halted in the middle of the passage and turned to face her. “I have a finger in many pies.”
“Okay, then,” Quinn said. “What is your primary business?” She lifted a finger to point at the ceiling. “What does this office control?”
“About three hundred million in imports and exports,” Toni said. “Euros, of course.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. Toni’s snark was wasted, this time. Euros and US dollars were almost on a par with each other. Three hundred million was three hundred million. “That wasn’t what I asked,” Quinn said. “What is it you do? What do you import and export? Or is it just a euphemism for some other form of business?”
Aslan’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you ask that?”
Quinn rolled her eyes, deliberately imitating Toni. “Import and export? That has to be the world’s corniest cliché. Either you really are importing and exporting, or you are a world-class criminal.”
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