Three and a Half Minutes

by Caroline Fyffe

  Could it be Stephen Turner’s mole?

  A muffled whisper, a response, and then light, descending footsteps on the landing directly above made him jump into action. Without thought, or sound, Günther slipped into the alcove next to the drinking fountain. He pressed his back to the wall and listened. Whoever was there was trying to be quiet. It wasn’t like someone working late and leaving. There was definite purpose in stealth.

  The sound grew closer. In the next instant, they would be making the curve on his floor landing before descending to the second floor and below. Curiosity got the best of him and he leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. He wanted to see who it was.

  There were two. Both wore black, with hoods pulled up over their heads. They moved carefully. Stephen Turner’s words came back to Günther, making him wonder if either of them could be a student from his class. They were almost around and down the staircase when the taller of the two stopped abruptly. He turned and searched the darkness as if he felt Günther’s presence hiding in the alcove.

  For a split second, Günther held his breath. He never took his eyes from the black hole where the person’s unidentifiable face was. Unfortunately, because of the hood, it was impossible to see anything.

  Slowly, they continued.

  When he felt enough seconds had passed, he followed them down the stairs. They’d be near several exits by now. He needed to hurry.

  Going with his instincts, he proceeded cautiously to the far exit, the one that opened into the alley. He crept along slowly next to the wall, with no idea if he was going in the right direction or if he’d come upon them suddenly.

  He arrived at the exit but didn’t want to open the door in case they were still in the long alleyway. If he could get into one of the rooms, maybe he’d find a window. All the doors were locked. He doubled back, hurrying to the front entrance. With his key, he unlocked the massive door and slipped out thankful he’d worn his black sweats and sweater.

  Michaelerplatz was totally deserted. Günther jogged down the front of the long building and rounded the end toward the alley, already sensing that it was too late, they’d made their escape. As he got closer, he slowed and ducked behind a tall hedge, and continued on. He stopped and listened.

  He looked between the branches of the shrub. There was no movement in or around the alley. Suddenly he felt very tired. And disappointed he hadn’t been able to follow the pair and find out what they were up to. If they were somehow trafficking or selling sensitive information that put the United States or the world at risk, he wanted to help put a stop to it.

  He took the cobblestone street in the direction of his flat. He passed the nursing home where Aggie slept. Turning the corner onto his street, he saw a person sitting on the steps to his building. As he got closer, he recognized it was Bernhard.

  “About time you got here,” Bernhard grumbled. “Been waiting most the night.”

  “Bernhard,” Günther said in surprise, as he pulled his key out of his pocket. “I’m glad you showed up. We’ve been looking for you. Come in.” Günther unlocked the door and held it open for Johann’s unkempt uncle.

  At that moment, the paperboy came jogging down the street, doubled over by the large cloth satchel filled with Wien Heute Zeitung, Sunday edition.

  “Herr Christove,” he said, handing a paper to Günther.

  “Danke sehr.”

  Inside, Günther tossed the paper onto the counter with his keys and turned on some lights. Bernhard looked sober. His hair, tousled and long, fell haphazardly into his eyes.

  “You want some food?” Günther asked.

  “What’ve you got?”

  “Nothing gourmet. How about some rolls and cheese?”

  “Good. Any beer?”

  “No.” He wouldn’t give him any even if he had some.

  “So how’s your girlfriend?” Bernhard asked, as he took the proffered plate of rolls from Günther’s hand. His face twisted in a knowing smile. “You’ve been out all night. What else am I supposed to think when you come sneaking home at sunrise?”

  Günther’s gut twisted with irritation. He didn’t owe this man any explanation.

  “Come sit. Eat in peace,” he said, as he put the chunk of cheese onto a plate and grabbed a knife. He wanted to keep Bernhard in an agreeable mood. He was known for his hot temper. Much like his own. “In case you’re wondering, Johann is fine. Doing very well, actually,” Günther said as he watched Bernhard eat. “What are your plans?”

  Bernhard swallowed. Took another bite and looked at Günther as he chewed. “You know it’s funny,” he said over a mouthful of bread. “You’d do just about anything to get custody of my nephew.” He belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Even sit here and make polite conversation with me.”

  Stay calm, Günther told himself. Stay cool. Just like he is. Wait and see what he has up his sleeve. “What do you mean?”

  Bernhard laughed a spray of crumbs. “What do I mean? I couldn’t have said it any plainer, could I?”

  Bernhard was right. But his eyes were gritty and he needed some sleep. It had been years since he’d felt the temptation to beat the stuffing out of someone. Now was not the time to crumble. “What are your plans for Johann?” Günther asked again.

  Taking his time, Bernhard cut a healthy corner off the Bavarian blue brie and shoved it into his mouth. “I’m going to keep him with me. I have some business to finish up and then we’ll be leaving this wretched city. Just like we were trying to do on Tuesday.”

  “Don’t you care about him at all, Bernhard? Or want what’s best for him? What would your brother think of the way you’re raising him? I could give him so much more. A stable home. A good education…”

  “I can give him that too,” Bernhard retorted. “Soon.”

  “Think how much easier your life would be without him tagging along with you. Kids are always hungry, tired, sick, and the agency is constantly looking over your shoulder, checking on what you’re doing. Without him, you could do anything you wanted. Or go into rehab. When you are out, I could help find you a job.”

  Günther couldn’t tell if the man was listening to a word he was saying. “Johann needs so much of your resources, time and money. It’s hard for any single parent. Nobody blames you, Bernhard.”

  He wasn’t making any headway. Günther’s gut said to change tactics. “When are you picking Johann up?”

  Bernhard gave him a sidelong glance. “In a week, maybe two.”

  “That’s too long. If you don’t check in with the Büro on Monday, this Monday, and take Johann from the family he’s with now, she’s moving him to the state facility in Germany. You don’t want Johann to go there, do you?” Bernhard had pushed back in the chair and was rubbing his belly. Anger surged in Günther at the fool’s lack of empathy. He slammed his hand down on the table and Flocki ran into the other room. “Don’t you understand? There are no temporary foster homes available to put him until you’re ready to take him. Unless, that is, you sign over your custody to me.”

  “Never!”

  It’s like talking to a brick wall. “Bernhard, be reasonable. Johann wants to stay here. He’s afraid to go with you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  “It matters little what the boy wants. He may as well learn that you don’t always get what you want in this life.”

  “What about somebody else? Would you give custody to another family?”

  Sated, Bernhard got up and walked over to the sofa and stretched out. “Maybe.”

  Bernhard had a problem with him personally. It went all the way back to the time he’d reported Bernhard to the police for pushing drugs on the school grounds. He’d been arrested and served a light sentence. That’s when he and Florian had gotten to know Johann. It was a grudge Bernhard wouldn’t let go of.

  “I know a family. A good family. And they have some kids and a stable mother and father.” Günther was speaking as he was thinking. The only one he could come up with was Wolfgan
g and Helene. And possibly Bernhard was just stringing him along. Playing with him. Enjoying his power to make him beg.

  Bernhard excused himself and went to Günther’s water closet. When long minutes passed, Günther went looking for him but only found a window in his bedroom open and Bernhard gone.

  Camille knelt in prayer, fifth pew from the front on the left side, the same pew she’d joined Günther in yesterday morning. She’d hoped to find him here today. All around her, St. Elizabeth’s filled quickly for the eight thirty a.m. Mass. She was excited. Joy coursed through her body. She tried to keep her mind on prayer. On God. On what was about to happen. But the excitement of this day and the friendly smiles of the people around her kept pulling her out of her thoughts.

  Today was special. She’d dressed carefully, choosing a charcoal cashmere sweater-coat over a matching cashmere short-sleeved sweater. Her calf-length skirt was black and white tweed. Taupe hose coordinated nicely with her sophisticated T-strap leather pumps that tapered at the toe. The look was completed with petite soft pink pearls at her ears and around her neck.

  She felt wonderful.

  And prepared.

  She’d prayed her rosary last night with love. As she did, she wondered again how she could have stayed away from her faith for so long. Plus this morning she was rested. That felt glorious too. After the frightening dream on Friday night, she’d decided at the last moment before bed to take the medication Dr. Williamson had prescribed. But only this once. She’d slept like a baby all night, waking refreshed and clearheaded. As she looked at her watch, a man slipped in beside her. Thinking it was Günther, she turned.

  “Good morning,” Stephen Turner whispered, his freshly showered scent, mixed with a spicy aftershave, wafted her way. “I hoped I’d find you here.”

  Her mind raced over the vague message she’d left him yesterday morning on his answering machine canceling their date that night. He didn’t seem annoyed.

  “I know it was a crazy idea but I just felt like seeing you. I hope you don’t mind,” he said in a low voice. “It’s been some time since I’ve been to Sunday service.”

  “Not at all,” Camille said, regaining her composure.

  He gazed around the nave of the church, taking in its splendor of saints and angels. His gaze landed on the life-sized statue of St. Elizabeth opposite their pew, her arms laden with a basket overflowing with bread for the poor.

  Stephen turned and looked down into Camille’s face. “I hope God doesn’t mind that I have an ulterior motive for being here. Or, you, for that matter.” He laughed quietly.

  “Ulterior motive?”

  Stephen exhaled. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to see you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Günther rushed into church eight minutes late, just as the first reading was almost over. He instantly spotted Camille sitting in the exact spot where they had been the day before. As he started up the center aisle to join her, the back of the man sitting next to her caught his attention. Stephen Turner.

  Stopping abruptly, Günther genuflected and slipped into the first available pew. So what if Stephen Turner was here. That was good. The body of Christ was growing. There was always room for hearts to expand.

  But why was he here?

  Was it to worship?

  Was it because he was interested in Camille?

  Or, was he working? Hunting for information?

  Günther had a good view of the two. Camille looked intent on what the lector was reading. Stephen Turner was another story entirely. He wasn’t looking at the ambo. Or the stained glass windows. Or anything else. He was staring straight at Florian, who was seated on the right side of the altar, between a deacon and an altar server.

  Florian?

  Did he suspect Florian of espionage?

  Could that possibly be? Did he think Florian was involved in some way with his conspiracy theory? That was completely and totally absurd.

  Günther’s brain kicked into high gear as he worked at putting this puzzle together. Damn. He wished he’d been able to see who it was in the school, sneaking around in the dark. That would have solved the problem here and now. He’d been so close.

  Maybe he was totally off track. Perhaps Stephen was just here to see Camille. They were both Americans, close in age. His being attracted to her made much more sense. Until proven differently, the least the man deserved was the benefit of the doubt.

  When the lector finished, he went back to his seat. Günther tried to stay ambivalent but Stephen’s gaze was riveted on his brother. If Günther read him correctly, he had little interest in Camille; it was Florian he was here for.

  When realization dawned, Günther almost groaned aloud. Florian’s years in the Armed Forces. His high degree of clearance. That had to be it. If whoever was involved with this new espionage escapade was looking for someone to hang it on, Florian would be the perfect scapegoat.

  Outside the church, Günther waited for Camille in the crisp morning air. When she appeared she was all smiles, aglow with happiness. Stephen was right behind.

  After greetings were made Stephen said, “Do you have plans today, Camille?”

  There was indecision in her eyes. She turned to him. “I’m not sure. Günther, I was hoping you might have a little time right now. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. But only if you didn’t mind and it wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you.”

  Stephen’s gaze never ventured far from his brother as he greeted the parishioners. “Would you like to go over to my office at the school?”

  She turned to Stephen. “I hope you don’t mind. You came to church. Were you looking for me for a reason?”

  The CIA agent looked around nonchalantly, but Günther could tell he wasn’t happy with the outcome of the morning, or this conversation.

  “Well, we did have an engagement last night that you canceled. I was hoping I’d get a rain check today.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought I’d take you to brunch.”

  “That sounds really nice, Stephen, but there truly is something really important I need to discuss with Günther. If he’s willing to see me now, then that’s what I want to do.”

  Günther masked his delight. Perhaps Stephen thought they were plotting some top-secret reconnaissance or something. Whatever he believed, it didn’t matter. Camille had wormed her way into his heart, he admitted to himself with surprise. A forgotten emotion he hadn’t experienced since Kat, and he liked it very much.

  “Tuesday night then,” Stephen said bluntly. “Dinner. Anywhere you choose.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Camille felt uneasy making a date standing between the two men. It shouldn’t matter; she was free to do anything she chose. Günther was her teacher, not a boyfriend. Whatever he was, he looked utterly handsome this morning. His hair glistened in the sunlight and his warm smile was thoughtful and knowing, making her insides warm. He looked completely at ease and comfortable in his clothes, a trait she wished she possessed.

  “Okay, Stephen. I’ll look forward to it.”

  She tucked one side of her hair behind her ear, then fingered her earring. “Sorry about yesterday, and leaving you the message canceling our dinner. But it really couldn’t be helped. I appreciate your understanding.”

  “You pick a place and I’ll call with a time.” Stephen smiled and looked around. “Plus, I’ll keep the theater tickets intended for yesterday, for next Saturday.” He turned to leave. “Günther, good to see you again.”

  Günther smiled. “Likewise.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Camille sat back in her chair and relaxed. This was her first time in Günther’s office. It was spacious and, unlike Father Florian’s, books, magazines, and other stuff was everywhere, in no special order.

  The wall opposite the window had pictures and mementoes. There was a ceramic stand in the corner that held several well-used umbrellas. It was everything you’d think a man’s office would be.

  Today, being Sunday, the
building was virtually empty, making it feel quite poignant and lonely without the chatter and laughter of the students. She loved her new friends from class. Well, all except Branwell and Stena. She would work on trying to like them too, even if it wasn’t enough to miss them when she left. Why did they dislike her so much? Enough that she had to watch her every move around them.

  She refused to let them spoil this moment. Instead, she turned her attention to a picture on the wall of Günther, Father Florian, and someone she didn’t know.

  Günther had disappeared down the hall to get them a cool drink. He’d unlocked his office, invited her to make herself comfortable, and promised to be back in a jiffy. She heard the approach of his footsteps.

  “So, how are you feeling today?” he asked, handing her an opened can of sparkling water.

  “Wonderful.” She willed herself not to blush like a schoolgirl. It was so hard. She wanted to jump up and hug him. Instead, she took the can from his hand and smiled.

  “I can never thank you enough for encouraging me back to my faith.”

  “It wasn’t me,” he replied with a small grin.

  “The Holy Spirit, I know.” They laughed in unison.

  “You laugh,” he said as he sat in his big swivel chair behind his desk. He leaned forward, setting his drink on the shiny glass top. “But it’s true. There is a reason for every meeting that takes place on this earth. God,” he pointed up, “brings people together on purpose. It’s no coincidence that brought you here to Vienna.”

  “You’re an amazing man, Günther Christove.”

  It was his turn to blush. Camille could hardly believe her eyes. She was pleased that her words could affect him too.

  He cleared his throat. “So, what is it you needed to talk to me about? It sounded important.”

  This was her moment of truth. She wanted to share the dream she had Friday night, see what his take was on it. But to do so, she would have to tell him everything.